DEATH, BE NOT PROUD
By Niels van Eekelen
TelltaleProd@Hotmail.com
www.TelltaleProductions.tk
Blackness.
He couldn't see. Couldn't move.
Was this death?
After all this time, was this finally death?
A recent memory suddenly repaired itself. A demon. A big one. There had been a fight. He remembered Buffy yelling at him, telling him to attack already.
"We've got no pulse!"
He remembered attacking. Falling. Yes, he'd been hit by the creature's tail. Knocked over the railing. Falling.
"Still nothing!"
He remembered the end of the fall, three floors lower. Screaming. There had been screaming--by whom? A crowd, he'd fallen into the middle of a crowd.
And he couldn't move.
Again, was this death?
"All right, cut away those clothes."
There was the hum of an electric device powering up.
It wasn't from the memories. And neither were these voices.
Suddenly, he realised that though he couldn't open his eyes, he could still sense things.
The voices; all of a sudden, they made sense.
There was a sound, in the distance, like a siren.
The faint smell of hygiene, medicine.
He was in an ambulance!
He felt something cold on his chest, but it was as if it was someone else's body.
"Clear!"
Clear?
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!"
He burned.
A burning sensation scorched its way through his body. There was pain.
It was his voice that was screaming.
Then it was over.
"Yes!"
"No, we still got no heartbeat. The scream must be just a physical reflex."
"Damn. Again!"
He couldn't think through the fog as well as the pain.
He just knew one thing:
This wasn't good.
"Clear!"
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!!!"
"Again!"
Buffy and Willow strolled through the hallways of Sunnydale's appropriately large hospital, thinking their respective thoughts. They'd arrived not long after the ambulance did, the Demon of the Day on its way back to its mommy--in an urn. The others were taking care of what was left of the demon, so the bulk of Sunnydale could remain blissfully ignorant of the things of the night that treatened them again and again. And of the sacrifices it took to protect them.
Willow was feeling a bit guilty.
Her best friend, the Slayer, the one girl in all the world, wasn't.
"Buffy?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you really don't think we should tell the doctors that Spike isn't supposed to be breathing?"
Buffy shrugged. "Naah."
And they lived happily ever after
until the next story came along.
Story written by Niels van Eekelen. © Copyright 2004 Telltale Productions.
In a perfect world, I would own the series 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'. Alas, it is not, and I bow my head to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Ah, well. It's probably for the best, me not having a contract to put the show on the air and all.