the girl who used to dance on fire and brimstone (whiskyinmind) wrote,
the girl who used to dance on fire and brimstone

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*adopts Claire Grogan voice and sings* Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday naol!!!

I've been notably absent today because I've been working on this... I hope you like it! Just some vignettes in the lives of Buffy and Xander post Chosen. In drabble form - each section is exactly 100 words long. Thank you to smileawhile for encouraging me throughout the day!

Title: Put the Light On
Author: Shona
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be - I'm just playing in this pretty big sandbox
Notes: For the incomparable naol. Happy Birthday!
This kinda follows on from my story Darkest Day but you don't have to have read that to follow this. :)

It killed him to walk away, to see her still standing there watching him go with the smile on her face barely concealing the tears. Not tears for him, his ego wasn't that inflated, but for the past. For things left unsaid.

With every step he took he fought the urge to turn round and go back. He could feel the past slipping away, the pain, the tears, the loss. That was a good thing, wasn't it? Making the break like this - it was good.

Just… why did doing the right thing mean leaving her behind?

This was killing him.

If there was one thing all those pageants had taught her, it was how to keep the smile on her face after her heart had been torn from her chest. She didn't blink, if she did the tears would start and she was done with crying. Even seeing him walk away - something she'd never wanted to see - she wouldn't cry.

It was time to move on, make a new start - for them both.

So why did it hurt so much to see him walk away like this, to think she wasn't part of his new start?

It was killing her.

Something was wrong, really wrong. It was cold, Africa shouldn't be cold - it was against nature, that's what it was. And the fact that standing in Cape Town he was currently not that far from Antarctica, all things considered, had nothing to do with it. It was just not natural. Must be apocalypse season.

Not that he cared, not really - new start, remember? There'd be no more apocalypses for this boy, not now, not ever.

He smiled a little sadly, he couldn't even kid himself any more and there was no one around who'd laugh with him.

He missed her.

Leaving the dance floor, she moved out into the cooler night air, feeling the bass line still pounding through her even out here. This was supposed to be fun, right? This whole Club Med lifestyle was meant to be fun. And hell, she was in Italy - all those cute waiters and even cuter shoes? She still remembered the time she had thought this would be heaven. Out here, with no responsibilities and a credit card whose limit she'd yet to hit despite trying her hardest.

So why wasn't this fun? Why did she still feel so lonely?

She missed him.

He didn't know her name. She'd just been there at the right - or maybe that should be the wrong - time, he couldn't remember introductions. He *could* remember the smell of stale smoke, the feel of sharp nails, the sweet/salt taste, the sound of low moans.

He wasn't that guy, was he? Mister Serial-Monogamist Harris having a one night stand with a stranger? No, this was an aberration; he was just trying to move on without her.

He looked across the room, not even his. Blonde hair spilled over the pillow and he knew it wasn't Anya he was thinking of.

Rome was never quiet, not even in the dead of night - and how apt was that description? She stood on the balcony, looked out over the city and wondered how she'd gotten here.

Way to move on with her life, hook up with another non-human whose name she didn't even know - The Immortal, did he have a name or just a title? Did it matter? She was just using him anyway, trying to put anther face out of her mind.

She traced her fingertips over the intricate carving on the door and knew it wasn't Spike she was thinking of.

He's bored. That's all it is; boredom's driven him to it. He's not lonely, whoever thinks that clearly has no idea what his life is like these days. His little black book? Well, lets just say it's not so little any more.

He doesn't want a job, he isn't looking for handouts or validation, he just wants something he can't define…

The call connects and the slightly distracted "Hello?" on the other end brings a smile to his lips and a lump to his throat. He almost hangs up, doesn't know how to bridge the gap.

"Hello, Giles." He says.

Something was going on. Something big - why couldn't she get away from this whole mess? Was she like some kind of magnet for mystical mayhem? She should have found that funny, she would have if it weren't so serious.

Sure, hooking up with The Immortal probably wasn't the smartest move if she wanted to stay below the supernatural radar, but...

Why now? She was moving on, getting past it, why did they have to show up now?

And how?

Telling herself this wasn't about her she waited for the call to connect. It wasn't about her.

"Giles? I need help."

Another airport. At least this time no one knows him here, no one to leave behind when he goes.

He's here for the job. The one he didn't want and tells himself he doesn't need. He knows that's a lie, It's part of him, and one day maybe it'll fill the yawning chasm inside him.

He files through customs, marvelling at how quickly he became part of the organization. No questions asked, no awkward silences, just a welcome back and someone will meet you when you get there.

He looks around, wonders if there'll be a sign with his name.

She bites her lip, thinks that maybe she's blown everything out of proportion and forcibly stops herself from bolting. She asked for this, she broke her silence and reached out. She can't run from it now.

She wonders who it'll be, someone was close enough to reach her within hours - who? Her heart had sunk when Giles told her he couldn't come, she didn't think she could face a stranger right now, but she couldn't tell him that. Not since almost everyone in the organization was a stranger to her.

Her choice.

The doors open, she takes a deep breath.

The End...?
Tags: flist love
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