Fanfic 100
Title: Mother
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Claim: William the Bloody
Prompt: Writer's Choice-Mother
Word Count: 784
Summary: We never got to see what happened when Spike first heard about Joyce's death.
***********************
Colors faded. Time stopped. It felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room. Spike had never had much use for air, but he felt its passing all the same.
“She’s dead?” he repeated, an odd little hitch that he couldn’t explain away sneaking into his voice.
“Yeah. It’s a real shame too. She was a real nice lady.” Clem rubbed his hand across the back of his head with a sad little sigh. “When I heard the news…”
“Who…who’d you hear it from?” Spike interrupted. He’d unconsciously shed the working class inflection that so frequently colored his speech, sounding much more like the proper Englishman he’d been born so very long ago.
“Who? Uh…well, let’s see.” Clem thought for a moment. “Well, I heard it from Rocklan, you know…that Krylack demon with the weird little…anyway,” Clem waved his arms dismissively before he veered off track. “I heard it from him and I think he said he’d heard it form Lenny, who was at the hospital picking up a snack when they brought her in.”
Third hand. He was hearing the news third hand. Why hadn’t anyone bothered to tell him?
Because they all soddin’ hate you, you stupid git, he thought viciously. It didn’t matter how many demons he killed, or how hard he tried to be good, he wasn’t one of them and he knew it. But Joyce…
Fleeting memories jostled for prominence in his mind… Drinking cocoa with her….spilling his guts and crying over Dru like a child. He was sitting in the exact same spot he’d been in when Buffy had brought her mum and sister to him. They’d watched Passions. He’d been…maybe not happy. That wasn’t the right word. She reminded him of his own mum…and she had been the first human being to whom he had tentatively applied the title “friend.”
Clem was still talking. Spike shook himself internally and tried to focus.
“…and as soon as he said that I came right over here,” Clem was saying. “I know you’ve been gettin’ real close to the slayer and her family and all. I just wanted to see how you were holdin’ up. Have you been to see any of ‘em yet? How’s the kid doin’? What was her name again?”
“Dawn,” Spike said softly, and suddenly wished he hadn’t. He found himself suddenly inundated with mental images of the poor kid. Buffy was a good sister, but Spike was still surprised by the way she always managed to ignore Dawn whenever things got bad.
“Yeah, that was it. I tell ya, it’s rough on a kid, loosin’ a parent at that age. But at least she’s got her sister, huh? She’ll pull through all right.”
Spike made a vague affirmative noise, rising to his feet rather aimlessly. Clem looked a bit confused, but appeared to take Spike’s thousand yard stare as a sign of advanced grieving, rather than the confused shock it was, and gazed at him in a kindly fashion. But Spike didn’t notice. Oh no…advanced grieving would come later. At that moment, Spike wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to do. Most of his time was spent as a bouncing ball of restless energy, and he felt that need to “do” constricting around him. He raised a hand jerkily to his head, no longer even attempting to listen to Clem’s words of sympathy.
Gotta fix m’hair, he thought distractedly. Can’t go ou’ like this… Nick some flowers from the store… He paused and reached his hand into his pocket. There were a few crumpled bills there which he’d been intending to spend on smokes. I can do wi’ou’ ‘em, he decided. He wasn’t entirely sure why it mattered, but he just thought maybe Joyce would have liked him to pay for her flowers. She deserved it.
Clem seemed to have realized he’d lost Spike’s attention. He rose slowly from his chair, his expression searching.
“Well…I uh…I guess I should get going,” he said hesitantly. “You gonna be okay?” He asked it like he actually thought the vampire capable of saying no. Spike didn’t answer.
“Well…uh…” Clem stammered after the silence had grown awkward. “You know where to find me if…uh…if you need anything.” He stood a moment longer and then quietly let himself out.
Spike never moved.
There was no reason for this, or so he told himself. For over a century he’d reaped ugly death on countless victims. Fathers, sons, daughters…and mothers. For a split second, he hated the world and every evil creature in it, himself included.
And then, with a little shake, he pulled himself together and set to work, doing the only small, ineffectual things he could.
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Claim: William the Bloody
Prompt: Writer's Choice-Mother
Word Count: 784
Summary: We never got to see what happened when Spike first heard about Joyce's death.
***********************
Colors faded. Time stopped. It felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room. Spike had never had much use for air, but he felt its passing all the same.
“She’s dead?” he repeated, an odd little hitch that he couldn’t explain away sneaking into his voice.
“Yeah. It’s a real shame too. She was a real nice lady.” Clem rubbed his hand across the back of his head with a sad little sigh. “When I heard the news…”
“Who…who’d you hear it from?” Spike interrupted. He’d unconsciously shed the working class inflection that so frequently colored his speech, sounding much more like the proper Englishman he’d been born so very long ago.
“Who? Uh…well, let’s see.” Clem thought for a moment. “Well, I heard it from Rocklan, you know…that Krylack demon with the weird little…anyway,” Clem waved his arms dismissively before he veered off track. “I heard it from him and I think he said he’d heard it form Lenny, who was at the hospital picking up a snack when they brought her in.”
Third hand. He was hearing the news third hand. Why hadn’t anyone bothered to tell him?
Because they all soddin’ hate you, you stupid git, he thought viciously. It didn’t matter how many demons he killed, or how hard he tried to be good, he wasn’t one of them and he knew it. But Joyce…
Fleeting memories jostled for prominence in his mind… Drinking cocoa with her….spilling his guts and crying over Dru like a child. He was sitting in the exact same spot he’d been in when Buffy had brought her mum and sister to him. They’d watched Passions. He’d been…maybe not happy. That wasn’t the right word. She reminded him of his own mum…and she had been the first human being to whom he had tentatively applied the title “friend.”
Clem was still talking. Spike shook himself internally and tried to focus.
“…and as soon as he said that I came right over here,” Clem was saying. “I know you’ve been gettin’ real close to the slayer and her family and all. I just wanted to see how you were holdin’ up. Have you been to see any of ‘em yet? How’s the kid doin’? What was her name again?”
“Dawn,” Spike said softly, and suddenly wished he hadn’t. He found himself suddenly inundated with mental images of the poor kid. Buffy was a good sister, but Spike was still surprised by the way she always managed to ignore Dawn whenever things got bad.
“Yeah, that was it. I tell ya, it’s rough on a kid, loosin’ a parent at that age. But at least she’s got her sister, huh? She’ll pull through all right.”
Spike made a vague affirmative noise, rising to his feet rather aimlessly. Clem looked a bit confused, but appeared to take Spike’s thousand yard stare as a sign of advanced grieving, rather than the confused shock it was, and gazed at him in a kindly fashion. But Spike didn’t notice. Oh no…advanced grieving would come later. At that moment, Spike wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to do. Most of his time was spent as a bouncing ball of restless energy, and he felt that need to “do” constricting around him. He raised a hand jerkily to his head, no longer even attempting to listen to Clem’s words of sympathy.
Gotta fix m’hair, he thought distractedly. Can’t go ou’ like this… Nick some flowers from the store… He paused and reached his hand into his pocket. There were a few crumpled bills there which he’d been intending to spend on smokes. I can do wi’ou’ ‘em, he decided. He wasn’t entirely sure why it mattered, but he just thought maybe Joyce would have liked him to pay for her flowers. She deserved it.
Clem seemed to have realized he’d lost Spike’s attention. He rose slowly from his chair, his expression searching.
“Well…I uh…I guess I should get going,” he said hesitantly. “You gonna be okay?” He asked it like he actually thought the vampire capable of saying no. Spike didn’t answer.
“Well…uh…” Clem stammered after the silence had grown awkward. “You know where to find me if…uh…if you need anything.” He stood a moment longer and then quietly let himself out.
Spike never moved.
There was no reason for this, or so he told himself. For over a century he’d reaped ugly death on countless victims. Fathers, sons, daughters…and mothers. For a split second, he hated the world and every evil creature in it, himself included.
And then, with a little shake, he pulled himself together and set to work, doing the only small, ineffectual things he could.