NOTE: This is the long-overdue result of my moving to a new house and my
painfully long run of writer's block, as you can see, at the end, it came
back : (
FEEDBACK: You betcha! Even if it's bad, I'm a feedback junkie, I live for
the stuff.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except my computer and a pair of colorful soda-
pop slippers named Baldy and Houdini. Please, don't ask : )
--~*~SHADOWS:Life? What's that?~*~--
White hot pain flooded through the blonde's small body. She had been here for what seemed like days but after awhile time lost all meaning. Buffy Summers, the most powerful slayer that ever existed clenched her eyes shut and hoped against all hope that the pain would stop, her prayers were answered with the crack of a whip against her bare back. She felt the leather slice into her skin like a knife into butter and bit back a scream, willing herself not to cry out. Her surroundings fit what she was going through. Dirt walls lit with torches and medieval style torture techniques. A long board with leather straps attached to pronged wheels meant for stretching bones and breaking spirits, a few small cramped cages hung from the ceiling purely for the torturer's amusement, small cells lined the walls, filled with dirty hay and blood stains. There were far more devices around the room, but Buffy only remembered what she had experienced first hand. Her hazel eyes slightly glazed over in horror at the thought of the pain she would endure in the not so distant future.
Suddenly, she heard the whip fall to the floor. Her torturer of the evening came over and untied her wrists and legs from the wooden post they had tied her to. She was aware of a swift feeling of weightlessness as she was being carried over to her cell. She was dropped into the hay and heard the clang of the rusty metal door before she fell into a not so restful sleep.
---~*~---
Alexander LaVelle Harris paced nervously within The Magic Box's training room. The rest of the self appointed Scooby Gang were busy researching any possible prophecies that might have accounted for the slayer's dissapearance. Spike had returned from Africa only a week before and Xander had made every attempt to make it known that Spike wasn't welcome. Even Dawn refused to talk to him. What he had done was unforgivable. At the moment the vampire himself was searching for Buffy and at the same time his grande-sire Angel. A few days after Buffy's dissapearance, Giles had called the LA Gang only to find that most of it's members were gone. The remaining two members, Gunn and Fred sat at the main table in the store front of The Magic Box, helping with research.
She's dead, give it up you hopeless fool, you knew it would happen, and it has, so drop it. A voice taunted within Xander's worried mind. Even with all the doubts and very possible truth that hung in front of his mind, Xander refused to give up the search. Buffy was the only real friend he had left. Willow was still greiving over what she had done to her friends and Tara's death, so she locked herself in her room at The Summer's residence, crying all the time. Giles had a crazed look in his eyes as he searched endlessly for what had happened to his surrogate daughter. Dawn was...well, Dawn. Anya didn't talk to him except when it was absolutly neccasary, which was understandable, considering the heartache he put her through. Gunn and Fred from LA were nce, but he missed his old crush. He missed the witty coments and puns Buffy would say as she dusted a vamp, he missed the way she would give him that "I can't believe you said that" look when he would make a really stupid joke. He even missed the way she used to stare of into space, as though looking for something better than the life she ended up with.
Running a shaky hand through his chocolate colored hair, he grabbed his brown leather jacket off the coat hanger by the door. Putting on his jacket he walked through the door into the main area of The Magic Box, mumbling an excuse about needing fresh air. Nobody looked up from their research, they were used to his edgy behavior lately. Giles mumbled a 'be careful' as he read a page in the book he was looking through, his thoughts elsewhere. Xander closed the door to The Magic Box and walked briskly in the direction of the nearest cemetary, word had spread quickly throughout the demonic community that the Slayer was missing and so the local vamps decided a party was in order, Xander, as non-special as he was had declared himself substitute slayer and dusted vampires whenever he found the time. He wasn't as good as Buffy, but then again he never could be. Death was less scary with nothing left to lose, so every night he went out and worked out his frustration for his friend on the local fanged-fiends. He knew he was going over the edge, but he didn't seem to care. All he wanted was his friend back, and since he wasn't getting that anytime soon, or so it seemed at the moment anyway, he cared about Life less and less everyday. He chuckled bitterly to himself, "Life, since when did I ever have that." he mumbled to no-one in particular. Without his best friend, Life was just another four lettered word.
---~*~---
In a slightly coffin shaped metal box on the bottom of the pacific, Angel, the Vampire with a soul, awoke from his comatose state. Ever since his son Connor had betrayed him, Angel went catatonic, slipping in and out of consciencousness, not entirely sure what was reality and what was another frenzied-hallucination. His most recent hallucinations involved a not so well off slayer. He kept seeing her being tortured by masked villians, and he was powerless to stop it. His mind kept telling him that it was just a hallucination, but his heart was telling him another story. A part of him knew, it knew that his ex-lover was in very real danger. He had done alot of thinking in his little metal cocoon, about his life, or rather un-life. He thought about Buffy, about Darla, Cordelia, Drusilla, Fred, Detective Kate Lockley, he even thought about his long-dead Mother. All the women in his un-life, all who had played their parts, made an impression, taught him all they could before leaving. He thought about how much pain they all had went through and he knew he was the cause of most of it. All he could do was think, and for some reason, thinking was the only thing that kept him sane, for the moment. All he could was think, and wait, until the box itself rusted, which would take years, or prefferably, until someone found him, hopefully at night-time. Until then, all he could do was wait, and think about all the pain he caused and how much pain he deserved. Little did he know exactly how much pain a Dark goddess was planning for him. Little did he know, the role he was to play in the probable end of the world, nor did he know that a small blonde haired girl was huddled in a corner of a cramped cell thinking similiar dark thoughts.
---~*~---
TO BE CONTINUED...
MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR: By the way all, in case you guys didn't notice, I'm a B/A shipper, some may say I'm living in season 2, or denial, or...both, but the truth of the matter is, I really don't care. I loved the Buffy+Angel relationship, it was great back in the day and it still is. Sometimes a little denial is all I need to keep me happy:) So please, if you don't like the B/A ship, and you wanna flame me, do it through my email, I'm getting kinda tired of ppl flaming the author just cuz the reviewer doesn't agree with the author's choice of ship.
--~*~SHADOWS:Life? What's that?~*~--
White hot pain flooded through the blonde's small body. She had been here for what seemed like days but after awhile time lost all meaning. Buffy Summers, the most powerful slayer that ever existed clenched her eyes shut and hoped against all hope that the pain would stop, her prayers were answered with the crack of a whip against her bare back. She felt the leather slice into her skin like a knife into butter and bit back a scream, willing herself not to cry out. Her surroundings fit what she was going through. Dirt walls lit with torches and medieval style torture techniques. A long board with leather straps attached to pronged wheels meant for stretching bones and breaking spirits, a few small cramped cages hung from the ceiling purely for the torturer's amusement, small cells lined the walls, filled with dirty hay and blood stains. There were far more devices around the room, but Buffy only remembered what she had experienced first hand. Her hazel eyes slightly glazed over in horror at the thought of the pain she would endure in the not so distant future.
Suddenly, she heard the whip fall to the floor. Her torturer of the evening came over and untied her wrists and legs from the wooden post they had tied her to. She was aware of a swift feeling of weightlessness as she was being carried over to her cell. She was dropped into the hay and heard the clang of the rusty metal door before she fell into a not so restful sleep.
---~*~---
Alexander LaVelle Harris paced nervously within The Magic Box's training room. The rest of the self appointed Scooby Gang were busy researching any possible prophecies that might have accounted for the slayer's dissapearance. Spike had returned from Africa only a week before and Xander had made every attempt to make it known that Spike wasn't welcome. Even Dawn refused to talk to him. What he had done was unforgivable. At the moment the vampire himself was searching for Buffy and at the same time his grande-sire Angel. A few days after Buffy's dissapearance, Giles had called the LA Gang only to find that most of it's members were gone. The remaining two members, Gunn and Fred sat at the main table in the store front of The Magic Box, helping with research.
She's dead, give it up you hopeless fool, you knew it would happen, and it has, so drop it. A voice taunted within Xander's worried mind. Even with all the doubts and very possible truth that hung in front of his mind, Xander refused to give up the search. Buffy was the only real friend he had left. Willow was still greiving over what she had done to her friends and Tara's death, so she locked herself in her room at The Summer's residence, crying all the time. Giles had a crazed look in his eyes as he searched endlessly for what had happened to his surrogate daughter. Dawn was...well, Dawn. Anya didn't talk to him except when it was absolutly neccasary, which was understandable, considering the heartache he put her through. Gunn and Fred from LA were nce, but he missed his old crush. He missed the witty coments and puns Buffy would say as she dusted a vamp, he missed the way she would give him that "I can't believe you said that" look when he would make a really stupid joke. He even missed the way she used to stare of into space, as though looking for something better than the life she ended up with.
Running a shaky hand through his chocolate colored hair, he grabbed his brown leather jacket off the coat hanger by the door. Putting on his jacket he walked through the door into the main area of The Magic Box, mumbling an excuse about needing fresh air. Nobody looked up from their research, they were used to his edgy behavior lately. Giles mumbled a 'be careful' as he read a page in the book he was looking through, his thoughts elsewhere. Xander closed the door to The Magic Box and walked briskly in the direction of the nearest cemetary, word had spread quickly throughout the demonic community that the Slayer was missing and so the local vamps decided a party was in order, Xander, as non-special as he was had declared himself substitute slayer and dusted vampires whenever he found the time. He wasn't as good as Buffy, but then again he never could be. Death was less scary with nothing left to lose, so every night he went out and worked out his frustration for his friend on the local fanged-fiends. He knew he was going over the edge, but he didn't seem to care. All he wanted was his friend back, and since he wasn't getting that anytime soon, or so it seemed at the moment anyway, he cared about Life less and less everyday. He chuckled bitterly to himself, "Life, since when did I ever have that." he mumbled to no-one in particular. Without his best friend, Life was just another four lettered word.
---~*~---
In a slightly coffin shaped metal box on the bottom of the pacific, Angel, the Vampire with a soul, awoke from his comatose state. Ever since his son Connor had betrayed him, Angel went catatonic, slipping in and out of consciencousness, not entirely sure what was reality and what was another frenzied-hallucination. His most recent hallucinations involved a not so well off slayer. He kept seeing her being tortured by masked villians, and he was powerless to stop it. His mind kept telling him that it was just a hallucination, but his heart was telling him another story. A part of him knew, it knew that his ex-lover was in very real danger. He had done alot of thinking in his little metal cocoon, about his life, or rather un-life. He thought about Buffy, about Darla, Cordelia, Drusilla, Fred, Detective Kate Lockley, he even thought about his long-dead Mother. All the women in his un-life, all who had played their parts, made an impression, taught him all they could before leaving. He thought about how much pain they all had went through and he knew he was the cause of most of it. All he could do was think, and for some reason, thinking was the only thing that kept him sane, for the moment. All he could was think, and wait, until the box itself rusted, which would take years, or prefferably, until someone found him, hopefully at night-time. Until then, all he could do was wait, and think about all the pain he caused and how much pain he deserved. Little did he know exactly how much pain a Dark goddess was planning for him. Little did he know, the role he was to play in the probable end of the world, nor did he know that a small blonde haired girl was huddled in a corner of a cramped cell thinking similiar dark thoughts.
---~*~---
TO BE CONTINUED...
MESSAGE FROM THE AUTHOR: By the way all, in case you guys didn't notice, I'm a B/A shipper, some may say I'm living in season 2, or denial, or...both, but the truth of the matter is, I really don't care. I loved the Buffy+Angel relationship, it was great back in the day and it still is. Sometimes a little denial is all I need to keep me happy:) So please, if you don't like the B/A ship, and you wanna flame me, do it through my email, I'm getting kinda tired of ppl flaming the author just cuz the reviewer doesn't agree with the author's choice of ship.