title: You're No Mr. Smith

chapter title: December 15: Parker Abrams

author: sentbyfools

chapter summary:

a/n: This is a rather short chapter because somehow this fic has plot now? No smut this chapter, and none the next. I have about 3 more chapters planned out for this fic and then a sequel. Updates might not be as frequent as they should be because of both writer's block and the fact that I'm working on 6 other very long fics at the moment, but I shall try to update sometime this year.

story notes: same note as before - the tense might be iffy in some places as I'm used to writing in the present tense now. If you notice any errors, please point them out.

thank you to forevergal, crzy4theviking, Blonde-Existentialist, Brandi Rochon, Abigael Ryan, xan-merrick, annekebb4ever, and ba2006 for the reviews.


Buffy didn't often regret guys. Usually, it was the other way around. She regretted Parker though. Buffy didn't make mistakes either, but if she did she would count Parker Abrams as one of them and not killing him as another.

It wasn't that she hadn't tried. She certainly had. He had made it quite difficult for her though, so she gave up and decided to put it off until later. Killing him wasn't an urgency at the time

Now it was though.

Annoyed, she punched him, her fist connecting with the hard bone of his jaw. It hurt, but she didn't get to be where she was by giving in to a little hurt. She shook it off just like she shook off his first punch.

Buffy swerved to the side to avoid the next punch he sent flying in her direction. It was a sloppy move. He had projected the attack, making it obvious to Buffy where he was aiming, and the ease with which she avoided it made Buffy suspicious. He was skilled; his fist should have at least connected with something on her.

She did not spend much time dwelling on it however. She sent a knee up into his thigh and knocked him off balance. She used the momentary advantage to push an elbow up into his nose. It broke beneath the blow, blood flowing freely over Buffy's sleeve and Parker's face.

"Bitch," he said, voice slightly muffled from the blood, and that is when Buffy noticed his knife.

She backed away a second too late. It slid across her belly, cutting through her top and into the delicate skin beneath. She hissed her pain and cursed him under her breath. Her resolve to end the fight quickly deepened.

"You're a cheater and a liar, Parker. As always," she said.

He twirled the knife between his fingers dangerously as he wiped the blood from his broken nose on his sleeve. The curved weapon was unique. It had a beautifully inscribed gold filigree handle, and the blade was lined with the same inscriptions. It looked specially made: just for Buffy probably.

He always did know how to make me feel special, she thought with sarcasm.

"Are you still upset over that?" he said with a chuckle. "Didn't you say no hard feelings?"

"Right before I drove a knife through you if you recall," Buffy spat. She gave him a grin to match his own. The cut on her stomach was deep and stinging. Buffy ignored the pain. She couldn't afford to give it or the cut on her lip any attention until Parker was down for good.

Parker chuckled again and with the hand not holding the knife, he lifted his shirt, exposing the skin beneath. There was a healed over scar on his chest, a slice of ugly flesh on the otherwise perfect expanse of skin.

"Oh, I recall perfectly." His grin turned ugly then. "I'm going to kill you, Buffy, but first I'm going to mar that pretty flesh as well as you marred mine."

"Good luck with that," Buffy said with not quite false bravado. She already would not come out of the encounter unscathed. Coming out of the encounter though, she was certain of. He wasn't going to kill her, although he would certainly try.

"I'm sure you truly mean that," he said. He adjusted his grip on the knife, preparing for an attack. "You always had a death wish. Don't worry, I'm going to grant it."

"Can we skip the threats and the psychoanalysis and get back down to business? I had plans, you know," she continued when he didn't move.

He attacked then, slicing the knife at her face. She twisted to the side and smacked her arm into his side as she did so. Her elbow connected, but not hard enough to cause much damage. She would have gone for her gun, but he blocked her path to both hers and his. The arcs of his blade were wide enough to avoid, but not wide enough to move between. He was doing it purposely, playing with her, and it made her seethe.

She was the only one in that room allowed to play those games.

Instead of moving closer to him to try and grab the knife out of his hands, she kicked at the small wooden side table before her, tossing it in his direction. It was the distraction she needed to move toward his guns.

She picked it up and aimed it at his head as he gathered himself together again. She pulled the trigger only to come up empty. She grabbed the other two guns, but the same thing happened. Empty barrels.

Parker was laughing at her, and just when Buffy was about to go at him again, he said, "I knew you'd go for them at some point. I wanted to see the look on your face when you realized they were empty."

"And what if I had just shot at you when I came in, what would you have done then?" Buffy said between gritted teeth.

He scoffed. "I knew you wouldn't. Buffy, I know you. You hate handling guns. If anything, you would've tried to knife me. It was obvious that you didn't have any on you the minute you saw me and didn't attack, so I wasn't worried. I knew you would take my offer. You're very predictable, Buffy, you and all the girls I've been with."

"My gun barrel isn't empty," she said, the threat clear in her words.

"I know," he said. She heard the cock of the weapon before she saw the gun and then the pain seared through her. She fell to her knees, holding her abdomen. The bullet had torn through muscle and bone, exiting behind her. It hurt so much that her vision went black for a moment.

Her only thought: 5 more bullets.

She felt real fear for the first time since the fight began.

"You're not looking so good, Buffy," he said, walking towards her. "It looks like that hurt."

"I'm going to put you out of your misery now," he said, "Looking at you like this is just depressing."

She looked up from where she was staring at the black of his shoes to where he was pointing the gun at her head.

She held back the gasp of both pain and fear that threatened to come out of her mouth. This was the moment that someone would come to save her if she were living in a movie, but she wasn't so she tried to pull herself together. The couch was pressed up against her back. She had a knife there. If she could get to it...

The gun cocked, and Buffy bit her lip as she reached under the couch as fast as she could. The bullet whizzed past her head. The second one after that grazed her shoulder, sending new pain rolling through her. She pulled out the knife though as the third bullet buried itself into its cushions.

"Stop moving," he cursed, and then the knife cut into her cheek. He had obviously given up on using the gun.

His mistake.

She looked into his eyes, and said, "Goodbye, Parker," and threw her knife in a perfectly aimed arc with all the power she had left in her. It buried itself on target, right in the middle of Parker's forehead. The gun and knife fell out of his now slack hands, falling onto the hardwood floor. Buffy's hands moved to her bleeding abdomen. She tried to stifle the blood flow as Parker's dead body fell to the floor beside her.

She was bleeding profusely, too much for her hands to stop. She was fading out of consciousness already and she tried to stand, tried to do anything but lay there and die, but ─

She passed out.


In and out of consciousness, all Buffy could remember was Xander's worried expression, the scent of ammonia and rubbing alcohol, and the feeling of numbness, before she finally truly awoke in a hospital bed.

"Am I fit enough to walk?" she snapped at Faith who was standing by her side at the edge of the bed. Buffy's throat was dry, and she fumbled at the table beside her until her hand slid against the pitcher of water. She didn't bother with the cup, just took a long drink straight from the pitcher.

"Probably," Faith said, "Doesn't mean you should."

"I hate hospitals," Buffy said simply.

Faith nodded. "I know. Come on, I'll give you a helping hand."

"I'm surprised your boyfriend didn't come to save you," Faith said as she helped Buffy to stand. Buffy's legs felt wobbly and half-asleep, but she didn't fall over. It was a good sign.

"How did you guys know?" Buffy said, ignoring the not subtle reference to Angelus. She didn't want to think about him just yet. She really didn't want to think of anything at the moment.

"Someone had been researching you and it pinged on Willow's 'Buffy radar'. It didn't take us long to backtrack it to Abrams, but by then, well, you were half dead."

"It's lucky that I have such great friends," Buffy mumbled as she slid into a pair of sweatpants with only slight difficulty. Her abdomen was starting to ache, but she had enough pain meds at her apartment to cover that. She just had to make it there, and after that...

"I'm taking a break," Buffy said.

Faith looked her over with a critical eye. Finally, she said, "I understand. Let's get you out of here."

"Thanks," Buffy said, truly meaning it.