Disclaimer: The characters are not mine, with the exception of the originals.
Chapter Nine:
My Tonight
Chapter Summary: The blood was already staining his hands. Kagura's blood. He had washed it away, but as he brought his hands up, staring at them above him, they dripped red with unseen crimson rivulets.
Tohru was choking on her own darkness.
Buffy brought her hand to the girl's forehead, smoothing the sweaty bangs back from her pallid skin. "Tohru," she whispered, "Tohru, wake up."
Blue eyes flew open, blind for the first few moments. They focused on Buffy, and a slight sob escaped Tohru's parched throat. "Oh!" she exclaimed. Her voice was scratchy. "Buffy, what are you doing?"
"Waking you up from what looked to be a seriously Elm Street nightmare," Buffy replied, wiping her damp hand on the thigh of her pants. She smiled hesitantly at the girl as she sat up, leaning back against the headboard of the four-poster bed. "Was it?"
Tohru blinked. "Huh?"
"A nightmare. Was it?"
"Oh." Tohru nodded slowly, feeling gradually returning to her as drowsiness gave way to clarity. She realized her locket was still clenched tightly in her hand, and she relaxed her aching joints, letting the necklace slip from between her fingers to rest on top of the sheets. "I think so. I--I can't really remember clearly."
"Probably for the good," Buffy said glibly, setting her mouth in a comical line. "I just got in from a walk. Thought I'd check to see how you were doing." She paused. "Bad, I guess?"
Tohru lifted her shoulders slightly. "I just..." She trailed off, not knowing any possible way to finish the sentence. She was doing terribly, and Buffy was sharp. It was no guess.
"I know it wasn't Mom," Tohru said finally, staring down at the sweat-stained sheets. Her skin felt clammy, her loose clothes plastered to her in the damper places. "That it wasn't my mom. I know that. But it still hurts."
Buffy swallowed. "I understand," she said. "I think I can. These are your family and friends we're dealing with, not mine. If we were in Sunnydale, if it was my mom, I'd feel the same." Her eyes clouded. "Like I lost her twice."
She would have joined Buffy in tears, but Tohru was all cried out. Her sorrow remained inside of her, slipping through every crack and crevice of her heart and soul, poisoning her. It would have been okay if she felt her mother with her. If when she held the locket, she remembered the feel of her mother's arms around her, holding her, telling her everything would be okay. If she could reach out and touch her mother's love, bathe in it, lose herself in it and let the world fall around her, glowing with the the light of hope that her mother's memory always gave her.
She didn't have that anymore.
Her family was gone. Shigure, Yuki, and Kyou weren't there to pick up the pieces and take care of her, helping her get through the rough times with their care and concern. This Shigure was cruel, this Yuki distant, this Kyou hostile.
She didn't have them anymore.
All she had was the girl sitting beside her, the stranger looking at her with a mixture of confusion and tenderness. She didn't know why her gaze was drawn to the window to her left, or why she expected to see the early morning rays of light streaming through the gauzy white curtains.
Dawn.
She turned her eyes back to Buffy. The Slayer was fidgeting nervously, hands pulling at the sheets. It seemed she was having a problem with sitting still, so she got up, moving to the window and pulled the curtains back, revealing the stark blackness seething outside. She placed her hand flat on the windowpane, her face expressionless as she set her gaze upon the sight of nothing before her. "It's cold," she said flatly, without turning to face Tohru.
"It doesn't seem like winter," Tohru said hesitantly, wondering at the abrupt change in Buffy's demeanor. "A-are you okay?"
"Do you think we'll get home? I mean, do you think this is..." Buffy looked sheepish, removing her hand from the window and adjusting the drapes so that the window was once again hidden from view. Glittering hazel eyes turned on Tohru questioningly. "Do you think this is something I can fight?"
Tohru was unsure of what she was being asked. She nodded slowly. "I think we'll get home," she said softly. "Once we figure out how we got here, we can get back. But... something you can fight? I'm afraid I don't understand."
Buffy adjusted her gaze to stare at the wall with unnatural interest. "This world. How things are. Can I change it? Is there even a point in trying?"
Tohru hunched over, knowing that her opinion was as disposable as garbage in a situation like this. She wasn't a Slayer, and she couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like to be a girl with such power. "I think the world will fix itself, in time," she said slowly.
Why couldn't you save her?
"Humans are strong. They'll survive, as long as there's..."
"Hope?" Buffy supplied, mouth turning up in a grim smile. "Light? 'Cause let me tell you, seeing a definite shortage on the shelves of both." The Slayer began to pace around the center of Tohru's room, using what confining open space she was given. "You saw Kyoko yesterday. She had no hope. And it turns out she was right, about her fate, at least. She knew she was dead."
"Buffy," Tohru said in a pained voice, her tears coming back as another painful gash along her heart brought fresh pain. "Don't--"
Buffy's movements accelerated, her agitation growing. "Kyou was right, about all of it. I was fooling myself to think I could save her, make a difference. This world doesn't have right and wrong. There's only wrong, and no amount of right is going to matter in the long run."
"No, Buffy."
Buffy threw an annoyed glare at Tohru. "How can you believe that? You know what happened to Kyoko. She was murdered for sport!"
A tear slipped out of Tohru's eye and slid down her numb cheek. "She was killed because she tried to escape--"
"Escape! What did she care about the risks? She knew she was dead either way!" Buffy exclaimed. "It doesn't take genius to see that."
"Stop," Tohru whispered. "Please, I--"
Buffy's eyes were mysteriously dry, even as her voice shook with emotion. "And I couldn't stop it. I knew she was going to be killed, and I couldn't do anything for her. I--" She paused, searching for words. "I'm alone," she said finally, letting out a trembling breath.
"Buffy, you're not--" Tohru tried to break in, but Buffy was intent on finishing.
"I don't have Giles here to tell me what books to read and what demons to slay. I don't have Willow here to look things up on the computer and try to put a spell together to make things easier. I don't have Angel nearby to call for help. I don't have Xander to..." She seemed to falter with her last sentence, and she froze in place, holding a hand to her eyes. "I don't have Xander. I don't have anyone to help me. And I can't do things alone. I just..."
Tohru pushed the sheets away from her and stood, moving towards Buffy's still form. "You aren't alone," she said meekly, reaching out and placing a hand on Buffy's forearm. "I'm here, Buffy, I'm with you. And the Soumas, they're not all... they're not all bad. They'll help. We just have to ask them."
"No." Buffy shook her head slowly, backing away from Tohru and breaking the contact between them. "No, even if the Soumas were nice, they can't help. They said they don't know anything about magic. That's the only thing that will get us home."
Tohru bit her lower lip, thinking hard about Buffy's words. "So what are we going to do then?" she asked. "How are we going to find the way home?"
Buffy's hair hung loosely in her face, and when she lifted her head to meet Tohru's eyes, the strands fell back to reveal a pale, tired expression. "I don't know. Not yet. I'm going to have to look around, see if there's anything helpful here. If there isn't, then we've got to get moving."
Tohru nodded. "You should get to bed, Buffy. You look really tired. Things will be better in the morning, with the sun shining. Everything looks brighter."
"I guess," Buffy said, roughly pushing her hair back along the side of her head. She moved to the door but turned back, her expression solemn. "Take care, Tohru," she said quietly. "Try to stay nightmare-free."
Tohru smiled. "I will. Goodnight, Buffy."
Buffy exited the room, shutting the door behind her.
Tohru stared at the unlocked door, her gaze lingering on the simple lock adorning the knob. Should I? she wondered, thinking about Shigure's peculiar behavior earlier that day.
"It might be best to lock it."
Was the danger outside?
In the end, she decided to leave it unlocked.
"You look like crap," Haru called out, his heavy boots making loud scraping sounds as he slowly walked across the the gritty surface of the roof towards the lone boy who lay spread on his back, staring at the starless sky above. He paused several feet away from the orange-haired living monument to hurt, staring down at him without a trace of sympathy, without much of an expression at all.
Kyou smirked, lowering his eyebrows in pain. "I can't look like crap. All the crap was kicked out of me," he said crassly, knowing there was no reason to hold back with Hatsuharu. "That damn bitch."
Haru lowered himself onto the roof, stretching his long legs in front of him and leaning back on his slender elbows. "You have to kill her," he said simply, settling his gaze to a fixed point in front of him. There was nothing there but empty space, but he focused on it, letting the cool night air push his spiky bangs into his face.
"Yeah, if it was as simple as saying it, I wouldn't hesitate," Kyou swore, rolling his head back on his folded arms, glancing up at Haru. "How did you know I was up here?"
"I didn't," Haru replied casually.
Silence fell between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, actually, as it was something both had grown accustomed to in their interactions with each other. They were men of few words, at least when the words had to do with introspection and emotions, things of relevance. Yet, somehow their rivalry had ended the same time as the world, and now they considered each other to be friends, or something to that effect. They were no longer enemies, although Black Haru still seemed to have a bone to pick with him.
The quiet stretched long and thick, weaving itself seamlessly with the dark cold surrounding them. It was chillier on the roof than on the ground, almost like the moonbeams were reaching out to encircle them with icy hands. There was nowhere to hide from the omnipresent orb; it was cold everywhere.
"So did you want to talk about something?" Kyou asked finally, glancing again at Haru, who was staring stoically ahead.
"Not really," Haru said. He paused for a few moments, long enough for Kyou to think he was done speaking. For that reason, his next words caused the cat to startle slightly. "The Slayer."
Kyou blinked, his mind slow to understand. "Huh?"
Haru finally moved his gaze to look down at Kyou. His face was blank slate. "That Slayer that just came here. With that other girl. Have you met her yet?"
Kyou averted his eyes, being careful to keep emotions off his face. "Yeah."
"What's she like?" Despite the implications of such a question towards interest in the answer, Haru's voice betrayed nothing but shallow apathy. If Kyou had been looking at him, he would have seen the same on his face.
"Uh, I don't know. She's just kind of--" Kyou stumbled over his words, realizing how ill-prepared he was to deal with such a question. What was Buffy like? Damned if he could put what he felt about her into coherent words suitable for others to hear.
Well, she's stupid. She's got this thing where she feels she has to take up lost causes. She's strong, I guess, she keeps knocking me on my ass, anyway. Her eyes change colors. She's stubborn when she wants to be right, even when she knows she's wrong. Real pig-headed. Dumb, like I said. And she's pretty, but she's still a damn idiot. I think I can hug her and not change into a cat, which is really fucking weird. Doesn't make any damn sense at all, but that kind of fits with her, because she doesn't make any sense. I don't get her. Shit, I don't know.
The thoughts that raced through his head jumbled together in a muddled mess, and all he managed to pull out of the wreckage was, "I don't get her."
Haru took in the response. "Is she a Scarlett clone?"
"Oh, hell no. Thank God. If anything, this girl's got too many morals and ideals." Kyou snorted. "The moron was really thinking about breaking into the Coliseum to rescue Kyoko Honda."
Haru nodded. "How did that work out for her?"
"Didn't. Kyoko died trying to break out of the place herself. Put a kink in Buffy's plans." Kyou rolled his eyes. He added quietly, to himself, "I still don't think she gets it." Louder, he asked curiously, "Why ask about her?"
"I went out drinking with Ayame and Hatori today. Ayame was talking about the girl's show at the Coliseum; I was there but not really paying attention." Haru explained. "He sort of droned on about how magnificent and strong she was. I figured that meant she'd have an ego like Scarlett. Like maybe it always comes with the Slayer package."
"Scarlett's an ugly hag, like Kagura. They could be sisters," Kyou said derisively, shifting his aching body into a more comfortable position. He chuckled darkly. "You think that's why we talk? We've both got obsessive whores clinging to our backs?"
The left side of Haru's mouth curled into a smile. "At least mine can't hug me."
"Well, rub it in, you bastard," Kyou replied sourly. "Yours could beat you up a lot worse than mine, if she was more of a psycho."
Haru shrugged. "If she gets any more buddy-buddy with Kagura, she probably will lose it."
"Shit, we're talking about girls," Kyou snorted, moving one of his arms from behind his head to rest over his eyes. "When did we become morons?"
"That only applies if we're talking about girls we like," Haru said. "We're safe, although I wouldn't mind a change in topic."
Kyou waved his hand dismissively in the air. "It's not like there's anything else going on."
Haru shrugged. "Guess not."
Seconds ticked by in which nothing was said. The conversation hit a lull, as neither of them wanted to continue speaking about girls they'd rather forget. It was Haru who broke the silence this time, asking, "Don't think she gets what?"
Kyou was confounded. "What?"
"Earlier, talking about the new Slayer. You said she didn't get something."
It took Kyou a moment to place the question. When he remembered his hushed comment to himself, he flushed, disliking that Haru had overheard. "She just--eh--she was--" he fumbled for a coherent response and failed. He ended up looking at Haru annoyed, unable to put his thoughts into words.
Haru met the gaze steadily, unaffected by Kyou's discomfort. "You don't think she gets the way things are here?" He paused, but Kyou refrained from giving his input. The younger boy continued, "It's understandable, you know, at first. Her world wasn't like this, probably. It's a lot to adjust to."
Kyou, feeling insolent, turned his head away from Haru, his features settling into a scowl. "I guess. But you know, she doesn't have to be such a stubborn bitch about it. You'd think she was God, the way she thinks she has to save everyone. It just..."
Haru was watching Kyou carefully. "You like her," he said.
Kyou choked on his anger, redness rising in his face. "The hell?" he spat, attempting to sit up until the pain forced him back down. He glowered at the calm boy above him. "What the hell are you on? I don't like her! If anything, I dislike her! She's an idiot!"
"I don't think so," Haru said quietly.
"Are you listening!" Kyou exclaimed angrily, the intense heat of his emotions doing little to quell his aches and pains. Silently, he cursed Buffy for existing. "I hate her!"
"I don't think she's an idiot, not for wanting to save Kyoko," Haru clarified, reaching out and brushing his hand against Kyou's shoulder. "Calm down and let me explain myself."
"Save your breath. Nothing you say is going to convince me that trying to save a dead woman and getting yourself killed in the process is a smart move," Kyou said, waiting for his heart rate to slow. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "She was just going to charge in there, no weapons, and try to fight her way to the cell. Don't you see how impossible and-- and dumb that is?"
"I can't say I know what she was thinking," Haru admitted. "But from what you and Ayame have told me, she doesn't sound like a stupid girl."
Kyou sighed, frustrated. He was already being misunderstood. Damn girl. "I didn't mean she was a stupid person. She just has some really dumb ideas."
"She's a smart girl who makes stupid choices?" Haru asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow at Kyou. "You seem kind of flustered. Are you sure you don't like this girl?"
Kyou shot deadly venom at Haru with his glare. Though not intimidated in the least, Haru backed off, most likely out of friendship or just plain boredom. He shifted the conversation to safer topics. "Are you spending the night up here?"
"Yeah. I don't need Yuki bothering me about my appearance," Kyou muttered, closing his eyes against the bitter wind that picked up around them. He heard Haru stand, felt his looming presence over him. When he remained for more than a few seconds, he asked, "Got somethin' else to say?"
"No. There's nothing else to say." Boots crunching, Haru made his way to the edge of the roof where the ladder rested. Kyou listened as the boy climbed down, sounds fading out of the reach of Kyou's ears, leaving him alone with the quiet.
Leaving him to his relentless thoughts.
How could you let her die?
Kyou had neglected to tell Haru that Kyoko Honda was not dead. In fact, his talk over the matter had made it seem like the opposite was true.
So Kagura's story had slipped his mind. He had forgotten.
Now he was lying to himself.
I can't tell anybody. It won't make a difference to tell the Soumas, not even Haru. He wouldn't do anything. The only person who would care is Buffy, and I already know what she would do if I told her.
The blood was already staining his hands. Kagura's blood. He had washed it away, but as he brought his hands up, staring at them above him, they dripped red with unseen crimson rivulets.
Kyoko's blood began to sizzle, to burn.
He ignored the pain. It went away, back into his head, where it had always been.
He couldn't tell Buffy. He felt that if she died, he might feel something.
It was a selfish decision.
But that was nothing new.
She was a beauty, the girl who lay curled up in the bland gray sheets. Her slender hands gripped at the stale cotton, holding the coverings up to her chin and close to her body. Innocence rolled off of her in waves, the smell intoxicating. Flowers and sunsets forgotten in the world wafted up towards his nose, bathing him in the scent of her home.
His eyes couldn't seem to move from her face. Eyes closed, mouth drawn into a soft line, much of the impact of her smiling, expressive visage was lost in the grim act of sleep. She appeared to him as a beautiful corpse, a lovely cadaver awaiting its burial. He imagined a million different ways he could go to her and wake her up, bringing emotion to her features. Pain and pleasure, they weren't so at odds with each other, not in his mind. They could be the same.
He always preferred the pain. It reminded him of his home.
He moved forward in the darkened room, sweeping with the shadows through the thick black, glad that the girl had blocked the moonlit window with its heavy curtains. Only the faintest of lights managed to limp into the room, just enough spilling over the bed to illuminate her in front of his eyes. His keen eyesight in the dark was inexplicable, an anomaly with no scientific reason. He didn't need the moonlight to see her, all of her that was revealed to him. She was as clear as day there.
Breathing in tune to the wind howling outside that scraped at the window glass with arctic nails, he backed away from her, having a picture tucked away in his mind, having no need to watch her anymore. He liked to bide his time and draw it out; the suspense and tension always made the reward that much greater in the end. He had many hopes for her in his future. Somehow, he knew she was going to be the one.
She wasn't his normal type. In the past, the ones like himself... quiet, reticent... had been the ones he loved to break beneath his fingers, crush in his hands. She was like no one else here, those who wandered around in their private miseries, wrapped up in the sorrow of bleak existances. She was open. She was free.
Tohru Honda had hope.
She was a warrior, the girl who lay sprawled on her back underneath the bland gray sheets. Her slender arms rested on top of the stale cotton, bent up towards her head. Strength rolled off of her in waves, the fragrance vitalizing. Blood and sweat mixed together in a heady mix, drifting towards him, triggering fading memories of the past and future.
He stared at the exquisite girl, amazed by the fact that such a small girl contained so much power. An untapped well of potential boiled inside her bones, inside her blood, and she had yet to tap the surface of her true might. He knew with his unseen guidance, she would get to where he needed her to be, and she would be strong enough to destroy him.
To destroy them all. To destroy the world.
Everything rested on a pair of shoulders no wider than the length of his forearm. He lifted a slender hand towards her frozen figure, hovering his fingers less than a centimeter away from the sheets draped over the alluring curve of her hip. He could tell she had removed her unsightly pants to sleep, wearing only the over-sized shirt she had been sporting earlier. His hand longed to fall, to rest on her hip and stroke away the barrier of cloth that separated their skin, sliding his palm along her silky flesh, bringing her from her sleep with a moan of instinctual pleasure.
Then, he had never been one to get his kicks that way. To him, the taste of a girl's blood was as sweet as the taste of her ambrosia. The result was the same no matter which route he chose. Pleasure and pain always lead to the same place, for him and for her.
There was only one place for a girl such as her to go.
He lifted his hand away from the delicious warmth radiating from her lithe body. He drank in the sight and scent of her a last time, moving backwards towards the door automatically, eyes never straying. She was like no one else here, strong where they were weak, weak where they were nothing. She was hot. She was bright.
Buffy Summers had fire.
