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Canary Cage
The ride in the car was a long one.
Out of everything in life-everything in what existence she had, anyway, if you really could call it life-she figured this, perhaps, was the worst of it all.
The waiting.
Because waiting gives you time to think about things. To mull them over-to regret, to doubt, to worry. To allow the terrible hollow ache in your heart be heard again in the silence; to let the sting of the wound torn in your chest catch up to you again; and she didn’t want that. She wanted to keep running, to not look back. Because behind her was only a path of destruction, death, pain, sorrow. And defeat. And the only way to keep one step ahead of that was to always keep moving. To never look back.
Buffy Summers shifted again in her seat. The humm of the Winnebago had become deafening in the silence, like a gradually increasing storm approaching. Now it seemed to be so loud it was rattling her skull. She doubted she could stand another minute of it. They still had a few good hours ahead of them until they reached Glory’s grand hideaway-and she could do absolutely nothing now but wait. The Slayer had locked herself in the back room, deathly silent, jaw grimly grit shut as she endured and waited for her time to come.
The quietness had slowly driven her mad, however, and she only grew more restless by the moment, each painful minute like decades. She just gazed off into space, far beyond the pacing stage. Willow had peeked in a while ago, concerned that Buffy had lapsed into another comatose, but the Slayer gave a reassuring look to her friend and requested to be left alone.
Which is how she planned to spend the remainder of the trip. But, as she should of expected, the most obnoxious member of their crew at the present moment didn’t let her. He simply never knew when to quit-always pushing the limits. Going over the top. So, using his inhuman strength, the vampire had calmly snapped the handle of the door and shut it behind him, taking a seat on the opposite side of the room, gazing at her with concern.
At first the Slayer pretended to ignore him completely, than considered pouncing and beating the crap out of him. But eventually she decided it wasn’t worth it right now, and besides, she might need him later on. So she just sat there, and the two shared the quiet together.
Spike sat very, very carefully. He looked like somebody perched on a bed of needles, as of concerned that the slightest wrong move would send the world crashing down. He had expected the Slayer to do everything short of staking him when he forced his way in to give her some company, but instead she stayed extremely quiet. So eventually he decided it was safe-she seemed all right with it. Gradually he relaxed but honored the silence between them. Best not push his luck yet-she let him sit here, that was a major plus as it was already.
The Slayer tried very hard to focus on thinking of absolutely nothing. Maybe if she could do that she could endure the ride. For a time it worked and she tuned out everything, kept her mind very blank. But than it kept wandering. Eventually she found the conversation she had earlier with Spike running through her head. She sighed submissively, slumping in her seat, causing the calmed vampire to glance back up at her.
"Ok, " she muttered. "You win. "
He raised a questioning brow at her, but she was staring at the floor.
"Win what, luv? "
She frowned a little but kept very quiet and calm.
"You came in here to talk, right? Figured I’d be sick of the silence eventually. "
"Actually, no. Really didn’t have anything in particular to say. "
She just let his words hang there, transfixed at the sound of their voices holding a muttered conversation, hardly audible above the humm of the engine. All their exchanges had always been loud and furious-it was alien to hear them like this.
Buffy caught his eye for the first time that evening.
"Why are you here? "
It just tumbled from her automatically-she asked on impulse. She hadn’t realized how much the question was bothering her until just now. He stalled.
"What do you mean? "
"You know what I mean. "
She paused as if to say more. Looked around the dark room.
"I want to know why. Why are you still here? When you know that there’s. . . that staying won’t ever change things. "
He gazed at her, as if in deep reflection.
"I want to know the truth. "
The silence enveloped the room once more, as the vampire continued to gaze calmly. They sat for what seemed like the longest time, saying nothing.
"Let me tell you a story, Slayer. "
She gave him a queer look.
"What? It’s a long trip. You might as well do something, right? "
She sighed. "All right. Fine. "
He reclined in his seat, shutting his eyes as if in deep concentration, gathering his words. Once again the engine drone was predominant. The Slayer just sat and watched him. After what seemed like forever, his voice came strangely soft again. It slightly disturbed her-at how nice it flowed and whisped-soothing and yet provocative at the same time. She grit her teeth, angry at him for having such a sound, and focused instead on the words.
"S’a long time ago-don’t remember exactly when, coupla decades. I was bored of the usual hunt, things gettin too easy again. I did my rounds, sure, but you know-no fun in it. And there was this run-down little hutch-thing I alwuys passed on my way back, little old lady lived in it. Mustov been at least a century old. P’h. Once you get past a certain age you’re immune to practically anything, cos nobody’ll even bother with you. Anyway. You could see ‘er every night you passed. ’Ad this dinky cage with a bird in it, she always seemed to be starin’ at. I mean, constantly. I didn’t get what she found so facinatin’. Once I stood there and she just kept watchin’ that bird for an hour. "
He grinned at the memory,
"Drove me crazy. I checked on her everytime I passed, and yep, sure enough, she was goggin’ or babbling at her stupid pet. Figured she probably was a few screws loose anyway. Huntin’ just got less and less around there. One night I really didn’t feel like singin’ for my supper, so figured, well, there’s always that ole’ hag, although probably hardly a pint of blood on ‘er. Besides, she was startin’ to annoy me. So I bust in, all Grr and the whole bit, and she just starts yappin’ about not hurtin’ her bloody canary! She runs up and gets the cage, drags it over to the corner of the room, talkin’ and cooin’ to the thing. I can’t believe it. Putting her life before a stupid little thing like that! I tell her, ‘Lady, sorry to bust your bubble an’ all, but the bloody thing doesn’t understand you. ’
‘An’ furthermore, he doesn’t give a damn that you just saved em’.
Of course I expect ‘er to go mad with insisting the thing’s her daughter or somethin’, but that’s not it at all. Instead she looks right up at me in the eye and answers, ‘I know that. ’
She sits down, watchin’ it, just talks calmly.
‘I feed and care for him everyday. I can’t ever expect him to return the favor. He’s just a bird. To him I’m just some monster. ’
I just stare at ‘er a moment. ‘Why the hell do you care so much then? ! ’
She shrugs an’ tells me,
‘It doesn’t matter. All I want to do is watch him. That’s enough for me. ’"
The vampire nods. "So I look at er’ and the bird, and than I walk out the way I came in. "
After his conclusion, he looks over to regard Buffy. She had been listening quietly. Now she seemed unwilling to meet his gaze again. The small cabin fell quiet once more. The Slayer started to miss the delicate whisp of his voice. As much as she hated admitting that.
"Is that. . . your answer? "
She spoke just because the emptiness was killing her again. Spike just nodded in response.
"Yeah. "
The old Winnebago hit a pothole in the road, bumping the dark cabin slightly. The humm of the engine provided a backdrop sound for all of the thoughts streaming through Buffy’s mind.
She shut her eyes, Spike still watching her with concern, uncertain of what she thought of his answer.
"Thank you, " she whispered. It was so petite and muted, only vampiric hearing could of picked it up.
"You’re welcome, Slayer. "





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