Title: Waiting
Author:Nikita
Rating: R
Disclaimer: The characters belong to the great and powerful Joss.
Spoilers: Set somewhere post S5, helps if you know what happens.
Notes: Horrible writer’s block + escaping horrible sociology essay
= tiny pointless fic!
Feedback: Please!
Waiting
Waiting is nothing new.
She sits on the hood of her car in the warm
Californian night, and waits, flicking her cigarette
against her thumb, watching the sparks of light fade
into blackness.
Californian night, and waits, flicking her cigarette
against her thumb, watching the sparks of light fade
into blackness.
It’s supposed to be just them tonight. She
almost
smiles at the thought.
smiles at the thought.
But she has changed. She doesn’t let hope in
anymore,
she stopped a long time ago. It’s kept at bay, locked
out of her mind and her heart. She doesn’t remember
when she stopped hoping.
she stopped a long time ago. It’s kept at bay, locked
out of her mind and her heart. She doesn’t remember
when she stopped hoping.
She stopped, and that’s what matters.
She gazes off into the night, and tries not
to wonder
where it all went wrong. She turns her mind to other
things. Old leather sliding on the car’s red paint,
smoke clouding her eyes, pinpricks of light far below
which she supposes are the lights from homes.
where it all went wrong. She turns her mind to other
things. Old leather sliding on the car’s red paint,
smoke clouding her eyes, pinpricks of light far below
which she supposes are the lights from homes.
But she doesn’t want to think of that either.
Warm,
comfortable homes, not like the cold, stark room she
knows she’ll soon be alone in. A room that doesn’t
feel safe anymore. She doesn’t want to think of much,
really. But that’s always when the memories come.
comfortable homes, not like the cold, stark room she
knows she’ll soon be alone in. A room that doesn’t
feel safe anymore. She doesn’t want to think of much,
really. But that’s always when the memories come.
They’re all of her, they always are. Conscious,
dreaming, dead, they’re always of the one she lost,
the one she pushed away.
dreaming, dead, they’re always of the one she lost,
the one she pushed away.
The one she can’t believe she found again.
She shakes her head slightly, clearing it once
more,
and looks up at the sky. The stars glint softly in the
distance, and she remembers that she once thought they
were souls. But that was before. Now she knows they’re
just stars.
and looks up at the sky. The stars glint softly in the
distance, and she remembers that she once thought they
were souls. But that was before. Now she knows they’re
just stars.
The first firework explodes in the sky with
a bang,
and she sighs. She’s not coming. Why should she? But
it doesn’t matter, she has no hope to lose.
and she sighs. She’s not coming. Why should she? But
it doesn’t matter, she has no hope to lose.
Her knees are pulled up to her chin now in
an act that
looks protective, but it’s not.
looks protective, but it’s not.
Because she doesn’t care.
They’re exploding everywhere now, the sky is
lit up
with reds, golds, whites, blues, and she just watches
from the darkness with nothing in her eyes but
blankness. It’s easier that way.
with reds, golds, whites, blues, and she just watches
from the darkness with nothing in her eyes but
blankness. It’s easier that way.
She stubs out yet another cigarette with a
shrug, and
puts her hands on the hood, ready to leave.
puts her hands on the hood, ready to leave.
But she doesn’t.
The sound of her breathing is as familiar as
it has
always been. Her boots on the ground, the swish of her
clothes, the feeling of her closeness. She sits and
waits, not needing to turn, not wanting to let her see
the look of relief that has crept onto her face.
always been. Her boots on the ground, the swish of her
clothes, the feeling of her closeness. She sits and
waits, not needing to turn, not wanting to let her see
the look of relief that has crept onto her face.
She feels her slip in behind her, and strong
arms
slide around her waist. She leans back slightly,
relaxing into the firm body behind her.
slide around her waist. She leans back slightly,
relaxing into the firm body behind her.
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
She shrugs like she does every time, like she
doesn’t
care. “Doesn’t matter.” She replies, as her smile
pulls at the corners of her mouth, begging for
release.
care. “Doesn’t matter.” She replies, as her smile
pulls at the corners of her mouth, begging for
release.
Soft lips touch her neck in apology, in need,
in love.
She whimpers quietly, surprised that she can still
make her feel.
She whimpers quietly, surprised that she can still
make her feel.
And she does what she does for a few short
hours every
time they are together. She pulls Faith’s arms around
her tighter, and let’s herself go.
time they are together. She pulls Faith’s arms around
her tighter, and let’s herself go.
Because Buffy has changed.
But love stays the same.