Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fan Fiction ❯ The Jacaranda Tree ❯ Chapter 1
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: prophecygirl 
Non Anime: Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Romance / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 09.10.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 296 | Status: Completed
Non Anime: Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Romance / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 09.10.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.9K | Visits: 296 | Status: Completed
After the Hellmouth was closed, the years passed faster than any of them could have imagined. Dawn had just graduated college when they began to notice the changes in Buffy. Her skin, once so California golden-tan like a surfer girl had dulled to a jaundiced pallour. Her goldylocks were left behind on the couch pillow clothes shower. Everywhere she went, tiny clumps of wavy faded hair. Her nails broke off. Her body got skinny-minny like those girls in the movies with ana-wrecks-ya.
But they knew better, knew it before she said it. Knew probably months before she told them that the chemo wasn't working, that there were no more treatments left to try, that her time was up and it was over before it even truly began because all this time it had been a secret. A terrible terrible secret kept to protect everyone once again.
Dawn cried and screamed and punched and clawed at Faith like she was a little girl again, tiny green energy ball, yelling that it was no fair how could this happen? There were Slayers everywhere now and Buffy should live to be eighty and that was the plan and how could it go wrong oh so wrong with just one big-small bad word that started with "C" and ended with death and was just too horrible to say out loud.
And Faith, she obediently took the punches and scratches, held in her own tears and stood up strong like a warrior. Buffy cried to her one night.
"I don't want to be here anymore. England is cold and damp and bare. I want to go home I want to see sunshine I want to be warm and golden with the magnolia and hibiscus flowers."
Buffy didn't say, "I don't want to die with everyone watching," but that was mostly what she meant.
So that was what they did. Buffy said goodbye, good luck, I love you so much to everyone while she could still stand on her own, and Dawn hated her more every minute for leaving but she did, she left with Faith on a long plane ride to a little house on the coast of California.
Buffy used almost every airsick bag on the way there and people looked at her with pity as they handed theirs over. Faith wanted to scream at them her secret. That *she* was going to make Buffy better so stop looking at her like she's death walking!
~*~
The house that Giles got them was a cottage so close to the ocean you could hear it smell it feel it from every room. It had white shutters that worked and was made of something light brown that you could tell would crumble if you tried to hurt it with nails and made the whole thing look like a gingerbread house. Inside was a living room with a deep bay window that looked out onto the ocean and a jetty so beautiful that Buffy, who had never done anything but doodle boys' names in the margins of her schoolwork, felt her hands itching for drawing pencils and a sketch pad. There was no furniture except two large mattresses upstairs, in two rooms that adjoined to each other with a doorway that had no door. But there was money, and lots of it. Giles had made sure of that, and tomorrow if Buffy were up to it, they would go into town and look for furniture.
Faith dragged the mattresses into the livingroom, and that first night Buffy slept restlessly, tossing and turning and thumping the bed like popcorn in an old-fashioned popper, and Faith sat in the bay window watching the dark waves crash in the distance, down their grassy hill and across what seemed like miles of sand in the dark. All this was theirs. Faith smoked two packs of cigarettes, lighting them end to end to end and by sunrise she was breathless, her lungs heavy and stiff with menthol. Her lips chapped and cracked, dried salty tracks down her face from her eyes. She washed her face quickly and cupped her hands under the faucet, drinking greedily the cool water, feeling it make its way through her body.
She returned to the livingroom to find Buffy just waking up, blinking in the new morning sun, mildly confused at first. Then a smile spread slowly over her face until she was beaming bright as the sun that lit up her hair like a halo. Faith saw her mouth the word a few times before she said it softly.
Home.
~*~
Buffy rested curled in the bay window, soaking the sunshine in, for nearly the entire morning. In the heat of the afternoon sun, when Faith was beginning to avoid every window in the house like the creatures of the night that she once fought, she stood carefully and requested they go into town. Defeated, Faith reluctantly went into what would eventually become her bedroom and changed into shorts and a tanktop, then brought down a change for Buffy. She had a sinking feeling that at least one mattress would be making it's home downstairs. She didn't even want to think about Buffy getting up in the middle of the night and attempting the stairs by herself. Faith made a mental note to look at fold-out couches.
It took Buffy a long time to get changed, even with Faith's help. She swatted her away when Faith came at her with a hairbrush, however, choosing to tie it back into a loose ponytail and let it hang instead. Eventually they were ready to go, and Buffy walked unsteadily, holding tightly to the other girl's hand as they made their way down to the shiny black pickup that Faith had been delighted to find waiting in the driveway for them.
Faith steered into town, Buffy staring out the window as she rested against the seat and the radio crooned quietly, "The empty handed painter from your streets.. is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets.."
When Buffy finally spoke, it was in a light, nearly breathless tone. "I need pencils."
"Pencils?"
"And drawing paper. I want to draw the ocean."
Faith nodded her agreement. 'Anything to make her happy,' Giles had said. Anything at all.
They avoided the expensive Beverly-Hills-Wannabe, Come-Spend-Your-Money-Here Boutiques and instead headed to a quaint, friendly looking house-turned-store called Mama's Treasures. Mama herself was inside, shuffling through a rack of sequined 70's dresses, but when they entered with Buffy leaning against Faith for support she turned around and with a thick Jamaican accent welcomed the two.
Buffy distractedy fingered the brightly colored dresses while Faith explained to Mama that they needed a whole house of furniture and two wardrobes. Mama took Faith's arm and led her through the store like a whirlwind, throwing stacks of tight jeans and tank tops and James Dean jackets for Faith, and light flowing tops and skirts with tulle and lace for Buffy. A triple cushion fold out couch-bed that was black with pink and green and blue fake paint spatters all over it. Two big overstuffed armchairs, black for Faith and palest blue for Buffy.
Mama's son Roy came back from lunch then. Faith looked at him and he was beautiful with milk chocolate skin and golden eyes like jewels that sparkled when he laughed as he helped her load the stuff in the back of the truck and offered to follow them home to help her put the furniture inside. Buffy got very quiet, listening to them compare their broken childhoods and how they healed from them.
They rode home one behind the other, Faith's brand new truck weighted down with furniture and clothing and even some groceries they stopped to pick up on the way. Buffy felt better when Roy pretended to attack her with a bag of shark meat while humming the "Jaws" theme. When they got to the house, Faith realized she'd forgotten to pick up drawing paper and pencils for Buffy, and Roy quickly brought Buffy out to his car. They were gone for awhile, and she started to worry. He seemed really nice but after all, he was still a stranger.
Just then, they came back in and Buffy's eyes were brimming with tears. Roy had given her a sketchpad with paper made from Daphne bush bark and a box of charcoals that his father had given to him just before he'd been shot in the neck. Roy said he could never draw after that and hopefully Buffy would bring the charcoals to life.
Buffy looked very tired, her eyes glassy and set deep amongst the permanent purple-black "bags" surrounding them. She had a sallow tint that indicated it was way past time for her to have something to eat and lay down for awhile. Roy headed back to the store with promises to come visit again, and Faith fixed cucumber and alfafa sprout sandwiches and couscous with toasted pine nuts for lunch.
After lunch Buffy sank down onto her new silk bedsheets and down comforter, folding herself in like a burrito from King Taco's and floating off to sleep peacefully, her charcoals at her side.
~*~
"Life goes by so fast, you only want to do what you think is right. Close your eyes and then it's past; story of my life!"
Faith was rocking out. There were no other words for it; she was jumping up and down on the California king mattress on the floor, the stereo blasting some rock song from when she was growing up. A ladle was clutched tightly in her hand and she had the worst case of bedhead Buffy had ever seen. She guessed Faith had thought she'd take longer in the shower than she actually did, and that's why she was bearing witness to Faith losing her mind in the livingroom.
Buffy smiled and watched quietly until Faith started doing the Mashed Potato. Then she lost it; laughing a deep, unfamiliar guffaw that choked her and brought her to her knees, tears flowing freely down her pale, gaunt cheeks. Waves of hysterics rolled over her, sending her into convulsions of emotion as Faith wrapped her arms around her and rocked her comfortingly.
She sobbed endlessly, a river of tears soaking through Faith's shirt and turning it near transparent as she held Buffy tightly. They sat like that for nearly an hour, with Buffy screaming into her chest the entire time, "I don't want to die I don't want to die please please don't let me die!"
Faith's heart felt like a rose that someone had pulled all the petals off of, and there was nothing left but wild, angry thorns.
But they knew better, knew it before she said it. Knew probably months before she told them that the chemo wasn't working, that there were no more treatments left to try, that her time was up and it was over before it even truly began because all this time it had been a secret. A terrible terrible secret kept to protect everyone once again.
Dawn cried and screamed and punched and clawed at Faith like she was a little girl again, tiny green energy ball, yelling that it was no fair how could this happen? There were Slayers everywhere now and Buffy should live to be eighty and that was the plan and how could it go wrong oh so wrong with just one big-small bad word that started with "C" and ended with death and was just too horrible to say out loud.
And Faith, she obediently took the punches and scratches, held in her own tears and stood up strong like a warrior. Buffy cried to her one night.
"I don't want to be here anymore. England is cold and damp and bare. I want to go home I want to see sunshine I want to be warm and golden with the magnolia and hibiscus flowers."
Buffy didn't say, "I don't want to die with everyone watching," but that was mostly what she meant.
So that was what they did. Buffy said goodbye, good luck, I love you so much to everyone while she could still stand on her own, and Dawn hated her more every minute for leaving but she did, she left with Faith on a long plane ride to a little house on the coast of California.
Buffy used almost every airsick bag on the way there and people looked at her with pity as they handed theirs over. Faith wanted to scream at them her secret. That *she* was going to make Buffy better so stop looking at her like she's death walking!
~*~
The house that Giles got them was a cottage so close to the ocean you could hear it smell it feel it from every room. It had white shutters that worked and was made of something light brown that you could tell would crumble if you tried to hurt it with nails and made the whole thing look like a gingerbread house. Inside was a living room with a deep bay window that looked out onto the ocean and a jetty so beautiful that Buffy, who had never done anything but doodle boys' names in the margins of her schoolwork, felt her hands itching for drawing pencils and a sketch pad. There was no furniture except two large mattresses upstairs, in two rooms that adjoined to each other with a doorway that had no door. But there was money, and lots of it. Giles had made sure of that, and tomorrow if Buffy were up to it, they would go into town and look for furniture.
Faith dragged the mattresses into the livingroom, and that first night Buffy slept restlessly, tossing and turning and thumping the bed like popcorn in an old-fashioned popper, and Faith sat in the bay window watching the dark waves crash in the distance, down their grassy hill and across what seemed like miles of sand in the dark. All this was theirs. Faith smoked two packs of cigarettes, lighting them end to end to end and by sunrise she was breathless, her lungs heavy and stiff with menthol. Her lips chapped and cracked, dried salty tracks down her face from her eyes. She washed her face quickly and cupped her hands under the faucet, drinking greedily the cool water, feeling it make its way through her body.
She returned to the livingroom to find Buffy just waking up, blinking in the new morning sun, mildly confused at first. Then a smile spread slowly over her face until she was beaming bright as the sun that lit up her hair like a halo. Faith saw her mouth the word a few times before she said it softly.
Home.
~*~
Buffy rested curled in the bay window, soaking the sunshine in, for nearly the entire morning. In the heat of the afternoon sun, when Faith was beginning to avoid every window in the house like the creatures of the night that she once fought, she stood carefully and requested they go into town. Defeated, Faith reluctantly went into what would eventually become her bedroom and changed into shorts and a tanktop, then brought down a change for Buffy. She had a sinking feeling that at least one mattress would be making it's home downstairs. She didn't even want to think about Buffy getting up in the middle of the night and attempting the stairs by herself. Faith made a mental note to look at fold-out couches.
It took Buffy a long time to get changed, even with Faith's help. She swatted her away when Faith came at her with a hairbrush, however, choosing to tie it back into a loose ponytail and let it hang instead. Eventually they were ready to go, and Buffy walked unsteadily, holding tightly to the other girl's hand as they made their way down to the shiny black pickup that Faith had been delighted to find waiting in the driveway for them.
Faith steered into town, Buffy staring out the window as she rested against the seat and the radio crooned quietly, "The empty handed painter from your streets.. is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets.."
When Buffy finally spoke, it was in a light, nearly breathless tone. "I need pencils."
"Pencils?"
"And drawing paper. I want to draw the ocean."
Faith nodded her agreement. 'Anything to make her happy,' Giles had said. Anything at all.
They avoided the expensive Beverly-Hills-Wannabe, Come-Spend-Your-Money-Here Boutiques and instead headed to a quaint, friendly looking house-turned-store called Mama's Treasures. Mama herself was inside, shuffling through a rack of sequined 70's dresses, but when they entered with Buffy leaning against Faith for support she turned around and with a thick Jamaican accent welcomed the two.
Buffy distractedy fingered the brightly colored dresses while Faith explained to Mama that they needed a whole house of furniture and two wardrobes. Mama took Faith's arm and led her through the store like a whirlwind, throwing stacks of tight jeans and tank tops and James Dean jackets for Faith, and light flowing tops and skirts with tulle and lace for Buffy. A triple cushion fold out couch-bed that was black with pink and green and blue fake paint spatters all over it. Two big overstuffed armchairs, black for Faith and palest blue for Buffy.
Mama's son Roy came back from lunch then. Faith looked at him and he was beautiful with milk chocolate skin and golden eyes like jewels that sparkled when he laughed as he helped her load the stuff in the back of the truck and offered to follow them home to help her put the furniture inside. Buffy got very quiet, listening to them compare their broken childhoods and how they healed from them.
They rode home one behind the other, Faith's brand new truck weighted down with furniture and clothing and even some groceries they stopped to pick up on the way. Buffy felt better when Roy pretended to attack her with a bag of shark meat while humming the "Jaws" theme. When they got to the house, Faith realized she'd forgotten to pick up drawing paper and pencils for Buffy, and Roy quickly brought Buffy out to his car. They were gone for awhile, and she started to worry. He seemed really nice but after all, he was still a stranger.
Just then, they came back in and Buffy's eyes were brimming with tears. Roy had given her a sketchpad with paper made from Daphne bush bark and a box of charcoals that his father had given to him just before he'd been shot in the neck. Roy said he could never draw after that and hopefully Buffy would bring the charcoals to life.
Buffy looked very tired, her eyes glassy and set deep amongst the permanent purple-black "bags" surrounding them. She had a sallow tint that indicated it was way past time for her to have something to eat and lay down for awhile. Roy headed back to the store with promises to come visit again, and Faith fixed cucumber and alfafa sprout sandwiches and couscous with toasted pine nuts for lunch.
After lunch Buffy sank down onto her new silk bedsheets and down comforter, folding herself in like a burrito from King Taco's and floating off to sleep peacefully, her charcoals at her side.
~*~
"Life goes by so fast, you only want to do what you think is right. Close your eyes and then it's past; story of my life!"
Faith was rocking out. There were no other words for it; she was jumping up and down on the California king mattress on the floor, the stereo blasting some rock song from when she was growing up. A ladle was clutched tightly in her hand and she had the worst case of bedhead Buffy had ever seen. She guessed Faith had thought she'd take longer in the shower than she actually did, and that's why she was bearing witness to Faith losing her mind in the livingroom.
Buffy smiled and watched quietly until Faith started doing the Mashed Potato. Then she lost it; laughing a deep, unfamiliar guffaw that choked her and brought her to her knees, tears flowing freely down her pale, gaunt cheeks. Waves of hysterics rolled over her, sending her into convulsions of emotion as Faith wrapped her arms around her and rocked her comfortingly.
She sobbed endlessly, a river of tears soaking through Faith's shirt and turning it near transparent as she held Buffy tightly. They sat like that for nearly an hour, with Buffy screaming into her chest the entire time, "I don't want to die I don't want to die please please don't let me die!"
Faith's heart felt like a rose that someone had pulled all the petals off of, and there was nothing left but wild, angry thorns.