Disclaimer: I do not own 'Buffy: the Vampire Slayer' series, world, or characters.
Series Summery: Angelus is gone and Acathla sleeps once more, but those who are left on the Hellmouth struggle to survive with the abandonment of their friend the Slayer. AU. Post 2.22 "The Becoming: Part Two".
Metal bit into her hands; knuckles white, spine impossibly straight (posture is still everything, dear). She could do this, probably shouldn't, but she would. It was what they needed. For her to be okay with everything. And really (just smile and nod my girl, when she gets into these moods), it was so little in the grand scheme of things. It wasn't hard to pull off. Not when they wanted the words she gave them so badly her many tells were overlooked. They encouraged the lie. They always had.
Is it still a fictional reality when everyone knew, yet ignored, the truth? A whisper told her 'no' but she had played the coward too long to feel comfortable in testing her theory.
They stayed for three weeks, both of them together (let us give you strength, my girl) and cared for her in a way she remembers from childhood. Everything was arranged, printed out and color-coded in a schedule of appointments. It was to be followed (always be neat and tidy). Mother cooked breakfast, Papa set the table. They talked about classes and work, of this and that and nothing that mattered at all. A picture perfect family, what the neighbors always knew them to be.
Then they left.
She was on her own once more, tarnished and broken in a wheelchair. The tangible proof she never wanted that spoke of her place in the world.
A swoosh and thud, the sound of something dragging on the linoleum. She would be incapable of stealth for some time it seemed (academics have always been more important than any physical pursuits; sports would have never taken you far child), but really it was just as well. Her expertise lay elsewhere.
Perhaps Giles had been right. She would stay in the library. The unease she felt at the violation of her sanctuary would pass in time. It was something she would force herself to face day after day. Just as it had been suggested of her.
The Doctors wanted to try physical therapy, but their degrees lay in different fields and so they had instead renovated the space she lived in for some preconceived measure of comfort. She was staying in the guest bedroom (perhaps it could be repainted next month, dear), handrails placed in the shower and the stairs gone from their porch. It hardly mattered (slowly, slowly), it was still awkward and she had always felt ungainly.
The day they left she was gifted with music. A song just for her from the boy she was growing to love. It was soft and echoed sweetly past its end. She hummed it now while getting ready for her day, a self-inflicted punishment its creator never imagined it would become.
A secret never shared: her feet had once tapped the morning in, a rhythm carried over from her dreams.
Not smart enough to remember, not quick enough to act. She suspected it wouldn't be enough, this currency she gladly paid in silent tears and painful memory. She gave it all the same. While her friend was still missing she recognized her own failure as a betrayal deserving justice.
Magic had a great many flaws. But then, so did she.
Written for 365drabbles and fanfic_bakeoff at LiveJournal (secret ingredient: token; $ bonus ingredient: conversation-only). Two drabbles, complete. Part of the Diamond Seas and Lands of Smoke series.
