RATING: PG
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Joss does.
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My feet pound against the pavement and I wonder for a brief moment if it's cold. I'm not wearing shoes or socks and the cement is probably very cold from the low overnight temperatures, but I can't feel it. Not that it matters, because if I don't move faster I won't be feeling much of anything. Except maybe searing pain. I wonder for another moment if that pain would be better than feeling nothing at all. But then I realize that's stupid, I still have the kid to take care of.
I made a promise.
Why aren't I wearing shoes? Did I honestly wander out in the middle of the night without my shoes and socks? What's wrong with me? These past few days have been hell on earth, trust me, I know. Hell's not much fun, but right not, neither is the earth. Everyone's so sad and depressed and well . . . why shouldn't they be? I've never really felt sad before, not even when the vampire left me so long ago. I was angry, but not really sad.
I'm sad now. I miss her.
Faster, faster. I have to go faster. I'm not running fast enough. If I don't run faster, I'll never be able to run again. Things keep distracting me though. Bloody dog barking at me from a yard. Damn thing, I wish I had the chance to stop and kick it in the head, just to shut it up. But instead, I settle for an evil glare, hoping maybe it'll run away yelping.
No such luck. It keeps barking, strangely disguising the yell of the mailman in front of me. I don't notice him until I bowl him over. He's sprawled on the ground in a moment and then I am too. Letters floating down overtop of us in the early morning. We probably look either hilarious or dangerous from any window on the street. 'Barefoot, blonde man runs over elderly mailman in a gang attack.' I can see the headlines now.
I don't have time to stop and apologize or help him pick up his crap. Not that I would normally, but now more than ever, I have to keep moving. Any other day I might have stopped to laugh, but not now. So I'm on my feet again, still wondering where I left my shoes. I can't honestly believe that I left them at her house, I've never done anything quite that stupid before. Stupid yes, but that stupid . . . not in my recent memory.
The mailman is shouting something at me, but I can't really hear. The wind is rushing by my ears as I flee down the sidewalk. There's not much further to go, but if I can't push my legs faster, I'm never going to make it. I have to make it, I have powers that are supposed to help me make it.
Again, I consider giving up. Maybe I'd be whisked away to the same place that's she's now stuck, but again I realize that's crazy. I can't give up yet, not when they need me. They might deny it, but they're all broken and scared and hurting and I'm the only one who can take care of the kid. I'm the only one she still really trusts.
I cut across a lawn and step on a tipped over garden gnome. It shatters under my foot and shards of plaster embed themselves in the sole of my foot. Bloody hell, that hurts like a bitch. I need to stop and pull them out, or I'll never get them all gone. They'll heal inside my foot by the time I make it back to the house.
Don't stop! I know I can't stop, even for the remains of the gnome stuck in my foot. There's no time, not now. I'll do it later, I'll cut myself open again to get them out if I have to, but if I stop now, I'll never make it. I press on, leaping over a low hedge and finding myself on the street I need to be.
Only one block more. Only one more. I can make it, I still have time. Time enough to stop for the plaster in my foot? I slow my running, then realize that I don't have that much time. That would be a risk that I can't afford to take right now.
She's in the house and she needs me. I would hate for her to be left alone right now, so soon after the death. I'm the only one that can really protect her. I was the only one that came up there to save her and I tried, I really did. No one else tried. At least, in her mind, no one else tried. I know different, I know that they all worked to save her and that she's only alive because of their powers combined.
But still, I was the only one she saw and I'm now the only one she trusts.
Oh hell, I don't think I'm going to get there in time. On top of that, the door might be locked. I'd never get inside before it happened.
I see the house up ahead and I push myself to go even faster than I am already, but it's no use. I can't move any quicker than I am, my legs will fall off before I'm able to. I turn suddenly and race across the lawns toward the house. I crush a tulip that her mother probably planted and immediately I'm sorry. But if I make it, I'll plant another one for her as soon as I can get the seeds.
I fly up the steps and slam into the front door. It's locked, like I thought it would be. I couldn't leave her alone for the night with the door unlocked. It would be stupid and while I may have forgotten my shoes, I won't let her get hurt.
I fumble for the keys, this is cutting it really close. I don't remember which one it is to open the dead bolt on the front door. I jam a key into the lock and turn it, praying that it will work. It gets stuck instead and takes me a moment to pull it free.
The sunlight is creeping up the sidewalk behind me.
I think I've found the right key.
I think.
It slides into the lock easier than the last, but still it doesn't open the door. I swear under my breath and pull it out, looking for another.
The flower garden is bathed in sunlight and for a moment I stop to look. I shouldn't be, I should be trying to get into the house, but it's been so long since I've seen flowers in the sun.
Shaking myself out of the trance I find the right key and open the door just as the sun creeps up my legs. I get inside and suddenly feel the burning pain. Looking down I find my left foot on fire.
"Hell!" I scream and run to the kitchen, trying to find something to put it out. I grab a dish towel and smother the flames, putting the fire out. My foot isn't badly burnt, it'll heal in a day or two. Then I sink into a chair and look at the bottom of the other foot. The plaster is still there, but the wounds haven't healed yet, I'll have time to get them out.
She comes down the stairs a few minutes later while I'm working garden gnome remains out of my skin. She's dressed for school, carrying her books and she smiles at me before getting breakfast.
"Where'd you go?" She asks.
I pause. "You know where I went."
"Oh." It's her turn to pause. "Does it look any different than it did last night?"
Her comment causes a slight smile on my face. "No, but it does have one more flower."
She pours a glass of milk. "You were too good to her, you know. You still are. And you're too good to me."
"Can't be too good to my two favourite ladies." I smile brightly at her. "How is it that all the Summers' women turn out to be so fabulous?"
She shrugs. "Luck, I suppose."
We lapse into silence as she eats her breakfast and I struggle with the rest of the plaster in my foot. A moment later she's kneeling in front of me, taking my foot in her hands and working out the pieces with her small fingers. It hurts, but they come out easier for her.
"You shouldn't cut it so close anymore." She tells me.
I nod. "Some nights it's hard to tear myself away."
"She'll be there forever. You know that. You don't have to worry about going to her one evening and finding her gone. She'll never leave that place."
There's silence and I sigh. "I know."
She finishes my foot and washes her hands in the sink before going back to her breakfast. Then, without saying a word, she picks up her backpack and heads toward the front door.
"I closed all the drapes in her room." She calls. "So you can sleep."
"Thank you." I reply.
The door opens and she pauses on the front step. "I keep meaning to ask you this . . . how come you've stuck around so long? I'm sure you have other places you'd rather be."
I look at her. "I made a promise to a lady." I smile. "Besides, there's no place I'd rather be."
She tries to hide the smile that's growing on her face by shutting the door quickly behind her. I grin, then climb the stairs and fall into her sister's bed. It's dark and cool in her room and it smells like she used to. I lay on my side and grab the stuffed pig that looks lonely on the other side of the bed.
It's beautiful and quiet and when I'm here with my eyes closed I can sometimes pretend that she's laying beside me, her quiet breathing the only sound in the room. But in reality, she doesn't breathe anymore. And even though she's gone, I'll never break my promise.
There was no lie in what I told the kid.
There is no place I'd rather be.
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