The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face
Summers rolled over, burying her head in the blankets. She should get up. It was her day off, and she knew that if she didn’t get out of bed soon, the sun would set and she would have missed it.
This time of year, she went to work in the dark and she came home in the dark. She hated it. It was dark by five in the afternoon, and the sun didn’t rise until almost 7:30 in the morning. And for that reason, since she was working days this month, it was entirely possible - even probable when you took overtime into account - that she could go an entire week without seeing the sun.
They were vampires, the lot of them.
She groaned. Choices, choices.
The lure of the sun was too great. Besides, she shared days off with Rosenburg, and they were supposed to grab some coffee and then head over to the park. Grumbling all the way, she grabbed a pair of jeans and her “Bad Cop - No Donut” t-shirt and stumbled toward the shower.
Her shower was quick, and she was soon washed, dryed, and dressed with her hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail.
Her house was really too big for one person, but she couldn’t leave it. Her mother had loved this house, and sometimes she could almost hear her mom humming in the kitchen. Then she’d walk into the room and be met with the quiet, and her heart would break all over again.
Buffy had been looking forward to being a college freshman in a matter of weeks. She’d been bouncy, and girly, with all the right clothes and perfect hair. She painted her toe nails and thought about boys. And came from the mall one day and saw her mother lying on the couch. Eyes open. Not breathing.
Buffy died that day, too. For a while, she was nobody. Nobody scurrying around trying to figure out exactly what she was and what she was supposed to do. She didn’t know anything about funerals, or insurance policies, or medical bills - or any kind of bills for that matter. She didn’t know how to be anybody. Two months away from eighteen she’d been desperate to prove herself worthy of emancipated minor status to avoid all of it going to a man she hadn’t seen in years. “In trust” for her, of course, but he would have sold it all and acted like handing her check on her eighteenth was better than letting her keep her home.
By the time things were settled, had found some sort of semblance of balance, Buffy had been long gone and Elizabeth had found a purpose in small blurb announcing entrance exams to the academy, and a specialization listed that she never would have dreamed of had she not found her mother dead on the couch. There was a name to go with the voice on the other end of the phone, now. She didn’t work the same as the woman who’d taken her call that day if she could help it. That voice, while it brought her to where she was, always managed to put her back in front of the couch trying to start a heart that seemed too big and full to ever stop working.
College was no longer an option, but she got three and half years of training counting the initial academy time - and was paid for every minute of it. She could have had a degree in very nearly the same amount of time, but degrees were expensive. She figured you paid for people to acknowledge you knew stuff and so you could get a job that made someone else a lot of money. She may not make a lot of money herself, but she wasn’t using her mind to make someone else rich either. Of course, they were paying her to save people, and she didn’t save Darren. Or Sylvia. Or - stop that.
The list of names just kept growing, and then there were the names she couldn’t even remember. She remembered the voices, though. She had images in her mind she’d never actually seen that made sleep torture some nights and the only escape available on others. It would be nice to know which one it was supposed to be when she closed her eyes, but a lot of things would be nice. Nice wasn’t reality.
She would have long since been in a much smaller apartment in a not so nice part of town if not for the insurance money. But her pay was steady, and since she’d paid off the mortgage with insurance funds and had been at her job for a while now, she was comfortable and had even started a savings account a few months ago.
And she’d managed to keep her house. But she was hardly ever here, and there was a fine layer of dust in several of the rooms. Rooms she hadn’t been inside in months. Maybe she should consider downsizing a bit. Still, she couldn’t let go. Not yet.
But she had to get out of here. Into the sun.
The park, then.
Before she went completely insane.
Spike smirked, twisted slightly to the left, and connected. Hard.
His oponent grunted, then held his hands up and stepped back, bending at the waist and breathing hard. “That was full power, asshole.”
Spike shrugged. “Actually, no. ‘Twasn’t. But if the little girl wants a break, I can run a mile or two while she recovers.” Something hit the back of his head, hard, and he sputtered, spinning around with a diatribe on his lips only to come up short and look at the floor, embarrassed. One of the ladies in the gym had heard that, and wasn‘t very happy about it. “Sorry, Detective.”
“Yeah, you are sorry, Giles. But you make up for it by shaking that tight little ass of yours. At least you look like you might be good for something.” Faith Adams leered, overdone and sarcastic about it, then turned back to her heavy bag with a roll of her eyes.
“Okay, that was sexual harrassment. Was that sexual harrassment?” Spike asked, eyebrows raised. He glared at the water bottle at his feet. Well, she could come get it herself, seeing as how she threw it at him.
“No.” Gunn grimaced. “That was Adams. I can see why you might confuse the two, though.” The large detective grabbed his towel from the floor and started wiping the sweat from his face. “I’m done. You thought any more about what I asked you?”
“Which what?”
Gunn glared, “Same as always. Field. You. Go there. Get out that damn chair before your tight little ass is neither tight nor little.”
“Thought you were over that.”
“I’m not.”
“Well, get over it. Not happenin’.” The words were sharper than he intended, but he didn’t care. Interferin’ patronizing pillock could take it. He stalked his way to the showers, still fuming.
Wasn’t sure why, really. The man meant it as a compliment of sorts. Thought he had potential and whatnot.
Like what he was doing was beneath him. Like they were all beneath the great Officer Gunn in his super-cool patrol car.
“Hey, Giles!” Gunn caught up to him in the locker room. Spike really wished he hadn’t. “What’s your problem, man? I‘m just trying to get you out of that girl job. You can do a lot better than answering phones and running radios for a living.”
Yeah. He really just said that.
Ten years ago, he would’ve let loose and clocked the man one for that shit. Now, he hit the locker in front of him instead. It added a dent, hurt his knuckles, and made him feel not one iota less angry.
“How many kids you delivered this month, mate?”
Gunn blinked. “Where’d that come from?”
“Cause I delivered one. Okay, to be honest, talked a scared teenager through delivering it. Thought he’d never get over the whole ‘I’m not looking there on my sister, dude’ thing. Was a boy. Healthy.” He took a deep breath. He didn’t know why he was saying this now. “No idea how many times I did CPR. Talked to some woman who’s husband just beat the shit out of her while you guys jacked around with your thumbs up your asses and took so long to get there I know for a fact you haven’t caught up with him yet.” He was getting loud, now, and realized he was a good three steps closer to his friend than where he’d started. No violence. Save that for the gym, William. “It’s a job. It’s not a girl job. And a whole hell of a lot of those women - and men - in the basement could kick your sorry ass, but that’s another thing all together. I won’t try to go into the field, because I’m not right keen on the demotion.” He smirked. “Go write another traffic ticket now, sweetheart. Call me if you ever figure out what the fuck you’re talking about. ‘Til then, you might wanna stay outta my face.”
He grabbed his bag, still fuming, and headed for the door before he made an even bigger git of himself. Bloody, buggering, hell. It’s not like he knew. He’d just transferred in, and there’d been reams and reams of new gossip since…
“That was harsh.” And just when you thought it couldn’t get worse.
“You actually saying something to me?” he snarled, stopping and dropping his bag.
“Look, Spike.” He stood there, eyebrows coming together. The one man in the world that Spike really didn’t want to see right now. Or ever.
“Shut up, Liam.” He wasn’t sure how he managed to keep his hands at his sides, how he turned around looking casual. He liked that he actually sounded uninterested and bored, though. Had to annoy the hell out of the other man. “Wouldn’t want to make me loose control, would you? I’m crazy. Might hurt somebody.”
“I’m just saying you could have told him that -”
Spike didn’t hear the rest. He left the prancing poof standing in the hallway with his mouth flapping. He had to get outside.
Before he went completely insane.
Coffee was nice, but this was nicer. Rosenburg had a date, and had spent most of the afternoon nervously going over what she would do and say on said date, but was now somewhere in the middle of getting dressed unless Summers missed her guess.
Elizabeth was trying her best to squeeze every second of sunshine out of the day and into her pale skin, reclining on a bench while her eyes darted around the park. She was close to the playground equipment, and children squealed and ran around her like she was just another rock or piece of statuary. She watched without watching, mostly just revelling in the feel of the sun on herskin.
Oh, yeah. This was nice. She slouched down further on the bench, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. Just for a minute. A short minute. Eyes open, the children were yelling and playing. Eyes closed, they were screaming and - okay, eyes open then.
“Same sound, innit?” She jumped, and Giles took a step back, raising his hands, palms out toward her. “Sorry. Thought you saw me.”
“No problem.” She shook her head, slightly off balance. “You work today.”
Spike waved an arm toward the bench, and she nodded, moving over to make room. “Used to. Swapped ‘em. Johnson’s kid is doing the little league thing, wanted to coach. An’ it’s not like I’ve got anything that needs a weekend. Like having mine in the middle of the week, when you can actually get stuff done if you need to. Good subject change. Not obvious or anything.”
She grimaced. “Smartass.”
“And Adams says it’s nice and tight, too.” He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.
She snorted, surprising herself. “Well, she is reputed quite the authority on such things. You bucking for a promotion?”
“I wouldn’t buck Faith Adams to be Chief of Bloody Police, it’s untelling what a man might catch that way.” He frowned. “Maybe for Christmas Day off, though. Could be a risk-taker for that.”
She laughed. Not a grunt, or a snort, or a chuckle. A full blown laugh. She had no clue what had gotten into her. “That was pathetic.”
He was staring at her, eyes wide, like he’d never seen her before. She wondered if she had something stuck in her teeth.
“Amazing.”
“What?” Okay, he was starting to freak her out a little.
He shook his head, then smirked. “Okay, it was pretty pathetic. Made you laugh though.”
Yeah. He had. She didn’t really know why. “Don’t get cocky. I was laughing at you, Giles, not with you.”
“Yeah, well. Laugh’s a laugh, innit?” The man really was completely nuts.
“When did you decide you were going to talk to me?” Fair question. They didn’t hang out, and yet here he was sitting next to her on a bench in the park apparently pleased to have her laughing at him.
He looked confused. “I talk to you.”
“Outside.”
“Oh. Well, never saw you outside before, did I?” And that was that. No, she hadn’t actually ever seen him outside of work. Or out of uniform. He looked completely different in black jeans and a tee-shirt with his hair all mussed and the sun on his face. If she hadn’t heard him before she saw him, she may not have recognized him at all. “Sun’s goin’ down.”
“Yeah.” Time to get out of the park. The children were being collected by their parents. Parks weren’t the same after dark. They turned on you. A lot like people that way.
Spike was standing, had actually taken a couple of steps before he turned back to where she was collecting her purse. “You wanna grab a beer?”
She didn’t drink. “Yeah. Sure.” But her house was empty and full of memories, and he had made her laugh. She hadn’t laughed in a really, really long time.