[Reviews - 82]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 4060 times

- Text Size +




Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm a bad poster... bad! Chapter 14 has been tacked onto chapter 13... sorry. But to make up for the lack of my foresight... I make up for Chapter 14 (go back and read it!!) with Chapter 15!

Hope you like it


I forgot to mention that I won't be in town this weekend... next update Sunday or possibly Monday
Chapter 15 (missed Ch14? Go back one chapter, it's tacked on the end)
Four months later…



Buffy strolled down the sandy beach in a pair of white linen Capri pants, a yellow t-shirt, and white zip up sweatshirt. The sun popped out from beneath the clouds, warming the cool air. She walked up to a large flat rock and sat down with her sketchbook. Gliding her hand across the paper, Buffy recorded the beauty that was early morning in the Bodega Bay area. The cool breeze rustled the trees around Buffy as she continued to sketch the blue waters and green pastures. Her golden hair, now tinted slightly darker whipped around her face, making the daily excursion come to an end. She walked back the way she came, not disturbing the beach’s natural residents as she made her way back to her rental house, owned by her mother’s brother, Rupert Giles. She idly wondered why her uncle would own such property, surrounded by similarly large, worn houses that sold for more than half a million dollars. He was a kind man that couldn’t stand Hank Summers from the very beginning, and she knew he would not tell anyone of her whereabouts. He acted as her liaison to her customers and friends, allowing Dawn to go to school and not worry about the art shop. She didn’t want to put Willow or Xander in danger of loosing their jobs by staying loyal to her friendship so she stayed out of contact with them.



She kept her lease of her apartment, knowing she would eventually come back to it. Her uncle had told her of an angry, bleach blond man looking for her, inquiring her location. Evidently Hank had given Rupert’s name as a possible association to her. He had sent her a few letters, but she had not opened them, she send them back to her uncle, untouched. A few orders for paintings came in, giving her a necessary income. Every time she sent something to Sunnydale, Buffy would smile sweetly at the old postman, asking him to smear the location stamp. She had received several requests from Spike, through his company for paintings and she accepted the order. She knew he was trying any angle to get in touch with her, but she stayed hidden. She finished the paintings, having Rupert deliver them. Spike knew she was okay, he spent enough time studying her other paintings to know her work and he knew that what was delivered was indeed her work.



The days melted together, giving Buffy much needed time and space to grieve. She spent the mornings on inspirational hikes and the afternoons at the local ice rink. She trained harder than ever, recovering the loss of time and strength the attack cost her. She built up her stamina and ankle strength, affording new and different jumps and twists in her program.



She learned how to drive and got her license. The money she was paid from the sale of her art paid for a used car, giving her a mobility she never had. She drove down to the harbor, and up the coast. She watched the whales migrate from their mating waters to their birthing places, amazed at how elegant those large creatures could be. She painted a large 4 by 4 foot mural of a particularly large gray whale, coming up for air. His body came out of the water, revealing his forty-foot frame, dwarfing the other marine mammals around. It was her favorite painting by far. She felt like the whale’s large eye saw into her soul, searching for it.



~*~*~



Spike sat in his office, drinking his stash of whiskey away. It’s been five and a half months since she disappeared. The painting on his wall told him that she was alive and doing all right. Her strokes were clean and precise, accurate to a fault, creating an illusion of a sunrise through a corporate window. He knew she painted it for him, knew she knew morning was his favorite time of the day. It was when he held her without question and inhaled her essence. Even now, when she’s gone, he still held her in his dreams. Lying still and quiet on the bed, enjoying her warm skin against his. But it all was an illusion, just like her painting.



The sound a knocking broke through Spike’s muddled thoughts, he looked up to see Xander Harris standing in the doorframe to the office. “What do you want, whelp?”



“Are you drunk without me?” Xander walked into the room. Through the past months, the two men had gotten close in Buffy’s absence. They bonded over drinks at the local bar and became good friends. Spike even let Xander in on the little deal they had pertaining to her father. Xander was amazed that Buffy would go along with such a thing until Spike explained about her mother. Xander sat down in one of the chairs opposite of Spike’s desk.



“What’s it to you?” Spike slurred. He poured another three fingers of whiskey into his glass and gulped it down.



“Nothing, man… just… what would you do if she walked through that door, and saw you like this?” Spike looked at the door, hoping that she would walk through the door. “Relax, she ain’t here. But, if she would, you wouldn’t be earning any points with her.”



“Well, she ain’t here and she’s not going to be. She left. Left the apartment, left the shop, left me.”



“I would’ve leave you too, if you acted this way.”



Spike’s blue eyes flared with anger. Turning his gaze on Xander, they narrowed, “What did you say, wanker?”



“I said that you are being a royal pain in the ass and I don’t blame her for leaving.” Spike stood up and stalked over to Xander. Xander stood up, ready for him.



“Mind repeating that?”



“You,” Xander pushed a finger into Spike’s chest, “Are,” another push, “Being,” Spike growled, “A,” Xander ignored the warning and continued to poke him, “Pain in the ass.”



Spike pulled his fist back, “Don’t want to hurt you, whelp.”



“Whatever, Spike. The point is, if she happens to come by again you are in no condition to get her back.” Xander backed away, heading to the door.



“She isn’t going to come back.” Spike’s voice sounded suddenly sobered.



Xander turned around, “Are you sure about that?” Xander walked out of the room, leaving Spike to contemplate what he’d said.





You must login (register) to review.