disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton owns her characters and the AB universe, Joss Whedon owns Delia, Faith and Willow. I do not own anything and do not intend to make money from this.
It should have been a wonderful night, the kind of night you think about when you’re older and smile to
yourself as you remember how crazy in love you both were. The summer heat had died down, leaving behind
cool winds and nights that smelled like pine. October would be rolling in soon, too cold for floral skirts but not
quite cold enough for pea coats and cute beanies.
The tears are clogging your throat, and it actually hurts to swallow.
His lights get farther and farther away as you stand there in the gravel by the side of the road and wonder
what the hell happened.
It takes a few minutes to force the tears back, you slap on a smile a few times to get some sort of
cheerfulness on your face as you walk towards the house. The highway is long and empty and this is the only
house for miles and miles. On Full moon nights the drive way is full of cars, so many they spill onto the lawn
and highway. But tonight the driveway is empty save for one car. A black Jeep, it is still shiny and new not
even a scratch. So new in fact the license plate holder is still empty.
It’s Ma’s new Jeep; the old one had a bad accident-not supernatural or anything just bad driving and bad
reflexes from too many sleepless nights and not enough food, supernatural food-not actual food. Your hair
slides over your shoulder as you dig in the bag for your keys; you hadn’t even thought to take them out
before now. Once inside you punch in the alarm code, dropping the keys on the small table and throwing your
bag on the hook behind the door. The interior is dark but the kitchen light is on and you can hear the hiss of
the coffee maker. Ma is sitting at the table; she has files in front of her and an almost empty cup in one hand.
“You’re back early?” she smiles as she looks up, but the smile dims when she notices your red eyes and pouty
mouth. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” its casual, you even offers a small smile and an eye roll, “Just-one of those days…”
There are times when she’d push, push to know why your eyes are red, and why you aren’t smiling. But
today was not one of those days and you were glad for it. She only raises her hand and gently sweeps it over
your hair, giving a small smile, “You know you can tell me anything.”
It an offer to talk, a way to get the tears out and you are glad she is your Mom. “I’m just going to go to
bed…” She hesitates again then gently squeezes your hand as you bend and brush a kiss across her cheek.
You can feel her gaze on you until you leave her sight and are headed up the darkened hallway pictures of
Delia, and Faith stared back, you and Pop, Ma and Papa…so many memories and smiles and it doesn’t bring a
smile to your face so dark are your thoughts. The lamp on the bedside table is on bathing the room in low
yellow lighting. Faith snores softly, the only thing visible is her leg which is hanging off the bed, Delia is a
lump of purple blankets at the foot of the bed, her dark hair peeking out from the blanket and trailing over
the edge to brush the floor.
You are quiet as you pull an oversized shirt out from the drawer, hoping a shower will wash away the night’s
events. But even the warm drops trailing down your body don’t help, and the steady splashing of the spray
hides the sounds of your tears against the tile walls. There is a ball of emotion threatening to crush your
chest, you want to desperately to scream to let it out before it chokes you but you do not. You brace your
hands against the white tile and cry. Thought the hurt and fear there is confusion, so many things you can’t
get one clear thought…It was supposed to be a good night.