Title: Unrealized
Rating: R
Spoilers: Minor for Get It Done. Dialogue lifted from that episode too.
Summary: It's not like she chose her destiny.
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The air was musty. Stupid fan didn't do anything except provide hours of oh so interesting entertainment. Blade goes up and down and around and back again, whirring noise rhythmically sounding where the weight of one of the blades was off. Whir whoosh whoosh whir. Muffled voices rose through the floor and into her room. The small somewhat gangly bit of a girl slid off her bed and went to press her ear into the carpet. Dust rose up in a puff cloud from the sudden movement. Stifling a sneeze, she brushed a dark strand of hair out of her eyes and began to focus on the noise downstairs.
"There must be some mistake!" A woman cried out with more than a hint of desperation. The girl furrowed her brows, Mom? What's wrong with Mom?
A soft British lilt interrupted her thoughts, "I'm afraid not. This is something that cannot be helped, nor be changed. Your daughter is very special--"
"My daughter is thirteen years old! I will not have some hombre loco como tu tomando mi hija porque lo leiste en un libro!" Silence. The girl suppressed a snicker. No one could stand up to Mom when she reverted back to her native tongue.
A rustle of movement and a stronger more authoritative voice broke the silence, "I don't know who this Council is, and what they think they can do with my family, but you have upset me and my wife. Not to mention threatened my household so I ask you to leave before you cause more trouble. Chloe will not be going anywhere with you."
Another pause. Chloe battled down the urge to move from her position and to go check what was going on. That's it, she decided, I don't care. It's my house too, I get to see what happens. Slowly she got up and sneaked to the door. Standing at the top of the stairs, she could see the shadows of her parents and the stranger. Two steps down, she could hear slightly better and still remain out of sight. She sat.
"I am sorry. I. . .well, I truly am. Could I just speak to the girl for a moment? And perhaps explain?" The man trailed off. It was then she noticed that the three of them had not moved from the doorway for the entire conversation. How serious was this guy that they wouldn't let him in the house? Metal clinking on metal faintly sounded in the foyer. The tone abruptly switched as the man continued, "Ah. I see you shall not be moved. No matter, there are others that can be called. No sense in troubling you further. But could I bother you for a cup of tea? It is so dreadful outside, and I--"
Her mother stopped him, "Of course you can. There is a phone in the kitchen that you can use to call a cab, while the tea is being made." Startled at the sudden change in attitude, Chloe crept downstairs and looked through the railing. She could make out the shoes of her mom and dad, and if she just moved a little more to the left maybe she could see the stranger's--
"Hello." Yelping, Chloe fell backwards on the steps and looked down. The stranger was standing at the bottom, an amused smile on his face and eyes obscured by glasses. At one time she was sure that his outfit had been pristine, but now he was wiping his hands on his slacks and a fine orange-yellow dust was sticking to his sides. The bag the man was holding dropped to the floor, metal buckle clanging on the floor. Head tilted to the side, the man tentatively stepped forwards. "Chloe, is it?" At her nod he smiled slightly wider and progressed, "My name is Mr. Giles. Your mother is making tea in the kitchen, would you care to join us?" He held out a hand.
Refusing his help, she stood up and walked past him to see her parents both bent over the kitchen table, absorbed in papers that were spread across it. They both looked up at the same time, big eyes smiling down at her, hints of orange smeared across their cheeks.
"Oh you will not believe what these say about you!" Her mother gushed at her.
Before Chloe could ask what that might be, her father interjected, "They say you are Chosen. This is a special honor for our family."
"A. . .special honor?" Suddenly that man was at her side. What was his name again? Something distinctly British that's for sure. A hand was on her shoulder, she looked up and met his eyes.
"Yes. A very special honor indeed. Your parents are very excited for you. As soon as they sign these papers, you will come along for the finest education we can offer. The Council shall be delighted when they hear you have agreed." Chloe backed up.
"What's wrong with you? You were yelling at each other, like, two minutes ago. Now I'm off to some freaky English private school? I don't. . ." She turned to run back upstairs, back to her room, back away from this, but the hand held her in place.
"Do you wish to say goodbye to your parents?" There was a flash of orange and all of a sudden she couldn't move. She didn't want to move. And now she was acutely aware of tears threatening to leak out, the pressure of holding them in pounding in her head. Sniffling she turned to the table. Bright smiles and vacant eyes greeted her.
"Mom? Dad? I'll miss you." A brief flicker of grief and reluctance, then she was enveloped in two sets of arms.
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The entire ride in the car passed in silence. Chloe had stared out the window just watching the rain beat down. The radio was broken. This is just a rental, he had said. But she wasn't listening. All her belongings that she needed, and he was sure to tell her just to bring the things she needed, were in the back seat and trunk. Right now they were headed to check their bags at the airport.
Over and over again in her mind, she replayed the goodbyes to her parents. She was confused at her reaction and had packed hurriedly, like she couldn't wait to leave all her friends behind to move to a distant place. Her parents, on the other hand, were so excited to see her go. Not anything like when she insisted that next year for high school she was way old enough to go to the beach for spring break. She would be older and more adult, and that's what high school kids did. They had just laughed a little, and became very stern when they basically said that no daughter of theirs was going anywhere without phone numbers, parents names, and the lineage of her friends six generations on either side.
It didn't look like she'd be having a spring break now. She was on her way to. . .wait. She just assumed England was where they were headed. Maybe she should ask--
"Hey, where are we going?" The man, and darn she had forgotten his name again, stumbled a little in surprise before righting himself and smoothing down his shirt.
"Oh, yes. Forgot to mention that, didn't I? Well, we are headed to California. Sunnydale, California to be exact." He paused. "That's where the. . . school is and I shall explain everything on the plane where we can sit and read."
Inwardly groaning, she sat down, making sure that she was at the correct gate. Great, she thought. Schoolwork already. Man I hate my life.
********************************
They were landing. Glued to her window, she stared as the ground got bigger and bigger, and they were landing. Amazed that her first time on a plane didn't scare her, because she was so scared of elevators and heights that she couldn't look out of her bedroom window sometimes. But this plane? Not a problem.
Glancing over her shoulder at Mr. Giles (locking that name away in her memory) he seemed completely unaffected by the descent. She tapped his shoulder.
"Do you want to look? I mean, we're landing and you might. . ." She trailed off. He had that bemused grin again, and his eyes held a faraway look as if he were remembering something that he was very fond of.
"No. That is quite alright." Shrugging, she turned back to the window except now her concentration was off. The plane went lower, and all she could think was the conversation they'd had for most of the ride. Slayer. Protector. Guardian. Chosen. Special. Apparently those words might someday describe her, he had told her so with a drawn face and incredibly tired eyes. And then he apologized for her parents, for having to make them understand. That was funny, adults couldn't understand what she immediately grasped. Who didn't want to be a superhero? But the thing was, he apologized for making her understand as well. He didn't make her. She had already known. You couldn't watch movies where the kid is the hero and not know.
Noticing the runway, she realized she had missed the entire landing.
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They pulled up to a house. A normal house. Somehow with all that she had heard, she was expecting something bigger and more impressive, not a house that had clean-cut shrubs and one tree and a porch. The only thing different was the number of girls outside, all staring at the car with various faces of apprehension. The older ones seemed wary, as if right as she got out the screaming would start and she would throw tantrums for the rest of her time here. The younger ones just seemed excited that they had someone new.
Someone less tired.
The door opened and she stepped out, giving a small wave at everyone and slight smile. Reached back into the car to grab the bags and made her way up the front porch stairs.
"I'm Chloe."
"Hi!" They all said at once, and then seemed to pull back as if totally unprepared for it. Giggling started up, and a few called out "Jinx!" There was another man, one with dark hair, standing in the midst of all this, and he looked quickly around at everyone before announcing:
"Oh no. I've been assimilated. I have got to get me some male friends." A theatrical arm movement accompanied this, as he turned to open the door before finally gesturing Chloe inside. Her stomach fluttered and she gave a shy smile. A small sigh sounded on her right.
"I'll be your male friend." Someone said softly. Looking over the bag, she glanced at a short blonde man that would have remained unseen had he not spoken. Eyebrows raised, she coughed. He quickly snapped himself back to attention before blushing furiously at her look and hurried back inside.
"Freak." She muttered.
************************************
Punch. Punch. Kick.
"Do you understand me?" Kennedy shouted.
They all immediately replied. "Yes!"
Punch. Punch. Kick.
"Aright. Alternate sides." The girls quickly rearranged themselves. "And now, punch block combo."
Everyone complied. Chloe started to slow down. God this was tiring.
"Cross block kick!"
She moved as quickly as she could, she was supposed to keep going. Everyone kept repeating that this was all on them and that they had to learn in order to survive.
"Chamber your energy! Punch block combo!" Chloe stopped for a second, wiping sweat off her brow before attempting the combo. She staggered slightly but righted herself. Looking around to make sure no one noticed she got back into position.
No such luck.
Kennedy singled her out "Hold it! What the hell do you call that, potential? Try that in the field, you are dead. Drop, and give me 20." Vaguely surprised, Chloe stared at her before realizing she needed to speak.
"20 what?" Oh that was brilliant.
"Push-ups maggot!" Great. She rolled her eyes and got on the ground. Kennedy had left her, so she assumed she had to count off herself.
So she started. A litany of regrets and reasons ran through her head in time with the numbers.
One. I can't believe I left home for this.
Two. I wonder what my parents are doing.
Three. It's not like push ups will help in the long run and
Four. Really what's going to happen if I do a combo?
Five. The enemy will just see that it's predictable
Six. And I'd end up dead anyway.
Seven. So there isn't any reason for all this yelling and screaming and
Eight. GOD. Kennedy is so annoying
Nine. She thinks she's better than everyone just because
Ten. She's old enough to buy cigarettes and it's not like
Eleven. She's good at this either. The only reason
Twelve. That she has so much authority is because
Thirteen. Of Willow.
Fourteen. I wonder what my friends are doing.
Fifteen. I bet high school is so much fun.
Sixteen. I thought they had my address.
Seventeen. Wow I didn't realize I could do so many pushups without stopping.
Eighteen. I don't want to fight.
Nineteen. I don't want to die.
Twenty. No one's called or written
Maybe I could call them.
Stopping and turning over, she looked around. Kennedy was still busy with the training, not even remembering about the punishment. Fine, if she can't bother to remember to train me, I'm leaving. Chloe gazed around the yard, taking in everyone caught up with the punching. Hastily backing up, she spun around and ran out of the yard.
Rounding a corner, she didn't see the person standing in her way and collided into him, tumbled over backwards and landed on her butt. Ow, she thought.
"Ow." Chloe moved to get up, rubbing her arms and brushing off the dirt and dust. The person loomed over her for a moment, and then offered a hand. She took it.
"Couldn't wait to get away from the training grounds, huh?" Xander smiled at her knowingly. The sun streamed over his face when he straightened up, and she caught her breath. Stupid hormones. Cursing her childishness she nodded an answer. Oblivious to her swooning over him, he kept on, "I never had to train. I was born with being able to fight." He stopped to pose and flex. "And by being able to fight I mean being able to run and hide the quickest."
Chloe gaped at him a minute until she remembered he was still talking to her and covered up her not listening by giggling nervously. "I'm good at hiding." Ugh. That's not what she meant to say. "Um, I mean, I just couldn't take anymore of the yelling. I'm tired and I, uh, just wanted to rest."
"Oh I definitely hear ya on that. Naps are well deserved by everyone." He leaned in closer to stage whisper, "This mission is quite dangerous. Nap for me. Nap for all the poor souls that can no longer nap on their own." He moved back again and returned to his normal voice. "Buffy's bed is free during the day. If she gets pissed, just blame Spike." Smiling, he patted her back and sent her off towards the house.
In a daze, Chloe opened the front door. At first she had planned to walk around the neighborhood, but Xander had suggested Buffy's bed. She could do that. Setting off into her own daydream, she imagined having picnics and walks on the beach with Xander listening to her talk about hating being a potential and how Kennedy was too bossy for her own good and how Buffy was really intimidating and sometimes. . .
She shook off the reverie and began to trudge upstairs. There was a rattling sound in the kitchen, she knew that was Spike. All the girls fawned over that man, but she didn't understand why. He was good looking, sure, but he was a vampire. What good was a guy who couldn't take you outside to watch sunsets or any of the other romantic things you could do in the sun? Besides, it was obvious that he was focused solely on Buffy and that girl she could never compete with. Mostly it was that the blood grossed her out. Yeesh. The Blood.
The bedroom was dark when she got there. Dark and still and quiet. Heaving a happy sigh she fell heavily onto the bed. She could sleep all she wanted for a couple of hours. At first it was cool to have all the girls around each other, like a giant slumber party that never ended. Except now it was getting on her nerves, never having the bathroom to herself, never being able to sleep when she wanted. There wasn't anything she could do if she was on the brink of exhaustion so this nap was protecting everyone really. A slip up due to exhaustion was still a slip up, and they all deserved to have her at her best. Done rationalizing the nap, she pulled the covers down and slipped away into a fitful sleep.
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(They were wrong.)
She sat bolt upright in bed. The room was darker than before, although she didn't think it was possible. There was someone else in the room, and she could sense it. Quickly throwing back the sheets, Chloe stumbled out of bed and was about to hit the light when she heard a voice.
"Hey. You don't have to leave." Buffy stepped out of the relative darkness and sat down on the bed. Chloe reluctantly moved towards her. Even though she had spent around a month in this house, Buffy still scared her. She looked so little, but she had to be strong. She seemed all powerful, she had seen so much, next to her Chloe just knew she looked like the scared awkward kid she was.
"Um. . .I didn't know if it was alright to sleep in your bed. Xand--I mean Spike said it was fine." Buffy nodded at her, and then patted the part of the bed next to her.
"Come on, Chloe. Sit down. We'll talk. I've noticed that you've been distant the past couple of days." She tilted her head. "Wanna talk about it?"
Chloe gave a surprised grin, "You noticed? I mean, that's not how I wanted it to sound. You're just like really busy and I didn't think that you could tell the difference." Flustered, she stopped before digging herself a hole to deep to get out of.
Buffy giggled. "I know. Sometimes I get a little carried away. But that's no reason not to think I don't notice." She scooted closer. "I notice a lot of things in the house."
"Oh? Like what?"
"Like who eats the last bit of cereal. Or who doesn't replace the toilet paper if they use the last bit." A wicked grin. "Or who has a crush on whom."
(How could you be so stupid?)
She knew her face was beet red. No one else knew did they? There was no possible way that Xander could ever like her, he was way too adult for a little girl was just starting high school. "Um, which girls are you talking about?"
"Well isn't it obvious?" At the silence she got as a response, Buffy rolled her eyes. "Listen, Chloe. I know that you like Xander but I feel like I have to tell you that your crush is distracting the rest of us."
Chloe blinked. What? No one knew. No one cared.
"And Xander came to me today, and he told me that you mooning over him was cute in a 'my kid sister has friends that don't know when to quit' way. But you could tell he was just being nice."
Her hair covered her face as she looked down. For some reason she was blinking back tears. So dumb. It was only a crush, and she knew it was only a crush so she really shouldn't be about to cry. Buffy was just being a good leader, looking out for the troops.
"I didn't mean to distract?" It came out meek to her own ears. Desperately wishing she had brought her Tigger doll with her when she had left home, her fingers tugged at the bottom of her shirt, itching to stay busy out of a lifelong nervous habit.
The girl next to her just sat there, visibly reigning in patience to talk to her in a normal tone. "No one means to distract. It's just that if you keep doing what you are doing, you are going to kill so many people. And I don't want you to have their blood on your hands."
"I didn't. . .I won't do it anymore."
"Jesus, Chloe! Do you even know the danger you are putting everyone in? Sure the other girls think that your little crush is cute, but when they falter during a fight because they were distracted from their training?" Deep breath. "I'm trying to get through to you. Xander's hints to save you the embarrassment didn't work, so I'm going to do the smart thing and explain it to you very slowly."
Chloe was beyond caring now. Tears dripped into her lap as she heard the speech from Buffy. The thoughts had crossed her mind a couple of times, but she didn't realize the implications of her actions. All that could be done was wait for the scolding. So she did.
A long silence. Then an overpowering feeling that she was completely alone and had imagined the entire thing burst into her mind, quickly turning to make sure Buffy was actually there, hoping that she really was going crazy and that she wasn't such a screw up. No good luck for her today. She was still there, blonde hair falling in her face like Chloe's was, only they couldn't be covering up tears. It had to be something else.
"You know what, little girl? I'm done explaining things. If you can't figure out when you stop being a useful member in an army, then you are too stupid for me to waste my time here." Standing up, Buffy moved away from her. Chloe buried her head in her arms, trying to muffle the crying. She could feel the sneer burning into her back.
"Pathetic."
(Don't know why you bother.)
And she gave up being strong and rolled over completely onto the bed, sobbing into a pillow. She didn't even hear the door open and shut.
Or the second time either apparently. She could sense more than hear another presence in the room. Bed creaking as her body moved. Her face was blotchy and red, bloodshot eyes and a trail of snot running from her nose. Hands rubbed harshly, physically trying to remove the signs of a break down. Not looking up to see who was there, she jumped slightly when it spoke.
"She's right you know. Harris may be daft but he would never go for jailbait." He moved towards her, nearer to the bed.
Chloe offered up a shaky smile, "I didn't ever think it would happen. I just--like a celebrity crush, you know? I didn't think it was hurting anyone."
Spike nodded in agreement. "No one ever does." Pause. "You want to know a secret?" Her eyes widened in hopefulness and he bent down to sit on the floor next to her feet. "Of course you do, women love gossip. How stupid of me for asking. Anyway, a while back I had an epiphany." He looked back at her, "I discovered what I was. I knew I was becoming useless. Couldn't bite, couldn't kill, couldn't do the things that I loved most, and worst of all I was no help to anyone. A hopeless blubbering mess. First thing I did was try and off myself. Harris, your boy, stopped me. There was no way I could forgive him for that, so I decided to make things worse.
"I was distracting Buffy from her job, almost got the whole lot of 'em killed a couple of times. Course then I was proud of it. Now, though. . ." His voice got quieter. Chloe held her breath waiting for the rest. The atmosphere changed as he resumed the story, "I ended up hurting her worse than you could ever imagine. Hurting her beyond anything I could ever do back when I was still whole. That's the one thing, you know." He stopped.
When it didn't look like he was going to finish, she impatiently asked, "What's the one thing?"
(You make things worse.)
Eyes searched her face, looking for a reason to say it. "If I had known the damage it was going to cause, I'd have ended it long ago. As soon as they left me alone, I'd have been a pile of dust on the floor. Better that than damage beyond repair. What's that they say? Hindsight or some other such rot." Sighing heavily, Spike rolled his shoulders and began to move up off the floor. "I figured you would understand the most, you and me being in the same situation and all."
She didn't see him leave.
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No way to tell how much time had passed, all she knew was she had fallen back asleep. The curtains had been drawn all day. Was it night now?
She kept trying to wake up earlier, but the images were relentless. Always starting with the past. Her parents bright smiles and enthusiastic goodbyes as she was driven away from the only home she knew.
(No drug could fake happiness this well.)
They hadn't even stayed outside to wave longer. Just turned and ran back inside. To celebrate. Images of how excited they were now that they were alone popped into her head.
(We just needed to see you go. Such a bother.)
Then her friends, her old friends, the ones that stayed after school longer so they could all ride the bus together, even if they were close enough to walk. Braving getting grounded so that they could spend time at each other's houses.
(Never needed you to have fun, just being polite really.)
They weren't true. They couldn't be true. But then Mr. Giles had said he'd given the phone number to her parents. No one had called. She twisted the sheets in her hands.
Buffy was standing next to her. "Need help with that?"
Tears streamed down her face as Chloe looked up and then back down quickly. "They don't miss me."
Smiling softly, Buffy answered, "No they don't."
The tears came down harder. "You don't need me."
"No." Finality in that statement. Her clothes rustled as she looked into Chloe's hands. "Here, twist it a little more in your hands and then make a loop. There you go. Now wrap it around…oh you've got it." A nod. "Maybe you won't mess this up."
Chloe sniffled loudly, kicking her feet into the carpet. The sheet was damp in random spots from all her tears. "This helps you out?"
"See, that's where you are wrong. Nothing you can do ever helps out. In fact, since you are in here I will have to move you later. It would have been nice of you to jump from a building. This is ok, I guess. Hook it on the fan."
Robotically she stood on the bed, stretching out to tie it securely.
"Make sure you get it tight, don't want you to break loose. We'd have a broken fan and a useless girl, and then where would we be?" Yanking hard for a test, Chloe wobbled when the knot held. The tears never stopped.
Standing on the edge of the bed, she grabbed the noose and after a minor hesitation she slipped it over her head. No movement. Standing there, with her death facing her head on, she wasn't so sure that this was what she wanted to do. Just as she was about to remove the sheet, the voice cut in again.
"What are you waiting for? I'm right here. If anyone cared, they would have told me to stop this. We all know what's going on, we all agreed on it, and now you just have to do it. You don't want to put another death on my conscience do you? You don't want to be that distraction for another innocent girl and have them die a bloody, horrible, messy way, right? Or am I wrong? You want to be a nuisance, and you want people to wish you dead every time they see you. You want to have them look at you with hate and disgust when they realize that because of you someone else had to die? Is this what you want Chloe? Do you want to see what your being alive will do to us? To me? Chloe, look at me!"
At the commanding tone, she turned. Buffy's face was rotting away, giant claw marks across her face. One lip was barely hanging on, teeth were broken, and her clothes were bloody and torn. Skin hung off from deep gashes across her legs and her eyes were milk white. Chloe lost her balance at the horrific scene and gave a muffled cry as she fell forward hard off of the bed.
The fan moved around away from her only platform, and she violently kicked out trying to get loose. Trying to find something to stand on. Tearing at the cloth around her neck, she cut herself along her face. Her breath coming in as rasps, not able to scream out because of the tightness around her throat, Chloe convulsed on the rope hoping the fan would loosen from the ceiling. Her movements became frantic for several seconds, escalating to wild flailing before her arms gradually went limp at her sides. The fan rocked slowly, creaking under the weight, and rotated back towards the bed. Her toes nudged the chest that was always there, before the body finally came to rest.