Title: Believe
Author: Emily
Summary: Buffy. Cigarettes. Angst
Spoilers: Basically all of BtVS.
Rating: PG 13
AN: Dedicated to Sorcha who told me to write this aaages ago and look, I finally did.

cause I wanna be someone who believes

Smoking is a disgusting habit, she thinks. When she was fourteen Tyler made her try it. Well he didn't make her but she didn't want to look like a loser in front of him. Of course around the time she grew a backbone (or, became the one girl in all the world if you want to put it that way) she stamped out his cigarette and called him a loser. She walked away sucking on a strawberry lollipop and he was pretty damn infatuated from then on if she said so herself.

Then Buffy danced at the Bronze with Owen who was the definition of cute, charming and if only. Triumphantly she danced with him because she, Buffy Summers might be a freak but this boy, Owen liked her and that just washed away all of her fears and doubts. She coughed as cigarette smoke drifted across the dance floor slipping into her lungs and her eyes dropped to the ground when she saw Angel's approach. There went every chance of normality with cute Owen. Angel was hot in an irritating way (and in retrospect that was probably what vamooshed all possibilities of a normal guy) and whatever news of bad guys it was that he bore, it meant goodbye to Owen. She coughed again, sighing wistfully at how close she had come and all that might have been.

Then there was Los Angeles and she was all alone. She'd waved sayanara to Angel with a sword and the hot LA summer nights might as well have been winter. On impulse Buffy stumbled through the dusty streets and bought a pack of cigarettes. She drew a sole cigarette out and smoked it slowly. If you had asked her why she would have said it was because she loved and now she has lost and no she couldn't explain it with logic. Because no, love is not logical and yes, it was love. After she'd puffed half heartedly at it she put it down and watched it burn. She let it burn and finally the red orange glow was all but faded.

Along came Parker and how could a boy she barely knew affect her so much? She didn't know his middle name or his favourite vegetable or if he could deal with her waking up every time it rained. She did know that he had rejected her and that was enough. Buffy lit up the second cigarette from the crumpled packet and burst into tears, her whole body shaking. I'm falling apart, she thought. I am just pieces of me. Eventually her sobbing subsided and she tried to breathe because he was just one boy and it was just one night. Yet she must have gone immeasurably wrong somewhere.

Buffy smoked with Spike after sex. He passed the cigarette and she puffed at it, feeling her lungs turning black just like her soul or heart or whatever part of her it was that was breaking down. They shared cigarettes and she felt like she belonged in the brief time it took for him to pass it to her. She wanted to belong and she wanted to believe and she could do neither.

Now Buffy thinks she might be a little addicted to cigarettes. She has long given up on belonging and love is something she can no longer believe in. It is a disgusting habit and it may just shorten her already shortened life. Good, she thinks.