Two part rosebud, section the second
Title: Broken
Author: Fluff
Disclaimer: Ownership hasn't changed since I posted part I.
Wordcount: 708 (not technically a rosebud. It sort of got away from me. Sorry. Kind of.)
Setting: Future
Notes: Part I can be found here.
Blue Lily
He was, and he was still behind her when she arrived at a bar a few blocks away. It was called The Blue Lily, and she was sure it was a packed enough place at night. But at three in the afternoon, there was no need to elbow her way to the bar and Angel was able to take the stool next to hers.
He didn't protest when she ordered three successive shots of vodka. She wasn't sure whether it was because he wanted to let her deal, or if he was still in shock.
She felt the need to cry weighing on her like the earth on Atlas's back. The drinks were just enhancing her sadness, making her remember that she could only drink because she was not pregnant.
"Here." The bartender, a thirtyish man, totally nondescript except for the bright orange that was on the tips of his hair, slid a bright martini glass in front of her. "Have some of this."
Buffy looked at it suspiciously before taking a drink. She meant to toss it back in a to-hell-with-this, alcoholic motion, but she began to savor as soon as the liquid touched her tongue. It was sweet and slightly thick and, as she swallowed, she felt the sadness inside her grab her.
It must be my fault, she thought. Angel already has a child, so it must be me. Maybe if I hadn't slayed so much..." She took another sip as the thought slogged back into her brain.
The bartender appeared with another glass for her. "What is this?" She asked hoarsely.
"We call it a Blue Lily. House special. Really special."
"What do you mean?"
"Girl came in one day, sadder than anyone I've ever seen, and I've been tending bar since I was sixteen." He winked. "Don't tell. Anyway, this girl asked for a weird mixed drink that I'd never heard of before, and as soon as she'd had a sip, she started crying. Cried through the next two as well, big damn tears, like her whole world had died and left her behind. When she left, she told me that her name was Lily and I should serve that to anyone who looked as sad as she did. When you walked in, you looked like you could use a few."
He paused for a moment, waiting for her to tell all, maybe, but when she didn't he just shrugged. "Haven't had much opportunity to serve them, which I count among my blessings. But when I do, I call it a Blue Lily. Naming drinks isn't my forte." He tipped a small smile at her which she did not return before. He sighed and set a fresh glass in front of her before starting over to serve someone at the opposite end of the bar.
Buffy sipped her new drink, but she had trouble. Her throat was clogged and mucousy from the crying she could not seem to stop. When her stool began to wobble because she could no longer balance on it, she felt Angel's hand on her arm. He drove them home, silently.
Seeing their house, with its five bedrooms that they had bought optimistically "for the kids" six years ago, made Buffy hiccup out a fresh sob. Angel guided her up to their bedroom and helped her put on a large t-shirt. She lay down immediately after, and he didn't press her to brush her teeth. Instead, he lay down beside her, picking tangles out of her hair. Only a shift in his breathing after many minutes made her realize that he was crying.
"Angel," she whispered, rolling over to see his face. He closed his eyes to her and she reached up to touch his closed lids. He opened them again, petted her hair.
"It's okay, Buffy. We're okay." His voice was croaky and low. "We'll talk in the morning."
She wanted to comfort him, to make him promise they they would talk, but his hand felt as good on her hair as her mother's used to when she was sick. Her body felt heavy and slow.
"I want my mom," she confessed feebly into Angel's shoulder and dropped into sleep.
When she woke up in the morning, they were still in the same position, as if they were trapped posing for a painting. "Un-Parents, Grieving."
Author: Fluff
Disclaimer: Ownership hasn't changed since I posted part I.
Wordcount: 708 (not technically a rosebud. It sort of got away from me. Sorry. Kind of.)
Setting: Future
Notes: Part I can be found here.
Blue Lily
He was, and he was still behind her when she arrived at a bar a few blocks away. It was called The Blue Lily, and she was sure it was a packed enough place at night. But at three in the afternoon, there was no need to elbow her way to the bar and Angel was able to take the stool next to hers.
He didn't protest when she ordered three successive shots of vodka. She wasn't sure whether it was because he wanted to let her deal, or if he was still in shock.
She felt the need to cry weighing on her like the earth on Atlas's back. The drinks were just enhancing her sadness, making her remember that she could only drink because she was not pregnant.
"Here." The bartender, a thirtyish man, totally nondescript except for the bright orange that was on the tips of his hair, slid a bright martini glass in front of her. "Have some of this."
Buffy looked at it suspiciously before taking a drink. She meant to toss it back in a to-hell-with-this, alcoholic motion, but she began to savor as soon as the liquid touched her tongue. It was sweet and slightly thick and, as she swallowed, she felt the sadness inside her grab her.
It must be my fault, she thought. Angel already has a child, so it must be me. Maybe if I hadn't slayed so much..." She took another sip as the thought slogged back into her brain.
The bartender appeared with another glass for her. "What is this?" She asked hoarsely.
"We call it a Blue Lily. House special. Really special."
"What do you mean?"
"Girl came in one day, sadder than anyone I've ever seen, and I've been tending bar since I was sixteen." He winked. "Don't tell. Anyway, this girl asked for a weird mixed drink that I'd never heard of before, and as soon as she'd had a sip, she started crying. Cried through the next two as well, big damn tears, like her whole world had died and left her behind. When she left, she told me that her name was Lily and I should serve that to anyone who looked as sad as she did. When you walked in, you looked like you could use a few."
He paused for a moment, waiting for her to tell all, maybe, but when she didn't he just shrugged. "Haven't had much opportunity to serve them, which I count among my blessings. But when I do, I call it a Blue Lily. Naming drinks isn't my forte." He tipped a small smile at her which she did not return before. He sighed and set a fresh glass in front of her before starting over to serve someone at the opposite end of the bar.
Buffy sipped her new drink, but she had trouble. Her throat was clogged and mucousy from the crying she could not seem to stop. When her stool began to wobble because she could no longer balance on it, she felt Angel's hand on her arm. He drove them home, silently.
Seeing their house, with its five bedrooms that they had bought optimistically "for the kids" six years ago, made Buffy hiccup out a fresh sob. Angel guided her up to their bedroom and helped her put on a large t-shirt. She lay down immediately after, and he didn't press her to brush her teeth. Instead, he lay down beside her, picking tangles out of her hair. Only a shift in his breathing after many minutes made her realize that he was crying.
"Angel," she whispered, rolling over to see his face. He closed his eyes to her and she reached up to touch his closed lids. He opened them again, petted her hair.
"It's okay, Buffy. We're okay." His voice was croaky and low. "We'll talk in the morning."
She wanted to comfort him, to make him promise they they would talk, but his hand felt as good on her hair as her mother's used to when she was sick. Her body felt heavy and slow.
"I want my mom," she confessed feebly into Angel's shoulder and dropped into sleep.
When she woke up in the morning, they were still in the same position, as if they were trapped posing for a painting. "Un-Parents, Grieving."