Lady Vengeance (LONGER than a) Drabble
Crossed Cannon: Anita Black 'verse
Moniker
mon·i·ker or mon·ick·er
n. Slang
A personal name or nickname. ie. Facade, handle, nickname, anonym, assumed name, pseudonym, summer name, etc.
She had been called to St. Louis five weeks after she had come back from the dead. Still running on autopilot, there was nothing there that could hurt her. She couldn't really feel anything and it was as if the very nerves that gave her the feel of touch had simply been cut off at the ends making her feel like she was either so numb that it hurt or so much in pain that it felt like she wasn't feeling anything. It didn't make totally sense. But it got her through if she started thinking about it.
Honestly, her insides felt torn and raw while the body that caged all her bits and pieces was out of touch with both the world and her. She no longer knew what to do. They had taken her 'nine away as well so she had no little sister or even family to take care of. She was barely even pretending with the scoobies anymore. She felt so empty, restless but wanting to lie down and die all over again.
Angel didn't know she was alive. She had no intention of telling him either because he was a city away holding onto slaying and getting over her death. She kept the thought from her head that if he was her AnLeum from oh so many years ago that he would have mourned much harder or done something about it. But he didn't remember and she cursed the Powers. She wasn't their tool anymore, but he still was and as such she couldn't take him away unless he leashed out or remembered or even if he just found her for her old self.
She was alive now. Even for an Immortal, this was something new. No necromancy had worked that way before now. She felt like burning the little witch till she could feel hell opening under her feet but Buffy resisted and simply packed up her stuff in the middle of the night with a small note, and then leaving on a bike. Her feelings had spread as her old aura from being Vengeance had returned and she was beginning to be herself as much as she could now, what with the unfeeling insides and screwy brain. Her magic had returned though and she was already looking twenty-six, well, how she looked when she died at least. On all honestly her skin and body were now flawless, Willow's spell erasing every little scar that she had managed to retain in those twenty years as Buffy Anne Summers.
She'd go back later, she decided, and erase their memories. She didn't need it getting out that there were two slayers; the one who had actually been called in '95 was still in LA helping out her old friend Annie-Lil. She'd be dead to them and as long as Willow was kept from coming too near the grave, no one would know that the body of Buffy Summers that had never been Buffy A. Summers was walking around.
She followed her aura to St. Louis, the only town in America that was widely aware of the vampyric and lycanthropes. But the breeds were different there, the vampyrs with souls and the Weres just totally different from the rampaging type that Oz was. In St. Louis, there was a different type of regulations code and a few businesses that were cornered in the demonic types, lawyers that specialized in post-death wills and investigations.
She was following a trail of a man, though he wasn't usual. An assassin going around wearing the calling card of Death had appeared right after she had died and that feeling in her that was still human told her to seek out all that was left of the old crowd, and when she did she would ask Methos why he still went around wearing that old moniker and ask if he would mind a little help. Besides, they didn't kill innocents, and by his record as a current assassin, he was still following the rules…
End.
