Jun. 26th, 2006

stbethadettes: (any port in a storm)
It's mid-afternoon on the fourth day before Beth finally sits down at the desk in what passes for her bedroom and opens a drawer to pull out the pencil and paper she previously used to record the days that had passed since the plague.

Not having the patience to sit and try to estimate how many days she's missed, she just draws a quick line straight across the middle of the piece of paper and then makes four very small vertical lines underneath, one for every full day she's been here so far.

When she takes a minute to think about it, she realizes what day it'd be back at the bar.

June 26th.

That's Spike's birthday.

They could be sitting at the bar and sharing a celebratory martini and a slice of cake. Or having a lobster dinner after a swim in the lake. Or just sleeping in and holing up in his room all day except for a trip downstairs to get food and a movie.

Any of that would be heaven.

She hopes like hell he didn't try to come after her. He's not here right now, so there's really only one place he could possibly have ended up if he tried to follow her.

And that's... not something she wants to let herself think about. She would rather him stuck in the bar and miserable about her not being there than back in his time and reliving things.

No fucking question.

Folding her paper again, she places it back in the drawer and carefully pulls the Venusian Vanilla shirt that made it here with her off its perch on the back of her chair, slipping it back on over her tank top and carelessly rolling the sleeves to her elbows.

(It still kind of smells like Spike and smoke.)

Then she pulls out a blank piece of paper. Right here and now, for his birthday, she's going to make a list of things about Spike that she misses.

And if she ever sees him again, she'll even give it to him.


stbethadettes: (Default)

January 2009

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