Title: When it Rains Fire
Time Line: Set after 'Life Serial.'
Characters: Spike/Buffy, Willow, Anya, The Trio.
Rating: PG-13 (overall)
Word Count: 966
Beta: Unbeta'ed all mistakes are due to my dyslexic brain. Future chapter will be beta'ed.
Disclaimer: I'm not Joss, and I'm making no money from this.
Dawn wasn't sure what it was about the rain, but she'd been in love with it since she was a kid. It could be the way it made the side-walk smell in it's wake , the sound it made ricocheting over head, or the patterns it drew across the window. Dawn remembered back at their old house, whenever there was a storm, she, Joyce and Buffy would cuddle up together on the window seat, a huge Afghan blanket covering all three of them. Dawn would kick at Buffy, with cold bare feet, when she teased Dawn about jumping at loud claps of thunder. Dawn knew she hadn't really been there, and maybe Buffy had been the one squirming and cowering in her place, at the sheer brute force of nature. But none of that mattered, because Buffy and her mom had both been there; Buffy had once been happy and curled up in their mom's lap.
The windscreen wipers jerked to life on Mrs. Penshaws car. She'd picked Dawn and Janice up from the cinemas. Huge droplets of rain hit the car windows from all sides as they stopped outside Dawn's house.
Dawn yelled bye over her shoulders as she sprinted towards her front door, the rain slapping against her skin. She caught a glimpse of the neighbour's cat mauling in the front yard, neither of them liked being out in the rain.
She fumbled to open the front door. Tara was standing in the hallway waiting for her.
"Sorry, I'm late, movie ran longer than we thought it would." She looked down at her feet, water sliding off her sneakers onto the carpet. Tara smiled at her, and handed her a towel, it felt like it come straight from the downstairs drier.
"Oh, is it raining cats and dogs again?" Giles asked, looking up from his once warm mug of tea, he turned his book face down on the couch.
"Nope, the only cat I saw was Monty – they've locked him out again."
Willow bounded down the stairs. "We gathering two of every animal, yet?"
"I think you can hold off putting the biblical label on the weather Wills." Dawn said, rubbing the towel through her hair.
"Good, cause I think my ark building skills would only stretch to a rickety raft."
"The weather lady, was saying more freak storms were on their way, due to global warming."
"I thought global warming made things, you know warmer," Dawn giggled at the paradox, and hooked the towel over the stairs. "Well, we had a snow storm a few years ago – maybe it's all hellmouth induced."
The sky over Sunnydale was made dirty with heavy rain clouds, a dark husk around the stark white moon. It felt like a night that could beckon the dead from their graves, well if anyone should know, Buffy guessed she should. Though, most of the details of that night had escaped her, clawing out of your own grave had that affect on a person. Buffy sighed, dying was so much easier, than staying dead – in her experience.
There had been no more talk about Buffy getting a job, maybe turning up at the house last night as Drunk-Buffy, and waking up as Hungover-Buffy had finally convinced them that she wasn't ready for the world of work. She wasn't going to think about money again, until the cheque Giles gave her last night ran out.
Though, they'd not bothered her today, she could still feel their eyes on her as if they were waiting for the old Buffy to turn up. They didn't understand her need to be alone, patrolling had become a perfect excuse for her to use to get away from them.
A light drizzle began to fall, making the alley behind the Bronze slick as she walked down it. The familiar scent of rust came from the disused pipes above, where rats had made there home, the dumpsters gave off the stench of rotten food and above that was tinged with smoke and spilt alcohol from the night before.
This time of day was the most tolerable to her. It was dark enough for her, the light from the sun was still too much for her over-sensitive eyes. It was late enough that most people had gone home but early enough that people hadn't ventured out to the Bronze. The street lights flickered to life, as the sky got darker with the rain. The water dripped off the lights shimmer orange before getting lost in the dark, it was giving the impression that the bulbs were melting.
She's been half expecting Spike to show up as she stood there, sauntering down one of the alleys opposite; his hands cupped over a cigarette as he smoked and shielded it from the rain. She guessed even demons were smart enough to stay out of this weather.
Last night, she'd been stupid enough to get so drunk, that she'd admitted to Spike that he was the only one she could stand to be around. She'd given away far too much with those words. She'd recently felt drawn to him, ever since she'd come back. It was in the way his gaze caught hers, she felt the intimacy of the night in it, of death …of him.
The rain snaked down the collar of her shirt, it felt good on her skin as it warmed to it. Wait, she'd felt it. It was washing away the remnants of her hang over, replacing it with giddiness. She was sure she was going mad. It had to be a spell, it had to be Willow. Buffy knew she should be pissed about it, but she wasn't; she was alive, and fully, not simply in a reanimated corpse way. She began to laugh.