Title: "The Hardest Thing in the World", Prologue and the start of Part 1
Author: Sassette
Rating: PG (at this point)
Disclaimer: I own all of these characters. Wait. What? I don't. Some guy named Joss does? Oh. I see. Well, then, I guess I don't own them. They belong to Joss and all of that. But I don't think he'll mind if I borrow them, as long as it's for fun and not for profit.
Summary: This is the prologue to a much longer S6 fic I have finally gotten all plotted out. It is meant to be a short, kind of depressing piece from Dawn's perspective. The rest of the story is going to be less moody and more typically narrative--in the third-person and much more plot driven. This is just to set the mood. I've also included the very beginning of the first part of the actual story. It's mostly just exposition so I can start things moving.
Feedback: I would appreciate any feedback, especially anything constructive. Write me at lori_es@hotmail.com.
Author's Note: This is my first attempt at anything other than very short, very silly pieces. I've never written any serious or long fics before. So go easy on me, but be honest, okay?
"The Hardest Thing in the World"
Prologue
When someone you love dies, people tell you that it will get better. iYou'll see/i, they say, as they put an arm around your hunched, sobbing form. iIt won't hurt this badly forever/i. And they're right, some of the time. Sometimes it does get better. When my mother--our mother--died, it felt like a light had been turned off. Like I'd been walking around in the sun, and didn't even realize how bright it was until I was pulled into a dark room. For a long time, it was hard to see. It was all dark, but it was okay, because she was there. My sister, who could find her away around even through the blackness. She was there, and it did get better. Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I began to notice the light that crept in under the door, that came in through the cracks in the ceiling. One day I woke up and was able to make my way to the shower without her there to guide me. I was able to find my backpack and hairbrush. I was able to pour myself a bowl of cereal and open the front door, and after that I began to believe the people who had told me it would get better. Our lives started again, a little dimmer than before, but still okay. Okay, because she was there.
But this time, I don't believe any of them. All of the kind words they offer as I kneel beside my sister's grave, hunched and sobbing, are lies. This time, things won't get better. It's like all the light in the world has gone out, and now there's no one who can find the way through the darkness. iIt won't hurt this badly forever/i, they say, putting an arm around me. iLife goes on/i, as they pull me in for a quick hug before heading off to their cars, to their homes, already blind, they always have been, so maybe they won't notice the difference. But I will. Her friends will. All of us who knew her.
iLife goes on./i
I guess whoever made that one up didn't know Buffy.
Part 1
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Anya asked. Her purse was over her shoulder and her keys were in her hand, but she was reluctant to leave.
"I think I have it," Tara replied, a hint of exasperated amusement in her voice. They'd reviewed the procedure for closing the Magic Box about a dozen times. "Count the money, sweep the floor, lock the door."
"Count the money itwice/i," Anya corrected, looking concerned. "Those crisp new bills with the larger heads stick together like magnets."
Tara smiled. "Okay, I'll count the money twice. Maybe even three times. You should get home. You must be exhausted."
Anya nodded. "I am. The grand re-opening was less grand than I'd hoped."
"I thought we had a good turn-out," Tara offered.
Anya shrugged. "People came, and they bought, but...I don't know." She sat down. "Being the boss is not as fulfilling as I expected. It was more fun to be th eone who touched the money, instead of the one who worries about it."
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, some of the money I touched was kind of warm and soggy. You have no idea where it's been. Which is probably a good thing..."
"That does make me feel better. And also like asking you to wash your hands before touching any of the merchandise." Anya stood up again. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Tara nodded. "I have it under control. Count the money twice and all of that. Go home." She began to walk toward the register, then stopped, keeping her back turned, not sure if her next question would be overstepping her bounds. She and Anya had become closer than before while preparing to re-open the Magic Box, but she still wasn't sure if they were exactly friends. "How are they?" she asked, and Anya sighed in response.
"Dawn is okay," she said. "I think. She goes to school, she does her homework, and then she locks herself in her room for the night. But I understand that's normal behavior for adolescent girls, so I'm assuming she's settling in."
"And Xander?"
Anya paused, suddenly looking even more tired. "He's...the same. Maybe worse. I can't tell anymore." She shook her head as if trying to shake off her thoughts. "And how is Willow?"
"The same," Tara admitted. "I hardly see her anymore. She spends all day in class or working on spells, and then she goes out patrolling with Spike every night."
"I thought the evil had slowed down since..." Anya let her sentence trail off. It was ironic. Since her death, it was as if Buffy herself had become She-Who-Could-Not-Be-Named.
Tara nodded. "It has. But their patrolling hasn't slowed down at all. I guess they just need a way to remember. Or forget." She looked at Anya. "She meant so much to them. I can't pretend to know how much."
Anya shook her head sadly. "Neither can I."
to be continued...
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As you can probably tell, my story premise is that things are NOT going well with Buffy gone. So far, it's more about character stuff than relationships or action, but I'm going to try and make sure I add some of that (even though I'm really bad at writing fight scenes). This is NOT going to be a B/S fic (in case anyone was worried ;)), although I think there may be one W/S encounter (but W/T will be intact in the end).
As for Buffy, she will be showing up. I'm envisioning her in some kind of Hades-like underworld. And she will be coming back. And I do know how. But I'm afraid no one will read any more of this if I tell you that right now, so I'm not going to. So there.
Author: Sassette
Rating: PG (at this point)
Disclaimer: I own all of these characters. Wait. What? I don't. Some guy named Joss does? Oh. I see. Well, then, I guess I don't own them. They belong to Joss and all of that. But I don't think he'll mind if I borrow them, as long as it's for fun and not for profit.
Summary: This is the prologue to a much longer S6 fic I have finally gotten all plotted out. It is meant to be a short, kind of depressing piece from Dawn's perspective. The rest of the story is going to be less moody and more typically narrative--in the third-person and much more plot driven. This is just to set the mood. I've also included the very beginning of the first part of the actual story. It's mostly just exposition so I can start things moving.
Feedback: I would appreciate any feedback, especially anything constructive. Write me at lori_es@hotmail.com.
Author's Note: This is my first attempt at anything other than very short, very silly pieces. I've never written any serious or long fics before. So go easy on me, but be honest, okay?
"The Hardest Thing in the World"
Prologue
When someone you love dies, people tell you that it will get better. iYou'll see/i, they say, as they put an arm around your hunched, sobbing form. iIt won't hurt this badly forever/i. And they're right, some of the time. Sometimes it does get better. When my mother--our mother--died, it felt like a light had been turned off. Like I'd been walking around in the sun, and didn't even realize how bright it was until I was pulled into a dark room. For a long time, it was hard to see. It was all dark, but it was okay, because she was there. My sister, who could find her away around even through the blackness. She was there, and it did get better. Slowly, my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I began to notice the light that crept in under the door, that came in through the cracks in the ceiling. One day I woke up and was able to make my way to the shower without her there to guide me. I was able to find my backpack and hairbrush. I was able to pour myself a bowl of cereal and open the front door, and after that I began to believe the people who had told me it would get better. Our lives started again, a little dimmer than before, but still okay. Okay, because she was there.
But this time, I don't believe any of them. All of the kind words they offer as I kneel beside my sister's grave, hunched and sobbing, are lies. This time, things won't get better. It's like all the light in the world has gone out, and now there's no one who can find the way through the darkness. iIt won't hurt this badly forever/i, they say, putting an arm around me. iLife goes on/i, as they pull me in for a quick hug before heading off to their cars, to their homes, already blind, they always have been, so maybe they won't notice the difference. But I will. Her friends will. All of us who knew her.
iLife goes on./i
I guess whoever made that one up didn't know Buffy.
Part 1
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Anya asked. Her purse was over her shoulder and her keys were in her hand, but she was reluctant to leave.
"I think I have it," Tara replied, a hint of exasperated amusement in her voice. They'd reviewed the procedure for closing the Magic Box about a dozen times. "Count the money, sweep the floor, lock the door."
"Count the money itwice/i," Anya corrected, looking concerned. "Those crisp new bills with the larger heads stick together like magnets."
Tara smiled. "Okay, I'll count the money twice. Maybe even three times. You should get home. You must be exhausted."
Anya nodded. "I am. The grand re-opening was less grand than I'd hoped."
"I thought we had a good turn-out," Tara offered.
Anya shrugged. "People came, and they bought, but...I don't know." She sat down. "Being the boss is not as fulfilling as I expected. It was more fun to be th eone who touched the money, instead of the one who worries about it."
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, some of the money I touched was kind of warm and soggy. You have no idea where it's been. Which is probably a good thing..."
"That does make me feel better. And also like asking you to wash your hands before touching any of the merchandise." Anya stood up again. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Tara nodded. "I have it under control. Count the money twice and all of that. Go home." She began to walk toward the register, then stopped, keeping her back turned, not sure if her next question would be overstepping her bounds. She and Anya had become closer than before while preparing to re-open the Magic Box, but she still wasn't sure if they were exactly friends. "How are they?" she asked, and Anya sighed in response.
"Dawn is okay," she said. "I think. She goes to school, she does her homework, and then she locks herself in her room for the night. But I understand that's normal behavior for adolescent girls, so I'm assuming she's settling in."
"And Xander?"
Anya paused, suddenly looking even more tired. "He's...the same. Maybe worse. I can't tell anymore." She shook her head as if trying to shake off her thoughts. "And how is Willow?"
"The same," Tara admitted. "I hardly see her anymore. She spends all day in class or working on spells, and then she goes out patrolling with Spike every night."
"I thought the evil had slowed down since..." Anya let her sentence trail off. It was ironic. Since her death, it was as if Buffy herself had become She-Who-Could-Not-Be-Named.
Tara nodded. "It has. But their patrolling hasn't slowed down at all. I guess they just need a way to remember. Or forget." She looked at Anya. "She meant so much to them. I can't pretend to know how much."
Anya shook her head sadly. "Neither can I."
to be continued...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
As you can probably tell, my story premise is that things are NOT going well with Buffy gone. So far, it's more about character stuff than relationships or action, but I'm going to try and make sure I add some of that (even though I'm really bad at writing fight scenes). This is NOT going to be a B/S fic (in case anyone was worried ;)), although I think there may be one W/S encounter (but W/T will be intact in the end).
As for Buffy, she will be showing up. I'm envisioning her in some kind of Hades-like underworld. And she will be coming back. And I do know how. But I'm afraid no one will read any more of this if I tell you that right now, so I'm not going to. So there.