I feel like something is missing, and I know I wanted to get some more stuff into the story before it go to this, but the plot bunnies wouldn't cooperate. Maybe in a while, or once I've finished this one, I'll go back and re-write this bit, or if anyone wants to complain, I would probably thank them. It's nice to get lovely reviews, but I would also love some criticism sometimes! I know people want me to write longer chapters, but I prefer doing it this way.
Buffy was in shock. Her mind would not work, and her body was folded and crumpled beneath her. She had not even thought she was sitting down, but assumed she must be, in the deep part of her brain that was working. The floor was hard under her, and strangely comforting – it didn't tend to move around that much, so when she saw the room spinning, she knew it was she and not something else.
As her brain slowly became more awake, she only gained access to a few motor functions and thoughts. There were two thoughts running through her head: Dawn and Angel. The fact that Giles was still talking, or Willow was hugging her didn't even register. Slowly, she gained the ability to move her arms, and reached around herself, as if trying to re-assure someone (herself?) that she was still there, and she could still feel something.
She hugged herdelf tightly, knowing somewhere that the strength she ws putting into it would crack the ribs of any normal girl. It was torture, the sense of not being there, and this wasn't helping her. It didn't matter what she did, she couldn't get past it, there was no way to bluff her way out of what she had been told. Giles wouldn't lie to her, and somewhere in the dark recesses of the Slayer's mind, she knew it was true – she had known even before he had said anything.
Then there was the small nagging voice at the back of her mind yelling (can you have a small voice yelling? She was only dimly aware of the thoughts as they penetrated the silence inside. Yes, she decided, you can – I am the perfect answer) something about goodbyes and I love yous. Then the voice became almost Angel like, and he was telling her how he didn't want her to make the same mistakes that he did.
She needed him now. Now, when everything was bad, and she didn't know what to do. She needed him to take her into his strong unmoving arms and hold her there until she could stand up by herself. She needed his smooth voice talking to her. It didn't matter what he said, it could be a horror story; she wouldn't notice anything different. She needed her guardian Angel to be there for her, speaking in low tones, reassuring her that he would stay with her forever and always.
He wasn't. the one time in the last few days when she truly needed him, and he was still in LA, sorting out another visiony thing – they sure kept him hopping around, those powers that be very annoying.
None of it mattered. She was gone. Joyce summers, the mother of the vampire slayer, had been killed in a perfectly normal road accident coming back from the airport. She was dead.
Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead. Mummy's dead.
That's all there was to it. That, and how on earth could she tell Dawnie?
Obviously, very short, but what else can you put after something like that. I tried to make it as realistic as possible, and decided against doing dramatic hospital scenes, even though I wanted them – I really didn't want to write them.
And now, you've guessed it! It's bedtime for li'l ol' me.