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The Morning Bell Amnesiac	By : mshelly Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > General Views: 1320 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own BtVS. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Morning Bell Amnesiac
- 1
Title: The Morning Bell Amnesiac
Author: michelle/shelly
Email: mwkpdp@prodigy.net
Rating: r
Improv: #55: Radiohead song title
Disclaimer: not mine...just good no- copy- right- infringement intended, fun.
Summary: 70's slayer wakes up.

When the bell rings, she turns over.
The shrill sound doesn't go away so her arm lashes out and stops it.
Kills it.
When she finally opens her eyes and comes awake, she doesn't remember who she is. Doesn't remember where she is.
And she's not the slightest bit upset with that. Somehow she knows, deep down and bone deep, that *not* remembering is better. So she stretches in her bed and luxuriates in the not knowing. It's not dark or light, so she doesn't even know the time of day or night and doesn't bother to guess.
And even that feels good.
"Girl! You up there still a' bed? Well, wake yo' ass up! You got school and the phone is fo' you. You up, yet?"
Her eyes are still closed when she realizes that her grandmother is banging on the ceiling of the kitchen, directly below her bedroom, with a broom handle. She smiles as she pictures it in her mind and the smile fades when she wakes fully.
Morning and memory comes crashing in.
Grandma says there's a phone call and she staked 8 vampires last night.
Fuck.
She picks up the phone at her bedside table.
"Yeah?" Her morning voice is rusty and it sounds as if she's been smoking for twenty years, instead of the one, she has been.
Or like she spent the night before screaming.
"Ah. You're awake. Splendid. I trust you had a good night?"
She snorts into the phone. "Oh, my night was just groovy." She picks up a pack of Kools and shakes one out. Scratches her head and rummages around for her Zippo.
"No troubles that you couldn't handle, I trust?"
She lights up and draws in deep, turning to sit up in bed, her feet touching the cold, hardwood floor. She shivers, and bends to look for her slippers before speaking. "Troubles? Naw. It was all cool, man. Just, you know, vamps and weird ass things trying to off my ass. But that's always all cool with you, huh?" She finds her slippers with her feet, slips into them.
"No, of course, it's not 'cool' with me, child." He pauses, just as she expects him too. She can picture him straightening his tie and brushing back his hair; grimacing as he utters the word 'cool'. She smiles at the image.
"But it *is* your duty."
A pause, in which she takes in another lung full of smoke, drawing deep enough from the cigarette, that her fingers are warmed at the filter.
"You're not smoking, I hope?"
He *knows* she is.
It's just another thing about her that he can't stop or control. She sort of *basks* at the idea and grins, loving the idea of thwarting him, if only in this one small way.
But he's given her the pat answer she expects. The one she's used to. She knows he finds her very important. And useful. She exhales, making sure she breathes into the mouthpiece of the phone.
“ 'Course not." She lies and then coughs, as rusty as she can make it. "That shit'll kill ya, huh, watcher? Better a quick death by vampire than a slow lingering one by some cigarette caused cancer, yeah?"
"Yes. Yes, it *will* kill you and we don't need that." He pauses again and she pictures him checking the pleat of his slacks. "The *world* doesn't need that." She lets the pause go on. "*You* don't want that. Cancer is a terrible way to go, dear girl."
"Girl? Breakfast ain't gonna wait! School ain't gonna wait! Get *down* here!"
She takes in another lung full, sucking the cigarette concave and burning her fingers. "Look. I gotta go. G'mom is calling me. I'll meet you at the usual place. And hey."
"Yes?"
"The vamps were talking 'bout some new guy in town. Someone that's got a real hard on for me. For the *slayer*." She sneers the title and causes the Watcher to wince. "See 'bout that, huh? Duty or not, I'm *not* lookin' to die anytime soon, Watcher."
"Of course. I'll see wha-"
She hangs up the phone and puts out her cigarette. She goes to the window and opens it, doing her best to fan out the smoke. G-mom will beat her ass if she smells smoke in her room.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When the bell rings she turns over.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Birds sing in the morning.
She fucking *hates* birds. Wants to kill them all.
"Girl? You up there *up*, yet?"
When she sits up in bed, she notices that the alarm clock is in pieces against the far wall and she doesn't remember who she is. Doesn't remember where she is.
There is a still moving second hand arm and it makes two motions around before she comes into herself.
Tears come into her eyes, but she doesn't let them fall.
She's gonna die.
She picks up the phone just as it begins to ring. "What do you know about a Spike?" She barks, her voice brutal and harsh, even before her first cigarette. She fishes one out and lights up.
"What do *you* know of Spike, child?"
She draws in deeply and blows out. "I know he's gonna *kill* me, asshole, what more do I need know?"
"He can only kill you if you let him, child. And you won't. I know you won't."
She snickers, choking on a lung full of Kool menthol, before managing a laugh into the phone. "You are such a *pansy*ass, *white* ass *sucka*, sometimes, Watcher. I'm dead and we *both* know it." She places her bare feet on the cold hardwood floor and curls her toes, enjoying the icy feel. "You best get me that coat I want. The one you promised me. I won't be havin' much time to wear it, but I'll wear it good."
"Don't be silly,-"
"Girl? That smoke I smell? Again? Up all night, doin' lord only knows what, *and* smokin'? What would your momma say, I wonder?
Get *down* here, girl."

Grandma yells at her and its like *music*. So normal and sweet.
"I gotta go." She tells him and waits. I'm *tired*. She doesn't tell him that. So tired of all this shit.
"I know who he is, child. And he's *nothing*. You don't have to worry. He's no one. Just do what you have to do. What you *always* do. Your very finest." He pauses and she pictures him doing so many things. All those Watcher things he does: he lights his cigar, he smooths back his hair, he straightens his collar, he checks the pleat of his slacks, he pulls up the knot of his tie, he smiles at her, he *loves* her. Deep down and sorta *hidden*. But love , pretty and shiny, just like love all out and in the open.
She is certain that he is no where near as tired as she is.
She hangs up and gets ready for school, for the day. She hugs her grandma, gives her a long kiss, longer than usual, on her still smooth cheek, hugs her until she laughs that her bones are gonna *break* not just *creak* from all the love, and goes out.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When she opens her eyes and comes awake, fully, she's flat on her back on the subway floor and she knows just where she is and just what she's doing.
She's fighting.
And she's not gonna win.

~end
- 1
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The Morning Bell Amnesiac