Twist of Fate: Chapter 12
by Lisette
Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.
"After all, there's a reason they say that love is a two-edged sword...
because love is sharp, it pierces, and love is a needle that sews shut
the holes in our hearts, that mends our souls, but it can also cut,
cut deep, wound, kill." Dean Koontz, Seize the Night
Groaning, Buffy slowly blinked away the haze that clouded her vision, instantly squeezing them shut against the searing light. "Oh God," she rasped, wincing as aching muscles screamed in protest to her small movements, licking her cracked lips. Sighing, she stilled once more, trying to gather her muddled thoughts.
She couldn't remember why she was feeling as she did, but one fact became apparent. She definitely wasn't at home, cuddled in her nice, soft bed. Quickly she set about taking stock of herself. Her cheek was pressed against a hard, gritty surface a floor, of some kind. Judging by the cold that radiated from the surface, it wasn't any place she would normally fall asleep on. Sighing, she willed that thought away and instead focused her senses, stretching them to their limits without moving a muscle - waiting for anything. The air was cool and felt damp - like she was someplace far below ground. Yet the air tasted false. Not fresh at all. More circulated, than anything else - like on an airplane. Unfortunately, no matter how far she stretched her senses, that was all she could deduce, for the room was as silent as a tomb.
Unable to prevent a grimace at the imagery that those words brought, Buffy braced herself and slowly blinked open her eyes, praying that she wouldn't indeed find herself in some tomb or another. As tears streamed down her face from the light, Buffy stubbornly refused to give in, and eventually her sight cleared as her pupils adapted to the dim lighting.
Slowly, Buffy lifted her head, ignoring her protesting muscles as she pushed herself up and then back, so that she was leaning against the wall that she had been lying beside. "What the" she trailed off, her hazel eyes taking in the dank room she found herself in.
The rectangular-shaped room was relatively small with damp concrete for walls, floors, and a ceiling. The only change in the monotony was a door set into the wall opposite her, a bare bulb hanging from a cord above, a small drain set in the floor, a large air vent set into the top of the wall to her left, and a camera whose lens seemed to be staring right into her very soul. Shivering in the dank air, Buffy wrapped her bare arms around herself, the movement drawing her eyes away from the camera's dark lens and focusing them on herself. Confused, she picked at the unfamiliar tank she was wearing, the soft blue cotton material clinging to her slim form while the pants fit loosely around her slender legs, her feet bare.
But that couldn't be right. She had vague memories of her red halter and the Bronze? Yes, she was at the Bronze with Oz and Willow because the Dingoes were playing. But how did that bring her to here? Biting her lip, Buffy slowly pushed herself away from the wall, dismayed at the weakness that hampered her every awkward step. She hadn't felt this weak since her birthday when the Council? Eyes widening slightly, Buffy hurried to the door, her hand pausing only as she dimly realized that there was no handle. There was nothing.
Was this the Council's doing? Had they captured her somehow but why? That didn't make any sense, Buffy realized as she slowly backed away, her hair hanging limp around her shoulders as her eyes swept her enclosure once again. She hadn't heard from the Watcher's Council since they fired Giles and she effectively told them to get out of her life. Besides, this didn't seem the Council's style.
Lifting a hand weakly to her forehead, Buffy massaged the skin as her eyes swept over the small room. "Think," she muttered, the sound of her voice in the silent room startling her as she instinctively drew against the wall - an action that caused a surge of anger to sweep through her. She was the Slayer, damnit. She could handle this. She could solve this.
Crossing the distance to the door in a few small steps, Buffy slapped the palm of her hand against the smooth surface, the sound reverberating in the small room. But whatever words she was about to utter, whatever screams or demands that were about to leave her lips, were forgotten as she slowly pulled away from the door.
Bronze. She was at the Bronze and then she left because because she had to see Giles! She wasn't going to patrol that night, she remembered, her forehead wrinkling as she unconsciously wrapped her thin arms around her once again - an ineffective barrier against the cold of the room. And after Giles she went home, but there was there was a strange car in the driveway.
"Wonder Boy," Buffy murmured, her eyes widening slightly as she remembered the man's cocky grin even as she pinned him against their living room mantle. But then everything turned fuzzy. She remembered the prick of the needle in her neck, and the flash of weakness, and then and then she remembered her mom getting dragged into the room.
And suddenly, Buffy didnt want to remember anymore.
Turning, she jumped back at the door, her eyes flashing as she beat her hands against it, the sound echoing in the room. "Let me out!" Buffy screamed, her voice tearing out of her throat as she landed punch after kick at the unyielding door, ignoring the pain that flashed from her bruised flesh. But even as the noise drowned her words, the memories continued unbidden. Her fighting the men and freeing her mother, and then Lyle pumping her so full of drugs that she could barely move.
Gasping, Buffy shook her head curtly and hurried from the door, nearly running to the single camera that looked into her small domain. Hazel eyes glaring up into its dark lens, she was about to scream until someone came... when she remembered.
"No," Buffy whispered, her eyes squeezing shut as she swung away from the camera and stumbled against the wall.
Unbidden, she watched in her minds eye as her mother was torn away from her and shoved against the wall of their living room.
"Oh God, no," Buffy whispered, her voice catching as hot tears flooded her eyes.
Unable to do anything, she watched as Mr. Lyle lifted his gun and pointed it at her mother's chest.
Weakly, Buffy felt herself slowly slide down the wall, sharp bits of concrete scratching her smooth skin and drawing blood as she settled heavily on the floor, pulling her knees up against her chest.
"Look away. Baby, please look away," she heard, her mother's voice echoing in her ear.
"Noooooo," Buffy moaned, closing in on herself as her mother's finals moments played out before her mind's eye.
Even before the muffled thwump of the two shots reached Buffy's ears, she remembered watching in dumb horror as two bright red circles appeared on her mother's shirt - one appearing directly over her heart. In slow motion, she watched as her mother was thrown back by the force of the bullets, her back colliding with the living room wall as she slid to a bloody heap on the wood floor.
In that instant of cognate recognition of what she had lost, Buffy felt a vise squeeze around her heart as a physical pain filled her unlike anything she had ever experienced before. As a high pitched keening noise echoed in the small room, Buffy began to shake as her body went into shock.
Her mind was numb.
Her body was numb.
And above all else, her heart was numb as Buffy's body shut down, curling into herself as she began to rock back and forth, her body shaking so hard that it looked as though she were convulsing on the floor.
After years of battle and emotional turmoil, the Master, Angelus, the Mayor everyone had failed to do what one man - what one human had managed to do in a few short seconds.
Lyle had broken the Slayer.
Feeling his lips curl into a small, cruel smile, Mr. Lyle reveled in the girl's pain as he watched the monitor before him, his legs crossed casually at the ankle.
"Now?" Willie asked from beside him, his eyes locked on the screen that showed the Slayer's silent pain.
"No let's let her stew a little bit longer," Lyle murmured, waving the man away, his eyes never once leaving the small screen. "Besides, it's been awhile since I've seen a good show. Too long and it's only going to get better from here."