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She -- by Luisa
Rating: PG
Description: Spike thinks about a girl.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns all.
My mind's a bitch. Doesn't ask permission, doesn't do me any favours...doesn't give a fuck. Goes wandering off into the old days, when things were sweet. Now they're dead. There's nothing to not breathe for, nothing to expect. I'm walled in. In this bloody house where she only comes once a day. For too short a time. After she's gone, the sun goes down. And I'm alone. With my mind.
How did I get this way...Where did I screw up...Stupid questions that I don't know the answer to. I guess I gambled. And lost big time. My luck's like my mind. A bitch. I can't take this silence. And being grateful when it gets broken is even worse. Except when it's her. Once a day. I can heard her outside the door...the librarian goes to open it. And welcomes her inside. He's got the hots for her, he's begging for her. She doesn't know. She's a child. And then she sees me. I smile. Once a day. She looks puzzled. Half a mind not to smile back. But can't. Smiles. Takes a few steps. Hesitates. I speak...
"Hello, pet."
"Hey, Spike."
"Take a load off."
"Thanks. I can't stay long."
"Why not?"
"Cause...I'm busy."
"With who?"
"Spike, don't be annoying, alright?"
"Only asking. It's...Graham?"
"Yes! OK?! He asked me out. After a month of staring."
"Finally got the guts. Good for him."
"And for me."
"Nah."
"What?"
"He's too cheap for you."
"Cheap?! What are you talking about?!"
"You deserve someone better. Someone not from the flea market."
"That's it. I'm outta here. You, sir, are a moron."
She leaves. I'm alone. And kicking myself for being what she said. A moron. I can't talk to her. I get screwed. I mess up. I'm thirsty for her. She doesn't know. How could she? I've said nothing that pleases her. Nothing that makes her smile. Her one smile is strained. Hard. Distant. She misunderstands. Doesn't get it. Doesn't see me. I'm as invisible as the librarian. A bloody shadow on that wall. When the sun's going down. Here she is again. Go open the door, you wanker, can't you see she's waiting?! Yes...come in, pet. And smile for me.
"Hey, Red."
"Hey, Spike. In a better mood, I hope?"
"In a different mood."
"Uh-oh. What's wrong?"
"Graham."
"Spike, when are you gonna get it...?"
"Never."
"He's incredibly sweet, he takes me out, doesn't mess up..."
"He's smarter than I give him credit for.
"Exactly."
"But not smart enough. Not good enough, either."
"Look, Spike, I came here in friendship. Nothing else, OK?
You snap at me, you badmouth Graham and I won't come anymore."
"Don't do that. Please."
"OK...let's just drop this topic, OK?
"Fine."
"I gotta go anyway. See ya later."
"Willow!"
She's gone again. Christ, I can't stand this! The door bangs...and emptiness steals in, another bitch. I'm surrounded by bitches. One breathes. The Slayer. The Staker. She's her best friend. Can hardly believe it. It's fucking twisted. A smart girl with a dim one. Beyond me. But the Slayer makes her happy. Makes her smile. More than once a day.
"Spike."
"Slayer."
"I hope you're not giving Giles any trouble."
"Me? I'm cool."
"You better be. One false move and you're dust on the floor."
"Blah, blah, blah..."
"Watch it."
"Slayer. Go home."
She did, thank the Devil. After a long, pointless conference with the librarian. Two losers, lips moving, nothing useful coming out. Hate them. One day, Slayer...one day. Where is Red, by the way? I miss her. Didn't get smiled at today. Need it. Badly. Come on, where the hell is she?
The door! Get the door, you moron! NOW!
"Hey...Spike. How's it going?"
"Better. Sit down."
"You're real good at bossing people around, aren't you?"
"Only when I care enough."
"Oh. Should I panic?"
"Nah. Just sit down."
"Can't stay for long."
"You never do."
"Why am I hearing a whiny tone in your voice?"
"Cause I'm complaining."
"Why...?"
"Cause I...I..."
"You what?"
"I'm...sick of this place."
"Well, get over it, it's your home for a while."
"Come more often."
"Spike, I have lectures and a ton of work."
"Let me help."
"Can you even read...?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
"It's not just Graham who reads."
"Oh no...not again."
"Red, come more often."
"OK...but no Graham."
"No! No Graham. He stays home."
"..."
"Sorry I made you sigh."
"Goodbye, Spike..."
Out she floats, like a soft, white feather...gone. This house's a tomb. Worse than a tomb. I have nothing to do. Till she comes again. And smiles. Twice a day. She smiled twice today. I felt my heart. It's flipping creepy! Trying to drag me back to life. I don't care one way or another. As long as she comes. And smiles. Twice a day.
The End
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