Title: Soul Seer
Summery: My parents really fucked me up. No doubt about that. Fifteen years old and I'm already done with the whole living thing and waiting for the nice comfort of death to settle over me.
Dedication: To the entire CCS board whose requests for a more serious story that touches on deeper issues led to the writing of this.
Note: This story will deal with serious issues such as suicide, death, self-mutilation, underage drinking, and general teen issues.
Disclaimer: Joss owns cannon I own everyone else.
My parents really fucked me up. No doubt about that. Fifteen years old and I'm already done with the whole living thing and waiting for the nice comfort of death to settle over me. I hate it. But most of all I hate them. Dad doesn't even know about me. Couldn't possibly unless he packed as much power as the rest of the fucked up family. I want to write. Might as well share with the world my hell; even if they only pass it off as fiction. But I cant; yet another reason why I hate this fucked up life. Conceived on the astral plane, with the most powerful being and a demon as parents, and growing up with people constantly trying to kidnap me was sure to do damage. Then throw in the whole blind factor and boom; one fucked up teenager.
"Aly, you really need to teach Bru how to keep his fat but off of my bed," Mom's voice shattered my thoughts, bringing me back to the reality around me. Music was blaring from the radio across my bedroom and I felt Brutus, my year old Labrador retriever who I have been told is golden in color, bumps against my leg.
"Mom, you know he just wants you to love him," My voice has a laughing tone, and I quickly bite my tongue for fear of complaining as I hear the radio go off. "What's up?"
"Everyone's coming for dinner. Mind helping me set the table?" That's what I love about Mom. She treats me like a regular kid though I'm clearly not. I nod, standing up and taking Bru's collar into my right hand. Using my left I guide myself along the walls that are imprinted with my fingers and down the stairs. One, two, three, four, five, six, landing, seven, eight, nine, and ten. I can see the kitchen perfectly in my mind; the wooden table to the back, next to the double glass doors with their bright blue drapes. The walls are colored a barely blue color, with a flowered border. Counter, stove, fridge. I reach, my hands finding the first handle on the first cabinet. One, two, three. I open the last one, counting the shelves with my fingers, I smile when I find the stack of plates. The number of people coming is the exact number of plates we own, so I grab the whole stack and place them carefully on the counter. The drawer directly under the counter holds the silver ware. Mom has carefully tagged each section of the plastic container and marked it with brail, so I counted the number of forks and knifes we'd each need. After stacking them on top of the plates, my hand automatically finds Bru again.
"To the dining room, my fair stallion," I joke, Mom laughing at me in the background as she pulls the chicken from the oven. I can tell what she's doing because I've just about memorized every sound in the house. Maybe that's why Mom never brings men home anymore. The table is long, but whenever the whole gang is at it, it seems small. Xander, Anya, their toddler Jojo. Willow and Tara. Aunt Buffy and Angel, along with Connor and his girlfriend who's name I can never remember. (The woes of living with a family of weird names.) Spike and Harmony, and Dru (who's my age). Giles is coming, with his deadly sexy adopted son Seth. Cordy and Wes, Fred and Gunn, and Lorne. Oh yeah, and Oz and Gwen. After setting the table, I nudged Brutus out of my way and plopped down on the couch.
"Aly, why must you not do anything with your hair," I made to protest, "Don't you dare even "But Mom, I can't see it so what's the point," speech. I know perfectly well that you are different then other blind people, Alanna. Now do something with the rat's nest you call hair," Had that sentence come from anyone but Mom, it would have been offensive. But her easy way of words and her calm tone made me smile. I reach out, grab her hand and kissed it lightly.
"Do it for me?" I hadn't asked a question like that in years, but after my personal mind rant earlier, comfort was needed. She sighs, but I know she gave in because she squeezes my hand. I hear her grab her brush from her pocketbook, and feel the couch sink a little under her added weight. Her hands are soft, skilled in the art of gentle-ness. She quickly braids my hair, tying in lightly. She turns her body, her fingers gently tracing my face. "What does it look like?" I whisper, asking a question I have asked myself since before I can remember.
"Beautiful. Your eyes are gorgeous, baby. They're blue and green. The perfect shape. And your nose is adorable. Your features are so dainty, and your hair is the most beautiful raven color." She pulls me into a hug. "You look so much like your father,"
"Do you think he'd miss me?"
"He misses you now,"
"How? He doesn't know about me,"
"He knows," She touches my chest, right where my heart is. "He always knew,"
"Do you regret opening that portal,"
"Never. It lead me to the man I love, and to you. You're my gift from God,"
"Yeah, a real gift," I scowl, pulling away slightly only to be pulled back.
"Aly, your blindness…it's not a curse. It's a gift. You are so wise for someone so young," I snorted at the "young" comment. "You can read people, you know? You can't see their faces but you see their souls. You're an angel among mortals,"
"Yeah, mortals," I laugh, resting my head on her shoulder. We lay like that for a moment, before the doorbell shatters the perfection. Mom groans, which causes me to smile. "I'll get it," I grab Bru; able to tell where he is by his incessant barking.
"Love you, baby," She whispers before letting me go.
"Love you too, Mom," I smile, maybe I'm not completely fucked up.
A/n: Please review if you want more…