CUPPA
S J Smith ([email protected])
Disclaimer: Mr. Whedon, the Kazuis, Mutant Enemy, Fox, UPN own. I just sometimes wish I did.
Distribution: Land of Denial, Fanfiction.net
* * * * * ** *
I fell apart today.
Not an unexpected thing, I mean, I've been falling apart a lot since I've come back from the dead. I just try to do it when there isn't anyone around to see it. Will has enough on her plate with Tara gone; Dawn doesn't need any more worries; she's got school. I don't know if Xander would notice right now if I stripped and danced naked in front of him, he's so caught up in Anya. And Anya? She might notice and say something but she's all caught up in Xander and the getting married thing.
Oh, god. We've got to plan a bachelorette party for Anya.
Oh, god. What kind of bachelor party could Xander have? Does he have any guy friends? Would he invite Spike? Would Spike take him to some demon strip club?
Do they even have demon strip clubs?
See? I lost it. But I lost it before then, 'cause I'd been rummaging around the cabinets in the kitchen. I don't remember why, some hoarding thing I guess; maybe I was looking for Mom's Ghirardelli hot chocolate mix, a comfort food, since I didn't really want to eat anything.
Food hasn't tasted the same since I got back. I wonder if I should be surprised at that.
Anyway, I was in the cabinet, pushing aside cake mixes and spices and pudding and Jell-O boxes and it was like they were waiting to leap out at me. All the boxes spilled at once and I couldn't catch them, so they went all over the counter and onto the floor. Nothing exploded, thank god, so I didn't have to clean up any messes, just pick everything up and put it back on the shelves. No Ghirardelli canister but a yellow box caught my eye and I bent over to pick it up.
It was a box of Earl Grey tea.
I just stood there holding the tea; boxes and packets scattered around my feet and on the counter and didn't move. I mean, how could I? Just another reminder of something I don't have any more. I remember when I'd bought that tea for Giles, before I died, after Mommy passed away, when he was almost spending every night here, to make sure Dawny and I were okay. I remember the scent of it, when he'd make a pot and get me and Dawn to drink some with him, so we were at least getting some cream and sugar and heat in our systems, even if we didn't get anything else.
I found myself putting the kettle on and taking out the teapot, the one that Giles had left behind, a plain thing, a man's teapot, not that little fluffy one with the flowers and the impossibly delicate handle that Mom'd bought at some antique store. I found a mug, a serviceable mug and waited for the water to boil. I scalded the inside of the teapot, warming it, and dumped the teabags into the pot, waiting for the kettle to whistle again. Mechanically, I dug through the refrigerator until I found a small carton of cream. It wasn't quite empty; I could hear the liquid inside sloshing when I shook it. I took a sniff, to make sure it hadn't spoiled and it still smelled good so I loaded up my cup and waited for the water to boil.
I poured the water into the teapot and let it steep for three minutes, remembering watching Giles when he brewed tea, how precise he was, the cream in the cup first, then the tea on top, then sugar. How none of us ever got his odd little joke,"Stir twice. Counterclockwise" and how he never explained it. How he remembered that I liked my tea 'white' and sweet. How offering tea was the British way of fixing everything, from boyfriends leaving to mommies dying to returning from the dead.
I poured the tea into the mug and added the sugar, stirring twice, counterclockwise, and stared at it. Steam rose from the surface, a little ghostly tendril of things past, spinning lazily in the air. I stared at it a long time, long enough for the steam to stop rising, long enough for the mug to get cold to the touch, long enough for Dawn to come home from school and surprise me because I was staring at a cup of tea. And when she asked what I was doing, I couldn't answer. I just poured the tea down the sink, pot and mug both, and helped her pick up the rest of the boxes that were still scattered on the floor.
I felt Dawn's eyes on me and it made me itchy, like I've got a peeling sunburn but I didn't scratch. I didn't do anything, just put the teapot and mug in the dishwasher and walked out of the kitchen, leaving it to her. Because if I had to say anything, I'd lose it again and I can't do that to my baby sister. Because I can't afford to lose her, too.
Later, when Willow comes home from class, I know Dawn will tell her about finding me. I know they'll talk about it and maybe call Xander and Anya; maybe even tell Spike. Maybe Xander will try to talk to me, or Spike will try to fuck me, or maybe they'll do another intervention 'cause god knows those've worked so well every other time we tried one of those.
But for now I'll think of the tea, swirling down the drain.
S J Smith ([email protected])
Disclaimer: Mr. Whedon, the Kazuis, Mutant Enemy, Fox, UPN own. I just sometimes wish I did.
Distribution: Land of Denial, Fanfiction.net
* * * * * ** *
I fell apart today.
Not an unexpected thing, I mean, I've been falling apart a lot since I've come back from the dead. I just try to do it when there isn't anyone around to see it. Will has enough on her plate with Tara gone; Dawn doesn't need any more worries; she's got school. I don't know if Xander would notice right now if I stripped and danced naked in front of him, he's so caught up in Anya. And Anya? She might notice and say something but she's all caught up in Xander and the getting married thing.
Oh, god. We've got to plan a bachelorette party for Anya.
Oh, god. What kind of bachelor party could Xander have? Does he have any guy friends? Would he invite Spike? Would Spike take him to some demon strip club?
Do they even have demon strip clubs?
See? I lost it. But I lost it before then, 'cause I'd been rummaging around the cabinets in the kitchen. I don't remember why, some hoarding thing I guess; maybe I was looking for Mom's Ghirardelli hot chocolate mix, a comfort food, since I didn't really want to eat anything.
Food hasn't tasted the same since I got back. I wonder if I should be surprised at that.
Anyway, I was in the cabinet, pushing aside cake mixes and spices and pudding and Jell-O boxes and it was like they were waiting to leap out at me. All the boxes spilled at once and I couldn't catch them, so they went all over the counter and onto the floor. Nothing exploded, thank god, so I didn't have to clean up any messes, just pick everything up and put it back on the shelves. No Ghirardelli canister but a yellow box caught my eye and I bent over to pick it up.
It was a box of Earl Grey tea.
I just stood there holding the tea; boxes and packets scattered around my feet and on the counter and didn't move. I mean, how could I? Just another reminder of something I don't have any more. I remember when I'd bought that tea for Giles, before I died, after Mommy passed away, when he was almost spending every night here, to make sure Dawny and I were okay. I remember the scent of it, when he'd make a pot and get me and Dawn to drink some with him, so we were at least getting some cream and sugar and heat in our systems, even if we didn't get anything else.
I found myself putting the kettle on and taking out the teapot, the one that Giles had left behind, a plain thing, a man's teapot, not that little fluffy one with the flowers and the impossibly delicate handle that Mom'd bought at some antique store. I found a mug, a serviceable mug and waited for the water to boil. I scalded the inside of the teapot, warming it, and dumped the teabags into the pot, waiting for the kettle to whistle again. Mechanically, I dug through the refrigerator until I found a small carton of cream. It wasn't quite empty; I could hear the liquid inside sloshing when I shook it. I took a sniff, to make sure it hadn't spoiled and it still smelled good so I loaded up my cup and waited for the water to boil.
I poured the water into the teapot and let it steep for three minutes, remembering watching Giles when he brewed tea, how precise he was, the cream in the cup first, then the tea on top, then sugar. How none of us ever got his odd little joke,"Stir twice. Counterclockwise" and how he never explained it. How he remembered that I liked my tea 'white' and sweet. How offering tea was the British way of fixing everything, from boyfriends leaving to mommies dying to returning from the dead.
I poured the tea into the mug and added the sugar, stirring twice, counterclockwise, and stared at it. Steam rose from the surface, a little ghostly tendril of things past, spinning lazily in the air. I stared at it a long time, long enough for the steam to stop rising, long enough for the mug to get cold to the touch, long enough for Dawn to come home from school and surprise me because I was staring at a cup of tea. And when she asked what I was doing, I couldn't answer. I just poured the tea down the sink, pot and mug both, and helped her pick up the rest of the boxes that were still scattered on the floor.
I felt Dawn's eyes on me and it made me itchy, like I've got a peeling sunburn but I didn't scratch. I didn't do anything, just put the teapot and mug in the dishwasher and walked out of the kitchen, leaving it to her. Because if I had to say anything, I'd lose it again and I can't do that to my baby sister. Because I can't afford to lose her, too.
Later, when Willow comes home from class, I know Dawn will tell her about finding me. I know they'll talk about it and maybe call Xander and Anya; maybe even tell Spike. Maybe Xander will try to talk to me, or Spike will try to fuck me, or maybe they'll do another intervention 'cause god knows those've worked so well every other time we tried one of those.
But for now I'll think of the tea, swirling down the drain.