Ashes to Ashes
First in a Series
Chapter Five: Mirror, Mirror
By Shelley L. Inks
The thing that looked like Buffy Summers sat alone in her darkened room, yet saw everything in perfect detail with the dark adapted eyes of a cat. She stood, moving away from her bed and approached a mirror. It reflected exactly as she appeared to the world, supple flesh and elegant bone, then flickered and suddenly an image of a huge horned and clawed beast coming at her, roaring and with eyes glowing red filled the glass before it began to smoke and turned entirely black.
She sniffed then turned her gaze to the rest of the room. Pathetically, disgustingly..Human. A multicolored, glittering, miniature umbrella with a small metal plaque attached to the shaft, Buffy's Class Protector award which had already been broken once, began to smoke, then the edges curled in and withered like a large flower collapsing on itself. On the bookshelf the overstuffed plushy pig, Mr. Gordo, shrank into a ball of blacked ashe. Unimpressed she glanced at a bulletin board covered with pictures of the Scoobies in various combinations, all smiling. Suddenly the images changed. All the flesh melted away and the smiling faces became dead skulls gaping in horror. Images of playful picnics were replaced by scenes of grisly massacres. Family snapshots were now gruesome police file material worthy.
All superfacial. Why bother. She rolled her eyes. This was not nearly so satisfying as as had been the torture and disembowelment of the Hellions. Real carnage was the only soothment for this burning desire.
She wanders through the house into another room. Willow and Tara lay peacefully asleep and unawares in each other's arms. Silhouetted at the foot of the bed, lit by moonlight, she tilted her head thoughtfully. Tara began to age. Rapidly, skin losing it's healthy glow, becoming wrinkled and loose, so pale a map of blue veins became visible underneath. Eyes sunk back into hollows, overshadowed, as her breath became a gasping wheeze. Her boney fingers shook as they cling to the comforter. A dribble of blood oozed from one nostril. Willow's brow creased and she snuggled closer as Tara moaned softly. Boring. besides, she sensed power from these two, power she might be able to turn to her own advantages. She blinked and Tara was now whole and healthy once more, utterly undisturbed.
Silently she turned and left the room, passing Dawn's door without bothering to glance in. A Key that no longer opened doors was useless. Halfway down the stairs she paused to look over her shoulder. The Buffybot stood on the top landing, tilting her head.
"You shouldn't be up. Willow says you should rest. Willow knows. She is very smart, and gay!" she added with a perky smile as if this were the most convincing arguement anyone could offer.
"Do you really believe it matters anymore what you think?" The flesh and blood being chuckled lowly, glancing up at the bot, her eyes flickering red. "They don't need you anymore...you're nothing but a sad little toy. Now that I'm here...they're just going to pull your batteries out and stuff you back in the basement to collect dust. Or melt you down..."
The Buffybot's face twitched, losing her perfect magazine worthy smile,"No, that's silly! Willow is our best friend! And Dawn is our sister.."
"You don't have friends. You're not even a lowly Human. You're a thing, a tool. One that no longer has any use." The creature shrugged and continued down the steps to the foyer, reaching for the door knob when a hand clamped down on her arm.
The Buffybot frowned,"You are not being very nice. And you shouldn't be going out...I'm going to tell Willow." She turned and walked purposely toward the stairs until something wrapped around her throat and jerked her off her feet. Staring in confusion from a new and disconcerting angle, she watched as a thin, very long reptilian tongue slithered back and vanished into the Real Buffy's mouth, her eyes glowing red like hot coals in the darkness. "That is not a normal way for Human eyes to look.."
"Why does everyone think computers are so smart?" the demonic Buffy sneered as she stomped down of the bot's chest, crushing several important gears and machinisms. Without waiting for a response she grabbed the bot by the hair and hauled it outside. "Technology is flawed...a crutch for those who do not possess true power or are afraid to summon it.." She ripped the lid off a heavy duty trash can and proceeded to break off each of the bot's limbs in order to make it fit, then stuffed the entire automatron into the can and slammed the lid down on her face, once, twice, three times, shattering the detailed work.
The thing that had been Buffy Summers then allowed herself a smile and cracked her neck,"I feel better already..."
It wasn't in the house. One sniff told Onyx as much. She was too late to catch it before it left. That might not be such a bad thing. Convincing Dawn and the others of her suspicions wasn't going to be an easy task. Better to just take care of it. She'd never needed help before. Okay, after the change most of her confrontations with evil involved Vampires or the occasional would-be rapist, but she was confident. After fifteen minutes of tracking she had changed her mind about the good fortune of not catching it before it left the Summers' residence.
The Slayer...or whatever was pretending to be the Slayer...wasn't exactly hard to find. She'd left one heck of a trail. Granted, Onyx attributted some of the fire damage and broken windows to the Hellions but every so often she came across a demon corse that looked like it had been flash-fried. Then things started to get worse. In the park she found two boys. Just kids, really, maybe Dawn's age. Maybe they'd pictured themselves as punks, gang material that could face the dangers of the night unscathed...maybe they'd snuck out to shoot up...whatever their past sins it really didn't matter now.
She knelt by one of them, ignoring the flies buzzing around his corpse. His face was locked in a look of abject terror, eyes sagging open too wide, mouth frozen in a gasp of horror. A gaping wound in his chest lay exposed, heart ripped out. Maybe he just hit on the wrong girl. She shook her head and reached out to close his eyes, then her sensed prickled. Werewolves had incredubly keen senses of smell and hearing, but like most animals they could also just tell when something was coming up behind them.
Onyx lunged and rolled out of the way onto her feet just as a foot stamped down where her hand had just been, crushing the poor unfortunate's skull with a sound like shattering china. Considering even with her healing abilities a completely pulverized hand would have taken time to recover, the dark-haired young woman was very grateful she had avoided it.
The young woman before her offered her a super model worthy smile. It was the Buffybot. Well, it looked more like the Buffybot than that beraggled grave fresh individual she'd met back at the Summers' house. A little clean up went a long way. But it didn't cover the scent of charred flesh and brimestone that radiated from it. It made her want to vomit.
"You're not who I expected...who are you?" Buffy asked pleasantly, as if they were just making small talk. The insanity of expecting introductions after just trying to cripple someone hadn't escaped the other woman. But when unfamiliar with one's opponent humoring their madness sometimes helped you glean information.
"Onyx. I'm new in town."
"Oh...you picked a bad time to move here."
"Is anytime a good time to come to the Hellmouth?"
Buffy laughed. It was a pleasant, musical laugh, which was somehow creepier than a booming, echoing evil laugh. Maybe because it sounded so normal, so..Human."You have a sense of humor...I like you."
Onyx's nostrils flared slightly at the foul scent of sulfur that wafted over her from a passing breeze. Her face contronted in disgust,"Sorry I can't say the same.."
"Heh...You think you can fight me? I'm not just some demon, little puppy. I am something that you can't even conceive of... The First Evil. Beyond sin, beyond death, beyond comprehension. I am in the heart and soul of every being that's ever walked this world or ever will...like cancer eating away from the inside."
"That's gotta be hard to fit on business cards," the Werewolf replied drily before circling around her. She was a bit put off that the thing seemed to know what she was, which sort of lost her her big advantage, but no time to be negative. Rip it's head off first, deal with who and what it was later. Seemed like a sensible strategy.
Right up until the supposed Slayer moved forward faster than she had thought possible and punched her in the face, then in the stomach, so hard Onyx was sent crashing into the jungle gym, denting it completely out of proper shape. She grunted and pushed herself up onto her palms and knees just as slender hands wrapped around her neck, hoisting her off the ground and starting to choke her. Not good. Even a Slayer shouldn't be this strong. She kicked out, claws shredding through the toes of her boots and tearing into the Buffy-thing's stomach. A loose coil of slick intestine should have fallen out like wet rope but instead the thing hardly flinched. In fact her foot was starting to burn viciously.
You've gotta be kidding me... she thought as the Slayer brought a knee up into her lower chest and she both heard and felt the sickening crack of breaking ribs. She coughed up blood and spat it in Buffy's face, using the distraction to bash her forehead against the other girl's. It felt like beating her forehead against a rock wall. Though she achieved the desired effect of being dropped the Slayer-beast never let up, repeatedly punching and kicking her in the stomach and chest, each blow hard enough to send her rolling another two feet until she was smashed up against the slid.
Dazed and blinking, the newcomer panted for breath, unable to focus her senses, certain the Slayer was coming in for the killing blow. And then something she'd never thought she'd be thankful for. Vampires! The struggle and the spilled blood had drawn a trio of them like bees to honey. Evidentally they mistook her for being one of their own because a gothy looking male with stringy black hair mostly in dreadlocks pounced on the Slayer-beast from behind and sank his teeth in, growling. Suddenly he released his bite hold, spitting and shrieking as if acid were burning the inside of his mouth. Smoke escaped from between his fangs.
Although their species had been at odds since as long as anyone could recall, Onyx tried to get her voice to issue out a warning but all that came out was a croak. It was pointless anyway. Buffy flipped the first Vampire over her head and tossed him into the swings just as the other two came at her from opposite directions. Not waiting around to see them torn limb from limb, the she-wolf staggered to her feet, her body rippling, changing to wolf form. She darted out of the park, limping badly but not daring to look back. She hadn't put a damn scratch on that monster!
Beaten and bloodied, she staggered down a maze of streets then finally collapsed behind a dumpster. Blood ran from gashes on her forhead into her eyes as her skin set about slowly knitting itself back together. She guessed that no less that four ribs were cracked if not broken completely. A soft whimper escaped her. Unwilling to trust that she hadn't left a bloody trail for the creature to track much as she had started out, she shifted back to Huamn form and limped towards the neon glowing cross of a nearby church.
Not a religious person...but any port in a storm.. she mused as her fingers fumbled at the door, shuting it behind her. She drug one foot behind her to the small ornate fountain behind the pulpet and and slumped down with her back to the cool porcelin. After a moment's hesitation she pried her ruined boot off her right foot, biting back a snarl. Three toes had been eaten away by whatever foul substance flowed in the Slayer's veins now. Do it before you lose your nerve She reached up, located one of the tiny bottles used for religious rites, and filled it from the clear pool that seemed so deceptively gentle and soothing. In a moment she knew she'd be cursing it.
Heart pounding in her throat, blood pulsing in her ears like drums that drown out all other sounds, she set to purifying the wound. Holy water trickled over her skin and scalded the injury. She didn't scream. Or howl. Or even vomit. Kudos. She did almost black out twice before she was satisfied that the progression of the acid had stopped and all traces of it were cleansed. Already the seared flesh was starting to attaempt reconstruction. One of the blessings of being born furry. No wound but that inflicted by silver was perminent. Not that she was eager to test that by taking on Leatherface and his chainsaw if she ever saw him.
Sweat and tears ran down her face as she lay with her cheek pressed to the floor, almost hyperventilating. Dark spots danced before her eyes. Just because she could survive it didn't mean her pain tolerance was all that high. Need to rest, need to lay low. So tired.
