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[Buffy] This Day May Be... ALC Punk!
Jan 01, 2001 07:00 PST Disclaimer: Buffy and Co. belong to Fox/WB/Joss Whedon. I am making no cash, nor am I gaining any fame. Well, I doubt it. The songs are: "All Mine"; "Only You"; "Roads"; and "Mysterons" by Portishead. All hail a really GOOD band for Buffyfic. Spoilers: Second season. Yes, Cynny babe, you can read this without getting spoilt. *g* It's set in the middle, probably a few days after Jenny Calendar, um... Well, a bit after Passions. Summary: Convoluted, atmospheric romp, with some character fun, and killings. If that doesn't make sense, good. Dedication: To Lynx. 'Cause you didn't run when I spammed bits at you. To Sparky, for writing a really damned good Cordy. And to Cynny, just 'cause. Quick note: This is Songfic. Turn back now, or be forever blighted by good lyrics. Oh! And I hope to post something NONBuffy soonish.
This Day May Be...
All the stars may shine bright A punch landed in the bag, followed by a side kick, then another punch. A stake flashed out from hiding and buried itself solidly in the center. And the girl punched on, ignoring the sweat streaming from her blonde hair. It hung limply from a ponytail, damp with salty sweat and coiled into little spit-curls here and there. If asked, she would have said she looked a fright. But she didn't. Not to him. He drank her in, as if sucking her essence into himself, as if absorbing all she was and cherishing it. Not that she noticed. She was too absorbed, too full of this manic need to kill. Even though it was only a canvas and sawdust punching bag.
That I can hardly wait She'd almost killed him, once. Come so close. But she hadn't been able to. She'd been soft, weak. And someone had paid for it with their life. The bag creaked as she slammed the flat of her hand into it. Paid, and now Giles would barely speak to her. His every glance accusing her of Jenny's death. As if she wasn't full of guilt already. Roses. He had left roses with her. A sick, twisted attempt at humour. Her lip curled up in a silent snarl. Her fault, really. She'd let him get to her. Believed that she could save him. But she couldn't. No soul. There was no soul left now.
All mine....... He shifted, watching, waiting. Wanting. Needing to touch her, to frighten her. To taste her fear and terror. Like Calendar's. He closed his eyes, remembering the heady rush of moving his hands just so. *Snap* She'd looked so startled as the light left her eyes. As if she hadn't thought he would do it. All the people he'd killed before, and she still believed there was some 'good' left in him. A smile graced his full lips. She'd been so wrong.
And such sad regrets The sound barely intruded on her, soft supple laughter. Velvet and smug. She turned, as if in a dream. "Hello, lover." "You..." She reacted swiftly, flipping forward, stake held tightly, waiting for the moment to strike. To rend his heart and return him to the darkness. He laughed again and wrapped a hand around her throat, squeezing. "So childish and predictable. Didn't that Watcher teach you anything, lover?"
You shan't escape Her knee connected between his legs, and he gasped, releasing her slightly. She dug fingernails into his cheek, scraping it, blood welling from the scratches. A growl echoed through the room and he back-handed her, sending her flying into the wall. Pain flared along her side, and she rolled, coming back to her feet. He still stood where he'd been. A smile crossed his lips, leaving his eyes cold and vacant. "They'll write that down, you know." He said, "Predictability is what kills Slayers. Or didn't you know that." "Fuck you." "You're not good enough to." "Well, then, stake you." She stepped towards him, "Or better yet, just, simply. Die."
You have to be He ducked her first swing, then parried with a punch that would have broken a lesser person's jaw. It just sent her tumbling backwards, leaving her in a heap. A kick slammed into her side, then he was hauling her up again. "You don't get it, do you--" The stake in her hand slid into him. Surprise echoed in his eyes as he slowly dissipated.
Until the day I die "You're wrong, Angel. I do." Tears slipped down her cheeks. "Goodbye, my love." Pain and realisation shattered the reverie. Angel was dead. Angelus was, too, but that was incidental. There would be no going back, no huge and loving make up. There would be just loneliness. Emptiness. She had to go. To leave. Wildly, she turned, running from the room, trying to leave it behind her. If she ran far enough, she could. Couldn't she?
We suffer everyday, what is it for Giles looked up from the book he was reading. The knock came again, soft, hesitant. He carefully marked the page and stood. Walking towards the door he realised with surprise that he hadn't turned on the overhead light, and did so. No wonder his eyes hurt. The door swung inward revealing Buffy, her hand raised to knock again. For a moment, he studied her, shocked. Tears and sweat streaked her face and neck. Bruises marred the column of her throat, a few decorating her lip and right cheek. And her eyes. For an instant they were terribly dead. "Buffy." "I did it." She sniffled, dropping her arm, "He's dead."
And it's only you, who can turn my wooden heart "Angelus." Giles guessed, staring at the pain in his Slayer's eyes. "Yes." She gasped, "I didn't think it could hurt any worse than it did." She whispered, "But it does." He reached out, touching her hair, then pulled her into his arms as she shattered, sobbing brokenly. "It's done. It's over." He comforted, slowly backing into the house and closing the door. The Slayer shook, sobs wracking her, tears filling his shirt with salt and water. He sat on the couch, cuddling her into his lap, rubbing her back as she cried bitterly.
It's only you, who can tell me apart Angelus was dead. Giles felt that he should be happy. Ecstatic. But the bitterness seeping from Buffy made him cold. She was desolate, sure she was incomplete without Angel. He'd known she thought he made the world complete. And now that he was gone, she'd feel like half a person. He closed his eyes, remembering Jenny. He had known her so very little, at the end. It had been nothing like this between them. He wondered if he would still be there if it had.
Years of frustration lay down side by side Buffy shifted after a long while, then sighed. "I can't go on, Giles. I just..." "You can." "He--Giles, he was everything." She shivered and pulled away, slowly standing. "It's not stupid, it's--we were soulmates. I knew what he was thinking, he knew how much I needed him." She winced, "That's why Angelus was so good at taunting me." "Yes." Giles pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I've got to go." She said, distractedly. "Buffy--" "No." She was at the door, opening it in seconds. "Thanks, Giles." And then she was gone, slipping back out into the night.
It's only you, who can tell me apart "You're welcome, my dear." He mumbled. It would be time to call a meeting with the others in the morning. They would want to know. And Buffy would need their support. After all, even Slayers can't handle losing a loved one alone.
Ohh, can't anybody see "What's the matter, pet?" "It's all gone. All dark and scary." Dark glossy hair shimmered in a wave as Drusilla tossed her head around, hands clasped to her temples. "The stars are screaming. Miss Edith doesn't like the sound. Make it stop, daddy, make it stop." Spike stubbed out his cigarette on the wall and wheeled over to her, "Ah, he's not here right now. Won't your Spike do?" "Gone. Gone gone gone to Tipperary," Drusilla sang dreamily, her hands dropping to her lap. Lush red velvet folds enveloped them for a moment, then came out again, clutching a dagger. "Now, Dru love, put down the sharp pointy thing." She stood, gliding towards him, the dagger held in front of her, "He's gone. It should have been you that went. My beautiful Angel, gone in a puff." She leaned over Spike and kissed him. "We shall play, or you get no cookies with your tea."
How can it feel, this wrong "Yes, Dru, put away the sharp pointy thing." Spike stared over Drusilla's shoulder at the Slayer. She was leaning nonchalantly in the door. Except for her eyes, which were dark and filled with secrets and pain. "Slayer." "Slayee." "Oh, come now, you--" "You killed my Angel." Drusilla stepped towards Buffy, something akin to anger in her eyes. "He's cold and gone now, and it's your fault."
I feel "Yeah. I guess it is. Except, Dru, he's not cold. He's a smattering of dust." "Miss Edith is not happy." "I'm sure if she could actually talk, she'd tell me that herself. However, since you said it, I think you mean that you're not happy." Buffy smiled, "Life's cruel, Drusilla, didn't you learn that when Angelus killed your family?" "My daddy! He did it to help me. To become who I am." Dru slowly circled the Slayer. "I'm better now, because of him."
And surely that ain't right "You're dead now because of him." Buffy corrected. She flipped a stake in her hands, "Oh," she added idly, "and insane." "I am not." Drusilla sniffed, "You're just jealous that I had daddy first." A laugh sputtered from the Slayer, "Really?" She snorted, "Yeah. Right. Anyway, time to die, Dru-babe."
Never found our way "Now, look here, Slayer--" "Shut up, Spike." "My daddy won't--" "He's dead, remember?" "I hate you!" "That's nice." Buffy stepped into Drusilla, stake in hand. "Now, be a good girl and die." Drusilla's hand closed around her throat, and she giggled, "But I am not a good girl. Daddy was always telling me that. Isn't that so, my Spike?" "Too right, love."
How can it feel, this wrong Fingers closed around her throat, air difficult to breathe. And then she couldn't. One hand came up, clawing at the one around her throat. Drusilla giggled again, tightening her hold, ignoring the nail marks in her skin. Stake. There was a stake. Somewhere. Wasn't there? Her world was narrowing, lungs clenching with the need to fill again. And all she could see was Dru, smiling. It can't end like this. Angel's dead. It can't end like this.
Ohh, can't anybody see Drusilla half-turned away to say something to Spike. Buffy couldn't hear it, the sound of her heart beating loud in her ears. Stake. She had a stake. It was in her right hand, a splinter from it was digging into her ring finger. The vampire turned back, her face morphing into something that was at once truly hideous and gorgeous. "The stars say I get to drink Slayer's blood, my Spike. Isn't that lovely?" "Indeed, pet."
How can it feel, this wrong The stake slid into Drusilla's upper body, Buffy desperately aiming for her heart. She'd wanted to die, wanted to follow Angel. But she couldn't. There was still too much to do, too many things left undone. Like Giles. And her mom. And Xander. All would mourn her, even Cordelia. Wouldn't she? The heart, Buffy, you're supposed to hit the heart. Drusilla cried out, then, her features beginning to dissolve. The hand disappeared, dropping Buffy to the floor ot be covered in the vampire's ashes. She shook her head and gasped in a breath of air. Then another. Alive. She was alive.
Ohh........Can anybody see the light "Slayer." The word was the only warning she had before a fist crashed into the back of her head. She hit the cement floor with her chin, biting her tongue. Blood slithered out of her lips, dripping for a second, then Spike's foot slammed into her rib cage and she tumbled sideways, sprawling around the searing pain. The sound of matches breaking warned her ribs were cracked as he kicked her again. She wrapped herself around the pain, fighting past the surprise that he wasn't in his wheelchair. That he was standing. "You--shouldn't be able--to do that." She gasped out.
Ohh........Just set aside your fears of life "Newsflash, Slayer, I'm back and I'm badder than ever." Another kick slammed into her side, driving splinters of bone into her lung. "Bad news, then." She replied, rolling and reaching her knees before another kick caught her in the shoulder and sent her to the floor again. More blood was filling her mouth now, and an odd spongy feeling gave her the clue that her lung was filling with fluid. He reached down and caught her hair, dragging her upright to smile. "I'll enjoy killing you. And then I think I'll go play with the redhead." Pain flashed through her as she curled around herself, trying to free her hair from his hand. He tightened his grip making her wince. Willow, he was going after Willow next.
This ain't real That couldn't happen. She couldn't allow it. Dammit, she was the Slayer, her friends weren't supposed to be the ones hurt. Spike grabbed the front of her shirt, lifting her up and throwing her against the wall. She tumbled down it, using the momentum to gain her feet. He was upon her again in an instant, frenzied, full of anger. Flailing out, she caught him in the shoulder, and he laughed then slammed a fist into her jaw. The crack was doubled as she hit the wall behind her. Pain flared again, worse than before. Breathing was becomming increasingly difficult, the fluid almost completely filling one lung. She coughed, feeling blood slide down her chin.
This ain't real "I'm not even drinking your blood. I'll just kill you." He smiled as he leaned in, "Besides, you're not worth it." "I was worth enough to kill Dru." she rasped. Another fist slammed into her jaw, this time completing the job and shattering it. A mewl of pain left her. "Does it hurt, Slayer? I hope so." Fuck. You. Her mind grated as she raised her hand, stake grapsed tightly in it.
This ain't real Spike caught her hand, squeezing it around the stake, laughing as her fingers broke and tears of pain slid down her cheeks. He was still laughing as her other hand finished punching through his chest, finding his heart. For an instant, they stood frozen. The vampire held one hand and was half-reaching for her neck with the other. She leaned against the wall, supported only by his hand, her arm buried in his chest. It was going to hurt, it would. Punching through ribs always is painful. She slid her fingers into the beating heart, twisting, tearing, pulling. It came out, covered in bone fragments and dust as he shattered.
Ohh............Can anybody see the light Without the enraged vampire holding her up, Buffy crumpled into a ball, sobbing with pain. Blood dribbled out from her lips, spattering the concrete bright red. She stared blindly at it, suddenly realising something. She could die here. Her injuries were almost extensive enough for it, unless someone found her. With her lung full of blood, she would slowly drown. Unless her skull was cracked. Considering she was now seeing at least two different Giles', this was possible.
Inside your pretending "This was very stupid of you." "I know." "Don't talk, you'll just make it worse. And don't try to move, either. Xander's called the ambulance." "How?" "When you left, I realised that you seemed... disturbed." He pulled his glasses off as he knelt beside her, carefully brushing hair out of her eyes. "I called Willow, and she seemed to think you might come and kill Drusilla and Spike." She raised her eyebrows, eyes asking a question
Still holding on "I didn't think, in your present emotional state, that it would be wise." He hedged. She snorted, then winced as her side complained. "Yes, well..." He looked away, then looked down at her, eyes worried. "You're my Slayer, Buffy. I worry about you--I... I care about you."He laughed softly. "It's been difficult not to. Oh, I can't say I'd have liked a daughter like you, but... I would have hoped she would be as strong as you." Tears glittered in her eyes as she looked up at him. He reached out and wiped them away gently. "Don't cry, just live." A sniffle escaped her.
Refuse to surrender Xander arrived, paramedics behind him bringing a backboard and other equipment. In a short time they'd hooked her up to an i.v., gotten her strapped to a litter, and begun carting her to the waiting ambulance. Their estimated prognosis was that she would live once they reinflated her lung. And, as long as the concussion wasn't too severe. -=-=-
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