Title: Hell's Masquerade
Summary: Season 7 based loosely on spoilers for Season 6. Takes off from the final scene that the spoilers tell us about. Ultimately B/S.
Spoilers: Some of season 2, some of season 3, some of season 5, and lots of season 6. There's going to be more, too. If u don't like 'em, don't read this.
Dedication: My dear muse who without this would not be possible.
Disclaimer: ME, Joss, UPN, I don't. And that fact alone drives me insane.
Feedback: ditz550@hotmail.com Review and I'll love u 4ever. Constructive criticism welcome.
Here me, my chiefs, I am tired; my heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever.
-Joseph the Younger
She sat on the couch facing a window but not looking out. The house was dark and she was all alone inside, her hands on her knees, her knees drawn to her chest but remaining a few inches away. Everything was cold, uncertain and still. The darkness seemed to surround her and eat her alive and to her there seemed to be an abyss where her heart was. All of her strength seemed gone, and with it her friends her life and even Dawn.
Everything she had that was worth fighting for was gone.
Everyone had changed so much, so much that they seemed like a complete other person in the bodies of her old friends.
Willow was different, more grown up and distant since she fell into the dark arts and she was no longer, to Buffy, the best friend always at her side, edging her on and always supporting her. The Willow Buffy needed was dead and only existed in her faint memories.
Xander was drawn in to himself too, and he was much more quiet and mellow then the old Xander she knew. True, he made an effort to still be his high school self, but he wasn't and no act that he put on could change that. The loss of Anya seemed hard on him and sometimes he felt that there was no reason to keep living. Drawn in and pain filled, there seemed such a sad story behind those big, brown eyes. He had become worse then the person he saw himself being on his wedding day in the glimpses of the 'future'. He was a completely different person but he had given up and that was just as bad.
Names floated in her mind: Angel, Dawn, Spike, Oz, Cordelia, Tara, Anya, Joyce, Giles, Riley and even Jenny.
She had lost some of them just this year and some of then ages ago, all through different ways. Some of them she hadn't cared as much about, some of them she would give anything to have back. They were names from the past, however recent and she thought that for every one if she had done one thing different they wouldn't have been gone; that she wouldn't be here right now. She dreamed up millions of ways to make them all stay, and she finally realized what Spike had meant when telling her ages ago—was that just a year—that every night he saved her.
She had lost everything, everything worth having and there seemed to be no point of this anymore.
She fought and she saved the world but she had lost everything. Somewhere she remembered reading something like:
What is it worth to gain the whole world but to loose your own soul?
She hadn't gained the whole world, but saved it and somehow, somewhere she had, metaphorically speaking, lost her own soul. All her love, all her friends, even all her hope, that was her soul and now it was gone.
She was living in hell right now.
'What is hell, but ones mind?'
It was a quote, she believed.
She had fought the external hell and had the weight of the world resting on her shoulders for six whole years. She had stood tall like a pillar of strength, not letting herself fall, not messing up, coming through however thinly every single time. Her friends had always been there for her and she had someone to come to: Angel, Giles, Riley and even Spike. There had always been a group off to the side cheering her on and she won the game, when all else failed, for her friends.
When all her hope was gone when there seemed no other way then to surrender and let hell be on earth she always thought of her friends and how that would hurt them, and she pulled through for there sake alone. She wouldn't have cared if the whole world was damned otherwise.
But now…
Now there was nothing left for her to fight for, nothing left of her at all. Hope had left her, love had given up on her, and life had rejected her twice.
She scarcely remembered Angeluses taunting voice.
"Now that's everything, huh? No weapons… No friends… No hope… Take that away and what's left?"
She remembered her gallant answer as she grabbed the blunt edges of the sword. Strong and powerful, filled with new determination.
"Me."
But this time around, when she was asking herself the same question. What was left of her after it all had been stripped away?
She didn't seem to even exist anymore for she had done so much her never would have done and the circumstances didn't totally alter the causes.
She was so unsure, so used up, and she felt like she had left all of her strength behind in heaven. So now she was in hell with out it.
What was the point? Why was she living through this? Why did she have to go through this in the first place? She fought her way through forcing it all away through it and it wasn't worth it.
She was fighting the good fight for a good cause, and the cause no longer seemed worth the battle.
Everything she loved was gone, stripped away.
What was the point of fighting anymore, or even less living?
Suicide? No there was something she had never considered in her life. No matter what hell she was going through she just kept going with hope that good would always follow the bad. She had good times, but bad always seemed to be around the corner. She thought about it for a while, that this would make her finally free.
Free of life.
'Free of life? There's another word for that. Dead.'
No, no, no! How did she think of that! How could she think of that! She didn't want to die.
She didn't want to be the slayer anymore; she didn't care about the fate of the goddamn world. Half the people she saved from hell would just end up going to hell anyway. So she was saving half the world, maybe less, and postponing it for the others.
Maybe once it was different; maybe at the beginning there was a reason to fight.
Maybe.
There wasn't anymore.
Fighting was something stupid, something idiotic.
Her futile mission, her kamikaze phase.
She was only preventing the inevitable, and she was fighting for the loosing side. Maybe Faith had the right idea. Maybe it was easier to be bad. Maybe Spike was right and she did belong in the darkness. Maybe the first slayer meant more when she said 'Death is your gift.'
Maybe…
Buffy sighed and went upstairs into the darkness her mind and heart weighed heavily down with one question.
What was the point of being good when evil is so much easier?
She didn't know, but she had decided this much: she wasn't going to save the world again. Let the friggin' world save itself.
~TBC~
Summary: Season 7 based loosely on spoilers for Season 6. Takes off from the final scene that the spoilers tell us about. Ultimately B/S.
Spoilers: Some of season 2, some of season 3, some of season 5, and lots of season 6. There's going to be more, too. If u don't like 'em, don't read this.
Dedication: My dear muse who without this would not be possible.
Disclaimer: ME, Joss, UPN, I don't. And that fact alone drives me insane.
Feedback: ditz550@hotmail.com Review and I'll love u 4ever. Constructive criticism welcome.
Here me, my chiefs, I am tired; my heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever.
-Joseph the Younger
She sat on the couch facing a window but not looking out. The house was dark and she was all alone inside, her hands on her knees, her knees drawn to her chest but remaining a few inches away. Everything was cold, uncertain and still. The darkness seemed to surround her and eat her alive and to her there seemed to be an abyss where her heart was. All of her strength seemed gone, and with it her friends her life and even Dawn.
Everything she had that was worth fighting for was gone.
Everyone had changed so much, so much that they seemed like a complete other person in the bodies of her old friends.
Willow was different, more grown up and distant since she fell into the dark arts and she was no longer, to Buffy, the best friend always at her side, edging her on and always supporting her. The Willow Buffy needed was dead and only existed in her faint memories.
Xander was drawn in to himself too, and he was much more quiet and mellow then the old Xander she knew. True, he made an effort to still be his high school self, but he wasn't and no act that he put on could change that. The loss of Anya seemed hard on him and sometimes he felt that there was no reason to keep living. Drawn in and pain filled, there seemed such a sad story behind those big, brown eyes. He had become worse then the person he saw himself being on his wedding day in the glimpses of the 'future'. He was a completely different person but he had given up and that was just as bad.
Names floated in her mind: Angel, Dawn, Spike, Oz, Cordelia, Tara, Anya, Joyce, Giles, Riley and even Jenny.
She had lost some of them just this year and some of then ages ago, all through different ways. Some of them she hadn't cared as much about, some of them she would give anything to have back. They were names from the past, however recent and she thought that for every one if she had done one thing different they wouldn't have been gone; that she wouldn't be here right now. She dreamed up millions of ways to make them all stay, and she finally realized what Spike had meant when telling her ages ago—was that just a year—that every night he saved her.
She had lost everything, everything worth having and there seemed to be no point of this anymore.
She fought and she saved the world but she had lost everything. Somewhere she remembered reading something like:
What is it worth to gain the whole world but to loose your own soul?
She hadn't gained the whole world, but saved it and somehow, somewhere she had, metaphorically speaking, lost her own soul. All her love, all her friends, even all her hope, that was her soul and now it was gone.
She was living in hell right now.
'What is hell, but ones mind?'
It was a quote, she believed.
She had fought the external hell and had the weight of the world resting on her shoulders for six whole years. She had stood tall like a pillar of strength, not letting herself fall, not messing up, coming through however thinly every single time. Her friends had always been there for her and she had someone to come to: Angel, Giles, Riley and even Spike. There had always been a group off to the side cheering her on and she won the game, when all else failed, for her friends.
When all her hope was gone when there seemed no other way then to surrender and let hell be on earth she always thought of her friends and how that would hurt them, and she pulled through for there sake alone. She wouldn't have cared if the whole world was damned otherwise.
But now…
Now there was nothing left for her to fight for, nothing left of her at all. Hope had left her, love had given up on her, and life had rejected her twice.
She scarcely remembered Angeluses taunting voice.
"Now that's everything, huh? No weapons… No friends… No hope… Take that away and what's left?"
She remembered her gallant answer as she grabbed the blunt edges of the sword. Strong and powerful, filled with new determination.
"Me."
But this time around, when she was asking herself the same question. What was left of her after it all had been stripped away?
She didn't seem to even exist anymore for she had done so much her never would have done and the circumstances didn't totally alter the causes.
She was so unsure, so used up, and she felt like she had left all of her strength behind in heaven. So now she was in hell with out it.
What was the point? Why was she living through this? Why did she have to go through this in the first place? She fought her way through forcing it all away through it and it wasn't worth it.
She was fighting the good fight for a good cause, and the cause no longer seemed worth the battle.
Everything she loved was gone, stripped away.
What was the point of fighting anymore, or even less living?
Suicide? No there was something she had never considered in her life. No matter what hell she was going through she just kept going with hope that good would always follow the bad. She had good times, but bad always seemed to be around the corner. She thought about it for a while, that this would make her finally free.
Free of life.
'Free of life? There's another word for that. Dead.'
No, no, no! How did she think of that! How could she think of that! She didn't want to die.
She didn't want to be the slayer anymore; she didn't care about the fate of the goddamn world. Half the people she saved from hell would just end up going to hell anyway. So she was saving half the world, maybe less, and postponing it for the others.
Maybe once it was different; maybe at the beginning there was a reason to fight.
Maybe.
There wasn't anymore.
Fighting was something stupid, something idiotic.
Her futile mission, her kamikaze phase.
She was only preventing the inevitable, and she was fighting for the loosing side. Maybe Faith had the right idea. Maybe it was easier to be bad. Maybe Spike was right and she did belong in the darkness. Maybe the first slayer meant more when she said 'Death is your gift.'
Maybe…
Buffy sighed and went upstairs into the darkness her mind and heart weighed heavily down with one question.
What was the point of being good when evil is so much easier?
She didn't know, but she had decided this much: she wasn't going to save the world again. Let the friggin' world save itself.
~TBC~