Digressions - Nihilistbear's Writings

Warning: The Fiction On This Site Sometimes Contains Graphic Adult Situations. If you aren't old enough to read the stories marked NC-17, please don't.

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A Day In The Life Of Someone Just Like You Author’s Note: Just a little ficlet kicking around in my brain and blocking off all other major brain function. They do that sometime. The life of Harmony. I know it’s popular to dislike Harmony right now, but really, she isn’t as bad as she’s made out to be. She’s just lost. Rating: Hard R for sexual imagery. ~~~~~~ Sometimes, Harmony dreams about the life she might have had if she hadn’t become a vampire. Married young, to some nice guy with, of course, lots of money, because she is a Kendall, people. Money talks. They don’t have nine million years of boring old ancestors behind them, but her daddy always said that California is the great equalizer, and while she’s not sure what exactly he meant by that, she figures it has something to do with money making people forget anything else. She misses her daddy. A lot. She hates those dreams, because she wakes up every morning after them, yawns, stretches, heads to the bathroom, and gets to remember all over again, that she’s not Harmony Kendall, Jack and Lizzie Kendall’s precious little angel, because that girl is dead. Now she’s Harmony Kendall, secretary to the biggest jerk of all time, and her life? Sucks. Sucks in a boring, non-fatal kind of way. She should be going out for pedicures and manicures, burning money as fast as her imaginary husband makes it in his fancy job, maybe even working at Wolfram and Hart as some high powered attorney. She isn’t supposed to be slaving behind some computer screen, typing out stuff that her boss could just dictate to a tape recorder if he could figure out how to use one, but instead she has to read pages and pages of elegant script that make her feel a little nauseous after awhile. Oh well. She has to live this life, because she sucks at being evil. Didn’t take too much to figure that out. Just a few hopeless battles with a Slayer, and one botched attempt at an apocalypse once she got back here, and she can’t be Daddy’s little princess anymore either, because daddy’s little princess died the day of graduation, and can’t go back. ~~~~~~ She’s never gotten used to life without a reflection. She remembers being gorgeous, but maybe that was just in her head. Maybe she was only pretty when she could see herself, because no one here ever checks her out for very long, not like in school when jaws used to drop every time she wore a mini skirt. She misses high school; there’s nothing like a troop of geeky guys with crushes to boost your ego, right? She takes stock of what she can see. Long legs, nice boobs, and she’s careful about what she eats, so she hasn’t gained a pound. A visit to a salon by Wolfram and Hart once a week, one used to clients who look a little odd, or have no reflection, keeps her hair as blonde as it’s been since she was fourteen and discovered bleach. And as for make up… well, back when they were all going to have the greatest lives ever, she and Cordelia and Aura and whomever they’d deemed worthy of their company for the weekend, would have sleepovers and practice stuff like putting on make up without a mirror, just in case they got stranded in, like, Outer Mongolia or something, and didn’t have a mirror, or a good light source. So that’s not a problem. But she still misses seeing her face all the time, because she’s so used to looking at herself in a mirror and loving what she saw. Being gorgeous, and whatever effort it took, was less fun if she couldn’t see the results. She’s thought about getting a Polaroid, taking a bunch of pictures of herself, but she always sucked at getting those right, and they never looked nice. If Cordelia was still here, they’d take pictures of each other, but Cordelia’s not, and Harmony doesn’t have any other friends any more. She tries not to think about that too much. ~~~~~~~ He still hasn’t looked at her today. She’s wearing red, his favourite color. Her hair looks good, she’s sure of it. It’s curled in nice big curls, falling around her face. And these heels. These heels! They’re four-inch stilettos, dammit! Red, patent leather four-inch stilettos. He should be panting at her feet. She stands up as Angel’s office door slams open. It’s Spike. Good. She inhales deeply, thrusts out her chest and sucks in her tummy, like she used to whenever she wanted some football player to ask her out. Spike walks right past her. She exhales, sits back down. It’s like that sometimes. She understands. Spike has a lot on his mind, and just because he showed up at her apartment three nights ago, drunk as hell and in need of some comfort, doesn’t mean he’s ready for anything else yet. He’s still fragile from the whole recently ghostly thing. She can wait; she’s spent the last three years waiting for him, right? Until then, she’ll keep trying. Eventually he’ll notice her. Maybe even tomorrow! She’s sure of it. She has the cutest little red leather mini skirt, and a lacy top that really shouldn’t be worn to the office, but oh well. It’s not like Angel ever really looks at her any way. Next time will be different. She’ll do her make up just a little more carefully. She’ll curl her hair again, maybe something ringlet-y this time; Spike always loved it when she curled her hair. Probably because it reminded him of… but she won’t think that. Next time, she’ll remember to smile ~~~~~~ She wanders into her empty apartment, lost somehow. How did this end up being her life? And for a minute, she considers heading back to Sunnydale, finding her parents, going back to life as Harmony Kendall. Except Sunnydale doesn’t exist anymore, and her parents probably moved to parts unknown, and really, she’s not that Harmony Kendall anymore. She did go back, once. Not too long after she kicked Spike out of the crypt. She’d been lonely. She missed her closet. She missed her bed and her unicorns, and even, she supposed, her parents. She just really missed her life. So she’d tapped on the door, hurt because she couldn’t just walk into her house like she’d always done, and waited patiently for someone to answer. It had been her mom, who’d screamed and fainted. She couldn’t even catch her, because she was on the other side of the barrier. Her dad came running, skidding to a halt as he saw her. “Princess,” he’d murmured. It had been the greatest, hearing her father call her Princess again. Because she’d really, really missed being his little princess. But then he’d glared at her, tossed his wallet out the door and ordered her to never come back. Apparently someone had told them about the whole vampire thing. She’d grabbed the wallet; what else was she supposed to do? She cried a little, begged her dad to let her in, but he’d just kept glaring, until she felt the sun getting ready to rise and she headed for ground. She hadn't gone back ever again. ~~~~~~ Another day, another nasty encounter with Mrs. Jacobi and her stupid little dog, and she’s going to eat that yappy little thing one day. Soon. She’s gonna put it on her goals list. Because little yappy dogs have got to be evil, and that won’t push her over that line between evil and evilish. It’s an important line, but lately she’s beginning to wonder if it’s even worth the trouble. It’s not like anyone even notices, and Harmony learned a long time ago that nothing’s worth doing unless someone’s paying attention At work, Angel didn't really see her, as usual. He’d growled about his blood, tossed a pile of folders on her desk and headed for his office. And after another fight with Angel, Spike stormed out of the office, but this time he’d stopped at her desk, raked his eyes over her. “You coming along, then?” he asked impatiently. He’d noticed! So of course she raced out from behind the desk. He grabbed her hand, hollered over his shoulder that he and Harmony were taking the afternoon off. And everyone knew they were doing it together! Just her and Spike. For the whole afternoon, and maybe even tonight! Oh, this is perfect! ~~~~~~ Eight shots of tequila later, and Spike looks a little worse for wear. He’s gone. He hasn’t said much since they came to this crap bar, and she’s starting to worry about the looks some of the meaner guys are tossing their way. Not that she can’t throw down, if it came to that. But she really loves this outfit, and she’d hate to ruin it in a bar brawl. “Spike, let’s go,” she says nervously. “I’ll just buy the bottle and we’ll go back to my apartment. How’s that sound?” He doesn’t answer, just continues to stare into the shot glass in his hand. She sighs. “God, if souls just make everyone broody and mopey like Angel and you, I’m glad I lost mine.” “Not like Angel,” Spike slurs. “Nothing like that bastard.” “Right. Which is why you’re sitting in a bar, quiet as hell, and frowning. Yeah, there’s nothing like Angel in that look.” She rolls her eyes, in case he missed the sarcasm. His hand shoots out, wraps around her wrist, hard. “There’s no similarity between me and Angel,” he grinds out. “Say it.” Now this is something she remembers from the old days. “No,” she says, smirking. “Say it,” he growls, and the hand on her wrist tightens. “Make me,” she purrs. “We’re leaving,” he said softly. “And you will wish you’d made a better decision than this last one.” Actually, she’s pretty sure she’s made her smartest decision yet. ~~~~~~ And after, as she falls on the bed, face pushed into the pillows, and he rolls off her, she’s convinced he’s going to be hers for at least a little while. She rolls over to her side and winces. “Some of that really hurt,” she says, running her nails lightly over Spike’s back. “I think you owe me an apology.” But he’s already asleep. Oh well. He’ll be here in the morning; that was the best thing about vampire guys. They couldn’t leave as soon as the sun came out. ~~~~~~ She wakes up before Spike, and leans over him, starts sucking his cock. She remembers he loved waking up to something like that; it would put him in a friendly mood for the rest of the day. So she uses every trick he taught her, and soon she feels his hand on the back of her head, except he isn’t pushing her face into his lap like he used to, isn’t making her throat burn as he forces his way in. All he’s doing is playing with her hair, petting her lightly, and while it feels nice, it mostly just feels really wrong. Spike’s never just been... gentle. His balls clench, and he comes in her mouth. Moaning Buffy’s name. Of course. The nice stuff isn’t about her. Nothing’s ever about her. But it’s Spike, in her bed, and once he’s a little more awake, she’ll take him to task for that little mistake. Oh yeah. She’ll make him pay. Definitely. But for now, she’ll just swallow and wait for him to wake up. ~~~~~~ “You said Buffy’s name,” she whispers as Spike lights a cigarette. “This morning. When I was going down on you.” “Oh.” At least he has the decency to look a little ashamed. “Er, sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking.” “Obviously,” she says huffily. Really, that was incredibly rude! It’s not like she ever said anyone else’s name when he went down on her! So there wasn’t anyone else she might have been thinking of at the time… she still would never have done that to him. “I am sorry,” he murmured. “I was drunk last night. Had an odd dream.” And she knows, she knows, she should ride him a little harder, that he should buy her flowers or a Ferrari or something to make up for it, should be begging her forgiveness and throwing pretty things her way as she turned up her nose at all his sad little offerings, because Harmony Kendall shouldn’t let some jerk use her like that, but she’s just happy he’s apologized. Because Spike never apologizes to her. “Just don’t do it again, okay?” she mumbled. “It wasn’t cool.” “Yeah, I know. It’s never fun playing the part of another in the sack. I get it.” Spike chuckles harshly. “Oh, do I get it.” Oh great. More ‘Buffy never loved me’ angst. If it were anyone but Spike she’d tell them to get over it. But Spike’s special. He’s sensitive. He needs to be taken care of, treated gently, and maybe one day he’ll realize he loves her more than any crazy vampires or Slayers or anyone ever, and they’ll be happy. All she has to do is persevere, see it through, take his crap and love him as much as she can, and one day, it’ll work out. If you love someone so much it hurts to be apart from them, somehow they’ll love you back, right? That’s what everyone said in high school. So she curls against his side as he blows smoke rings into the air, and hopes that maybe this time, he won’t jump out of bed and leave, won’t run away and leave her alone, wanting him. Maybe this is her day. ~~~~~~ Other Standalones Choose a Different Series 27 May 2004