Disclaimer: These characters are Joss’ and Mutant Enemy’s- not mine- never were, make no profit, have no money, do not sue :)

*~*~*~*

No Words
by xenoprobe

“D’ya want me to pick Dawn up from School? Mom?”

She turns towards the living room.

“What ch’ya doin’?”

Eyes are cold- glossy…

“Mom? Mom… mom? Mommy?”

Cold.

Dead.

Gone.

Mommy…

*~*~*~*

She lies awake in her room- the night’s darkness all around, in every corner and crease of the space that surrounds her. It used to bring her some comfort, the darkness. Not anymore. She wants to rail against the heavens, to scream at the top of her lungs and wail until she hasn’t a voice at all.

At the foot of the bed lies the lavender sweater she borrowed from her mom, just a day before. The day before. Why can’t she go back to the day before- she could change it, change it all and she wouldn’t be here in the darkness, she wouldn’t be numb and alone and cold.

She knows it wouldn’t make a difference. The doctor said so. Bound to happen. A possibility. Joyce knew the odds. She was aware… that’s what the doctor said- her mother knew… so how come she didn’t?

She hears the muffled sound of crying from her sister’s bedroom. She longs to go to her- take Dawn into her arms and cry with her. Grieve. Sob. Cling. She wants to but can’t find the strength to move her legs. All the life has left her limbs, the will has shattered and what’s left is this- her sitting on her bed, clothed, cold, in the middle of the night.

She hears a creak in the floorboards and listens as Dawn vomits in the bathroom. Is there no end to the scenes that play over and over in her mind? The sterile recollection of her covering her own vomit with paper towels. The hollow sound of Giles’ voice calling to her mother- trying to rouse the body.

The body.

God- how is this real?

Dawn goes back to bed and falls asleep. She knows this only after hours of sitting there, helpless. She wishes it would rain outside- a thunderous storm fitting for her mood. Maybe rain would help her cry. Maybe a jolt of any kind would let it out. She can’t cry though- hasn’t been able to through all of this horror. She closes her eyes and rests against the headboard for a moment and sees only a void- darkness- the hollow space that is this world without the person she loved the most. So much pain…

Her eyes open and she leans forward to pick up the sweater and holds it to her face. Breathes in deep. Scent and memory fill her to the point of breaking. She has the sudden urge to scream-

MOMMY!!!

…but she knows there’d be no answer in the silent night. She knows, inside, that her scream would wake the world from its slumber and dreams and her pain would spread like filth, like a disease and she can’t bear it. Too much. Too heavy. Chest aches. Heart. Stop.

She tries to will her heart to stop, knowing that all her strength could not accomplish this. Her will’s too weak, her resolve shaken, shattered.

Finally she stands and walks to the window and looks out. There’s a breeze but the world is otherwise silent. She opens the window and crawls out on the porch roof under the stars. With the sweater in her clutch she opens at long last.

She cries, her entire body shaking, trembling, rocking. She places the sweater in her lap and brings her knees up to her chin. She cradles herself in her own embrace and weeps, weeps, weeps. There aren’t enough words in the world to describe her pain. There’s not one word she can conceive of that would pinpoint her sorrow. So she curls on her side and sobs under the stars until exhaustion claims her.

*~*~*~*

She feels hot… like she might combust and she stirs awake in the early morning California sunlight. Around are the sounds of life- birds in the tree on her front lawn, people leaving for work in their cars… life. It seems wrong, an insult.

She sits up and rubs the crystallized tears from her eyes. Her lip trembles.

She turns to go back inside and picks up the sweater.

Beneath it… there’s something underneath it.

A black leather coat, folded neatly, carefully covered in her mother’s sweater- something soft for her cheek while she sleeps. And beside this makeshift pillow lies a broken bouquet of flowers. She doesn’t want to think about it but she takes these offerings inside and lays them out on her bed.

Her stomach aches. She needs to eat something but cannot.

She thinks of her mother’s waffles and takes a step towards her door then stops. No waffles. No coffee shared over breakfast. No chicken and stars to sooth her. No lipstick marks on mugs. No- no, no, no.

NO!

She drops to the floor and is wracked in waves of pain and its all she can do to crawl to the foot of her bed and grip the soft leather coat to her cheek.

FIN

*~*~*~*

Author’s Notes: I didn’t set out to write about Joyce Summers’ death… I really didn’t but I sat down at the computer and this spilled out of me like a possession. As it is with my writings, I was listening to something that moved me as I pounded at the keyboard. So for the full experience, have a listen to Evanescence’s track “Hello” and read. I really recommend it- great song, sad and haunting, much like this terribly sad episode of Buffy was. Hope you like- feedback me please at sunnydaleslayerette@yahoo.com