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DISCLAIMER: *laughs*
SUMMARY: PG. "He'll come back until she tells him not to." - Buffy
WORDCOUNT: 1181
NOTES: For Emily, in her birthday. *grins* Because she asked for B/A.
EIGHT IS HER LUCKY NUMBER
by Leni
The first time he's outside her door, she stands there, just looking at him. The doorknob
feels cold under her hand, her only proof that this is no dream, no vision of her foolish
mind. And because it's no dream, she doesn't find the strength to face him. She says no
word when she leaves her home, careful not to graze against him, and goes for a much
needed walk.
He has left so many times. One too many, she would explain to a curious Willow later, just
enough that she isn't sure why she'd want him back. She used to, long ago, but it only
left her a broken heart to nurse and too many dashed hopes to count. He never left without
a good reason, Willow reminds her gently. She snaps that Willow never understood a thing
about it, about them, and hangs up on her best friend. She calls again a minute later,
apologises, and refuses to talk about her latest uninvited guest.
The second time he calls her name through the door instead of knocking it. His voice was
always easy to tell apart from the others, and a plate slips from her hand in her
surprise. He always gave up so easily, why is he coming again? She doesn't answer, though,
doesn't even open the door. Just walks from her kitchen to the doorway and stands there,
leaning against the door, and thinks that if she tries she'll be able to hear his
thoughts. But this time she won't try, she has learned to fear the things people won't say.
So many things left unsaid between them. One too many, she tells her worried sister over
the phone. Try unravelling secrets buried under years of silence, try saying truths that
never found their way into words, I tried and look where it got me. Dawn says she should
try. She shakes her head and hangs up the phone, doesn't bother to apologise this time. She should have known monk-made memories of a twelve-year-old wouldn't be as sharp and burning as hers.
The third and fourth time he leaves his newest business card under her door. She picks
them up only when she hears his footsteps fading away. They have a number with the same
city code as hers, one she could probably trace. She burns the first card, blowing the
ashes from her windowsill, watching wistfully as the grey smudges fell, so slowly, until
they become invisible in the night sky. She scans the second and emails it to Giles. Just
in case.
She could have helped him so many times, and yet he never asked for her help. One time too
many, she explains to Giles in the same letter, not wanting to hear the questions her
quasi-father is bound to ask. Now she isn't sure if he ever trusted her at all. Did you
ever call him? comes Giles' concise email the next day. She resets her laptop and opens a new Hotmail
account. It was a virus alert, she decides to tell her friends.
The fifth, sixth and seventh time she isn't at home when he comes. He's doing that on
purpose, giving her even more space. But she finds five pictures in a small envelope, five
she thought lost back in '99. There she is with Willow and Xander, another with the
complete gang, in the third she is with her mother, in the fourth with her and Dawn. The
fifth picture is of her and Angel. He's reading a book in the library and she's peering at
it over his shoulder, a thin facade for touching him. She's smiling too, it's that old a
picture.
These she doesn't find the heart to burn.
The next time it's an almost perfect replica of Mr. Gordo who greets her at her door. She
is hugging the stuffed pig before she can think about it. It's been so long, Mr. Gordo is a
beloved friend who once left her, yet now she feels as if she always spared a place in her
heart just for him. That's when she loosens the toy and understands his message. Sneaky,
precise, she can respect that. That's the only reason why she keeps his gift, she tells
herself. Besides, she loves the little pig too much.
His seventh visit coincides with her birthday. She is very careful not being at home for
the whole day, sure that it was a date he wouldn't forgo. When she comes back a weekend
later, she finds out that she was right and that she only wasted her time running away. Her
present comes in the form of a bundle of letters. Dozens of them carefully tied together.
At least it wasn't a ring, she thinks in half-disappointed relief. Disappointment because
she doesn't know him as well as she used to.
The dates go back to the time where they were both in the same town, even from before the
night when she met him. They contain all the answers for the questions she was too young
to ask. They have all the details she was too distracted to notice. All the love she'd
been too afraid to take for granted, there it was. She takes weeks going through them,
sure that she'd recognise his handwriting anywhere when she finishes the second-to-last.
She takes the last envelope and starts when she notices it's from the day he left them at
her doorstep, the same thoughts she hadn't wanted to know. The paper falls to the floor as if it could burn her fingers.
The next time she opens the door, she is surprised to find Xander on the other side. Even
more when he maintains she was the one to call him in. When he asks if it was important,
she nods slowly and directs him to the couch, tells him everything. Why Xander, she doesn't know. It could have been
Willow, the redhead would have been supportive. It could have been Dawn, her little sister
would have been happy for her. It could have been Giles, he would have made her face the
truth whether she wanted it or not.
Xander laughs before saying that maybe she didn't want any of those reactions, wasn't he the only one who always tried to dissuade her? She has to
agree with that. Then he sits down beside her and smiles gently. "I never thought I'd
be the one to say this," Xander says, all the laughter gone, while he takes her hands
in one of his and with the other raises her chin until their eyes meet. "But you're
being too stubborn. Give the guy a chance if he comes back."
And he'll come again, that she knows. He'll come back until she tells him not to.
But she won't.
She still isn't sure why she'd want him back.
But want him she does.
So when she opens the door this time, she doesn't hesitate before inviting him in. There's
no reason she can name, but at least she's sure that she wants him to stay.
The End
10/08/04
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