Author: Asrai
E-Mail: ikh@haefft.de
Rating: R
Summary: What if Buffy was the screwed up one?
Spoilers: General spoilers for Btvs seasons 1 - 3
Disclaimers: I don't own Btvs nor do I make any money out of this; no copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 14 - We Will Meet Again
*She woke up with the feeling that her head was going to burst. Buffy almost fell out of her bed and groaned as the sun shone mercilessly into her sensitive eyes. Getting up very, very slowly, she padded to the bathroom and yelped as she hit her foot on the doorframe.
Reaching the bathroom without further accidents, she began to spill cold water on her face and drank some of it to get rid of the disgusting taste in her mouth. It was the taste of a wild party lasting a whole night until the sky was blue, of kissing strange guys she'd never see again, of drinking too much booze and finally being so drunk that she couldn't see straight anymore.
Buffy groaned and her eyes got caught in the mirror. She was pale, almost unnaturally so; her tanned skin was now an ashen gray. Two large, bloodshot eyes blinked at her and for the split of a second she saw her mother reflected back at her, Joyce after a night of partying, having one hell of a hangover.
She was like her mother.
Shaking her head frantically, which only caused more pain, she stepped back quickly, but Joyce still smiled drunkenly, her image becoming more and more blurred, until Buffy could see her own face.
She was like her mother.
With a cry of fury she flung herself at the mirror and drove her fist into it, breaking it into a thousand pieces.*
~~~
Today's my birthday.
I idly think about all the other birthdays I can remember and try to decide with was the best one. This one doesn't even enter in the competition although the day's barely started yet. Probably the one when Thomas took me to the zoo. The ones after that weren't bad either, it's just that this was the first one with him, it was special 'cause I didn't think he'd even know when my birthday was, let alone give me a present or something.
I slowly eat a piece of the chocolate cake that's sitting before me, close my eyes and let it lie on my tongue for a while. It tastes sweet, but not too much. There's little chips in it and I suck on them before I begin to chew. Looking out of the window, I see that dawn's hardly begun; it's still night outside. I take a sip of my coffee and shake my head when the waitress asks if I want to have a refill. One cup is enough or else I'll be seen crawling up the walls.
Breakfast today is my present to myself; a piece of cake and a cup of coffee. I've barely ten bucks left and I try not to think about what I'll do when everything's gone. I'll never find another job here, I mean, I even managed to get myself fired from that dump I worked in and that was like, the rock bottom of all working places.
Actually, I try not to think at all, but I've found out that's impossible.
And so I think. About Thomas. About LA. Sometimes about my mother. And always, always about Angel. He's always there.
Angel, the vampire. Angel, my boyfriend. Angel, the killer. Angel with his soul and without it, his smiles and his smirk and the way he stroked my back when I was kneeling on the floor. Angel and his eyes that were beautiful and the way they glittered in the dark. Angel and his cold hands that held me as if I was made out of porcelain, as if I was precious.
Angel, I miss you.
I push the empty plate away from me and get up. I still can't wrap my mind around the thought that Angel's lost to me- probably forever. That there's a demon in his body now, that he walks like him and talks like him and looks like him but that he is not Angel; he never was and he never will be. He's a monster. A killer. He's dangerous and a vampire and I'm a slayer and supposed to kill him until we come up with a better plan.
I walk down empty streets and watch the world around me. The sky above my head seems to loom over me; it slowly turns gray and the blackness that seems to be in all corners slowly fades away.
I'm tired and glad as I reach "my" cemetery. Last year Thomas and me spent the day vegging out on his couch and watching the Star Wars Trilogy for what must have been the fifth time. He'd bought all my favorite snacks and boy, that table before us was loaded with chocolaty goodies. Xander would have died on the spot of envy.
I smile a little at that memory and my face hurts as I do so. Everything seems to hurt now, every little thing, every little move I make hurts in my bones and my flesh and my sin; all's full of pain and sometimes I think why I even bother to get up in the evening. It's not as if somebody cares anyway and I could just lie there and stare at the stone ceiling until I fall asleep again.
The small rational part of me that's left snipes at me in a snotty voice that all my rambling sounds pretty suicidal and that having a death wish is not a good thing for a slayer to have. Be careful what you wish for and all that crap. Ask me if I care.
Thomas is gone and Angel is gone and although the sun peeks over the horizon and basks everything in light, I've never been so cold in my life.
~~~
I wake up late in the afternoon and blink to chase away the dizziness. I want to check in with Giles; not that I'm keen to see him or anything, but he seemed so. tired that night in the library. They all did. I don't like them, got no reason to after all, but I don't want to see them injured or dead.
I'm glad it's still light outside and I hurry to make it to the high school before nightfall. I'm not so hot on anybody or anything attacking me right now 'cause a depressed slayer's not a good slayer and a not good slayer's almost a dead one.
Giles is pouring over some musky old tomes as I enter and looks up at me. He's alone which is funny and not in the ha-ha sense, 'cause there's always someone of the Dream Team there with him, to keep him company or to help him, I got no idea. He doesn't seem surprised to see me but then again, he's British- that explains any lack of reactions.
"Buffy," he says as a greeting and I nod, "Hey. Where's everybody, is there a party I don't know about?"
He drops his gaze, "Faith's brother David and her mother were, uh, attacked last night."
"Oh shit," I say and sit down, "Are they."
"They're in hospital; David has lost rather a lot of blood, I-I'm afraid. Needless to say that Faith's been spending her day with them and Willow and Xander went directly to the hospital after school."
He sighs and closes the book he's been reading. I'm silent for a moment.
"Was it-?"
"Yes, the attack was conducted by Angelus."
I stare at the high windows and watch the growing darkness outside. Angel- Angelus attacked Faith's family. To be honest, I don't give a damn about them- her brother was a good deal too annoying and don't get me started on the mother; but they were trying to be nice to me. Angel hurt her mom and bro and hurt Faith that way better than in any direct fight.
And I feel guilty, 'cause it's my fault that she's got to spend the night worrying herself sick next to some hospital bed and at the same time not being able to be out there and fight that thing that's hurt her family. It's my fault that she hasn't got a moment of free breath and that Giles is slaving his nights away reading books in wacky languages, trying to find something, anything that's useful against Angel.
It's my fault 'cause I pulled that disappearing stunt and Jenny's uncle never had the chance to tell Angel about this clause in his curse. He would have known, he wouldn't have risked his soul by sleeping with me.
It's one thing for me to wallow in misery and self-pity because of this shit, but I swear I never wanted to hurt other people. It's my destiny to protect them, not to screw up their lives.
"Any idea where he is?" I ask.
"Unfortunately, none," Giles replies, "Nobody has seen him in person since he's lost his soul, e-except for you, that is. It appears that he's lying low for the time being, so to speak."
"Is he planning something?" I think out loud, "Probably."
"The answer is yes."
I look sharply at Giles who now gets up and heads to his office; I follow him. He begins to prepare tea and I smile at the familiar movements.
"What do you mean?"
"It seems that Sunnydale's mayor is, uh, well, a demon-"
"Figures."
"Yes, and we've thought for a while now that he might be planning something. If Angel joins him, the results could prove to be disastrous. Faith and Willow have investigated the matter and have found out that Angel has indeed proposed a deal, if you want to call it that, to Mayor Wilkins. His support in, uh, exchange for some. favors."
I make a face and rake a hand through my hair, "I gotta say, I don't like the sound of that."
"No," Giles agrees and takes a sip of his steaming tea.
"If those two really become partners, then the situation in Sunnydale will become rather. dire."
"No kidding," I mutter, "So, is there some sort of plan? Something to beat into pulp? 'Cause I'm feeling kinda useless."
"Not yet. We'll let you know when there's something you can do."
"Great," I say sarcastically, "I just love sitting around on my butt. One of my fav activities, it's right next on the list to getting beat up and getting killed."
"I'm sorry."
I shrug, irritated, "What for? Wasn't you who screwed Angel's soul out."
He looks scandalized at my crude words and for a second I feel like a kid caught with the hands in the cookie jar. But Giles recovers and takes another sip, "It wasn't your fault, Buffy. You couldn't possibly have foreseen the consequences."
"Yeah, as if that's any help. Anyway, I gotta skip now. See you later."
I turn around and go, but stop when he calls out to me.
"Buffy? I, uh. happy birthday."
My hands clench but I don't turn around. I'm reminded of what I'd normally do on this day, if I was a good little slayer. Perhaps I'd be dead by now. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps, it doesn't matter. I leave without saying a word.
~~~
I wander 'round the graveyards that night and hope that no vamps will attack me 'cause my reflexes have gone wonky and I move about as fast as a tortoise. Of course, I've hardly had that thought when the grass on a grave a few yards away from me is broken through and a dirty hand appears. As I can only repeat time and again: Me and my Rotten Luck. Yes, in capital letters.
It's a woman- or was a woman- and her eyes shine yellow in the darkness. It's disgusting and repulsive and I bite my lips as the sweet odor of rotting corpse and coffin greet me. That mix won't make it on the top ten hit list for deodorants, that's for sure.
The vampire licks her lips and leers at me; I lunge at her before she can open her mouth. Her fighting skills are even more crap than mine are, if that's possible, but what she lacks in skill she makes up with enthusiasm. My roundhouse leaves her unimpressed and in an unguarded moment she kicks at me legs and brings me to fall.
Oh, damn.
I land hard on my butt and try to find a stake but my only one's fallen to the ground and rolled a few inches away; too many few inches away for my hand to reach it. The vampire smiles and lets out a sort of triumphant growl before she tackles and pins my wrists above my head. I struggle against it, but her grip's like iron.
"So you're the slayer," she purrs and the smell coming out of her mouth is almost enough to make me faint.
"I've got a message for you, sweetie," she continues, unimpressed by my attempts to break free.
"From Angel."
I grit my teeth and pull up my knees with all my strength to send her flying a few feet away from me. I'm over her in an instant and as I have no other weapon, I whip out the knife from under my shirt where it always is and ram it into her outstretched hand, pinning her to the ground.
I smirk as she screams in outrage and pain, but don't say anything as I quickly get up and pick up my stake. Kneeling on her chest, I look into her eyes. She suddenly goes out of game face and stares at me out of dark brown eyes.
"Don't you want to hear your message first?"
Smiling grimly, I yank the knife out of her hand and drive my stake home at the same moment. As she turns to dust I mutter, "Not really, no."
Somebody embraces me from behind and I freeze as I hear his voice, "Well, then I'll just have to give it to you in person, don't I?"
I want to move but I can't; his arms are like steel bands wrapped around me and they hold me tight. It's Angel, except it's not and I want to speak but all that comes out is a hoarse croak. Angel laughs softly.
"Shush, my love," he whispers with his mouth pressed against my ear, "Shush."
I begin to shiver and I want to hide it from him, but I know I can't; he's too close, kneeling directly behind me with his chest pressed against my back. I still have my knife in my hand but I can't move my arms; and anyway my hands are just sort of numb, like the rest of my body; I see them shaking. I stare at the shiny blade of my knife and at the moonlight that dances on it.
"Oh, Buffy," my name sounds like a sigh, "What am I going to do?"
I find my voice although it's scratchy and too high to sound threatening, "Do us all a favor and die in a ditch?"
He laughs again, "Such a sharp little tongue, my lover." I can feel his voice vibrate against the skin of my neck and I flinch as his cool tongue laps gently at a spot right under my ear. He begins to pepper little kisses along the line of my neck and my knife falls out of my hand and to the ground.
I don't make a sound during all of this but I can't help but gasp once Angel reaches my shoulder and bites down gently with blunt, human teeth. He lets go of my arms and I don't dare to turn around and look behind me; I don't dare to move at all.
Suddenly I feel something cold and metallic on my skin and I realize that it's a necklace when Angel- Angelus, dammit!- fastens the clasp.
"Happy birthday, lover," he whispers.
When I finally turn around he's gone.
E-Mail: ikh@haefft.de
Rating: R
Summary: What if Buffy was the screwed up one?
Spoilers: General spoilers for Btvs seasons 1 - 3
Disclaimers: I don't own Btvs nor do I make any money out of this; no copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 14 - We Will Meet Again
*She woke up with the feeling that her head was going to burst. Buffy almost fell out of her bed and groaned as the sun shone mercilessly into her sensitive eyes. Getting up very, very slowly, she padded to the bathroom and yelped as she hit her foot on the doorframe.
Reaching the bathroom without further accidents, she began to spill cold water on her face and drank some of it to get rid of the disgusting taste in her mouth. It was the taste of a wild party lasting a whole night until the sky was blue, of kissing strange guys she'd never see again, of drinking too much booze and finally being so drunk that she couldn't see straight anymore.
Buffy groaned and her eyes got caught in the mirror. She was pale, almost unnaturally so; her tanned skin was now an ashen gray. Two large, bloodshot eyes blinked at her and for the split of a second she saw her mother reflected back at her, Joyce after a night of partying, having one hell of a hangover.
She was like her mother.
Shaking her head frantically, which only caused more pain, she stepped back quickly, but Joyce still smiled drunkenly, her image becoming more and more blurred, until Buffy could see her own face.
She was like her mother.
With a cry of fury she flung herself at the mirror and drove her fist into it, breaking it into a thousand pieces.*
~~~
Today's my birthday.
I idly think about all the other birthdays I can remember and try to decide with was the best one. This one doesn't even enter in the competition although the day's barely started yet. Probably the one when Thomas took me to the zoo. The ones after that weren't bad either, it's just that this was the first one with him, it was special 'cause I didn't think he'd even know when my birthday was, let alone give me a present or something.
I slowly eat a piece of the chocolate cake that's sitting before me, close my eyes and let it lie on my tongue for a while. It tastes sweet, but not too much. There's little chips in it and I suck on them before I begin to chew. Looking out of the window, I see that dawn's hardly begun; it's still night outside. I take a sip of my coffee and shake my head when the waitress asks if I want to have a refill. One cup is enough or else I'll be seen crawling up the walls.
Breakfast today is my present to myself; a piece of cake and a cup of coffee. I've barely ten bucks left and I try not to think about what I'll do when everything's gone. I'll never find another job here, I mean, I even managed to get myself fired from that dump I worked in and that was like, the rock bottom of all working places.
Actually, I try not to think at all, but I've found out that's impossible.
And so I think. About Thomas. About LA. Sometimes about my mother. And always, always about Angel. He's always there.
Angel, the vampire. Angel, my boyfriend. Angel, the killer. Angel with his soul and without it, his smiles and his smirk and the way he stroked my back when I was kneeling on the floor. Angel and his eyes that were beautiful and the way they glittered in the dark. Angel and his cold hands that held me as if I was made out of porcelain, as if I was precious.
Angel, I miss you.
I push the empty plate away from me and get up. I still can't wrap my mind around the thought that Angel's lost to me- probably forever. That there's a demon in his body now, that he walks like him and talks like him and looks like him but that he is not Angel; he never was and he never will be. He's a monster. A killer. He's dangerous and a vampire and I'm a slayer and supposed to kill him until we come up with a better plan.
I walk down empty streets and watch the world around me. The sky above my head seems to loom over me; it slowly turns gray and the blackness that seems to be in all corners slowly fades away.
I'm tired and glad as I reach "my" cemetery. Last year Thomas and me spent the day vegging out on his couch and watching the Star Wars Trilogy for what must have been the fifth time. He'd bought all my favorite snacks and boy, that table before us was loaded with chocolaty goodies. Xander would have died on the spot of envy.
I smile a little at that memory and my face hurts as I do so. Everything seems to hurt now, every little thing, every little move I make hurts in my bones and my flesh and my sin; all's full of pain and sometimes I think why I even bother to get up in the evening. It's not as if somebody cares anyway and I could just lie there and stare at the stone ceiling until I fall asleep again.
The small rational part of me that's left snipes at me in a snotty voice that all my rambling sounds pretty suicidal and that having a death wish is not a good thing for a slayer to have. Be careful what you wish for and all that crap. Ask me if I care.
Thomas is gone and Angel is gone and although the sun peeks over the horizon and basks everything in light, I've never been so cold in my life.
~~~
I wake up late in the afternoon and blink to chase away the dizziness. I want to check in with Giles; not that I'm keen to see him or anything, but he seemed so. tired that night in the library. They all did. I don't like them, got no reason to after all, but I don't want to see them injured or dead.
I'm glad it's still light outside and I hurry to make it to the high school before nightfall. I'm not so hot on anybody or anything attacking me right now 'cause a depressed slayer's not a good slayer and a not good slayer's almost a dead one.
Giles is pouring over some musky old tomes as I enter and looks up at me. He's alone which is funny and not in the ha-ha sense, 'cause there's always someone of the Dream Team there with him, to keep him company or to help him, I got no idea. He doesn't seem surprised to see me but then again, he's British- that explains any lack of reactions.
"Buffy," he says as a greeting and I nod, "Hey. Where's everybody, is there a party I don't know about?"
He drops his gaze, "Faith's brother David and her mother were, uh, attacked last night."
"Oh shit," I say and sit down, "Are they."
"They're in hospital; David has lost rather a lot of blood, I-I'm afraid. Needless to say that Faith's been spending her day with them and Willow and Xander went directly to the hospital after school."
He sighs and closes the book he's been reading. I'm silent for a moment.
"Was it-?"
"Yes, the attack was conducted by Angelus."
I stare at the high windows and watch the growing darkness outside. Angel- Angelus attacked Faith's family. To be honest, I don't give a damn about them- her brother was a good deal too annoying and don't get me started on the mother; but they were trying to be nice to me. Angel hurt her mom and bro and hurt Faith that way better than in any direct fight.
And I feel guilty, 'cause it's my fault that she's got to spend the night worrying herself sick next to some hospital bed and at the same time not being able to be out there and fight that thing that's hurt her family. It's my fault that she hasn't got a moment of free breath and that Giles is slaving his nights away reading books in wacky languages, trying to find something, anything that's useful against Angel.
It's my fault 'cause I pulled that disappearing stunt and Jenny's uncle never had the chance to tell Angel about this clause in his curse. He would have known, he wouldn't have risked his soul by sleeping with me.
It's one thing for me to wallow in misery and self-pity because of this shit, but I swear I never wanted to hurt other people. It's my destiny to protect them, not to screw up their lives.
"Any idea where he is?" I ask.
"Unfortunately, none," Giles replies, "Nobody has seen him in person since he's lost his soul, e-except for you, that is. It appears that he's lying low for the time being, so to speak."
"Is he planning something?" I think out loud, "Probably."
"The answer is yes."
I look sharply at Giles who now gets up and heads to his office; I follow him. He begins to prepare tea and I smile at the familiar movements.
"What do you mean?"
"It seems that Sunnydale's mayor is, uh, well, a demon-"
"Figures."
"Yes, and we've thought for a while now that he might be planning something. If Angel joins him, the results could prove to be disastrous. Faith and Willow have investigated the matter and have found out that Angel has indeed proposed a deal, if you want to call it that, to Mayor Wilkins. His support in, uh, exchange for some. favors."
I make a face and rake a hand through my hair, "I gotta say, I don't like the sound of that."
"No," Giles agrees and takes a sip of his steaming tea.
"If those two really become partners, then the situation in Sunnydale will become rather. dire."
"No kidding," I mutter, "So, is there some sort of plan? Something to beat into pulp? 'Cause I'm feeling kinda useless."
"Not yet. We'll let you know when there's something you can do."
"Great," I say sarcastically, "I just love sitting around on my butt. One of my fav activities, it's right next on the list to getting beat up and getting killed."
"I'm sorry."
I shrug, irritated, "What for? Wasn't you who screwed Angel's soul out."
He looks scandalized at my crude words and for a second I feel like a kid caught with the hands in the cookie jar. But Giles recovers and takes another sip, "It wasn't your fault, Buffy. You couldn't possibly have foreseen the consequences."
"Yeah, as if that's any help. Anyway, I gotta skip now. See you later."
I turn around and go, but stop when he calls out to me.
"Buffy? I, uh. happy birthday."
My hands clench but I don't turn around. I'm reminded of what I'd normally do on this day, if I was a good little slayer. Perhaps I'd be dead by now. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps, it doesn't matter. I leave without saying a word.
~~~
I wander 'round the graveyards that night and hope that no vamps will attack me 'cause my reflexes have gone wonky and I move about as fast as a tortoise. Of course, I've hardly had that thought when the grass on a grave a few yards away from me is broken through and a dirty hand appears. As I can only repeat time and again: Me and my Rotten Luck. Yes, in capital letters.
It's a woman- or was a woman- and her eyes shine yellow in the darkness. It's disgusting and repulsive and I bite my lips as the sweet odor of rotting corpse and coffin greet me. That mix won't make it on the top ten hit list for deodorants, that's for sure.
The vampire licks her lips and leers at me; I lunge at her before she can open her mouth. Her fighting skills are even more crap than mine are, if that's possible, but what she lacks in skill she makes up with enthusiasm. My roundhouse leaves her unimpressed and in an unguarded moment she kicks at me legs and brings me to fall.
Oh, damn.
I land hard on my butt and try to find a stake but my only one's fallen to the ground and rolled a few inches away; too many few inches away for my hand to reach it. The vampire smiles and lets out a sort of triumphant growl before she tackles and pins my wrists above my head. I struggle against it, but her grip's like iron.
"So you're the slayer," she purrs and the smell coming out of her mouth is almost enough to make me faint.
"I've got a message for you, sweetie," she continues, unimpressed by my attempts to break free.
"From Angel."
I grit my teeth and pull up my knees with all my strength to send her flying a few feet away from me. I'm over her in an instant and as I have no other weapon, I whip out the knife from under my shirt where it always is and ram it into her outstretched hand, pinning her to the ground.
I smirk as she screams in outrage and pain, but don't say anything as I quickly get up and pick up my stake. Kneeling on her chest, I look into her eyes. She suddenly goes out of game face and stares at me out of dark brown eyes.
"Don't you want to hear your message first?"
Smiling grimly, I yank the knife out of her hand and drive my stake home at the same moment. As she turns to dust I mutter, "Not really, no."
Somebody embraces me from behind and I freeze as I hear his voice, "Well, then I'll just have to give it to you in person, don't I?"
I want to move but I can't; his arms are like steel bands wrapped around me and they hold me tight. It's Angel, except it's not and I want to speak but all that comes out is a hoarse croak. Angel laughs softly.
"Shush, my love," he whispers with his mouth pressed against my ear, "Shush."
I begin to shiver and I want to hide it from him, but I know I can't; he's too close, kneeling directly behind me with his chest pressed against my back. I still have my knife in my hand but I can't move my arms; and anyway my hands are just sort of numb, like the rest of my body; I see them shaking. I stare at the shiny blade of my knife and at the moonlight that dances on it.
"Oh, Buffy," my name sounds like a sigh, "What am I going to do?"
I find my voice although it's scratchy and too high to sound threatening, "Do us all a favor and die in a ditch?"
He laughs again, "Such a sharp little tongue, my lover." I can feel his voice vibrate against the skin of my neck and I flinch as his cool tongue laps gently at a spot right under my ear. He begins to pepper little kisses along the line of my neck and my knife falls out of my hand and to the ground.
I don't make a sound during all of this but I can't help but gasp once Angel reaches my shoulder and bites down gently with blunt, human teeth. He lets go of my arms and I don't dare to turn around and look behind me; I don't dare to move at all.
Suddenly I feel something cold and metallic on my skin and I realize that it's a necklace when Angel- Angelus, dammit!- fastens the clasp.
"Happy birthday, lover," he whispers.
When I finally turn around he's gone.