I in no way own anything. Especially Buffy related. Not even this computer. I sneak into the high school comp~lab, wearing borrowed clothes, and write in secret. I live behind one of those subdivision entrance signs, in the lee, out of the wind. Occasionally kind people will toss me bags of popcorn, which I throw away in disgust, because I don't like it.
That didn't make any sense. Never mind. Forget it. PooF!
~Star Mouse
@ @ @
Dawn jolted out of her dream, looking around frantically. The alarm buzzed on. She sighed. She had been having that dream again. The one she couldn't remember. She leaned over and turned off the alarm, which was in the shape of a little frog. Spike had gotten it for her, after he'd come back. Sort of a 'sorry for abandoning you, sorry for trying to rape your sister, sorry about not saying good-bye' gift. It had gone over surprisingly well.
She let out another melodramatic sigh. Spike. He said he didn't love Buffy anymore. She had to beat the information out of him, and she knew it really wasn't her business, in a detached, teenage sort of way, but she totally felt she had a right to know these things. It wasn't like Buffy ever spilled, like a good sister should.
She sat up and stomped drowsily to the bathroom to scrub and primp.
@ @ @
When Dawn emerged from the bathroom, towel-clad, she noticed the open door to Joyce's room. That was odd... Okay, it was odder that there was someone sleeping in the bed. Dawn looked over at Buffy's room. Door was closed. She could let her sleep a little longer. It wasn't like she even really had any reason to get up so early anyway, except to see Dawn off. Dawn looked back at the figure in her mother's bed. Buffy probably knew about it. It wasn't like enemies suddenly decided to spend the night and invited themselves in. And she couldn't exactly beat anything up while dressed like a terricloth toga party waiting to happen.
Dawn went to her room and closed the door.
Fifteen minutes later she emerged, ready to attack the new day. She glanced back at the door to her mother's room, which was still occupied, and then padded down the stairs.
To her surprise, Buffy was already up, sitting at the kitchen counter, cradling a cup of coffee in front of her. She was slouching into it, breathing from the steam, like she needed the warmth. She looked totally broken. Dawn hesitated on the threshold. She hadn't seen her sister this lost and beaten for months. Surely this couldn't still be about that heaven thing. She swallowed and entered the kitchen at a cheery gait.
"Hey, Buffy!"
Buffy blinked, like waking from a dream. She looked up at her sister, but the lethargy was still there.
"Morning, Dawn. Did you sleep well?" Even her voice sounded tired and broken. Dawn's brows knit slightly.
"Yeah. Fine. How about you? Ya look kind of krumpy."
Buffy made an effort to straighten up and widened her eyes a bit, to show willing. "Yeah," she said. "I just had a long night. You know how it is. All the slaying can tucker you right out."
"Are you sure that's all? Cause we agreed not to do the secrets thing anymore. If there was something wrong, you'd tell me, right? I can help, now. You don't need to protect me from all of that."
Buffy nodded. "Oh, I know. I promise, it's nothing. Really. Just the ordinary, all-nighter-fighting-evil thing again. If there was something wrong, you'd be the first to know. Or second, I guess. But everything's fine," she repeated.
Dawn knew that was the best she was going to get out of her, so she let it drop. If there was something wrong, she'd find out about it when the sod hit the ceiling, anyway. She went over to the refrigerator and got out the milk. "That's good," she said. "You know there's someone sleeping in Mom's room?"
Buffy actually had to think about that for a second before she remembered. "Oh. Right. That's ...Birdy. She, ah, kind of appeared in the bar last night. She had some information for Giles. She'll be staying with us for a while, I guess. I'm not sure how long she's gonna stick around. "
Dawn hesitated on her way to the dishwasher. "Oh. So we're sure she's a good guy?"
"Uh, yeah. Not a baddie. Well, she didn't seem really eager to kill any of us last night, if that counts. Oh well. If she sprouts tentacles or starts growling, or something, we can always kill her."
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind." They both turned at the voice. Birdy was standing in the doorway, sleep~rumpled. She seemed sort of amused. "Thanks for the bed, Buffy. I forgot to bring mine along."
"Oh, hey. No problem. Do you want some coffee, or something?" Buffy stood to refill her own mug.
Birdy waved a hand and walked into the room. "Na. I get mondo hyper on
that stuff. Not pretty. Do you have any apple juice?" She
looked sideways at Dawn on her way to the refrigerator.
Dawn realized she was staring, and turned away. Her face-- "I don't think we have apple, but there's orange and grapefruit. Help yourself." She tried one of her perky smiles. Birdy nodded.
"Thanks. I'm Birdy, and you're..."
"Dawn. Buffy's little sister."
Birdy brightened. "Oh! I always wanted a sister. It would be nice to have a familiar enemy like that to grow up with."
Well, at least Buffy hadn't mentioned any of that Key stuff to her new best friend.
"So..." Dawn swung her arms, trying to make polite conversation.
"You sleep well?"
For a moment, Birdy's expression darkened. Just a bit. "About as well as I usually do," she replied quietly. She unconciously touched her knuckles to the scar along her cheekbone.
Dawn mouthed 'okay...' and headed for the door. "Heading off for school now. Work at Magic Box later. Pick me up at, well, you'll probably be over there before I get off, anyway. Apocolypse comes, beep someone near me, cause I don't have a pager."
Buffy waved at the retreating back. "Bye, Dawn! Have a good day." She turned back to Birdy. She gestured theatrically at the door. "Behold Dawn: amazing disappearing girl. Now you see her, now you don't."
Birdy offered a small smile, which was really all the lame line was worth, and sipped her grapefruit juice. Buffy dropped her hands, and looked around the room. Her gaze rested on the counter.
"Huh. Do you think she meant to leave this full cereal bowl on the counter?"
@ @ @
Spike blinked awake at the knock on his door. He closed his eyes again and sighed. Didn't those people realize this was three am for him? If this was Buffy, come to beg his love again...
"Spike? Are you awake?" Not Buffy. He sat up and wiped his eyes.
"Rupes? That you?"
Giles descended the ladder. "Indeed. I hope I'm not disturbing you."
Spike thought about a witty retort, but he was too tired to make the effort. He just waved his hand vaguely. "What are you after, Rupert?"
Giles started to speak, but hesitated as Spike shifted, his sheet coming perilously close to revealing parts of Spike that the Watcher really didn't fancy contemplating. He cleared his throat.
"Spike, if we are going to continue, might I suggest that you clothe yourself? I truly have *no* desire to see another inch of your carcus."
Spike looked down, then waggled his eyebrows jokingly at Giles. Then he relented and dug around for his pants. Once at least semi clothed, he gestured again for the Watcher to continue. Clearing his throat, he did.
"Now Spike. As you are probably aware, I don't like you." Spike snorted. Giles gave him a reproving glance. "However," he continued, "you are a strong ally, and I would regret losing this uncertain alliance we have reached, should anything ...untoward happen."
Spike nodded. "You're worried I'll go Scourge if Buffy dies."
"The thought had crossed my mind."
"Don't be." Spike stood, looking for a shirt. He grabbed a -mostly- clean one off the floor and pulled it on. He looked back at Giles, serious as the grave.
"What I had for Buffy is gone, Watcher. I don't deny that I loved her, but I
don't anymore. Not now. Nothing can survive in a wasteland, except
what's already dead. My love for Buffy died untouched. If anything could
turn me into a raging Scourge, that was it." He spread his hands,
indicating the crypt, the refrigerator with it's hog's blood cache, the
television, the "Chicken Soup" book Dawn had left on her last visit.
He smirked self~depreciatingly.
"And yet..."
Giles, who had always disliked Spike immensely, was suddenly compelled to dissuade him from his line of thinking. To make him rethink his emotions. If only for his Slayer.
"But Buffy loves you. You know that."
Spike let out a long, resigned sigh. "Yea. That she does. Can't help it. She's too late. But don't worry too much about your Slayer, Rupes. She'll get over it. She always does."
@ @ @
Buffy left Birdy at the Magic Box, and gave a smiling Anya strict instructions not to lose her. Anya had nodded, still smiling blankly, and gone over to tend to real, money-bearing customers.
Then, Buffy had gone for a walk.
She rarely visited the park, during the daylight, at least. The last time had been when Willow had gone Darth Vader on them. It really was beautiful there. What with all the flowers, and ponds, and, and grass, and stuff. Buffy figured that if she wanted to enjoy it, it was esentially now or never. And, armed with this fatalistic mood, she was strolling.
She really didn't want to die. She had just *stopped* wanting to die. And now she would. How was that for a celestial joke? Except not a very funny one.
Her life had fairly sucked. See? Past tense. But it had. Her life *had* sucked. She had seen more death than anyone should. She had *caused* more death than anyone should cause. She had endured more pain... Every relationship she had had since the onset of Slayerhood had been angst-ridden. Had hurt her. Had ended painfully. She had done...bad things. Good things, too, but she had done bad things.
Bad things. Like a mugging. In broad daylight. Behind the bush to her right. Buffy sighed. She could hear the mugger's rumbling voice, muffled, probably by a ski cap. And shallow, panicked breathing. Duty calls.
Buffy crept up on the scene, careful not to spook the mugger. When she rounded the bush behind him, she was glad she hadn't gone with her first instinct, and charged. The guy had a gun, held to the throat of a middle-aged woman in a pantsuit. Probably on her lunch break from the office complex across the street. Buffy debated. How could she get the gun away..? She slid her foot forward along the wet grass.
A leaf cracked sharply.
The man whirled.
The gun pointed at Buffy's head.
She stared down the short barrel, like it was a tunnel to hell.
She froze. She just stared at that gun, unable to move.
Several rapid heartbeats.
A few gasping breaths.
A fleeting eternity passed.
The woman, seeing an opportunity, jerked in the man's grasp.
On reflex, the trigger finger clenched.
There was an echoing click over a blue-toned close~up to make film
editors drool all over themselves.
And then a small gasp from the Slayer who had just recently found a
reason to live.
@ @ @
Birdy jerked. She was seated at the research table in the Magic Box. Anya had put her there with instructions not to bother the people buying things. She had been flipping through the books. She had finally decided they were diaries, or something. All the pages were blank. But now the books were forgotten.
The same thing -like a lightning bolt to the brain- yanked her out of her chair. Said chair clattered backwards. The few customers wandering around looked up, startled. Anya gave her a reproving look, and tried to redraw the people's attention to the merchendise.
It hit again. What was happening? She grabbed at her head, stumbled backwards into a bookcase. It really felt like something was clawing through her head. Her limbs. Clutching her heart.
But not an animal. Like sparking mercury or molten gold.
"Ugnh!" She fell to her knees. The pulse was stronger, but it wasn't pain anymore. She dropped her hands to the floor, gasped, blinked, swallowed.
"Oh, wow."
It was like caffeine to the vein. She could feel it. She was getting stronger. No. She was stronger. Much stronger. Her whole molecular make-up was shifting.
Anya finally decided that the strange girl with the scarred face wasn't just causing a scene for the heck of it. And her demon~sense of things was ringing warning bells like claxons in her head. She rushed over to Birdy.
"What are you doing?" she asked. She grasped the young woman's upper arms, gave her a little shake. "Don't die in my store! You'll scare off all my business. Can you breathe?" Birdy turned glazed eyes to her face.
"I--" she started. Swallowed. Blinked. "I think I..." She cocked her head, like she was listening to someone. She closed her eyes for a moment, while Anya and the curious customers watched. Anya knit her brows. Her demon~sense was knocking down buildings. Something majorly mojo~y had just happened. This girl, Birdy-- She didn't feel the same. Like she had been able to smell Spike's soul, she knew that something was different. She didn't feel totally...human. She felt like--. Buffy. That's what it was. She felt like Buffy. Oh...
Birdy's head rolled around again. She was either very tired or very intoxicated. Like drunk with power, or something. She let out a short laugh, at something that wasn't very funny. She blinked several times, and then focused her teal eyes on Anya.
"I've been called. I'm a Slayer..." Her eyes widened. She was suddenly lucid. Fear sparked, and a touch of dread. "Which means that the last one just died."
@ @ @
Dundun*Dunnnnn*
I told you I wasn't very happy with Buffy.
Review if you want this resolved. You know, if you want to.
C'mon! You *read* this trash I wrote; that's the hard part!
Reviewing it will take, like, ten seconds. You can just type a
repeating 'g' or something. That'll be fine.
And yeah, that's probably not how Slayers get called. But wasn't it dramatic?
~Star Mouse