"You're getting pathetic." Chloe shook her head, "I already know it's not
Buffy saying that. You're the first. Not her."
The first shook her head, "she did say it. And she was, of course, right. The one thing out of all those little speeches she made that made any sense what-so-ever was the dying part."
"Would you just leave, I don't know why you came to talk to me, but whatever it is. It's not going to work... so go."
Buffy's form shrugged, "you're sure she didn't say it?"
Chloe said nothing, she just wanted to leave. She knew the first was stalling her, knew she had to go. But her legs were jelly, and the rest of her shook like it. The traces of fear left in her, even at a tenth their former size, were enough, she couldn't move. She had to get it to leave. But it just stood their, waiting.
"I'm sure."
And in a flash of blinding light, she was standing in a hazy version of the mid-afternoon. Outside, beside the house, facing the white siding. She rubbed her eyes and blinked. Where the hell am I? She thought. The feel of the grass showed her it wasn't a dream, the wind blowing behind her and clothes hanging off her. Noises came from the backyard. Still disoriented, she moved toward them. The true scene beginning to conceive in her mind.
She turned the corner to be presented with her expectation. All the potentials, including a slightly dishevel looking half-version of herself, training in Buffy's backyard. I hardly remember this, she thought. She hardly remembered anything anymore, she wondered about premature Alzheimers. Every that was once vivid hung like a haze in the bowels of her brain. She remembered the training, making a mistake, Kennedy yelling, push ups, maggot. What had the mistake been? Why was she a maggot? She didn't remember.
She breathed in and moved forward toward the veranda where Buffy and a man she didn't recognise stood. Their talk wasn't interesting, she seemed to be filling him in on things. She became bored, the slight mist in the air of the flashback seeping into her head as well.
"Twenty push-ups. Maggot." The words rang out through the back yard and Chloe frowned. You're so weak, she thought, as her last-afternoon-self did the push-ups.
The scene faded and she was back in Dawn's room, the form of the first as Buffy now sitting on the bed.
"What was the point of that?" She asked it, "I thought you were gonna prove to me what Buffy said."
It shrugged, "why would I do that, whether you believe me or not, she still said it. She still believes it. So what does it matter."
The first shook her head, "she did say it. And she was, of course, right. The one thing out of all those little speeches she made that made any sense what-so-ever was the dying part."
"Would you just leave, I don't know why you came to talk to me, but whatever it is. It's not going to work... so go."
Buffy's form shrugged, "you're sure she didn't say it?"
Chloe said nothing, she just wanted to leave. She knew the first was stalling her, knew she had to go. But her legs were jelly, and the rest of her shook like it. The traces of fear left in her, even at a tenth their former size, were enough, she couldn't move. She had to get it to leave. But it just stood their, waiting.
"I'm sure."
And in a flash of blinding light, she was standing in a hazy version of the mid-afternoon. Outside, beside the house, facing the white siding. She rubbed her eyes and blinked. Where the hell am I? She thought. The feel of the grass showed her it wasn't a dream, the wind blowing behind her and clothes hanging off her. Noises came from the backyard. Still disoriented, she moved toward them. The true scene beginning to conceive in her mind.
She turned the corner to be presented with her expectation. All the potentials, including a slightly dishevel looking half-version of herself, training in Buffy's backyard. I hardly remember this, she thought. She hardly remembered anything anymore, she wondered about premature Alzheimers. Every that was once vivid hung like a haze in the bowels of her brain. She remembered the training, making a mistake, Kennedy yelling, push ups, maggot. What had the mistake been? Why was she a maggot? She didn't remember.
She breathed in and moved forward toward the veranda where Buffy and a man she didn't recognise stood. Their talk wasn't interesting, she seemed to be filling him in on things. She became bored, the slight mist in the air of the flashback seeping into her head as well.
"Twenty push-ups. Maggot." The words rang out through the back yard and Chloe frowned. You're so weak, she thought, as her last-afternoon-self did the push-ups.
The scene faded and she was back in Dawn's room, the form of the first as Buffy now sitting on the bed.
"What was the point of that?" She asked it, "I thought you were gonna prove to me what Buffy said."
It shrugged, "why would I do that, whether you believe me or not, she still said it. She still believes it. So what does it matter."