Stumble Into Grace- Chapter Three
-Angel-
Not surprisingly, it's harder to lurk in the daytime. I manage though. I may not have the advantages of vampires, but I do have two and a half centuries of practice. Buffy seems absorbed in her own world. I wonder if she's always like this or if something in particular is bothering her. I can feel that whispery heart-beating-too-fast feeling I always get when she's around. It hurts. I'd almost convinced myself I'd forgotten that I felt her like this. I find myself hoping that her feeling me didn't have anything to do with the vamp and everything to do with the man. Of course, that would make lurking a lot harder.
I watch from behind a tree across the street from the magic shop. Buffy is working on something at a counter. The sunlight falls on her. She's so much paler then she used to be. I always remember her skin soft and drenched golden from the sun. Willow walks in and they begin speaking. The closest thing to a smile she attempts is something near a smirk. She doesn't laugh. I want to sob. Buffy was always so alive, so vivacious. It was one of the reasons I left her. I couldn't lock her away in a cage and I was afraid by allowing her to live her life with me I would be doing just that. I guess I sacrificed us for nothing. It didn't buy her happiness, or love or any of the other things I wanted for her. Somehow that hurts more then anything else we've done or said or didn't have or didn't get. She should be married by now not living some half existence with a vampire who isn't me.
I sigh and rub my eyes. I didn't sleep much the night before. I spent too much of the night thinking of her.
"Wondered when you were going to get down here."
My eyes snap open and I look directly into the eyes of the private detective I hired. "I just got in last night." I respond.
He nods. "I got some good pictures of your girl there. I'll develop them this afternoon. You can come pick them up tomorrow."
"I'll pay you extra if you'll drop them by my apartment when you're finished with them." I dig a scrap of paper out of my duster pocket along with a pen and scribble my new address on it.
The detective looks at it and nods. "Nice place."
I shrug. "It's a place to live." If you can call what I'm doing there living. I'm not really sure you can.
"I'll head back and get started on these then." He says.
I nod and watch as he walks off. I can't remember his name for the life of me. I want to say Herb. It doesn't matter. I have his card on my refrigerator back at the apartment.
*
Someone from the magic shop orders food. I don't think it's Buffy because she picks at the oriental food but never really eats anything. She's entirely too thin. Buffy always did neglect herself when she got worried or stressed. Eating was the first thing to go. Spike should be reminding her to eat, or someone should. It sticks in my craw that Spike is there to remind her of such things, on the other hand it makes me want to beat him severely for not taking better care of her. Don't ask me to explain further, my feelings for Buffy are and always have been complicated. By nature, anything that involves her is complicated.
I went home early afternoon and tried to sleep. If I know Buffy, she's still a nocturnal creature. I sit in my hiding spot across from her apartment building. I watch her go inside after a day at the magic shop. I watch her come out a little later dressed in a pair of workout pants and a sweat shirt. I can see the outline of a stake thrust into the back waistband of her pants. She has tennis shoes on her feet. Following her is going to be harder then just lurking but I don't want to let her out of my sight. She walks with her head down, at a pace slightly faster then everyone else. I am winded by the time she finally turns down an alley. I wait. I don't want to fall into a trap if that's what she is setting me up for. I don't have to wait long. I hear the sounds of a scuffle and a girl runs past me. I sneak into the alley and watch her fight from the cover of a dumpster.
It's a vampire, and a young one judging from his fighting skills. She's playing with him more then anything. Buffy always did take out her frustrations, pain and misery on the demons she slayed. If she was happy it was a quick stake and plunge. If she was miserable, well I almost find myself feeling sorry for this guy. She pummels him completely unconscious, not something I've ever seen her do, and then stakes him. Something is definitely bothering her. I never heard one pun or quip. She didn't taunt the vamp or even say anything to him. That's not the Buffy I know.
Maybe that's the whole problem; I don't know Buffy, not anymore. I used to know her as well as I knew myself. I could write books on the things I could tell about Buffy Summers, just by looking at her, watching her. Now what I know about her could fit on a postcard. How did we get so far apart? I know I left her. I know I intended to stay out of her life. I never intended for this to happen. I don't know what I thought would happen. I guess maybe we'd talk on the phone, write letters, and stay in touch, just not literally. We didn't though. I sat down to write a thousand letters to Buffy. The only problem was I didn't know what to say to her. I couldn't tell her anything she didn't already know. I couldn't write anything I hadn't already said a hundred times so I burned the half finished letters. I called Giles a few times to check up on her, but those conversations were always so stilted and uncomfortable that I stopped after a few, and calling Buffy that was almost as painful as seeing Buffy. Hearing her voice always made me want to run back to her.
Before the night is over she's tallied up a grand total of 6 vamps and no quips. I'm even more worried about her now. I don't know if I'm needed here or not, I'm probably not wanted, but Buffy's little family seems to have missed that while she's here physically, emotionally she's gone. I curse Spike. If he loves her like he claims to he should notice this. He should care enough to try and fix it. I don't know how Buffy got this way but I'm going to find out and if someone caused it, I will kill them, human or not. Not all monsters are demons and Angelus wasn't the entire sum of the demon in me. I am still fiercely protective of Buffy.
I slip into my alley across from her apartment. Spike is sitting on the front steps of the building smoking a cigarette. I watch as she approaches him. He stands up and wraps on arm around her shoulders. He kisses her lightly on the mouth. I wanna strangle him. Part of me screams mine. The other part whispers quietly, not anymore. I think living with a demon and a soul for more then a century and a half has made me slightly schizophrenic. The only difference is now I war myself instead of Angelus.
Buffy sags into Spike and I watch as they walk into the apartment building together. At least he holds the door open for her. This is just peachy. I get to go back to my own apartment and stare at pictures of her and think about what he's doing with her. Things I never got to do with her, no doubt. I offer up a silent prayer that he's good to her, that he loves her and tries with everything in him not to hurt her.
There is an envelope of pictures under my door when I get there. I guess my detective got tired of waiting around for me. I check the watch on my wrist. Its eleven pm, a long work day for anyone. I grab a Guinness out of the fridge. I walk into the bedroom and sit on the floor, leaning against the bed. I tear open the envelope. There's a note inside.
Sorry. It got late and I had to get to another survey job. Let me know if you need anything more specific then this.
Herb
So I was right, his name is Herb. He's right; he did get some great pictures of her. I look at a close up of her face. She's looking down at something and studying it with concentration. She has her eyebrows drawn together and there's that wrinkle I love between them. I don't think I ever told her I love that wrinkle. She would have gotten upset and we would have had the conversation about her growing old and me not. She never did understand that the way she looks has nothing to do with how I love her. She's gorgeous, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life, but it's not why I love her. I look at her eyes. She has the most expressive eyes. I need to ask Herb to take some pictures like this in color. I need to know what color her eyes are. When Buffy is happy her eyes are green. When she's sad they are gray.
I tack my new pictures up on the wall with the old ones. I take a steamy shower and try to banish any thoughts of Spike and Buffy together from my head. I slide between cool sheets and fall asleep looking at my growing Buffy mural.
-Angel-
Not surprisingly, it's harder to lurk in the daytime. I manage though. I may not have the advantages of vampires, but I do have two and a half centuries of practice. Buffy seems absorbed in her own world. I wonder if she's always like this or if something in particular is bothering her. I can feel that whispery heart-beating-too-fast feeling I always get when she's around. It hurts. I'd almost convinced myself I'd forgotten that I felt her like this. I find myself hoping that her feeling me didn't have anything to do with the vamp and everything to do with the man. Of course, that would make lurking a lot harder.
I watch from behind a tree across the street from the magic shop. Buffy is working on something at a counter. The sunlight falls on her. She's so much paler then she used to be. I always remember her skin soft and drenched golden from the sun. Willow walks in and they begin speaking. The closest thing to a smile she attempts is something near a smirk. She doesn't laugh. I want to sob. Buffy was always so alive, so vivacious. It was one of the reasons I left her. I couldn't lock her away in a cage and I was afraid by allowing her to live her life with me I would be doing just that. I guess I sacrificed us for nothing. It didn't buy her happiness, or love or any of the other things I wanted for her. Somehow that hurts more then anything else we've done or said or didn't have or didn't get. She should be married by now not living some half existence with a vampire who isn't me.
I sigh and rub my eyes. I didn't sleep much the night before. I spent too much of the night thinking of her.
"Wondered when you were going to get down here."
My eyes snap open and I look directly into the eyes of the private detective I hired. "I just got in last night." I respond.
He nods. "I got some good pictures of your girl there. I'll develop them this afternoon. You can come pick them up tomorrow."
"I'll pay you extra if you'll drop them by my apartment when you're finished with them." I dig a scrap of paper out of my duster pocket along with a pen and scribble my new address on it.
The detective looks at it and nods. "Nice place."
I shrug. "It's a place to live." If you can call what I'm doing there living. I'm not really sure you can.
"I'll head back and get started on these then." He says.
I nod and watch as he walks off. I can't remember his name for the life of me. I want to say Herb. It doesn't matter. I have his card on my refrigerator back at the apartment.
*
Someone from the magic shop orders food. I don't think it's Buffy because she picks at the oriental food but never really eats anything. She's entirely too thin. Buffy always did neglect herself when she got worried or stressed. Eating was the first thing to go. Spike should be reminding her to eat, or someone should. It sticks in my craw that Spike is there to remind her of such things, on the other hand it makes me want to beat him severely for not taking better care of her. Don't ask me to explain further, my feelings for Buffy are and always have been complicated. By nature, anything that involves her is complicated.
I went home early afternoon and tried to sleep. If I know Buffy, she's still a nocturnal creature. I sit in my hiding spot across from her apartment building. I watch her go inside after a day at the magic shop. I watch her come out a little later dressed in a pair of workout pants and a sweat shirt. I can see the outline of a stake thrust into the back waistband of her pants. She has tennis shoes on her feet. Following her is going to be harder then just lurking but I don't want to let her out of my sight. She walks with her head down, at a pace slightly faster then everyone else. I am winded by the time she finally turns down an alley. I wait. I don't want to fall into a trap if that's what she is setting me up for. I don't have to wait long. I hear the sounds of a scuffle and a girl runs past me. I sneak into the alley and watch her fight from the cover of a dumpster.
It's a vampire, and a young one judging from his fighting skills. She's playing with him more then anything. Buffy always did take out her frustrations, pain and misery on the demons she slayed. If she was happy it was a quick stake and plunge. If she was miserable, well I almost find myself feeling sorry for this guy. She pummels him completely unconscious, not something I've ever seen her do, and then stakes him. Something is definitely bothering her. I never heard one pun or quip. She didn't taunt the vamp or even say anything to him. That's not the Buffy I know.
Maybe that's the whole problem; I don't know Buffy, not anymore. I used to know her as well as I knew myself. I could write books on the things I could tell about Buffy Summers, just by looking at her, watching her. Now what I know about her could fit on a postcard. How did we get so far apart? I know I left her. I know I intended to stay out of her life. I never intended for this to happen. I don't know what I thought would happen. I guess maybe we'd talk on the phone, write letters, and stay in touch, just not literally. We didn't though. I sat down to write a thousand letters to Buffy. The only problem was I didn't know what to say to her. I couldn't tell her anything she didn't already know. I couldn't write anything I hadn't already said a hundred times so I burned the half finished letters. I called Giles a few times to check up on her, but those conversations were always so stilted and uncomfortable that I stopped after a few, and calling Buffy that was almost as painful as seeing Buffy. Hearing her voice always made me want to run back to her.
Before the night is over she's tallied up a grand total of 6 vamps and no quips. I'm even more worried about her now. I don't know if I'm needed here or not, I'm probably not wanted, but Buffy's little family seems to have missed that while she's here physically, emotionally she's gone. I curse Spike. If he loves her like he claims to he should notice this. He should care enough to try and fix it. I don't know how Buffy got this way but I'm going to find out and if someone caused it, I will kill them, human or not. Not all monsters are demons and Angelus wasn't the entire sum of the demon in me. I am still fiercely protective of Buffy.
I slip into my alley across from her apartment. Spike is sitting on the front steps of the building smoking a cigarette. I watch as she approaches him. He stands up and wraps on arm around her shoulders. He kisses her lightly on the mouth. I wanna strangle him. Part of me screams mine. The other part whispers quietly, not anymore. I think living with a demon and a soul for more then a century and a half has made me slightly schizophrenic. The only difference is now I war myself instead of Angelus.
Buffy sags into Spike and I watch as they walk into the apartment building together. At least he holds the door open for her. This is just peachy. I get to go back to my own apartment and stare at pictures of her and think about what he's doing with her. Things I never got to do with her, no doubt. I offer up a silent prayer that he's good to her, that he loves her and tries with everything in him not to hurt her.
There is an envelope of pictures under my door when I get there. I guess my detective got tired of waiting around for me. I check the watch on my wrist. Its eleven pm, a long work day for anyone. I grab a Guinness out of the fridge. I walk into the bedroom and sit on the floor, leaning against the bed. I tear open the envelope. There's a note inside.
Sorry. It got late and I had to get to another survey job. Let me know if you need anything more specific then this.
Herb
So I was right, his name is Herb. He's right; he did get some great pictures of her. I look at a close up of her face. She's looking down at something and studying it with concentration. She has her eyebrows drawn together and there's that wrinkle I love between them. I don't think I ever told her I love that wrinkle. She would have gotten upset and we would have had the conversation about her growing old and me not. She never did understand that the way she looks has nothing to do with how I love her. She's gorgeous, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life, but it's not why I love her. I look at her eyes. She has the most expressive eyes. I need to ask Herb to take some pictures like this in color. I need to know what color her eyes are. When Buffy is happy her eyes are green. When she's sad they are gray.
I tack my new pictures up on the wall with the old ones. I take a steamy shower and try to banish any thoughts of Spike and Buffy together from my head. I slide between cool sheets and fall asleep looking at my growing Buffy mural.