Okay, so this story is just a little different from
anything I've written thus far, so I figured I'd give
you all a bit of author's note now rather than at the
front of the story. there are a few things you ought
to know before reading it:
a) the title is an allusion to the medieval morality
plays. you know, the one with an angel and a devil on
either shoulder, telling you what to do? keep those
guys in mind as you read.
b) each part (with the exception of the last) could
work as a stand alone. feel free to read them in any
order you like, leaving out any characters you don't
care about. but the full effect comes from reading
the whole thing....
c) its purposefully repetetive from part to part. I
like it that way. if you don't, then I'm sorry.
and lastly, just a sort of "fun fact": this whole
story was inspired by a quote from Joss in the latest
issue of Entertainment Weekly (unfortunately this
might not be precise, as I had to cut out the awesome
pic of Marsters and Head on the other side fo the
page): "Spike is everything Giles used to be, and
Giles is everything Spike refused to be"
so, um, yeah, read on, enjoy, and let me know what you
think.
Casix
who is wondering if writing things at 4 am is really
that good an idea....
title: Everyman
author: Casix Thistlebane
disclaimer: the characters are still the property of
Joss.
summary: Some Buffy characters have a run in with
themselves....
Everyman
by Casix Thistlebane
Xander
"Its not what you thought
When you first began it
You've got what you want
Now you can hardly stand it
though by now you know
Its not going to stop
Its not going to stop
Its not going to stop
Till you wise up"
--Wise Up by Aimee Mann
"Are you happy?"
The voice came out of nowhere and everywhere at the
same time. But that's what happens in a small room
where every surface is essentially a sound shell.
Xander looked over his shoulder towards the door to
the half-tiled bathroom.
"Where's your hard hat?"
"I don't need one." The Other walked in and stretched
its wings. "You're not breathing."
"Sure I am." Brown eyes met brown eyes and Xander
reached up to wipe grimy sweat from his forehead.
"How can you be?" The Other was dressed strangely,
his dark hair curling over a white band holding a
clear stone suspended in the middle of his forehead.
His hawaiian shirt was washed out and faded to pastels
just shades from being white. His whole spirit seemed
acid washed. The only dark points on him were those
directly reflecting Xander. Dark hair and dark eyes,
but otherwise bleached and starched. "How can you
breathe the chemicals and saw dust? You're smothering
in this room and this job and you don't even know it.
Where can you go that you can breathe?"
"I like this job. I like the chemicals and the
sawdust. I can't thrive without them. I need them to
live, I need them to breathe." Xander adjusted his
own bright blue shirt, open against the heat of the
room.
"But are you happy? You can't not want out. I know
you."
"And I know you. But if you know me so well, then you
know I'm happier now than I've been since highschool."
"But you're not yet happy."
"He's right." The Dark Other stood in the closed
window. He stepped down on the uninstalled toilet and
crouched there, his tail twining over his left wrist.
A dark, spiked collar circled his throat, and his own
shirt was over-died to the point of blackness. His
hair seemed light in contrast. "You're not happy yet.
There are too many people still standing in your way.
What are you going to do to fix that?"
"Nothing." Xander stared back down at the spackle
knife and tile cement, his nostrils flaring at the
smell. He'd been crouched there in the darkness and
the heat of the dank room for hour snow, and he felt
himself grow a little giddy. He'd started
hallucinating about the Other selves not long ago, but
so far managed to keep the conversation in his head.
He mouthed the word again.
"Nothing."
He couldn't breathe.
+++++++++
Giles
"With your feet in the air and your head on the ground
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
Your head will collapse
If there's nothing in it
And you'll ask yourself"
--Where is my Mind? by Pixies
"Are you happy, Rupert?"
The voice came from the depths of the stairwell at the
back of the small warehouse, and the he followed it
with his eyes as he waited for his supplier to return
with the crate.
"Yes," he said to the figure that sat in the darkness
of the bottom stair. "Of course I am."
"How can you be?" His father leaned forward, and
expression of exhaustion slipping over his entire
body. "You've lost sight of your purpose. Your
Slayer is slipping away and you are stifled by your
worries about retail. Your mind can't work here. How
can you be happy?"
"I may have once wanted to control Buffy, but it's
been a long time since I've learned that I can't. I
let her go. She'll come back. She's already
started."
"She comes for information you don't have--that no one
has. You could learn it, but you're blinded by the
store. You're not a shopkeeper."
"I am now. I'm supporting myself, instead of living
off of everything you forced upon me. That makes me
happy."
"Is that really enough, Mate?" Spike stood on the
landing above him, a wraith of scentless smoke
hovering around his yellow hair. "Where's the
stimulation? When was the last time you had a real
conversation without sounding like a fool? When was
the last time you were amongst your own age group?
Where is Olivia?"
"You don't need eloquence for intelligence." Giles
straightened his jacket. "The children have been good
for me. Renewed me."
"Smothered you," his father said. "Where is your
mind, Rupert? What have you been thinking about?
Prices. Economy. Money. Where has your high thought
gone? You're not happy?"
"I'm happier with my store than I have been since I
lost the library."
"But you're not happy." Spike started down the
stairs. "There's still too much in your way. You're
not free. What are you going to do about it?"
"Nothing." Spike's steps struck the concrete floor
and he dissolved into darkness. His father stood and
vanished as well. Giles sighed and moved back into
the main room of the warehouse. The word still
hovered on his lips. "Nothing."
His mind wandered.
++++++++++
Buffy
"I'm sorry about the sun
How could I know that you would burn
And I'm sorry about the world
How could I know that you'd disapprove
And I'll never make the same mistake
And next time I create the universe
I'll make sure your dues are paid
But until then I'm better off dead
A song on my lips and a hole in my head
I'm better of dead I'm better than this
Take it away cause there's nothing to miss
Better off dead you're better off dead
Why don't you try pushing daisies instead?"
--Better Off Dead by Bad Religion
"You happy?"
Buffy spun in the air, her foot slamming into the old
battered exercise bag in the basement of her house.
She ignored the voice she'd heard for the first time
years ago. It had taken on a number of forms, but the
most recent was the most obnoxious.
"Well?"
"No." Buffy slammed a fist through the bag. It was
the third she'd gone through that week. She had to
buy them used to save money. "Of course I'm not
happy. I'm never happy."
"But why not?" Kendra helped her take down the bag.
"You live. You have good friends, better family, and
sincere love."
"I have to fight to keep them all alive."
"And now there's no one to fight." Faith stood on the
other side of her, helping her put up the last of her
punching bag supply. "You can't beat up the cancer
and its killing you."
"What's your point?" Buffy punched the bag, and noted
that the canvas over this one was firmer than the
others. "I can keep her safe till the doctors can
beat the cancer."
"What if they can't?"
"They have to." Buffy slammed her fists together and
forward, then kicked the bag again. "I can't support
Dawn without fighting."
"But how can you fight? How can you keep doing this?"
Kendra stood just to the left of the bag. "When is
the energy going to run out? Spike is right. In the
end, you'll welcome it."
"You already do." Faith circled to her right. "How
easy would it be to just stop? You'd be replaced in a
week. The world wouldn't end, someone else can
protect it."
"You won't be happy," Kendra held the bag still,
"until you can rest. What are you going to do about
that?"
"Nothing." Buffy slammed a fist through the bag and
felt the string that held it up snap. The bag fell to
the floor and Buffy spoke to the empty room.
"Nothing."
There wasn't anything left to fight.
+++++++++
Riley
"I am the son and the heir
of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
of nothing in particular
You shut your mouth
How can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does"
--How Soon is Now by the Smiths
"Are you happy?"
Riley tightened his grip on the stake in his pocket
even as he tilted his head to give the vampire more
access. "I'm here to be drunk, not to soul-search."
"Too bad." The vampire licked his neck without
biting. "I know your MO. You get vamps to drain you
just enough that the lack of oxygen gets you high.
Then you stake them and wallow in self-pity."
"You don't know a damn thing about me."
"No?" Graham stood in front of them as the vampire
continued to tease Riley's throat. "We know you
better than you think."
"Graham, go away."
"Can't get rid of us that easy, Buddy. You're the one
who asked us here."
"No. Not like this."
"You wanna fulfill your death wish? We vanish the
moment you do. This isn't making you happier."
The vampire nibbled his shoulder even as her voice
hissed next to his ear. "You can't escape this way."
"I don't want to escape."
"Don't you?" Graham stepped up closer. "You wish you
didn't have to feel this way. You wish you could hate
her for not loving you. So you let them use you
pretending you're in control. You haven't been in
control since you left home."
"I am in control. I can stop anytime."
"Can you? Or is this a new addiction? It'll kill you
just as surely as the Initiative's experiments. You
think you can just stop? You have a death wish."
"Just shut up. I don't want to die."
"Just lose yourself for awhile, right?" The vampire
stuck her tongue in his ear. "Pretend you're not
aching with every word, every transgression? Pretend
you can be just as bad ass as the vampires who rate
above you? Or maybe prove it. To whom? Yourself?
Her?"
"I don't need to prove anything."
"You won't be happy until you're in control again.
But you're so far off the tracks you don't even know
the way back. What are you going to do about it?"
"Nothing." Riley let go of the stake as the vampire
bit down and started drinking. He liked the way the
word felt on his tongue and rolled it around a bit.
"Nothing."
He let himself bleed into her mouth.
+++++++++
Dawn
"I make such a good statistic
Someone should study me now
Someone has got to be interested in how I feel
Just because I'm here
and I'm real"
--Fire Door by Ani Defranco
'Are you happy?'
She wrote the question to herself, in a small cartoon
speech bubble over his head. It was a picture from a
photo she's stolen from Buffy more than a year ago,
when his hair was shorter and he still had that
eternal glint of mischief in his eye. The glint had
gotten more ironic since highschool. She wasn't
supposed to notice those sorts of things.
On the other hand, she wasn't supposed to do a lot of
things. And glueing pictures of Xander Harris into
her journal was by far the most innocent thing she'd
thought of to do all day.
She had stopped just hort of drawing a heart around
his face. This journal was supposed to be more
dignified than that.
She modeled the whole thing off of the one Sebastian
had kept in Cruel Intentions. She'd even gone so far
as to cut out a picture of the actress who looked
exactly like Buffy and glue her serious, dark looking
image on the facing page. Above that she drew another
speech bubble. This one said: 'Are you real?'
She honestly wasn't sure about eh answer to either
question. She filled in the spaces to either side of
the pictures with possible answers.
'Are you happy?' the light hearted Xander asked.
'Without you, no.' she wrote, then crossed out the
'without you'. 'There's not much to be happy about.
Mom might be dying, in which case Buffy'd have to get
a real job because Dad's not interested enough in us
to lend a hand. We could live off of the others, but
that would just make me feel like we were taking
advantage of them. Buffy still won't let me do
anything; she treats me like I'm two. She won't tell
me the truth about Mom, or about anyone. She got so
sued to keeping secrets when Mom and I didn't know
about her being the Slayer that now she can't stop. I
just want her to tell me the truth sometimes. Would
that make me happy?'
'Are you real?' The dark Buffy asked.
'I don't know. So many people have told me that I"m
not here, even Mom and Buffy. And Buffy's story
doesn't quite hold up. It was nice for a moment, but
I know she's still lying to me.
'I don't understand how I could NOT be real. I'm
here, aren't I? How could I exist and have memories
and people who know me and not be real? I've got an
official transcript, a social security number, and a
birth certificate. Not that I've seen my birth
certificate. Oh my God, what if I don't have a birth
certificate?!
'I'll never be happy until I know that I'm real.'
She stopped, her hand aching, and looked over what she
just read. The pictures watched her, and seemed to
ask one more question:
'So what are you going to do about it?'
'Nothing.' She wrote, under the pictures' joint
speech bubble. She couldn't do anything until her mom
was okay and she wouldn't have to feel guilty about
pestering Buffy for the truth.
'Just.... nothing.'
She curled into a ball on her bed and listened to
Buffy beating the wall downstairs.
+++++++++
Willow
"Tears on the sleeve of a man
Don't want to be a boy today
I heard the eternal footman
Got himself a bike to race
And Greg he writes letters and burns his CDs
They say he was something in those formative years
Well hold on to nothing as fast as you can
Still pretty good year"
--Pretty Good Year by Tori Amos
"Are you happy?"
Willow let a smile grow as she watched the small blue
spark hovering next to her computer. It glimmered in
time to its speech and with its arrival had dimmed
Tara's string lights so as to be seen better. Her
incense had gone out and the slight chill made her
shiver gently.
"Who called you?"
"I don't have to be called." The light settled on to
the computer, resolving itself into a tiny nude
person. The fairy knocked its heels on the button
she'd hot glued to the monitor. "I'm a part of you."
"Cool."
"Are you happy?" The fairy cocked its head to one
side. There wasn't a single speck of hair on its
body. "Really happy?"
"I think so." Willow thought about it for a moment.
"I still miss Oz, and I wish he'd stuck around so we
could still be friends.... and Anya is still
irritating... oh! And Riley broods too much. But I
can't really come up with a reason to really be
unhappy."
"They don't know you though." Another fairy, this one
red, sat on the other corner of the monitor. "Not
really. They think they do, so they don't try, but
they don't know the real you."
"I'm not sure I know the real me. Isn't that what
college is about? Finding yourself?"
"Some people never do." The red fairy stretched and
pulled its knees to its chest. "Some never try."
"You're not trying." The blue one nodded and crossed
its legs.
"How can you say that?" Willow frowned, looking
rapidly from fairy to fairy. "I'm trying everything.
I found out about witchcraft, and that I love Tara."
"But what have you done since?" The fairies watched
her closely. The red one smiled. "You're comfortable
constructing a mask for yourself, giving yourself
roles to play: the witch, the lesbian, the dutiful
friend. You pick a role, accept the mask, and let it
hide the real you. The one who still longs for a real
relationship with her parents. The one who still
feels inadequate in the face of her friends. You
haven't made peace with her."
"Now wait a minute--"
"You're conflicted." The blue one lit a tiny candle.
"You light the menorah and pray to a goddess. You
trade horsefly medallions for Stars of David and back
again. You don't know what to believe so take
whichever faith seems appropriate at the moment.
You're not yet happy. You won't be until you
reconcile your habits with your beliefs and find out
who you are. What are you going to do about that?"
"I--"
The phone rang and the fairies vanished. Willow
rushed to answer.
+++++++++
conclusion
"Is it getting better?
Or do you feel the same?
Will it make it easier on you now
You got someone to blame
One life
One love
And its one need in the night
One love and we get to share it
It leaves you baby if you don't care for it"
--One by U2
Willow squeezed Tara's hand and toyed with the two
pendants which hung side by side on a silver chain
around her neck. A topaz horsefly and a silver Star
of David. She cast a sidelong glance at Buffy, who
clenched and unclenched her fists as she paced. Dawn
sat curled in an armchair like it was her home. Which
perhaps, it just might be. The poor girl had
certainly spent enough time here lately.
Giles came in at a run, stopping just short of running
over the two witches.
"I came as soon as I got the message. Now what on
Earth--"
Willow took a deep breath and a mental tally.
"Buffy's mom is in the recovery room, Riley is getting
a blood transfusion after somehow managing to get
attacked by a vamp in the middle of the afternoon, and
they're checking Xander to make sure he hasn't got any
brain damage after nearly asphyxiating in a
half-finished bathroom. And Buffy broke a finger
punching concrete wall repeatedly, but I get the
feeling that that's already pretty much mended."
"Good lord." Giles glanced at the witches, Dawn, and
Anya, who was arguing with a nurse. "Are the rest of
you alright?"
"Yeah." Willow glanced about. "We're good. And
Buffy's mom'll probably be fine. And so will Xander.
They think he was pulled out before anything too
serious could happen. He was saved by the same idiot
on his crew who turned off the ventilation fan in the
first place. But we can't get Riley to tell us how he
ended up somewhere he could get sucked on by a vamp."
"Yes, well, I'd imagine he'll have a bit to think
about while he recovers."
Willow nodded, and Tara squeezed her hand.
"So," Giles took another look around the waiting room.
"What do we do now?"
"Nothing." Tara lead them to chairs by Dawn.
"Nothing to do but wait."
They sat down as close to each other as possible, each
lost in his or her own thoughts.
the end
anything I've written thus far, so I figured I'd give
you all a bit of author's note now rather than at the
front of the story. there are a few things you ought
to know before reading it:
a) the title is an allusion to the medieval morality
plays. you know, the one with an angel and a devil on
either shoulder, telling you what to do? keep those
guys in mind as you read.
b) each part (with the exception of the last) could
work as a stand alone. feel free to read them in any
order you like, leaving out any characters you don't
care about. but the full effect comes from reading
the whole thing....
c) its purposefully repetetive from part to part. I
like it that way. if you don't, then I'm sorry.
and lastly, just a sort of "fun fact": this whole
story was inspired by a quote from Joss in the latest
issue of Entertainment Weekly (unfortunately this
might not be precise, as I had to cut out the awesome
pic of Marsters and Head on the other side fo the
page): "Spike is everything Giles used to be, and
Giles is everything Spike refused to be"
so, um, yeah, read on, enjoy, and let me know what you
think.
Casix
who is wondering if writing things at 4 am is really
that good an idea....
title: Everyman
author: Casix Thistlebane
disclaimer: the characters are still the property of
Joss.
summary: Some Buffy characters have a run in with
themselves....
Everyman
by Casix Thistlebane
Xander
"Its not what you thought
When you first began it
You've got what you want
Now you can hardly stand it
though by now you know
Its not going to stop
Its not going to stop
Its not going to stop
Till you wise up"
--Wise Up by Aimee Mann
"Are you happy?"
The voice came out of nowhere and everywhere at the
same time. But that's what happens in a small room
where every surface is essentially a sound shell.
Xander looked over his shoulder towards the door to
the half-tiled bathroom.
"Where's your hard hat?"
"I don't need one." The Other walked in and stretched
its wings. "You're not breathing."
"Sure I am." Brown eyes met brown eyes and Xander
reached up to wipe grimy sweat from his forehead.
"How can you be?" The Other was dressed strangely,
his dark hair curling over a white band holding a
clear stone suspended in the middle of his forehead.
His hawaiian shirt was washed out and faded to pastels
just shades from being white. His whole spirit seemed
acid washed. The only dark points on him were those
directly reflecting Xander. Dark hair and dark eyes,
but otherwise bleached and starched. "How can you
breathe the chemicals and saw dust? You're smothering
in this room and this job and you don't even know it.
Where can you go that you can breathe?"
"I like this job. I like the chemicals and the
sawdust. I can't thrive without them. I need them to
live, I need them to breathe." Xander adjusted his
own bright blue shirt, open against the heat of the
room.
"But are you happy? You can't not want out. I know
you."
"And I know you. But if you know me so well, then you
know I'm happier now than I've been since highschool."
"But you're not yet happy."
"He's right." The Dark Other stood in the closed
window. He stepped down on the uninstalled toilet and
crouched there, his tail twining over his left wrist.
A dark, spiked collar circled his throat, and his own
shirt was over-died to the point of blackness. His
hair seemed light in contrast. "You're not happy yet.
There are too many people still standing in your way.
What are you going to do to fix that?"
"Nothing." Xander stared back down at the spackle
knife and tile cement, his nostrils flaring at the
smell. He'd been crouched there in the darkness and
the heat of the dank room for hour snow, and he felt
himself grow a little giddy. He'd started
hallucinating about the Other selves not long ago, but
so far managed to keep the conversation in his head.
He mouthed the word again.
"Nothing."
He couldn't breathe.
+++++++++
Giles
"With your feet in the air and your head on the ground
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
Your head will collapse
If there's nothing in it
And you'll ask yourself"
--Where is my Mind? by Pixies
"Are you happy, Rupert?"
The voice came from the depths of the stairwell at the
back of the small warehouse, and the he followed it
with his eyes as he waited for his supplier to return
with the crate.
"Yes," he said to the figure that sat in the darkness
of the bottom stair. "Of course I am."
"How can you be?" His father leaned forward, and
expression of exhaustion slipping over his entire
body. "You've lost sight of your purpose. Your
Slayer is slipping away and you are stifled by your
worries about retail. Your mind can't work here. How
can you be happy?"
"I may have once wanted to control Buffy, but it's
been a long time since I've learned that I can't. I
let her go. She'll come back. She's already
started."
"She comes for information you don't have--that no one
has. You could learn it, but you're blinded by the
store. You're not a shopkeeper."
"I am now. I'm supporting myself, instead of living
off of everything you forced upon me. That makes me
happy."
"Is that really enough, Mate?" Spike stood on the
landing above him, a wraith of scentless smoke
hovering around his yellow hair. "Where's the
stimulation? When was the last time you had a real
conversation without sounding like a fool? When was
the last time you were amongst your own age group?
Where is Olivia?"
"You don't need eloquence for intelligence." Giles
straightened his jacket. "The children have been good
for me. Renewed me."
"Smothered you," his father said. "Where is your
mind, Rupert? What have you been thinking about?
Prices. Economy. Money. Where has your high thought
gone? You're not happy?"
"I'm happier with my store than I have been since I
lost the library."
"But you're not happy." Spike started down the
stairs. "There's still too much in your way. You're
not free. What are you going to do about it?"
"Nothing." Spike's steps struck the concrete floor
and he dissolved into darkness. His father stood and
vanished as well. Giles sighed and moved back into
the main room of the warehouse. The word still
hovered on his lips. "Nothing."
His mind wandered.
++++++++++
Buffy
"I'm sorry about the sun
How could I know that you would burn
And I'm sorry about the world
How could I know that you'd disapprove
And I'll never make the same mistake
And next time I create the universe
I'll make sure your dues are paid
But until then I'm better off dead
A song on my lips and a hole in my head
I'm better of dead I'm better than this
Take it away cause there's nothing to miss
Better off dead you're better off dead
Why don't you try pushing daisies instead?"
--Better Off Dead by Bad Religion
"You happy?"
Buffy spun in the air, her foot slamming into the old
battered exercise bag in the basement of her house.
She ignored the voice she'd heard for the first time
years ago. It had taken on a number of forms, but the
most recent was the most obnoxious.
"Well?"
"No." Buffy slammed a fist through the bag. It was
the third she'd gone through that week. She had to
buy them used to save money. "Of course I'm not
happy. I'm never happy."
"But why not?" Kendra helped her take down the bag.
"You live. You have good friends, better family, and
sincere love."
"I have to fight to keep them all alive."
"And now there's no one to fight." Faith stood on the
other side of her, helping her put up the last of her
punching bag supply. "You can't beat up the cancer
and its killing you."
"What's your point?" Buffy punched the bag, and noted
that the canvas over this one was firmer than the
others. "I can keep her safe till the doctors can
beat the cancer."
"What if they can't?"
"They have to." Buffy slammed her fists together and
forward, then kicked the bag again. "I can't support
Dawn without fighting."
"But how can you fight? How can you keep doing this?"
Kendra stood just to the left of the bag. "When is
the energy going to run out? Spike is right. In the
end, you'll welcome it."
"You already do." Faith circled to her right. "How
easy would it be to just stop? You'd be replaced in a
week. The world wouldn't end, someone else can
protect it."
"You won't be happy," Kendra held the bag still,
"until you can rest. What are you going to do about
that?"
"Nothing." Buffy slammed a fist through the bag and
felt the string that held it up snap. The bag fell to
the floor and Buffy spoke to the empty room.
"Nothing."
There wasn't anything left to fight.
+++++++++
Riley
"I am the son and the heir
of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
of nothing in particular
You shut your mouth
How can you say
I go about things the wrong way
I am human and I need to be loved
Just like everybody else does"
--How Soon is Now by the Smiths
"Are you happy?"
Riley tightened his grip on the stake in his pocket
even as he tilted his head to give the vampire more
access. "I'm here to be drunk, not to soul-search."
"Too bad." The vampire licked his neck without
biting. "I know your MO. You get vamps to drain you
just enough that the lack of oxygen gets you high.
Then you stake them and wallow in self-pity."
"You don't know a damn thing about me."
"No?" Graham stood in front of them as the vampire
continued to tease Riley's throat. "We know you
better than you think."
"Graham, go away."
"Can't get rid of us that easy, Buddy. You're the one
who asked us here."
"No. Not like this."
"You wanna fulfill your death wish? We vanish the
moment you do. This isn't making you happier."
The vampire nibbled his shoulder even as her voice
hissed next to his ear. "You can't escape this way."
"I don't want to escape."
"Don't you?" Graham stepped up closer. "You wish you
didn't have to feel this way. You wish you could hate
her for not loving you. So you let them use you
pretending you're in control. You haven't been in
control since you left home."
"I am in control. I can stop anytime."
"Can you? Or is this a new addiction? It'll kill you
just as surely as the Initiative's experiments. You
think you can just stop? You have a death wish."
"Just shut up. I don't want to die."
"Just lose yourself for awhile, right?" The vampire
stuck her tongue in his ear. "Pretend you're not
aching with every word, every transgression? Pretend
you can be just as bad ass as the vampires who rate
above you? Or maybe prove it. To whom? Yourself?
Her?"
"I don't need to prove anything."
"You won't be happy until you're in control again.
But you're so far off the tracks you don't even know
the way back. What are you going to do about it?"
"Nothing." Riley let go of the stake as the vampire
bit down and started drinking. He liked the way the
word felt on his tongue and rolled it around a bit.
"Nothing."
He let himself bleed into her mouth.
+++++++++
Dawn
"I make such a good statistic
Someone should study me now
Someone has got to be interested in how I feel
Just because I'm here
and I'm real"
--Fire Door by Ani Defranco
'Are you happy?'
She wrote the question to herself, in a small cartoon
speech bubble over his head. It was a picture from a
photo she's stolen from Buffy more than a year ago,
when his hair was shorter and he still had that
eternal glint of mischief in his eye. The glint had
gotten more ironic since highschool. She wasn't
supposed to notice those sorts of things.
On the other hand, she wasn't supposed to do a lot of
things. And glueing pictures of Xander Harris into
her journal was by far the most innocent thing she'd
thought of to do all day.
She had stopped just hort of drawing a heart around
his face. This journal was supposed to be more
dignified than that.
She modeled the whole thing off of the one Sebastian
had kept in Cruel Intentions. She'd even gone so far
as to cut out a picture of the actress who looked
exactly like Buffy and glue her serious, dark looking
image on the facing page. Above that she drew another
speech bubble. This one said: 'Are you real?'
She honestly wasn't sure about eh answer to either
question. She filled in the spaces to either side of
the pictures with possible answers.
'Are you happy?' the light hearted Xander asked.
'Without you, no.' she wrote, then crossed out the
'without you'. 'There's not much to be happy about.
Mom might be dying, in which case Buffy'd have to get
a real job because Dad's not interested enough in us
to lend a hand. We could live off of the others, but
that would just make me feel like we were taking
advantage of them. Buffy still won't let me do
anything; she treats me like I'm two. She won't tell
me the truth about Mom, or about anyone. She got so
sued to keeping secrets when Mom and I didn't know
about her being the Slayer that now she can't stop. I
just want her to tell me the truth sometimes. Would
that make me happy?'
'Are you real?' The dark Buffy asked.
'I don't know. So many people have told me that I"m
not here, even Mom and Buffy. And Buffy's story
doesn't quite hold up. It was nice for a moment, but
I know she's still lying to me.
'I don't understand how I could NOT be real. I'm
here, aren't I? How could I exist and have memories
and people who know me and not be real? I've got an
official transcript, a social security number, and a
birth certificate. Not that I've seen my birth
certificate. Oh my God, what if I don't have a birth
certificate?!
'I'll never be happy until I know that I'm real.'
She stopped, her hand aching, and looked over what she
just read. The pictures watched her, and seemed to
ask one more question:
'So what are you going to do about it?'
'Nothing.' She wrote, under the pictures' joint
speech bubble. She couldn't do anything until her mom
was okay and she wouldn't have to feel guilty about
pestering Buffy for the truth.
'Just.... nothing.'
She curled into a ball on her bed and listened to
Buffy beating the wall downstairs.
+++++++++
Willow
"Tears on the sleeve of a man
Don't want to be a boy today
I heard the eternal footman
Got himself a bike to race
And Greg he writes letters and burns his CDs
They say he was something in those formative years
Well hold on to nothing as fast as you can
Still pretty good year"
--Pretty Good Year by Tori Amos
"Are you happy?"
Willow let a smile grow as she watched the small blue
spark hovering next to her computer. It glimmered in
time to its speech and with its arrival had dimmed
Tara's string lights so as to be seen better. Her
incense had gone out and the slight chill made her
shiver gently.
"Who called you?"
"I don't have to be called." The light settled on to
the computer, resolving itself into a tiny nude
person. The fairy knocked its heels on the button
she'd hot glued to the monitor. "I'm a part of you."
"Cool."
"Are you happy?" The fairy cocked its head to one
side. There wasn't a single speck of hair on its
body. "Really happy?"
"I think so." Willow thought about it for a moment.
"I still miss Oz, and I wish he'd stuck around so we
could still be friends.... and Anya is still
irritating... oh! And Riley broods too much. But I
can't really come up with a reason to really be
unhappy."
"They don't know you though." Another fairy, this one
red, sat on the other corner of the monitor. "Not
really. They think they do, so they don't try, but
they don't know the real you."
"I'm not sure I know the real me. Isn't that what
college is about? Finding yourself?"
"Some people never do." The red fairy stretched and
pulled its knees to its chest. "Some never try."
"You're not trying." The blue one nodded and crossed
its legs.
"How can you say that?" Willow frowned, looking
rapidly from fairy to fairy. "I'm trying everything.
I found out about witchcraft, and that I love Tara."
"But what have you done since?" The fairies watched
her closely. The red one smiled. "You're comfortable
constructing a mask for yourself, giving yourself
roles to play: the witch, the lesbian, the dutiful
friend. You pick a role, accept the mask, and let it
hide the real you. The one who still longs for a real
relationship with her parents. The one who still
feels inadequate in the face of her friends. You
haven't made peace with her."
"Now wait a minute--"
"You're conflicted." The blue one lit a tiny candle.
"You light the menorah and pray to a goddess. You
trade horsefly medallions for Stars of David and back
again. You don't know what to believe so take
whichever faith seems appropriate at the moment.
You're not yet happy. You won't be until you
reconcile your habits with your beliefs and find out
who you are. What are you going to do about that?"
"I--"
The phone rang and the fairies vanished. Willow
rushed to answer.
+++++++++
conclusion
"Is it getting better?
Or do you feel the same?
Will it make it easier on you now
You got someone to blame
One life
One love
And its one need in the night
One love and we get to share it
It leaves you baby if you don't care for it"
--One by U2
Willow squeezed Tara's hand and toyed with the two
pendants which hung side by side on a silver chain
around her neck. A topaz horsefly and a silver Star
of David. She cast a sidelong glance at Buffy, who
clenched and unclenched her fists as she paced. Dawn
sat curled in an armchair like it was her home. Which
perhaps, it just might be. The poor girl had
certainly spent enough time here lately.
Giles came in at a run, stopping just short of running
over the two witches.
"I came as soon as I got the message. Now what on
Earth--"
Willow took a deep breath and a mental tally.
"Buffy's mom is in the recovery room, Riley is getting
a blood transfusion after somehow managing to get
attacked by a vamp in the middle of the afternoon, and
they're checking Xander to make sure he hasn't got any
brain damage after nearly asphyxiating in a
half-finished bathroom. And Buffy broke a finger
punching concrete wall repeatedly, but I get the
feeling that that's already pretty much mended."
"Good lord." Giles glanced at the witches, Dawn, and
Anya, who was arguing with a nurse. "Are the rest of
you alright?"
"Yeah." Willow glanced about. "We're good. And
Buffy's mom'll probably be fine. And so will Xander.
They think he was pulled out before anything too
serious could happen. He was saved by the same idiot
on his crew who turned off the ventilation fan in the
first place. But we can't get Riley to tell us how he
ended up somewhere he could get sucked on by a vamp."
"Yes, well, I'd imagine he'll have a bit to think
about while he recovers."
Willow nodded, and Tara squeezed her hand.
"So," Giles took another look around the waiting room.
"What do we do now?"
"Nothing." Tara lead them to chairs by Dawn.
"Nothing to do but wait."
They sat down as close to each other as possible, each
lost in his or her own thoughts.
the end