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| Bring On The Day |
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| "I'm beyond tired. I'm beyond scared. I'm standing on the mouth of Hell and it's going to swallow me whole... "And it'll choke on me. We're not ready? THEY'RE not ready. They think we're gonna wait for the end to come, like we always do? I'm done waiting. They want an apocalypse? Oh, we'll give 'em one. Anyone else who wants to run, do it now, because we just became an army. We just declared war. From now on, we won't just face our worst fears, we will seek them out. We will find them and cut out their hearts, one by one, until the First shows itself for what it is. And I'll kill it myself. There's only one thing on this earth more powerful than evil. And that's us." She looked around at her "army". "Any questions?" Silence fell as the weight of her words sunk in. The implications of going on the offensive against this amorphous and, seemingly, all-powerful evil were far-reaching. Kennedy finally spoke. "Guess that means more weapons, huh?" "Yes. Yes, er, I suppose it does...." Giles replied, vaguely, staring fixedly at his slayer as though taken aback by her declaration. "But, how do you propose --" "I hate to be Mister Negative Guy, here," Xander interjected, "but how exactly do we take this fight to them...it...whatever?" Buffy looked at him for a moment. "I guess that's the question." "Uh, well, then...brainstorming session?" suggested Willow weakly. "But, Buffy, you -- you're not in any shape to confront this thing again, yet." "I know...at least, not with fists or weapons. That's why we need ideas. And some sort of training for the potentials." "Fine, training...ideas...brainstorming...but not now." Anya stepped forward as she spoke, fists on hips, allowing for no argument. "Now, I say everyone gets a couple of hours of sleep. Then, we plan." Buffy nodded faintly. "Anya's right. We've been going for days. And there's no telling..." she paused, then shook her head. "Yeah, two hours, then lots of coffee. And, Happy Christmas Eve, guys." With that, Buffy turned towards the stairs, scarcely registering the low rumble of voices that broke out behind her. She longed for the oblivion of sleep, to escape this new crisis, however briefly. When she reached her room, she lowered herself gingerly to the mattress, seeking a position that would minimize pressure on her injuries. If she'd had the strength or energy, she might have laughed at the futility of the effort. Instead, she just arranged her pillows and coverlet and Mr. Gordo as best she could, and shut her eyes. ~ / ~ "Do you know why you're alive?" It was Drusilla's face that addressed Spike, but now her tone had become serious, without wavering or her crazy, sing-song ramblings. "Never figured you for," Spike, sprawled against the berm of the pool, beaten and too weak to move, paused to cough. "...existential thought, luv. I mean, you hated Paris." The faintest hint of a smile accompanied his words. "You're alive for one reason, and for one reason only. Because I wish it. Do you know why I wish it?" The First smiled coldly at him. "Because I'm not done with you." "Give it up." Spike turned his head, spitting out blood. "Whatever you are, whatever you get away with, I'm out. You can't pull this puppet's strings any more." "And what makes you think you have any choice?" it spat back at him. "What makes you think you will ever be any good at all in this world?" Spike lifted his head, defiantly. "She does," he said, his calm voice suggesting a contentment utterly at odds with his current situation. Then, he let his head fall back, too tired to hold it up any longer. "Because she believes in me." He stared at the entity a moment longer, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth, before he slipped back into unconsciousness. ~ / ~ Buffy sank down into the dark abyss of sleep. For a short time, she floated in the dark, but then out of the void, she could make out shapes and sounds. Her room grew bright with the afternoon sun. She could hear many voices drifting up to her from the floor below. She turned where she stood and saw the bloodied shirt she'd worn in her last confrontation with the Ubervamp, the Turok-han, Giles had called it. She picked the shirt up and walked to the laundry hamper in the hallway, but paused to look at the bloodstains before dropping it into the basket. They shimmered and danced in front of her eyes, changing shapes, as though mocking her with her weakness. A blood drop in the shape of a wheel rolled across the collar. She opened the hamper, pulled out a clothes hanger, carefully draped the shirt on it, and then placed the hanger on a hook inside the hamper. "Buffy...come down...we're all waiting for you." She moved towards the stairs and Joyce's beckoning voice. She descended to the living room, where everyone was gathered. Joyce hugged her daughter, then approached the Christmas tree in front of the living room window. "We couldn't put the star on without you, Buffy. You have to be here for it, to tell us how to do it. You're the only one that can make it work." Buffy took the star from her mother's hand, and stepped up on a chair that had appeared next to the tree. She fastened the ornament to the top of the tree, ignoring the pine needles that pricked her skin. "The star is bent," she said, "it may be broken. There may be internal bleeding. How can we fix it?" Xander offered her duct tape and a hammer in answer to her question. "It won't be pretty, but smashing things feels better..." he volunteered. Buffy took the tape and wrapped it around the frame on the back of the star. "I can't make it new again...but it should glow for a while," she assured him, and stepped off of the weapons' chest that had replaced the chair under her feet. She stood back then, to look at the tree. It was kind of lop-sided and lean-y, but looked like a very sincere tree, so she sighed and nodded at Tara who waited to plug it in. The lights came on, and her father snapped a picture with a box camera. Willow coughed as the smoke from the flash curled around her head, but continued about her errand of tucking large chocolate chip cookies into the pockets of all the guests. Giles began to play his fiddle, and Buffy watched as her friends and family joined hands and skipped around the tree. She watched them pass, counting them, knowing that something was wrong...that someone was missing. |
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| This story nominated at: |
| Rating: G Setting/Spoilers: Between Bring On The Night (BtVS 7.11) and Show Time (7.11) Summary: My first fic!!! This was written during the mid-season re-run hell, as my way to stave off the temptation to spoil myself for what was comin up next. It worked.... Behold, the power of fanfic! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ |
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