AN: Just a short piece I was compelled to write... Reviews are much appreciated...
Standard disclaimers apply or the world would end. Buffy would save it of course but
yeah, you know. Best not to chance it.
**************************** The Vagaries of Free Will ********************************
*If butterflies gave up their dreams,
The gray, gray world would spin doggedly on,
Unchanged, unchanged, so it would seem,
But doomed, and damned, and unredeemed,
By the loss of their delicate song.*
~Kei
The cool night was young as Buffy Summers jogged down a dimly lit suburban street. A few of the
street lamps were out, casting the road in partial darkness. She paused for a moment, her rythm
broken, when she saw a young girl, not older than eight, walking on the sidewalk to her right.
The lone girl, made aware by Buffy's intense, piercing stare, looked up as she stopped as well,
blonde curls brushed golden under the halo of the flickering street light.
Bright blue and aged, weary hazel met for a measuring moment.
A shadow, unnoticed by either human, stole itself into their shared circle of artificial
brightness. Buffy Slayers became the Slayer the moment the vampire struck. The girl was
forgotten as the woman, made old by a life lived precariously at the mouth of Hell, spun,
sharpened stake in raised hand, ready, even eager, to greet the only true child the night ever
birthed.
They danced, spun, giddy in their sudden unlooked for, uncomplicated violence... She and he,
puppets- pawns, sparring in yet another skirmish in the ultimate war... The war which would
decide who reigned over the crown of earth- dawn, and all it promised, or dusk with its
infinite, terrible silence. The woman seemed frail next to her souless adversary who spat and
snarled, a marked contrast to the woman's concentration, and quiet knowledge laden smile.
But for all the Vampire's fierceness the fire burned him still and, even in its diminished
earthly frame, light banished the shadows that gave this child of darkness stolen breath.
A single decisive plunge splintered the stake into night's unbeating heart. There was the usual
gasp of surprise, the look of shock, agony, that all darkness wore when you drug it into
purifying light.
And for a single mortal heartbeat of the living, cerulean and amber met again.
Fine ash exploded and broke the moment, covering both humans with the tangible proof of
death.
Buffy's hesitant steps brought her closer into the circle of comforting, if false, flourscence.
She knelt, with a sigh, before the silent child with her curls and pigtails and wide, wide,
eyes, stake still held in loose, tired fingers. The girl's frank sapphire gaze followed the
movement of the simple wooden tool that had destroyed so much borrowed life and living death.
"It's sharp," came the even, calm voice of the child in the ensuing quiet. Buffy's full mouth
tightened before she replied.
"Yes."
Another weighted look was shared and Buffy shivered. Shivered as she knelt in the deserted
street, covered with ash, before a too silent girl who stood like some kind of fallen angel,
pure and untouched. Innocent in her youth.
Unsullied until now.
She shivered and saw, in the depths of the cornflower blue eyes an echo...
'Mama, please may I stay up late?'
'One more cookie?'
'Are we there yet?'
Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer, blinked back sudden tears and jerked back, as if burned.
She swallowed and rose, feeling self conscious as she towered over the little girl.
"Where do you live?" she asked, voice gruffer then she would have liked. The girl blinked and
pointed to the house on the end, the corner lot, blue with white trim... complete with flower
beds and an immaculate yard. The Slayer held out her hand.
The child stared at it for a moment, gravely studied the lines, the scars that marked victories
in a thousand other skirmishes. Small, unblemished, her steady hand accepted what was offered.
Buffy walked the girl home.
They paused at the sidewalk, stared at each other again, each measuring, evaluating the other.
"You shouldn't walk alone after dark."
The child acknowledged the advice with a carefree smile. "Susie just lives a block away. I
usually leave before dark but I forgot." Buffy nodded, accepting the answer. The child gently
disentangled her hand and slipped away, half skipping up the walk.
"What's your name?" the little girl called back, bright and full of youth and promise. Buffy's
heart rose in her throat. Rose and made her voice catch on her reply.
"Buffy, Buffy Summers." The child giggled, waved, and disappeared into the warm embrace of her
perfect, complete home. Back to the land of make believe, back to childhood.
And Buffy was shamed because she saw, before the girl slipped back into her cocoon, a shadow
slip in with her. For the child had seen death and death robs what it can of life. It could
not claim such innocence, but it could destroy some small part of it.
********************************************************************************************
The child of eight watched solemnly from the great bay window in her living room as the woman
named Buffy Summers walked away. Her measured tread was heavy, thin shoulders hunched in on
themselves. The street she walked down was unlighted, dark.
But she shone none the less.
The girl had never dreamed that someone who walked in such darkness, such complete blackness,
could be so bright. Tarnished, perhaps, torn, broken, but beatiful and strong... so very
strong.
And the thought, bitter though it was, gave her some small measure of hope. Made her smile
with a wistfullness that was unknown not an hour past.
For the girl had seen a promise in Buffy's eyes. Had seen herself, grown, hardened, but still
good, reflected within the murky hazel and amber irises. She had seen her future and suddenly,
she was all right with it.
No less afraid... But somehow comforted none the less. Comforted by the possibility she saw
for herself in the woman named Buffy Summers.
********************************************************************************************
The Powers paused for a moment, attention caught as they marveled over the brief irony in the
meeting of two such unlikely souls... The woman and the child. The Slayer and her replacement.
Not many Slayers got to see the eyes, the face, the soul of those who would try so very hard to
fill their bloodied shoes. Who would accept the burdens of the world. Who would spend from
Choosing until violent, often painful death bleeding, killing, giving all that they were.
Fewer ever knew the name of the one who walked before them. The nature of the Slayer didn't
allow such contact, such knowledge.
But such were the vagaries of free will.
And such was the nature of humanity which even in all its pathetic frailty, managed to out
dance Fate. Which even, despite such weakness of both body, heart, and mind, managed to
produce those capable of standing alone against the Forces of Darkness.
*********************************************************************************************
Buffy hugged her jacket closer to her body as she continued home.
Standard disclaimers apply or the world would end. Buffy would save it of course but
yeah, you know. Best not to chance it.
**************************** The Vagaries of Free Will ********************************
*If butterflies gave up their dreams,
The gray, gray world would spin doggedly on,
Unchanged, unchanged, so it would seem,
But doomed, and damned, and unredeemed,
By the loss of their delicate song.*
~Kei
The cool night was young as Buffy Summers jogged down a dimly lit suburban street. A few of the
street lamps were out, casting the road in partial darkness. She paused for a moment, her rythm
broken, when she saw a young girl, not older than eight, walking on the sidewalk to her right.
The lone girl, made aware by Buffy's intense, piercing stare, looked up as she stopped as well,
blonde curls brushed golden under the halo of the flickering street light.
Bright blue and aged, weary hazel met for a measuring moment.
A shadow, unnoticed by either human, stole itself into their shared circle of artificial
brightness. Buffy Slayers became the Slayer the moment the vampire struck. The girl was
forgotten as the woman, made old by a life lived precariously at the mouth of Hell, spun,
sharpened stake in raised hand, ready, even eager, to greet the only true child the night ever
birthed.
They danced, spun, giddy in their sudden unlooked for, uncomplicated violence... She and he,
puppets- pawns, sparring in yet another skirmish in the ultimate war... The war which would
decide who reigned over the crown of earth- dawn, and all it promised, or dusk with its
infinite, terrible silence. The woman seemed frail next to her souless adversary who spat and
snarled, a marked contrast to the woman's concentration, and quiet knowledge laden smile.
But for all the Vampire's fierceness the fire burned him still and, even in its diminished
earthly frame, light banished the shadows that gave this child of darkness stolen breath.
A single decisive plunge splintered the stake into night's unbeating heart. There was the usual
gasp of surprise, the look of shock, agony, that all darkness wore when you drug it into
purifying light.
And for a single mortal heartbeat of the living, cerulean and amber met again.
Fine ash exploded and broke the moment, covering both humans with the tangible proof of
death.
Buffy's hesitant steps brought her closer into the circle of comforting, if false, flourscence.
She knelt, with a sigh, before the silent child with her curls and pigtails and wide, wide,
eyes, stake still held in loose, tired fingers. The girl's frank sapphire gaze followed the
movement of the simple wooden tool that had destroyed so much borrowed life and living death.
"It's sharp," came the even, calm voice of the child in the ensuing quiet. Buffy's full mouth
tightened before she replied.
"Yes."
Another weighted look was shared and Buffy shivered. Shivered as she knelt in the deserted
street, covered with ash, before a too silent girl who stood like some kind of fallen angel,
pure and untouched. Innocent in her youth.
Unsullied until now.
She shivered and saw, in the depths of the cornflower blue eyes an echo...
'Mama, please may I stay up late?'
'One more cookie?'
'Are we there yet?'
Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer, blinked back sudden tears and jerked back, as if burned.
She swallowed and rose, feeling self conscious as she towered over the little girl.
"Where do you live?" she asked, voice gruffer then she would have liked. The girl blinked and
pointed to the house on the end, the corner lot, blue with white trim... complete with flower
beds and an immaculate yard. The Slayer held out her hand.
The child stared at it for a moment, gravely studied the lines, the scars that marked victories
in a thousand other skirmishes. Small, unblemished, her steady hand accepted what was offered.
Buffy walked the girl home.
They paused at the sidewalk, stared at each other again, each measuring, evaluating the other.
"You shouldn't walk alone after dark."
The child acknowledged the advice with a carefree smile. "Susie just lives a block away. I
usually leave before dark but I forgot." Buffy nodded, accepting the answer. The child gently
disentangled her hand and slipped away, half skipping up the walk.
"What's your name?" the little girl called back, bright and full of youth and promise. Buffy's
heart rose in her throat. Rose and made her voice catch on her reply.
"Buffy, Buffy Summers." The child giggled, waved, and disappeared into the warm embrace of her
perfect, complete home. Back to the land of make believe, back to childhood.
And Buffy was shamed because she saw, before the girl slipped back into her cocoon, a shadow
slip in with her. For the child had seen death and death robs what it can of life. It could
not claim such innocence, but it could destroy some small part of it.
********************************************************************************************
The child of eight watched solemnly from the great bay window in her living room as the woman
named Buffy Summers walked away. Her measured tread was heavy, thin shoulders hunched in on
themselves. The street she walked down was unlighted, dark.
But she shone none the less.
The girl had never dreamed that someone who walked in such darkness, such complete blackness,
could be so bright. Tarnished, perhaps, torn, broken, but beatiful and strong... so very
strong.
And the thought, bitter though it was, gave her some small measure of hope. Made her smile
with a wistfullness that was unknown not an hour past.
For the girl had seen a promise in Buffy's eyes. Had seen herself, grown, hardened, but still
good, reflected within the murky hazel and amber irises. She had seen her future and suddenly,
she was all right with it.
No less afraid... But somehow comforted none the less. Comforted by the possibility she saw
for herself in the woman named Buffy Summers.
********************************************************************************************
The Powers paused for a moment, attention caught as they marveled over the brief irony in the
meeting of two such unlikely souls... The woman and the child. The Slayer and her replacement.
Not many Slayers got to see the eyes, the face, the soul of those who would try so very hard to
fill their bloodied shoes. Who would accept the burdens of the world. Who would spend from
Choosing until violent, often painful death bleeding, killing, giving all that they were.
Fewer ever knew the name of the one who walked before them. The nature of the Slayer didn't
allow such contact, such knowledge.
But such were the vagaries of free will.
And such was the nature of humanity which even in all its pathetic frailty, managed to out
dance Fate. Which even, despite such weakness of both body, heart, and mind, managed to
produce those capable of standing alone against the Forces of Darkness.
*********************************************************************************************
Buffy hugged her jacket closer to her body as she continued home.