HAUNTED (1/?)
Year: 2007
Spike flipped the light on as he stepped out of the bathroom. He padded
naked
to his bed and found his jeans. Sliding them on, he pulled the zipper
up and
left the button unfastened. He walked into his living room, plopping
on the
couch. He reached for his remote, turning the television on to some
silly
talk show. He never actually watched the shows, he just liked the noise.
He
reached for his cigarettes, not feeling anything. He turned and glared
at the
table, trying to remember where he had them last. He knew he had thrown
them
on the table when he had come in that morning. He retraced his steps
mentally
and remembered throwing them down.
He stood from the couch, looking around the small table to see if they
had
fallen on the floor. He suddenly straightened, a scowl on his face.
"Where
are my damn smokes, Red?"
A soft giggle answered his question. "Smoking will kill you."
He almost smiled at the sound of her giggle but instead scowled deeper.
"I'm
already dead. Where are my damn cigarrettes?"
"Nuh uh....you have to find them" she said playfully.
Spike sighed loudly, running a hand over his face, "Willow, give me
my
Marlboros. I'm not in the mood for some dumb game."
"Well, if you had gotten home before dawn." She said in a sing song
voice.
"You might know where they were."
He grinned at her words. "Someone's jealous that I wasn't home...."
"I don't get jealous. Besides, I could have gone with you." She said,
her
voice still playful.
He rolled his eyes, "I know. You can follow me wherever you want. You
tell
remind me of that everyday."
"You got it babe" she said, laughing as he continued to look for his
cigarrettes. She enjoyed the puzzled look on his face as he searched
through
every drawer and underneath every book. He'd never find them. She knew
she
should have felt guilty for playing with him this way, but he deserved
it.
He'd intentionally stayed out all night knowing she had said she would
stay
home that evening. She'd been stuck alone, wandering in and out bored
out of
her mind. No, guilt was no longer a factor for her.
Spike stood and continued to look. Finally, he sat on the couch and
said with
disgust, "Fine. I won't smoke."
He glanced up as she materialized in front of him, his Marlboros in
her hand.
He looked at her, taking in the impish grin on her pretty face. She
still
looked as she had five years before...on the day she had died.