It's So Crazy

PG

Disclaimer: Nothing mine.

To Audrey (who doesn't particularly like the pair) and the girl in the other class (who's fond of it). Very short, a piece I did when I was bored while listening to Jonatha Brooke.

She wished.

Her eyes were fixed on the white light above, spreading it's vast glory on every surface it could. The moon was wonderful tonight. It made her heart pound in her chest, it made her breath get caught in her throat. She wished she could do this all night, every night.

Buffy's attention broke away abruptly, considerably irritated by the hammering going on at the neighbour's; they were trying to hang a three foot long picture in the house. Unfortunately, their brains could only manage to work out that they needed one nail to do the trick, and it would never work. She could just see all that stupidity all the way from the rooftop of her house.

But despite the interruption, she feelings within she felt for the symbol in the sky never left. Now, instead of taking her eyes back to the visionary, she looked down at the roof tilings.

All this reminded her of someone.

The slayer stroked the roughness of the worn out top, very weathered by Sunnydale's natural elements. The only natural elements. Now, who did this make her think of?

What a history they had. She could still remember the feel of his hair, soft and smooth, and the coolness of his skin. How he smiled at her with his perfect teeth, and how he laughed when she did. They had wonderful times.

Of course, on the flip side, excruciating couldn't even describe it. It seemed like he was two different beings altogether... Though every person she ever loved did seem to acquire split personality disorders. Boy, Jerry Springer would have a blast.

With a huge breath, she hoisted her legs to her chest and curled up as far as possible in a human ball. She wished he was here to keep her warm with his signature long overcoat, smelling liquor and smokes that tainted the air of the night. Buffy thought he'd already kicked the habits of what he did of the past already, but she knew, even as he was dead, that he'd pick it up occasionally, but seldomly.

Now that she thought about him, she let out a soft, yearning sigh. She would love to be able to kiss him again, she would've loved to be able to hold him, and be held by him. All the time they spent together... Was it really just past, or was it still as present as how she made it to be in her own heart?

The girl bit her lip and haboured even bigger breaths, to keep her composure, to not cry. She had to be strong, because she was in Hell, she told the others. She was in hell, but she was dealing. To and fro, to and fro, she rocked, never stopping, and looked at the moon once again.

-I miss you.-

A graphics image she saw on the Internet with two people, only their fingers laced through each others' whilst they laid on the bedsheets, had slowly formed in her mind. She wished all that love could be relived once again, her fingers and his fingers. If he were here sitting with her, she would notice the little details about him, like how hints of gold would line his hair in the precious lunar display. She chuckled at the times she complained about the amount of gel he used. But the memory was only just a memory now...

Without any ounce of self-control left, Buffy had let a tear slide out of her eye to draw an imperfect line down to the apple of her cheek, sneak past the corner of her clear-glossed lips and cling to her chin. She also loved the drawings he so freely penciled, of moments like these.

-I love you.-

It was then, she realised that she missed him, still loved him, wanted him, wanted her Angel so much.

Buffy looked heavenward.

She wished.