I inhale the expensive cancer in a stick, it’s clouds of disease inflating my lungs. The bus goes over a bump and I almost drop my escape. The rolled up shivering nicotine in my hand is lowered as I flick the ashes onto the floor of the bus. I puff out a mouthful of gray smoke, it’s curls surrounding me, it’s familiar scent of death welcoming.
I think it was just outside of Long Beach, California that I picked up smoking. It was out a of a wim that I picked up the five dollar pack of Camel Lights, it’s sea green box color calling to me. And now I don’t even know where I’m going. I’ve been on and off of buses for weeks, never knowing my true destination.
The bus is stopping, it’s gasoline trickling down to a minimum as the breaks are applied. Roswell, New Mexico. I could learn to live with it as my home. Little green aliens running along side a white picket fence, the FBI somewhere in tow. I get up, and swing my bag over my shoulder. It is my only possession, that is filled with things I have stolen from town to town. As I get off the bus, and it pulls away, I am greeted by the swarm of a heat wave. I walk along the sidewalks of this unfamiliar place that I may soon call home, and stomp my cigarette out on the ground.
I wonder what they would think of me, if they could see me now. If they would think that I’m a screw up, that I’m a nothing, that I deserve to die. And in reality, that is why I am here. What would Willow think of me, if she could look at me? What would Giles say, what would my mother pray to God for? I can only imagine what Anya would scream, the way Riley would wrap his arms around me and tell me that it’s not my fault. The way Xander’s dead face will stare up at me from his grave. Not four weeks ago, his insides were brought out by a demon. And I didn’t stop it. I couldn’t. Could I have? I mean, I was there, I had a sword in my hands. I have the Slayer strength, and the Slayer speed. But I didn’t move. I never even moved an inch as the demon brought his hand full of sharp claws down into my friends stomach. But then again, neither did he. He didn’t move, he didn’t exactly try to fight back. Maybe he was scared, shocked into a state of something or another. Maybe he did move, only I just didn’t see. Maybe he never died, only I just could believe. And maybe I’m not even the Slayer. What a wonderful world it would be if he hadn’t died. If I would have saved the day just like I was supposed to, just like I do all the time. Only I didn’t. Shame on me, and shame on everyone I ever met.
Finding a job in a new town is probably the hardest thing to do. I normally stick to waitressing – I’ve done it before, and the pay isn’t all that bad. You get to know the people of the town, and you can just split without having to give a weeks notice and not worry about getting your paycheck. Roswell is actually kind of little, they don’t have too many stores. A U.F.O. center, which doesn’t really surprise me, a few small shops, and my destination. A small little tourist trap place. The Crashdown café. What a prefect place. The outside proves my theories of a tourist trap – a small spaceship with an alien passenger are begging you to come in.
As soon as I open up the doors and walk inside, I can smell milkshakes, and waffles, and a few burgers beginning to fry. It must be somewhere between breakfast and lunch, and the customers cannot make up their minds whether they want waffles and pancakes, or the dead cow surprise. In just a few moments, my eyes have scoped out what I am looking for, a Help Wanted sign.
The hotel I rented isn’t too bad. It doesn’t reek of death, and the walls are at least still kind of white. But as I look at myself in the mirror, a look of disgust comes across my face. I can see myself from my waist up, and I do not exactly like what I see. But it will have to do. I am wearing the required uniform for the Crashdown. A sickly pale green little outfit, with silver outlining. To complete the look, there is an alien headband with silver little bobblies on top of my head. I look down at myself and see that the outfitted skit stops just above my knees. My most hated feature. My knees, or my legs to be more exact. I hate them. I just hate legs in general, and I roll my eyes as I turn off the bathroom light. My white Keds, are not so white anymore, and they almost blend in with the rickety boards outside of my hotel room. The wood has been bleached by the sun for many years now I imagine, and I try to find my way to work. I do not exactly remember where it is, which is why I have aloud myself exactly thirty minutes to find it.
Liz Parker and Maria DeLuca are my fellow waitresses this fine summer. Liz is showing me the ropes of the place, and I am more or less watching her than anything else. She has sun kissed tan skin, and her brown hair is pulled up into a bun on the back of her head. Her eyes are a liquid brown, and they engulf me like the winds here. Her fingers are slim, her smile is pretty, and she reminds me of what I want to be like. Perfect. She is tiny, about my height, her waist is just a little bigger than mine. I do not eat a lot now though, so I am not to surprised. Her teeth are white, and her nails are not painted at all. I do not think that she wears makeup, but the way she carries herself shows that she is insecure about herself. About her body. She is the exact opposite of me. My blonde hair is loose and down my shoulders, my eyes are a dull brown, and not full of life as hers are. My skin is pale, I must be as white as the first snow in Chicago. My nails are jagged, and not rounded perfectly at the top, and I am secure with myself. Through all that I have been through, I know who I am. A Slayer. And maybe because I can control myself, because I can tell my body what to do at all times, I am secure with myself. Which I guess is at least something, because it is about all that I have left.
Maria is a blonde, but I think that beneath the surface, she really does not fit the part. It is true that she is giddy, and bouncy, and slightly air headed, but I think that she has more layers of herself than she is showing. She walks with pride, her green eyes are always looking around, and she seems to be very capable, but of what I do not know. Just the way she talks, like a real girl, and the way that she moves, she is almost perfect.
The cook here, Michael, is kind of cute. Liz said that him and Maria were on-again off-again boyfriend/girlfriend type of stuff, but Maria argued that they were definitely over. I laughed as the two fought. It surprised me, and it felt good. I haven’t laughed in a long time. They just trained me for the day, which I really didn’t need, but I didn’t really say no to it either. Better to be paid doing nothing, than doing something.
I leaned up against the alley wall of the Crashdown. I had a fifteen minute break as of five minutes ago. That leaves ten minutes to stand here, think about Xander, smoke my cigarette, and try not to cry. The door that leads out into the ally creeks like the dead man’s sea during a storm, and Michael emerges like the ship making it out to see the sun set. He lazily walks over to me, his hair partly in his hazel brown eyes. Leaning up against the wall next to me, he sighs.
“Those things will kill you, you know.” He says pointing to my dead cigarette which I discard on the ground moments later.
“Everyone dies sometime or another. Figured I’d just speed up the process.”
“I could help do that if you wanted.”
He’s dead serious. I can tell by the tone in his voice. If I asked him to kill me, there is no doubt in my mind that he wouldn’t do it. “Maybe later. Got tables to wait on in ten.”
“Ya. So…what brings you to Roswell?”
“I guess it’s like any other tall tale. It all started with a guy. A dead one.”
“Dead men tell no tales.”
Tears creep up behind my eyes, only my will holds them back like a dam when the floods roll in. But just like when the floods roll in, I’m sure my dam will break. I swallow my throat to keep from sobbing, it hurts but I just light up another one of my escape routs. Once again it’s gray death inhales itself into my lungs and I smile. “Then why am I here?”
“Because your not dead yet.”
“Might as well be. Wouldn’t matter if I died. Whatever is looking for me, it won’t find me. I’ve got nothing to worry about, no fears, no hopes, no lies anymore.”
“No secrets?” He asks, already knowing the answer.
I just smile, a frown turned upside down for once appears on my face. Roswell must really be good for me. “Everyone’s got those.” I look at him and poke his chest. “Even you.” I let my half used cigarette fall to the ground and step on it’s burning embers with my shoes. “See you inside.” I don’t want to talk anymore. My tears are gone, they have retreated and won’t be returning until after I get to my hotel room. I have no reason to be outside in the mist of unkept promises anymore.
I am greeted with the scent of the cool air conditioner, cream, and cooking meat as I enter the prison that I long for. The cool air dissipates the beads of sweat that are running down the back of my neck and forming on my upper lip. I wipe my forehead and pull my order sheet out from my uniform. Leaning in the doorway to the restaurant, I stare at Liz for a moment. She moves quickly from one table to the next, bringing orders to where Michael should be, passing Maria up with a smile on her face. It is cool inside, yet with my eyes I see the loneliness and sweat threatening to pool off of her. She sees me and smiles. As she heads over to me I smile back, I think she deserves to be happy. I have only been working here a week, but already I know her as well as anyone else. And I only know her by watching her, by chatting with her during breaks and when closing time rolls around. She is a unique soul, one that reminds me of Angel. She desperately tries to help, only to end up disappointed in the end, seeing Max come in here everyday, I think it kills her.
“ARGGH!!!” Maria grumbled as she sat down on one of the bar stools a few feet away from the counter. “I just hate long days.”
“Just be glad that it’s finally over.” I told her. The night sky lights its way through the front windows, the stars are hardly shining, all of them already dead.
Behind us, Michael just grumbled as he finished cleaning up the grill. The front door jingled as it opened, and we all looked at who it was. Max and Isabel. I had been introduced to them a few days after I had started working here a week ago. Max always made Liz nervous, their status on being together was rather shaky as she and Maria had both explained to me. The little Kewpie doll, Tess, was not with them, which made things a little easier. That girls eyes were ancient like the Red Sea, and probably held just as many secrets. Isabel was a hatred pretty, she reminded me much of Cordelia. Alex, the boy who reminded me much of Xander, was always hanging on her like a little puppy dog. I just smiled at the two as they entered. I had this feeling that they didn’t like me, and waves of fear always rolled off of Isabel whenever I was in the same room as her.
“Hey.” Max said as he made his way over to us.
“Hey.” Maria replied.
Next to me, Liz got up off of her stool and made her way to the back room. Max always made her uncomfortable, which surprised me. I understood that they were edgy around each other, but he just looked so trusting and harmless. Like he wouldn’t even tell a little white lie. Then again, Riley had looked that way too. Then he turned out to be in the Initiative. Tears crept up my parched throat, the thoughts of home returning and enveloping my brain. It had been one of the Initiative’s lab pets that had gotten out and killed Xander. For that I hated them, I resented them, and I was glad that Maggie Walsh had been killed in the battle too – otherwise I may have had to kill her myself.
“So uh, Michael, you ready to head out?” Max anxiously asked. He was talking to the cook, but his eyes were baring into me. And I just stared back at him. I stared at him so hard that if I had wanted to and possessed the power to, I do believe I could have killed him then and there. Yet he always watches me, and he knows that I know. I do not think he really cares, because he never really stops. He is hiding something, watching, waiting to see if I find out his secret. If only he knew mine, he would know that it would make no difference in my life what he did.
“Ya.” Michael came out of the backroom and smiled at his friend. “Maria, Buffy.”
He nods at me when he says my name, his way of saying goodbye. I just absent mindedly nod back, my eyes still focused on Max. I do not believe that Max is as fretful as Isabel. I think that they share the same secret, the same words.
“They all such assholes.” Maria stated once they were gone.
“How so?”
“Well, take Michael for instance. He tells me that…He doesn’t even talk to me. Like, okay, so, everyone thinks that our relationship was just a joke, but it wasn’t. I mean, I loved him. I still do, and I know that he loves me, but he just won’t admit it. And Max – God. He says he loves Liz, and then he goes and kisses Tess? What is up with that? You don’t just tell someone you love them, kiss another girl, and expect them to still want to be with you. So Liz breaks up with him and he’s all puppy dog eyes loved about her still.” Maria sighed and watched as the three pulled away in the Jeep. “And Isabel is so mean. She just lets Alex follow her around like that, she uses him. It just makes me wonder they even have hearts at all.”
“Maybe they just don’t know how to use them.”
“Well, whatever. I’ve gotta go. You need a ride back to the hotel?”
“No, I’m okay. I’ll stay and help Liz close up.”
“Okay. Bye.”
She gives me a quick hug before racing off out the front door. I lock the door behind her and wave as she drives off into the night. She really does talk like an airhead. I remember that Liz still has not come back yet, so I decide to go and try to find her. She has been really uptight about the store for the past few days since her parents are out of town, and she has never left it alone. I wander into the backroom, but I don’t see her. There are stairs back there leading up into the house above. Her house. Her parent’s house to be more exact. I’ve never been up there, but I can tell that she is. I make sure that the back door is shut and locked before I head up, softly calling her name.
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