FIC: Ashes05-Cryptic (1/2)

[Mad Hamlet <Mad-Hamlet@xxxxxxx>]

Disclaimer: All this belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy
Inc.(Grrr..arrrgh) Except for the Crow. That belongs to J.O. Barr. 'Crows'
belongs to Milutin Bojic, reprinted without permission.


Drain Brameged Inc. Proudly Presents
A Mad-Hamlet Production


Crows.
   
For a long time I watched the crows flying,
Black as youth falling into an abyss.
Far away the west flared at moments,
Under grey clouds hunted by the wind.
Without sound or aim the crows flew.

Black, all equal, they told the tragic story.
How terrifying it is to resemble the others.
Silence: mortals and eternity struggle.
The world around me falls into their net.
How terrifying it is to resemble the others!

A cry, bursting with passion, tore the night.
The voice of a crow. The flock rushed after him.
And he cried, conscious of his powers,
And led his black brothers to their goal.
Soundlessly the crows flew through the night.

I shivered. I felt at that moment
I resembled an unknown, chaste woman
Who, stepping on the path that leads to her downfall,
Shudders, while shame flushes her face.
That night my Will was born in me.

-Milutin Bojic


Ashes, Ashes, They All Fell Down

Part the Fifth
A Prefrence for Something Cryptic

Ironically enough the bus pulled into the LA bus station early in the
morning. It was the begining of a lovely day. A cool breeze had been blowing
across the city all night and, while making the morning somewhat chilly, most
of the everpresent smog was cast away. The sun beamed down, with only a few
sparse clouds maring it's omnipotence and soon the cold would be gone.
So not only was the weather just fine, the temperature just fine, the city,
just fine and the timing just fine, but it was also a Saturday. Which meant
that just fine family's could spend this just fine day together and get
along...just fine.

And climbing down the steps of a bus, the last person to disembark it was a
girl, a redhead, who was not 'just fine'. It lept out an open window, took
flight breifly and landed on the edge of the bus depot roof. 

For the first time in centuries the dead walked the streets of LA. 

It is a mistake to classify vampires and other similar ilk as 'dead'. They
are the undead. They go through the pantomine of life. Satisfying needs,
answering the calls of desire, loving, hating, feeding and resting in a
twisted mockery of the human existance. But it's still living. 
She had none of this. She did not rest, nor feed. The dead have no desires but
she did have one, this made her no less dead though. The living exist off of
desires, once one is satisfied another takes it's place and a another waits
for that one to fall before springing up itself. She had only the one and when
satified she would have no other and no longer be. 


She stepped out from under the canopy of the bus terminal into the full,
blazing sunlight of an LA morning. The crowds of people parted before her,
those who noticed her face visibly blanched and backed away hurridly. Those
that didn't though also moved out of her way; an instinct in their minds
telling them that something terrible was behind them and that they had best
move perhaps.
Either way she made her way through the crowds easily and turned onto the
sidewalk. 

She had spent the ride from her grave to this dead city trying not to feel,
rather she had tried to think. A diffilcult task but by the time the bus
arrived she had a basic course of action. Based on what little she had seen
and been told by the witches Faith had dissapeared into the depths of LA. 

'If anyone knows where a slayer is, it would be her prey.' She had decided.
'And all I have to do is find a something that might tell me where all it's
little something pals go to have a drink. There has to be a place like
'Willy's' in LA.'

However, the bus having arrived in the City of Angels during the day meant
she had several long, empty hours to do away with before she could begin. She
walked the streets of the city, she did not bow her head, or look away from
anyone who stared at her but met their questioning eyes with her own and any
who did look upon her, either out of curosity or with lecherious thoughts
found themselves captured and their day, so warm and friendly seconds before,
was now tinged with pain. Their feelings would always change at that. Some
would remember loved ones lost, others would feel old wounds of their own
fight to the surface but none, not one dared look upon this girl with pity.

Either way, she did not care. Eye contact is a form of communication. A
sharing of some intangible human quality, or, in the opposite spectrum, a
challenge. Any who she looked upon, as she walked the streets of LA, felt
neither touched or challenged. Most had the unwelcome and unpleasent sensation
of being examined, like a specimen on a petrie dish and then passed over. 

Eventually the redhead found herself in a small park. Green grass soaked up
the welcome rays of the sun while stirring slightly in the breeze. Trees
there, finally, not of the palm variety, spread their canopise of they sky
creating large areas of cool comfort to any seeking to escape the intense
rays. A green, growning, living cul de sac in stark contrast to the
overwhelming grey of concrete and hard steel plated fists of the surrounding
city. It even had a little pond.
	
With fish.

She though she could hear a few frogs too. 

Around the pond a small playground was built. With a swingset and a jugle
gym. All in bright shades of green and blue that worked well with the
surrounding green of the park. Near them were several green benches.
Surprisingly free of grafiti or desecration of any kind. Here parents sat and
chatted while their children did expand copious amounts of youthful energy
chasing each other around and bout the playground. Possibly a futile attempt,
by the parents, to exhaust their children before taking them home so the
little ragmuffins wouldn't go on a wrecking spree in their own homes.

Having nothing else to do, and nowhere else to go, she leaned against a tree
and watched. 
She let her legs give way slightly and slid down the bark, peeling away pieces
and chunks as she did so till she was seated on the ground, legs bent
slightly, arms crossed over her chest. 

She watched the children.
She watched their parents. 
She watched people walk on the gravel paths that wound through the trees.

And she let all this living touch her. She opened herself to everything that
she could have been a part of but wasn't, all because of the actions of
another; a thief in the night, a killer in the dark. The agony still was
wrapped around her silent heart. It pumped through her empty veins acting now,
instead of tormentor, but that of ally. Criss crossing through flesh , over
and in organs, ducts, and capilaries. Taking on the role of blood as she had
none living. She and her pain had come to an agreements of sorts. They would
work together.

"You have puppies?" A child's voice stirred her from her observations.

"Yes." Said the tall man holding the hand of a small child. "And if you'rea
very good girl and hurry along you can have one."

"Mama says I can't have a puppy." The girl griped.

The man chuckled. "Well, we won't tell her will we?"

"Nope." The child grinned, flush with the idea of being victorious over
tryranical, parental oppression. 

"You are a good girl." The man complimented her while the child beamed.

They quickly began to move out of earshot. Without a word the redhead got to
her feet. With quick strides she caught up the man. As she closed with him she
became aware of...a stench of sorts. A corupting misma in the very air about
him. 

'Defialer.' Her mind screamed. She quickened her pace. 

"Darling." The man spun around at the voice over his shoulder. A short,
redhaired girl stood behind him, dressed in grey and red. Her face was
adorned... 

"Jesus!" He exclaimed taking a step back. "Wh..what are-"

"You're missing our birthday party." The redhead purred stepping closer. "Our
poor baby will be so dissapointed if you miss it."

"Look..lady.." The man swallowed neverously as she caressed his face with
one, ice cold, hand.

"But..but he was going to give me a puppy." The small child wined. 

The redhead sank to her knees and 'beeped' the girl gently on the nose with
the tip of one finger causing the child to giggle. 

"I'm sorry honey, but we have no puppies to give. We could give you one but
it's for our son. It's his birthday you see. You wouldn't want to take away
his birthday present would you?" The redhead asked gently, stroking the childs
brown hair. 

"I guess not." The child pouted. "Are you a clown?"

"Right now?" The redhead replied. "I suppose, for the moment."

"I like clowns." The child giggled again. Behind them the man fumed, fists
clenched, grinding his teeth together. The redhead glanced over her shoulder.

"Temper, temper..darling." She smiled with a wink. She turned back to the
child. "Where's your mother dear?"

"Over there." The child said pointing. "Do you think she'll be a clown formy
birthday?"

"Who knows?" The redhead shrugged. "Anything's possible."

"Well..." The child mumbled. "Will you be a clown on my birthday? I think
I'd like that." 

The redhead felt her eyes widen just a bit. Her ally was rebelling inside.
She could feel cold water making it's way behind her eyes, ready to spill out
at any second and that was something she was no longer willing to abide.

"I'd like that too baby." The redhead said in a hushed whisper. "I'd like
that very much." Her arms screamed to take this child into her arms. To hug
her and hold her close. To tell her fairy tales and stories of princesses and
dragons and hero's that always saved the day. No matter what reality said in
contrast. But she didn't. 

It watched from it's perch in the trees. This wasn't quite what It had hadin
mind, in fact this was a flagrent violation of the rules but it didn't matter.
They always did this one way or another. Maybe something like a baptism. A
message would have to be sent. As always.

"Go to your mother." The redhead murmered quietly. "She'll let you have a
puppy."

"Really?" The child squealed joyfully. 

"Someday." The redhead nodded. 

"Okay..byyyeeeeeee!" The child called, running in the direction she had come.
She stopped, turned and waved crying, "Tell your son happy birthday!!" Then
scampered away back to the lands of warm sunshine.

	
"Now 'darling'," The redhead drawled getting to her feet. "We have a matter
to discuss." 

"You bitch!" The predator snarled. "I don't give a fuck what you think you're
doing I'm going to gut you."

She tried to stifle the laugh, a hard, sharp one but she didn't. "Sorry." She
spoke around her snickers. One hand pulled up the bottom of her red shirt
revealing before the predator's startled eyes a tortured field of puckered,
scarred flesh. "Somebody beat you too it."

"Jesus." He said again. The knife he had pulled out his pocket hanging
loosely in one hand. 

"Has nothing to do with it." The girl finished grabbing his wrist in a vice
like grip. "This is a far cry from 'love thy neighbor.'" And with a heave she
effortlessly tossed the startled man into a thick wall of bushes.

"Anyway." The girl said brushing her hands off. "I'm Jewish." And she dove
into the leaves after him.


Tree's swayed in the fresh air, sunlight filtered between the canopy of
leaves making intresting patterns of light and shadow on the grass below. 
Birds sang sweet songs and the people listening didn't care if the chirping
were actually meant to warn off intruders or attract a mate. They were bird
songs that pleased the ear of humans and went well with this beautiful, sunny
day. Small children, ignoring natures music so caught up were they in their
own laughter and fun, darted from tree to tree having a swell old time.

"Ozzy Ozzy, oxen are free!" One child called loudly, mangling badly the
traditional saying usually associated with 'Hide and Seek'. 

And a few seconds later a redhead, in grey and red, black lips in a permanent
smile with tears of also an eternal nature stepped out of the bushes, brushing
a few errant leaves off her clothing. She walked easily back to her tree and
took her seat, and watched the children scamper for the safety of 'home base'.


Nobody else came out of those bushes.

Overhead, in the branches of It's tree, It found a bug and ate it.

Time passed. The crowd of children that had played together, and sworn
eternal vows of friendship that would be forgotten in the morning, had been
taken home by their parents. The lunch crowd came and went. A horde of unlucky
ones, or ambitious ones, willing to work on a weekend yet still enjoying what
moments of freedom they could. The men dressed in buisness suits, the womenin
blouses and skirts. Though most men had their jackets flung over one shoulder
and their ties loosened.

She watched them as they sat and talked, plotting finances or discussing
workplace gossip. Then they rolled up their brown bags or fast food garbage
and carefully placed them in the appropiate receptacles. And then they left.

She still sat and the park was, for the moment, mostly empty. Here a man was
walking his dog, there a young woman on roller skates had stopped to feed the
ducks. 

Still, she didn't act too surprised when someone sat down next to her.
Turning her head a fraction of an inch she saw that it was the young man she
had 'met' earlier. Well, almost. He was dressed the same, casual tan slacks,
with a darker brown turtleneck. Of course the rest of him had looked better. 

His head was was now a weatherbeaten, discolored skull with a few loose
strands of hair hanging limply. The eye sockets were almost empty, with a few
clinging shreds of flesh still sticking to the inside. Broken, yellow teeth
were there in a grin. On it's head it wore a dirty, dingy, cowboy hat. 

"You took his body." She said.

"You made it available." It said with a shrug. Bone clicked against bone
under the loosely fitting turtleneck.

"Yes." She nodded.

"Broke the rules." It said. It's voice was dry and vapid. Like the final gasp
of a person as their life support is shut off. 

"So?" Now it was her turn to shrug. She looked away from the messenger,
watching instead, far away, the girl feeding the ducks. 

"Broke the rules." It said again. "Bad move."

"What rules?" She asked not caring.

With a terrible tearing sound and acomonied by a devils choir of screams the
pain blasted across her mind. She hunched over gagging, both hands pressed
against her stomach. Her fingers came away wet. With a shriek she pulled her
shirt up to see the layers of scar tissue peeling away like an onion. A
crimson stream belched forth from the wound, staining her pants and the grass
around her in a crimson pool. She alkwardly fumbled to her hands and knees,
fighing off the nauseous waves of agony as her flesh spilled open.
	
The other girl, by the pond, fed the ducks some more bread. The ducks were
very gratful for the free lunch. 
	
The redhead pulled herself up, staining the side of tree with her life,
trying to get to her feet. To..just go..get gone. Find somewhere and
something. 

"Buffy.." She croaked. A familiar coppery taste was rising in the back of her
throat. "Help me..."



Then with a smile and a wink, the Universe snapped back. She was sitting
again at the base of the tree, the ground clean and fresh. A wave of wind made
the blades of grass flutter. The messenger stood over her, it's skull still
smiling, empty sockets still seeing. 

"Broke the rules." It groaned. "You're here to avenge the Dead. Not save the
living."

She grit her teeth at the memories of the 'warning' and the echoing pain in
her gut. Glaring at the messenger through her tears she choked out her
response.

"Fuck you."

And she lurched to her feet, her fist whipped around and caved in it's grin
like a melon. Her blow carried her hand through the front and back of it's
skull. What remained slid down her wrist only getting caught on the material
of her jacket. It's jerked and jittered about, it's dry bones making a quiet,
terrible noise as they trembled. 

With a disgusted snort she shook her hand free of the messenger's remains.It
collapsed on the ground with a clatter and small rising cloud of dust. 

She moaned and slumped again to the ground, resting her face in her hands.As
she sobbed the skull slowly reformed. Fragments of bone skittering across the
earth to work their way up the shattered face, find the right spot, and become
sealed in place. 

"Broke the rules." The voice called. She jerked away from the grinning skull
that now swivled in place from the ground to leer up at her. "Not gonna get
your puppy you keep that up."

With a shriek she sat bolt upright. There was no torn shrivled skeleton on
the ground, nothing to indicate that it had ever been there. An old couple,
sitting on a nearby bench looked about frantically before scowling at the
'goth girl' sitting beneath the tree. Shaking their heads and muttering they
went back to reading the paper together before being bothered by that 'very
disturbed young woman.'

"God." She sobbed into her hands. "God..God..God..God..." She moaned over and
over again. 
She didn't stop till she felt a light touch on her knee. It stared at her. The
black feathers gleamed in the fading light but It's eyes did not. They
absorbed the fading rays of the sun like a void. Like two small encapsuled
shards of Entropy, everything went in, and nothing came out. 

"Yes." She whimpered. "I understand." 

Is spread It's wings and cawed loudly over her shoulder. 

She swivled about and looked. Behind her the sun was setting. The orange glow
reached from end to end of the horizon. 

It was time to go.

She stalked arcoss the park, orange light filtering through the leaves of the
canopy, making, the now black grass appear as on fire. As she stepped past a
specific place in the bushes she could hear birds inside, fighting over a
juicy piece of dead meat.



The sun had set hours ago. How long she wasn't sure as she didn't wear a
watch. She had been stalking the back allys and dark corners of LA. Looking
for a certain type of predator. Actually she had been trying to get the
predator's too look for her. An hour or so back she had even gone so far asto
tear an aluminum can in half and use the sharp metal to make small incinsions
in her wrists. She had hoped the smell of blood would attract a certain type
of 'something.'

Other than causing a few seconds of mild discomfort it hadn't been a very
productive experiment. Her skin had sealed itself seconds later giving the
wound little time to bleed. She had wiped her wrist clean with a muffled curse
and decided not to repeat the exercise. She wasn't too comfortable with self
mutilation, even under the present circumastances. 

So she had spent the time since then just..walking. She kicked aside empty
cartons, crushed broken glass under her heels. She ignored the homeless and
the lost. Remembering the words of the lesson. 'Not the living.' She changed
in her own head. 'Can't help the living.' Though she couldn't really lable
anything anyone else did in this darkness as 'living'. 

'So.' She thought to herself. 'I must fit right in.'

And she must have somehow done so. She was universally ignored by those
living in the dark. Human's living in the dark at least. She hadn't seen
anything that didn't fit the bill of Inhuman but there had been a few times
when she wasn't sure. 

As she walked through the filth, sliding from ally to ally, by one Goth club,
where she had recieved a few compliments, to another Rave party, where she had
been proposed, she could always feel It overhead. Drifting on night winds or
resting on the edges of the surrounding black buildings. It was always there.
Watching her hunt. She did her best to ignore It.

Finally, in an extraordinarily rotten corner of the city, tucked not so far
away from where the five dollar whores plied their trade as best they were
able, she found what she was looking for. 

"So. Now I'm wondering, what with me and my friends here being surrounded by
crack addicts and wasted flesh that is just simply unsafe to snack upon, what
brings a yummy looking thing like you into our territory."

The leering, gutteral voice had come from behind her. It sounded like someone
with half a mouthful of strawberry jam and broken teeth. She didn't turn
around but did her best to sound weak. It wasn't that hard, habits like
weakness usually come to the fore when you don't want them too. 

"..I'm..I'm..lost." Her voice quavered and she squeaked when she spoke. Just
the thing to get a hunter all hot and bothered. To make it's stolen blood get
all burning in it's undead veins. 

She heard the footsteps stop just behind her but she still didn't turn
around. A cold, heavy hand fell on her shoulder, she could feel the chill even
through the jacket and the shirt; compared to the winter around her heart it
was a balmy spring breeze. 

"Yes, you are." Gutteral voice snarled. "Lost little lambchop never to be
found. Except maybe as a statistic." Two other course voices laughed behind
the speaker. 'Three of them.' She thought. 

She wasn't surprised when her perspective changed. She seemd to be standing
on the edge of a roof looking down into the ally. In the dim light she could
see herself standing with three other..things..behind her. One directly behind
her, the other two on either side of the leader. Ready to flank her if needed.


'Neat.' She thought.

The leader's other hand whipped around, grabbed her head and yanked it to the
side exposing her throat. Playing the role to the hilt, she let out a gasp of
'fear'. She knew what they liked to hear. 

"God I never get tired of this." The leader chortled. He bared his fangs and
sank them into the redhead's neck. 

It ruffled it's feathers and watched the goings on with intrest. Something
new was actually happening, this didn't occur often. 

She felt a sharp pain, but nothing unbearable. Twin pinpricks really, and
then there was a moment of peace, sort of a warmth spread from the wounds in
her throat, not far and not a good warmth either. Like the warmth of a rotten
dead thing that's been decomposing in the sun too long but has actually
forgotten to wither away. After that there was a particular tugging sensation,
on the inside as if someone had dropped tiny hooks within her body and were
now trying to gently, but irristisably pull those insides out. All in all it
wasn't that bad.

Then ...whatever that was part of her that had made her what she was now..and
kept her from being what she had been, it exploded. Silence is not the
opposite of noise, it is merely the absense of it. This sound, this antiscream
poured from her into the parasite hanging onto her neck bringing with it
infinity. Vampire's say they are immortal, they say they are eternal but in
truth they're just very, very long lasting. This was infinity now, the endless
be all, end all cycle of absolutes infecting the vampires core; and it's
demonic mind snapped like a chicken bone. It's not a very nice thing to be
shown just exactly where you fit in everything else.

With a gurgle it stumbled back a few steps, hands clasped to it's throat,
choking, and coughing. Trying to dislodge a shard of reality with physical
endevor. Vengence, primal absolute vengence warred with it's demon host. Not
exactly a fair fight. Screaming, or at least trying to, it continued to back
away, lurching this way and that, bouncing off disposal bin it collapsed
against a wall and beat it's head against the bricks savegly,
once..twice..three times. Then with a garbled cry it flung it's arms outwards,
forced up on the tips of it's toes. The image was a sort of cariticature ofa
crucifixion. Undead lips pulled away from yellow, sharp teeth in a sickening
grimace and, in the grey, darkened gloom the witnessess could see a solitary
tear work it's way down a wrinkled, deformed, vampiric cheek.

"Beautiful." It breathed...

...then the dead flesh peeled away from a smoking skeleton, that a split
second later exploded like a dust filled vacume cleaner.

One of the other two vampires had been smoking a cigarrete while it's boss
had taken first dibs on the redhead. The red tip of burning ash tumbled slowly
from numb lips as it stared at what was left of it's leader. 

"The fuck?" The third one said. 

The smoker didn't bother saying anything. It ran. Not far, but it tried. The
redhead leaped to the side of the garbage bin and gave it a viscious kick. It
was a big one too. Overflowing with garbage and flies, it had not been emptied
in years as no garbage men were stupid enough to come this part of the city.
It's iron sides had become pitted and rusty with age, only a few scraps of
paint were left to show it's original color of pea green. From the Redhead's
kick it screamed across the ally, slammed into the vampire and then impacted
with the wall on the opposite side crushing the undead between steel and
stone. Didn't kill it of course, but it wouldn't be going anywhere for a very
long time.

The final vampire turned to face the girl. It finally got a good look at her
face. It being paler than it's own and the darkned smile..something about it
made it unseasy. As if it could get any more bothered by one friend imploding
and the other being crushed. 

It snarled. Twin forces raged across it's face. One of fear and the other
anger that this slight girl, this nothing, this..this...snack did not only not
fear it and it's ilk but was also kicking their collective asses. "What are
you?!" It demanded to know. 

"Curious." She smiled at him. 

"What?" 

"Let's say," She began as she walked toward him slowly. "That I was looking
for a certain someone. Where would I go, in this city, to get that kind of
information?"

"What?" It said again backing away. 

She blurred across the space seperating them and, despite being a good foot
shorter than it was, hoisted it off the ground, one hand wrapped around it's
throat. It really liked that particular move, it did it whenever it was about
to feed. It liked watching it's meal scrable madly for purchase, their feet
flailing about and hands clawing at it's grip. Choking, gasping, eyes rolling
in stark terror. Wasn't as much fun being on the receiving end.

All semblance on control was cast away. "Where do you go!" The girl shrieked,
slamming the vampire against a graffiti encrusted brick wall. "Where do yougo
after a hard night's feasting huh?" She slammed him again. The bones in the
back of it's skull cracked. "After you've had your fill of death where do you
GO?!" If it noticed how tears were running down her face it didn't say. 

"To cool off!" Crunch.

"To take a breather." Crunch.

"To get a cold beer!" Crunch.

"Where do you go to be with your own kind?" She said more quietly.

"Caritas." It burbled through a mouthful of broken teeth. "Caritas,
Caritas...neutral territory. Caritas, no fighting..all welcome.
Caritas..please..please..Caritas."

She sniffed a few times, wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. Bending
down she snapped off the side of packing crate making an impomptu stake.

"No." She said still sniffing quietly. "No Caritas for you."

And she pinned him to the wall. Briefly; before he burst into ash.

She walked to the garbage bin, still embeded in the wall and pulled it away.
The shattered remains of the other vampire soon added to the dirst coating the
cracked pavement of the streets. Some of it blew away in the evening wind.
Flakes of dust, formally demon, skittered across the now empty, dark ally. 


Do not cross a storyteller.
A storyteller is, perhaps, the most powerful thing in all of creation.
At their beck and call they have the powers of What Might be, What Could Be,
What Should Be and What Will Be.
All anyone else has is What Is. 
All the pontential versus mere reality. 


-Mad-Hamlet