Not Today

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Hello Seasonal Spuffiers! I’m happy to kick off this round with a very short little fic for you. I hope you enjoy, and I’m looking forward to the rest of the round.

She doesn’t sleep much, but when she does it is deep and dreamless.

She spends daylight hours bringing terrible food to awful people, and then wanders the city until the sky begins to lighten. Only then can she sleep, an hour, maybe two before her shift.

It’s enough.

She makes it through each day, each night.

And she doesn’t dream.



When she opens her eyes, streetlights are flashing by outside the car window. No one is on the sidewalks, no other cars are on the street.

They are alone.

The car is silent. He must have turned the radio off when she fell asleep. He does things like that; he’ll argue about music for hours when she’s awake, playing snippets of songs and whole records at top volume to prove a point, but if she falls asleep, he’ll cover her with his coat and turn the radio off.

She doesn’t sleep much, but he does what he can.

She can see the sky brightening, the slightest hint of grey along the horizon. It would soon be time for her to drive. She hoped he’d sleep today; he’d stayed awake with her for the last three days. It was too quiet when he slept, but he needed rest more.

She sat up, working the kinks out of her neck from slumping against the window, even as she reached out for his hand.

“Where are we?” she asked, turning away from the flicker of streetlights outside and towards the dim interior, this small space where nothing and no one existed but them.

“Does it matter?” Spotting an open diner, he slowed the car, wanting to get her fed and caffeinated before he turned over the wheel to her.

She smiled, and gave him the same answer she’d given him every day since they’d joined forces against Angel, since they’d saved the world and then run away from the repercussions.

“Not today, Spike. Not today.”


He doesn’t sleep much. He drinks a lot, but he doesn’t sleep much, and so he doesn’t dream.

He spends the nighttime hours drinking and raging. During the day, when he’s alone in the dark, he adds crying.

He’s alone.

He makes it through each day, each night.

And he doesn’t dream.


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