Lost Memories

The next night, he came to her, following silently behind a slayer who just months ago would have sensed his presence in seconds. Now though, she was just too lost, buried so deep within herself that he marveled at the fact that she had managed to survive all these weeks.

He followed her all the way to Revello Dr., slinking silently behind a tree as she climbed up the steps of the porch and disappeared inside. Seeing the light on in Willow’s room, he quickly scaled the side of the house and waited in silence. It was times like these that really made him appreciate his vampiric senses. He could hear Buffy climbing the steps to the second level of the house, then heard the quiet knock and following slight creak as Willow’s door was opened.

“Hey wills, how was Dawn tonight?”

“Good, great, did her homework, had a sandwich, and went right to bed, said she was tired.”

“K, well, guess I’m going to head that way too, lot of action tonight and my muscles are begging for a little relaxation.”

“Ok, see you in the morning, good night.”

Hearing the door being gently closed, he finally raised himself up to take a peek at his Red. She was laying on the bed on her stomach. She was reading, completely immersed in her text book. Her feet were up in the air, legs crossed at her calves, she was wearing a pair of black silk pajamas, the pant legs of which were falling down to expose a good six inches of milky, delectable skin. Nothing too revealing, but it suited her and he was momentarily transfixed by her subtle beauty. How had he never noticed before? Oh well, it was just like him to let something like that go unnoticed until it whacked him upside the head.

He could sit here all night, hiding in the shadows, admiring, unknown to her. It would be a very pleasant way to pass a few hours, but it would be even more appealing to spend that time wrapped up in her warmth.

Tap, tap.

Startled out of her perusal of the text, her head jerked up, an expression of surprise on her face. Until their eyes met, then the surprise melted, giving way to something more akin to affection. She looked back toward the door, as she stood, checking to make sure it was tightly closed. She stealthily opened the window, grinning widely.

“Hey there stranger.” The words were whispered, so as not to be overheard.

“’Ello ducks. Mind if I come in?”

“You know you don’t need an invitation.” She stepped back to give him room to enter. He made sure to brush against her on the way in and took great pleasure in the slight tremble he felt in her body at the contact.

“ ‘S polite to ask. Whatcha reading?”

“Just going over some things for my psychology class. What’s with the bag?” She asked indicating the rucksack over his shoulder.

“Change of clothes. Though you might let me use the shower.” He gave her his best pout and puppy-dog eyes.

“Yeah, but you’ve got to be quiet, if she catches you here…………..”

“Won’t rat you out luv, promise.”

There was an air of teasing in her next words, but he knew the question wasn’t rhetorical, “And can I trust you?”

“I never break my promises, Red.” Her tone had been light, his was not. He wanted her to know that she could trust him with her life, and better than that - her heart.

She seemed to understand. “You can shower only if you let me put some ointment on the cuts and bruises afterward.”

“Deal.” He didn’t mention that he was looking forward to it. Kept it to himself that he had purposefully acquired most of them with the hopes she might insist on fixing him up again.

He showered as quickly and quietly as possible. Much like during his shag with Buffy earlier, he was done in record time and his thoughts were on the redhead the entire time.

Again, there was no sex. He held her, helped her sleep peacefully, and she gave him all the tenderness and warmth that Buffy did not. These moments made him love her more and loathe himself less, and he was so grateful to her for every gentle caress and fulfilling kiss.

He detangled himself from her before dawn. He’d waited as long as possible, but unless he wanted to be trapped here or get caught in the sun (both of which would mean death), he had to get going. She was so deep in slumber that she didn’t feel him crawl out of the bed. He placed a reverent kiss on her cheek and made his way to the window.


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This is how it was with them. Clandestine meetings, secret handholding under the table, stolen kisses, and nights spent in each other’s arms, that’s what his unlife became. He hated the fact that he was Buffy’s dirty little secret, but it wasn’t like that with Red. She didn’t make him feel undeserving, she made him feel alive.

He helped ease her into a magic-free existence and she soothed the sting of Buffy’s constant rejection. For the next few weeks they kept each other whole and sane. They provided solace and gave each other shelter from the raging storm of fear and heartache. Then, just as he realized exactly what she had become to him, how he felt about her, knew without a doubt what he wanted, the proverbial rug was pulled out from under him.