I hate that name. Julia.
It's so wholesome and spotless. But that's bullshit. Anything, everything becomes dirty during some point in life. It's nothing more than a front, a mask... A mask to hide the angelic demon beneath the surface; the demon that plagues his dreams and haunts his nightmares.
I hate that bitch. Julia.
I don't even know her and I hate her. But he knows her. He loves her; she is his weakness. Just the utterance of her holy name is enough to cripple his brain and crush his heart.
He used to sleepwalk. He did it a lot so it was no big thing to me, though I was the only one who knew about it. He didn't even know about it. He never did or said anything weird, though. He would just get up and walk around. And it was my job to steer him back to his room.
But there was this one time, this one episode that happened about three months ago.
I was tired, but I couldn't sleep. Insomnia, I guess. They say insomnia is brought on by stress. But I had nothing to be stressed about. So what the fuck did they know? Absolutely nothing. At least, nothing about me.
I had snuck out of my room, peeking down both directions of the long corridor before tip-toeing quickly towards the living room/kitchen. I felt like a leopard or some sort of sneaky, mysterious animal. I gripped the bottom of my oversized T-shirt as I took a quick look around, pulling it tight over my ass so that my light pink panties weren't showing.
With a quiet, gleeful cry, I skipped over to the refrigerator and opened the door. I felt my eyes begin to water as they gredily took in the large assortment of food we had. Whispering a quiet prayer and a small thanks to Jet, I snatched up two pudding cups and closed the refrigerator. I danced over to the sink and began on my first pudding cup.
I was well into my second when I felt something brush against my backside. Surprised, I yelped and spun around, dropping my spoon in the process.
"Spike?!" I shrieked when I saw the shirtless man standing in front of me. "Shit, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"
My heart was pounding excessively due to the dosage of adrenaline that had just been pumped through my veins, so I placed a hand over it to calm myself. I closed my eyes and sighed in relief. It wasn't a monster.
"What are you doing up? You're usually out like a damn log," I asked jokingly, placing a hand on my hip. But he gave me no answer, he just stood there with this blank expression on his face.
"Spike?" I said, waving a hand in front of his face. Still no answer.
Confused, I leaned into his unreadable face and peered into his eyes. That's when I realized he was sleeping. But it was odd; he usually sleep-walked with his eyes closed. This time, they were wide open, yet glazed over as if he were in the deepest of thoughts.
"I knew you wouldn't come," he mumbled suddenly. Startled, I jumped back and bumped into the sink.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, though I knew he was in a dream state.
"I knew you wouldn't come," he restated quietly, "but I hoped you would." My eyebrows furrowed together. Who was he talking to?
"Angel..." he whispered, taking a small step towards me. Already backed into the sink, I had no escape route so I remained still, every fiber of my body screaming with tension.
"Why didn't you want me, Angel?" he asked, his eyes softening solemnly. Although I knew it was a dream, I tried again to speak to him.
"Spike? Who are you talking to? Who is Angel?" I whispered. He swallowed hard and his shoulders sagged slightly.
"Julia..." he whispered as if answering my question. It was barely audible, but I heard it, and something in my chest clenched tightly at the sound of it.
"Spike..." I whispered, reaching out to touch his shoulder. He jumped at my touch and I quickly withdrew my hand, but he caught my wrist and gently placed my palm to his warm cheek. He closed the space between us and slid his arms around my waist, drawing me tightly against his body.
"I wish you knew... I wish you knew how much I love you, what I would do for you, Julia," he whispered as he nuzzled his face into my palm lovingly. I sighed deeply.
He was saying all of the things I ever wanted to hear from him, but to the wrong person. Ignoring the shivers running down my spine from the contact, I reluctantly slid my hand from his face. I clasped both of his shoulders and shook him gently, trying to rouse him from his slumber. I know people say that if you wake a sleep-walking person, they could hurt you as well as themselves, but he was hurting while he was sleeping anyway. I had to try something.
"Spike. I'm not her. Wake up, Spike," I told him gingerly as I shook him. Then, something small, something clear fell from his eye and rolled down his cheek. I gasped when I saw the lone tear, halting my shaking. My breath caught in my chest as I was struck with a wave of shock. He was crying.
"Please..." he sobbed dryly, "please don't do this to me. I love you, Angel... Julia." I was speechless. There was absolutely nothing I could say at that moment.
Just then, his knees gave way and he crumpled to the ground, clutching his sides as sob after sob quaked his body. I was on the floor in a millisecond, my arms surrounding his shaking form as I whispered soothingly into his ear. His head dropped onto my chest as his arms came to encircle me once again, his fingers clutching at the back of my T-shirt desperately.
"It's okay, Spike. It's alright..." I cooed as I battled the tears that strained to get past my own eyelids. I shut them tightly, burying my face in his neck as he continued to cry. We stayed like that for a good fifteen minutes, both of us crying against each other. Him, for the love he lost. Me, for the love that was never mine.
Then suddenly, he froze. His hold on me loosened and he pulled away slowly, his russet eyes hazed in confusion. He blinked at me and I knew he was awake. My gut did summersaults.
"Faye...?" said his trembling voice. He looked around slowly before his eyes landed on me once more.
"What am I doing in the kitchen?" he asked me suspiciously. I shrugged. A dry, impersonal laugh escaped me, and I began feeling self-conscious.
"You... you were sleep-walking," I explained quietly. His eyebrows furrowed together.
"Sl... sleep-walking...?" he said. I nodded slowly. I could see his brain processing what I had told him as his eyes rolled down to see our position. I fidgeted uncomfortably, I was really embarrassed about the whole situation. It became eerily quiet and suddenly I felt like pushing away from him and footing it. But no, that would have been selfish of me. So I sat and allowed him a few moments to gather his wits.
"Was I... was I crying?" he asked me. I swallowed, hoping he wouldn't punch me out for saying yes. I took a chance and nodded quickly.
"What did I say?" he asked me slowly, cautiously.
"You said... You were talking about... Julia," I answered hesitantly. I saw his jaw clench instinctively as his eyes searched my own for signs of truth.
As if I would lie to him about her.
He narrowed his eyes, drawing a bit closer to me. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt his thumb gently stroke my face. Then he looked down at his hand, rolling the moisture from my face between his fingertips. He looked up at me.
"You were crying, too. Why...?" he asked me curiously. I opened my mouth, but no answer came out. My jaw bobbed soundlessly a few times, giving the effect a dying fish would. Finally, my brain began functioning properly.
"You were hurting. You cried... for her. She hurt you, Spike," I told him sadly. His eyes narrowed, and I thought he was angry with me so I pulled out of his loose grasp, holding my hands up defensively and shaking my head.
"I won't tell anyone, I swear. I haven't told anyone yet, in fact. I mean, I haven't told that you've been sleep-walking. I'm the only one who knows. And I won't tell anyone about this whole thing, either. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just wanted---"
My nervous ranting was interrupted when Spike caught me in his arms once more. I gasped, surprised by the action. I sat still for a moment before I realized he was hugging me, and not attacking me. Then I wrapped my arms around his neck, placing one of my hands on the back of his head to stroke his hair. It was surprisingly soft for how matted and knotty it looked.
I felt him tremble against me and I knew he was crying again. So I did the only thing I could:
I cried, too.
AN: Allo, allo! What 'ave we 'ere?
Sorry. I'm really bad with accents.
- ahem -
So, did you like the beginning of me story? Don't worry-- this was only the first chapter. The squabble between Faye and Spike is in the next chapter. Yes, I've decided to try my crippled hand at writing some Cowboy Bebop.
In case you guys haven't been to my bio page, this is Furi Iki. I write Yu-Yu Hakusho fics. But all of that is explained on my bio, too. Go look at both my pages!
I love you guys. You guys rock. Now, go. Review.