DISCLAIMER: I don't own the rights to Buffy: the Vampire Slayer, Angel: the Series, or the people and places therein. I also do not own the character of Lucy Hannover. I've borrowed them to write this fiction, which is just that and not a way to try to steal money from Joss and company.
Now
Angel had helped her with the insurance claims on the house, and she'd gotten the check today. She'd even taken his advice and deposited a good portion of it some kind of money saving account--she didn't really remember what kind just now.
The bottle of Vodka she and Xander were sharing was helping that along quite nicely.
They'd been so busy getting affairs in order and helping the girls settle in at the hotel--which Angel had said they could use indefinitely--that they'd lost all opportunity to grieve over their losses. Today, it was raining over most of the state of California and Buffy had decided that the rain equaled grieving day.
Hence, the bottle of Vodka between herself and Xander.
Vodka, just like Spike taught her to drink. We decide to skip the beer and go straight for the hard stuff and look where it gets me. Even drunk it reminds me of the guy I'm trying to forget.
God I miss him…
She knew that she and Xander were talking about Anya and Spike and how stupid the two of them had each been in not seeing what was right in front of them, but it was hard to focus on the conversation--and not just because of the alcohol. It was because she was totally alone again.
She hadn't felt this alone since she'd sent Angel to Hell. Not even when she'd been pulled out of Heaven by her friends--Spike had been there for her through that. He'd been her anchor.
And now he was gone, and she was adrift.
Not even the alcohol was helping tonight. Not when she kept seeing him everywhere. In every black duster around every corner, the cover of that old Billy Idol album at the mall, the vampire nest she and Faith had dusted the night before. She heard him in every flick of a Zippo lighter and smelled him with every smoker she ran into on the street, even though he'd quit months ago.
And now The First wasn't even around to conviently kick him out of hell and back to her. All she could do for him now, was hope that he wasn't in hell. If he was lucky, he was out walking the Ghost Roads with Lucy Hanover, and finding some peace with himself by not being a burden to the dead Slayer's self imposed mission.
In the end, it didn't matter. Spike was well beyond her reach now, and all she could do was try to move on.
Tomorrow.
Buffy knocked back another shot of Vodka, and hoped that eventually she'd stop feeling for a while tonight.
Now
Angel had helped her with the insurance claims on the house, and she'd gotten the check today. She'd even taken his advice and deposited a good portion of it some kind of money saving account--she didn't really remember what kind just now.
The bottle of Vodka she and Xander were sharing was helping that along quite nicely.
They'd been so busy getting affairs in order and helping the girls settle in at the hotel--which Angel had said they could use indefinitely--that they'd lost all opportunity to grieve over their losses. Today, it was raining over most of the state of California and Buffy had decided that the rain equaled grieving day.
Hence, the bottle of Vodka between herself and Xander.
Vodka, just like Spike taught her to drink. We decide to skip the beer and go straight for the hard stuff and look where it gets me. Even drunk it reminds me of the guy I'm trying to forget.
God I miss him…
She knew that she and Xander were talking about Anya and Spike and how stupid the two of them had each been in not seeing what was right in front of them, but it was hard to focus on the conversation--and not just because of the alcohol. It was because she was totally alone again.
She hadn't felt this alone since she'd sent Angel to Hell. Not even when she'd been pulled out of Heaven by her friends--Spike had been there for her through that. He'd been her anchor.
And now he was gone, and she was adrift.
Not even the alcohol was helping tonight. Not when she kept seeing him everywhere. In every black duster around every corner, the cover of that old Billy Idol album at the mall, the vampire nest she and Faith had dusted the night before. She heard him in every flick of a Zippo lighter and smelled him with every smoker she ran into on the street, even though he'd quit months ago.
And now The First wasn't even around to conviently kick him out of hell and back to her. All she could do for him now, was hope that he wasn't in hell. If he was lucky, he was out walking the Ghost Roads with Lucy Hanover, and finding some peace with himself by not being a burden to the dead Slayer's self imposed mission.
In the end, it didn't matter. Spike was well beyond her reach now, and all she could do was try to move on.
Tomorrow.
Buffy knocked back another shot of Vodka, and hoped that eventually she'd stop feeling for a while tonight.
