Prompt #2: Final
Crossover: Glee/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
They were talking to him. He knew this because their mouths were moving.
They could have been shouting, he supposed. Or whispering. Or begging or pleading. He couldn't be sure. He couldn't really hear anything. Sound traveled toward him as though he was under water.
He slowly turned around on the parapet and looked down.
Odd. It was no longer an abyss, but just a very steep drop. He could jump again and go back to … wherever he had been. The place from which they had torn him as though he were nothing more than cheap poly-cotton blend.
This could never be mended or forgiven.
Almost six years he had given himself to this fight; sometimes resentfully, sometimes mulishly, but always with honesty and integrity.
It was supposed to be over. He had served his time. He had earned his peace.
And they had stolen it as though it were nothing.
He was sure there had been good intentions, though he couldn't have cared less what they were. All of the feelings, all of the powerful emotions these people had engendered within him, were now eclipsed by an overwhelming … nothingness.
He felt nothing. How curious.
If there was any word to describe his current state of being, he supposed apathy would have been most appropriate. He couldn't hear them, but he knew them. They wanted him back. They wanted him to save them. They wanted to save the world.
How was he supposed to tell them he no longer cared? His mission was complete, his dues paid. Another should have been called in his stead. He had given his final bow and was now forced back onto the stage for an unwanted encore.
He turned back to face them and opened his mouth. They waited with relentless anticipation yet he could say nothing. It felt as though he were trying to breathe through wet cotton.
Finn stood there, so anxious, so earnest, his guileless eyes pleading with his brother to fix everything and right all wrongs, to make them a family again. Rachel stood next to him, eyes flush with triumph and the knowledge that, finally, she had cast a spell with the intended outcome. Santana glared at everything and nothing, refusing to meet his eyes, terrified of the judgment she would find there.
Sue, the Watcher he had never wanted and who had, somehow, come to be the mother for whom he had longed, was completely horrified.
Brittany stared at the ground. She couldn't even look at him. He knew then she hadn't been party to this, that she was just as surprised and disgusted as he was to find themselves in this situation.
Xander wasn't present, which spoke volumes.
His father was still dead. His mother was still dead. Noah was still dead. Cordelia was still dead.
Sam was presumably still in Los Angeles, seeking redemption and shepherding Wesley, Anya, and Tina.
Blaine was hopefully still rotting in a dark, dank cell. Brother Slayers. What an insipid idea.
And here he stood, Kurt Hummel, the Vampire Slayer, once again teetering on the edge of life and death, this time longing to embrace that which had terrified him since the moment he had been Called.
Everything was brightly cold. And loud. And violent.
He was alive.
This was hell.