Re: Fic: Resurrection 2/? Into Everything B/W PG13

[Red Q <cocoachanel67@xxxxxxxxx>]

You're bloody killin' me here! Get them together, please! *lol*

 

Great stuff, more please!

Silverna <silvernawolfe@xxxxxxxxx> wrote:

> Into Everything
> by Silverna
> (silvernawolfe@xxxxxxxxx)
>
> This is an angsty fic dealing with Buffy's
> resurrection. It is the sequel to 'Out of Nothing' and
> will be followed by another: 'Enter Tomorrow'.
>
> DISCLAIMER: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own Buffy and
> Co. Grizzle, Argh! 
>
> RATING: PG13
>
> SPOILERS: Set beginning of season 6. Departs from
> canon. Read 'Out of Nothing' first. B/W
> * * *
>
>
> Buffy lay on her bed and listened to Willow and Tara
> fight in the room that used to be her mothers’. 
>
> “You meant it!” accused Tara tearfully.
>
> “But it doesn’t matter,” argued Willow and Buffy
> rolled her eyes at that one. Of course it mattered. It
> changed everything about the relationship. For a
> moment she saw it again in her mind’s eye: the
> momentous event of earlier that day. Willow sinking to
> her knees an
> d
>  clinging to Buffy’s legs and sobbing out
> that she was…in love with her.
>
> It was big.
>
> “What do you mean it doesn’t matter?” Tara sounded
> furious and miserable. “What could matter more?” The
> silence was icy. Buffy heard Willow sigh in
> frustration. It was amazing how she could hear every
> little thing without even straining. Could she always
> hear this well? Slayer hearing aside, the sudden
> acuteness of her senses seemed phenomenal. Funny how
> she’d never noticed it for this one whole week of
> living death.
>
> “What about Buffy?” Willow was whispering now and
> Buffy grimaced. So they stopped to think if she was
> home did they? About time. Where else would she be?
> Every night she retired just before dusk, citing
> tiredness. It wasn’t really a lie, because she was
> always tired now. But she didn’t go to bed to sleep,
> although she often wished for that mercy. No, she went
> to bed to stare at the ceiling as wave on wave of
>  pain
> (yet not really pain, merely the sensation of being)
> washed over her, up and down in increments. It stopped
> her from sleeping for hours but she had no interest in
> getting up to do something else.
>
> “Isn’t she out with Dawn?” Tara’s voice was low and
> strained. In her head Buffy saw them glancing
> furtively at the wall. They wouldn’t think she was
> getting a play by play, just hearing the overall sound
> of a fight in progress. “Anyway, don’t change the
> subject. You’re in love with your best friend!”
>
> “I…I can’t help that. But it doesn’t mean that I don’t
> love you. And it doesn’t change anything. Please
> Tara.” A strange and violent sound. What was that?
> “Please baby. Please. Don’t be like that.” The sound
> of muffled sobbing, like into cloth. “I’m sorry.
> Please.” At last muted damning words:
>
> “I knew you were in love with her.” Silence. Space.
> Buffy shifted restlessly. A twinge of curiosity was
> stirring in her b
> elly.
>  What was going on here? How did
> Tara know that? Was it true? Did she care either way?
> What did it mean if it was true?
>
> “Yeah, but (gasp) I (hiccup) didn’t.” More silence.
> Buffy shifted up onto one elbow. Tara speaking,
> resigned:
>
> “It explains a lot.”
>
> “Hmm. No wait! What do you mean?”
>
> “Never mind, it’s not important. Look Sweetie…”
>
> “You called me Sweetie.”
>
> “I’ve been known to do that.” Buffy could almost see
> the watery smile gracing Tara’s face.
>
> “So it’s…alright? You forgive me? We can be together?”
>
> “I…I’m not sure. I mean, I want us to be, Willow. Very
> much. You know that. It’s just…what about Buffy?”
>
> “What about her?”
>
> “Yes, what about her?”
>
> “That’s what I said. Look, it’s not even an issue.
> It’s a non-issue. Buffy’s straight.”
>
> “I don’t care if she’s a transsexual midget. The point
> is that you said you’re in love with her…look, Willow.
> No, shh, shh, look, listen to 
> me for a
>  second.”
>
> More muffled sobbing. Tara speaking again. “Look I
> know it’s possible to be in love with more than one
> person.”
>
> “Yeah. I mean…”
>
> “No, hear me out. I know that and I know you can’t be
> with her but Willow…no honey, stop it please. Stop
> crying for a second. Yeah, that’s it, look at me, look
> now. The real issue is, who do you love more?”
>
> “What?”
>
> “I need you to be in love with me more than you are
> with her. I need you to commit to me over whatever
> feelings you might have for her.”
>
> “Oh.”
>
> “I want all of you, Willow Rosenberg.” A pause. Buffy
> wondered what was happening now. She felt a kind of
> dread fascination that was close to being as strong a
> feeling as she used to have before. “You hear me?”
>
> “I hear you.”
>
> “Well?” The next words were heartfelt and spoken with
> raw desperation. “Who do you choose?”
>
> And something stirred within the slayer. She sat up.
> There was a crick
>  in her
>  neck but she ignored it. She
> stood up. Slowly she walked the short distance to her
> door, opened it and went on. Down to the next door and
> she didn’t knock. Instead she pushed it open and
> stepped inside. And stood there.
>
> “Goddess!” Tara was shocked. She was holding a crying
> Willow (not that she wasn’t crying herself) and was
> facing the door. Willow pulled away to turn around and
> look.
>
> “B…B…Buffy.” ‘She might faint,’ thought Buffy
> critically. ‘She’s gone that white.’ She sketched a
> parody of a wave and launched right into it.
>
> “I can hear you,” she informed them. “Every word,
> right through the wall. I didn’t mean to, that is, I
> never could before, but well there it is. I’m Dumbo
> the audio elephant.”
>
> “So you heard,” said Tara softly. Her shock was
> melting away and in its place something new and alien
> was forming. Something Buffy had never seen coming
> from her before. Anger maybe?
>
> “You heard us?” bab
> bled
>  Willow. “Through the wall? But
> that’s..that’s just not possible. I mean, unless
> you’re superman, but even then it’s like bionic vision
> or something, isn’t it? Like you can see through
> walls, non leaden walls, hmm funny like unleavened
> bread, that’s Jewish y’know, uh, but no um hearing.
> Gosh no. Not even superman can hear though walls.” She
> turned an appealing look on her girlfriend. “Can he?”
>
> For once help wasn’t forthcoming. Tara was staring at
> Buffy. “What did you want?” she asked with her brand
> of devastating softness. ‘But she can’t hurt me,’
> thought Buffy dispassionately. ‘Nobody can now.’
>
> “Take it elsewhere,” she said succinctly. They both
> gaped at her. “I’m trying to get some rest.” The
> corners of her lips turned up in what wasn’t really a
> smile and she turned on her heel. She heard them
> behind her, breaking into muted whispers, conferring
> together, trying to come upon a plan of action. 
>
> She went down 
> the hall,
>
>  past Dawn’s room. She saw her
> sister wasn’t home yet. She went down the stairs. At
> the corners of her vision a picture of her mother
> careened in and out of focus. One moment smiling
> Joyce; the next leering skull. Why was the picture
> even up? Mom was dead. She blinked and went to the
> front door. She opened it and went outside. 
>
> Standing under the tree smoking stood Spike. How
> typical. When he saw her he tossed the ciggerette and
> headed in her direction.
>
> “Slayer. What’s up? I was just ah enjoying the fresh
> night air. As we vampires do.”
>
> She didn’t deign to answer. She went out the gate, out
> onto the street. She could hear him hurrying after but
> she couldn’t hear the witches anymore. No, their
> voices had faded to nothingness. She walked down the
> street. 
>
> “Slayer! Oy Slayer! Where do you think you’re going?
> In your bloody pyjamas? Hey, listen to me. You can’t
> blow me off. C’mon, Buffy…”
>
> ‘He is nothi
> ng, I am
>  nothing, we are nothing,’ she
> thought. And she laughed a little. But she didn’t know
> why.
>
> "C’mon, talk to me,” he wheedled, making a grab for
> her shirt and missing and swearing. “What’s eating
> you. Tell ol’ Spike now.” She ignored him. It gave her
> great pleasure (like it used to) and that was new.
> Headlights coming up the street now, a car slowing as
> it neared them and she recognised it with a start.
> Giles. 
>
> “Cover for me,” she threw at Spike, ducking off the
> path into the neighbour’s bushes.
>
> “What?” he whirled to look after her, then looked to
> the car as it pulled over idling and thought better of
> it. ‘So the Slayer’s little friends are here for her,’
> he thought mockingly, and swaggered towards them. It
> wasn’t just Giles, he could see the nibblet in the
> passenger seat courtesy of his enhanced night vision
> and Xander and Anya in the back. 
>
> “Spike.” That was Giles, commanding. “Have you
>  seen
> Buffy?”
>
> “Sure, you mean a little bit of a thing maybe so tall"
> (Spike indicated with his hand somewhere just above
> his waist) "with bottle-blond hair?” He leered
> beginning to enjoy himself. “I’ve seen her.”
>
> “Let me punch the bleached idiot,” said Xander, making
> to open the door. Anya pulled him back while Giles
> sternly said,
>
> “There’s trouble, Spike. Have you seen her?”
>
> “Uh, no,” lied the vampire. “Why?” He shoved his hands
> in his pockets. “Who knows, maybe I can help, as I’ve
> done so many times before.” The watcher looked cagey.
> But before he could calculate an appropriate reply
> Dawn burst out with,
>
> “We’re worried about her. She said she was in heaven
> and I don’t know what that means but it sounds awful
> good and what if she wants to go back?” She stared at
> him with huge appealing eyes. 
>
> ‘God, teenagers,’ he thought before what she said
> registered. “What's that? Heaven?”
>
> “What’d y
> ou go and
>
>  tell him for?” muttered Xander.
>
> “Why not?” shrugged Anya in Dawn’s defence. “He’s
> always skulking around. He would’ve found out sooner
> or later.”
>
> “That’s right,” said Spike. “So clam it up your…wait a
> minute. Heaven? You mean like a dimension? When she’d
> carked it?”
>
> “We just received a call from Willow and Tara,” said
> Giles by way of not dignifying that with an answer.
> “They said Buffy went out…upset. Did you perhaps see
> where she went? Or speak to her?”
>
> “How could I now?” asked Spike, making up his mind to
> earn some more brownie points from the slayer. He’d
> find out what this heaven stuff was about later.
> “Seeing as how I’m here and she’s not.”
>
> “You’ve got a smart lip for all your big fat
> no-teeth,” hissed Xander. “You claim to care about
> Buffy but when it comes down to it…”
>
> “That’s enough Xander.” Giles abruptly drove on. Spike
> smirked after the car and turned towards the bushes.
> “Buffy?” 
> He
>  mossied over. “Hey, you can come out now,
> the posse’s all galloped off. Buffy? Goddammit!” She
> was gone.
>
> * * *
>
> Buffy gasped for breath. She’d run through other
> peoples’ yards, around hedges, jumped over fences, and
> been chased by two dogs. Her hands were aching from
> where she’d accidentally cut herself scaling a barbed
> wire fence. There was a long rip up the leg of her
> pyjama bottoms and a matching scrape. But she’d lost
> Spike (which was the main thing), avoided her friends
> and was back on the street, heading for her
> destination-in-mind. She put her head down and started
> walking.
>
> “Why hello, sweet stuff. What brings you out of your
> safe little beddie-by?” Buffy glanced up. Oh Goody. A
> random vampire. Sunnydale’s finest. She hesitated then
> kept walking. With present distractions there were no
> forthcoming puns in her head and she was stakeless.
> She heard the vampire chuckle behind her, low and
> mean. And t
> hen a
>  rush of wind and she sensed him
> coming up fast behind. She could have moved. She could
> have easily stepped to the side and let him go reeling
> past. Instead she stood still.
>
> His solid bulk driving her tired body into the brick
> wall was…reassuring. He was real. This was real. This
> was her everyday. She felt his fetid breath warming
> the back of her neck and wondered why her hackles
> weren’t raising. That wasn’t normal. Her reactions
> were off. “Tasty,” he murmured and his face morphed
> with a slight crackling sound (how odd) and he zoned
> in on her pulse.
>
> “I’m the slayer.” She said it without emotion and felt
> him hesitate. 
>
> “The slayer?” he said. She waited. “Then why are you
> letting me do this?” He was confused. She found it
> interesting that he didn’t disbelieve her. Maybe he
> knew her bio.
>
> “I died,” she told him, having no idea as to why she
> was having this conversation. 
>
> “You mean,” she heard him swa
> llow
>  convulsively, a
> strange gulping sound. “You’re a vampire? Uh…” He
> actually let her go and stepped back. Fascinating. She
> turned. “Oh yeah,” he was saying, his hands held up in
> conciliatory fashion. “Should’ve realised right off.
> Um, I’m real sorry there, uh Slayer. Make that
> Mistress. Bit out of practice you see. Uh, not that
> I’m weak, I’m strong, strong as they come. Want me to
> do something for you? Some kinda mission?” He looked
> scared.
>
> “Just get lost.” He went. Buffy stared after his fast
> retreating figure. Well. Well, well. Interesting.
> Disturbing even. He thought she was a vampire? For
> real? She turned around and kept walking. One hand
> reached up to rub at her neck. No indents. Good. Screw
> the crazy vampire.
>
> There were no more interruptions and after an
> indeterminate time (it was all the same) she found
> herself there. At the place where she felt most at
> home, most safe. The wreck of the old tower.
>
> It had
>  fallen down the last time she’d been here, a
> week ago today with Dawn. Debris made it an uneven
> heap, must hung in the air and twisted metal loomed
> overhead like Halloween trees. She should have
> shivered. Instead she felt warmed. Clambering about,
> she looked for somewhere to sit down and be ensconced.
> In the process she fell down once, twice, bumped her
> knee and got grit in the cuts on her hands. She paid
> no heed and finally she spotted what she wanted. A
> kind of cave (she hadn’t known it was there, only
> hoped) made by the fall: pieces of metal and the old
> concrete base shifted up in a kind of tent. She
> slipped under, dropped back onto her back and sighed.
>
> There were plentiful gaps in the makeshift roof and
> she could easily see the clear night sky and clusters
> of stars. It was late. Her vision swum a little and
> she sighed again deeply, stirring the dust around her.
> She coughed and sniffled and lay very still. The
> wea
> riness
>  came down upon her then, all encompassing,
> holding her body there against the cold concrete and
> annoying metal lumps digging into her spine. She was
> so tired, so, so tired. Dare she close her eyes? 
>
> Her vision swum again but now she didn’t see the stars
> any longer. She saw her last night on earth all over
> again. It was right in front of her like it was in the
> process of unfolding. The adrenaline was pumping
> through her veins as she raced for all she was worth
> up the tower and her heart felt like it was going to
> blow up. Her mind was filled with an image of Dawn.
> Dawn her little sister. Dawn the key. Dawn whom she’d
> held in her little-girl arms and kissed and asked to
> keep. Dawn whom she’d held and cried with when Dad
> left and Mom died. “I’ll always be here for you,”
> she’d promised. “I won’t leave you.” Dawn who
> represented everything about herself that was
> innocent, and everything about the world that needed
> saving.
>  Everything about why a slayer existed.
> Everything about why the slayer was here tonight.
>
> She made the top and she didn’t know what she did or
> didn’t do because all she registered was Dawn, her
> Dawnie, teary and bleeding already and looking pretty
> in her ceremonial gown. Regardless of obstacles, she
> went to her. Looked into her eyes. Saw herself and
> something, someone better than herself. All she knew
> in that moment was that she had to save her sister.
> Maybe the monks had built it into the program (that
> was Dawn), maybe it was the instincts of a slayer and
> big sister combined. Maybe it was something else
> entirely. But in that moment of time she had no other
> objective. It was the most important thing in her
> world. The only thing.
>
> She turned; saw the portal opening. Clutched her
> sister’s warm, living arm and watched the dragon fly
> out and the precious world start to end. She looked
> back at Dawn and loved her. So ver
> y much.
>  And she said
> words to her. Carefully designed words that poured
> from her heart without pre-planning, words designed to
> help her sister understand. Words to give her warmth
> and love and meaning. And then she turned. She didn’t
> think about anyone but Dawn. Not Giles. Not Xander.
> Not even…Willow. Only Dawn. Certainly not Spike. And
> she ran.
>
> As she began to move towards her destiny she felt
> transported with emotion. The first slayer’s words
> resounded within her, proving to her that she was
> doing the only thing that was right. This was her
> purpose, her gift to Dawn, her gift as a slayer, now
> in action. She felt thankful, powerful, knowing, free.
> And there was overwhelming relief. To realise without
> any doubt that she had succeeded as a hero, that she
> had made it to the allotted end intact. Only three
> steps from the edge and she was speeding up.
>
> The third last step: She smiled. She was elated. Her
> eyes were bright w
> ith
>  hope.
>
> The second last step: She wondered at how she was so
> sure. How could she be sure?
>
> The last step: She faltered. This was her death after
> all. She was going to die…and…
>
> The last sensation she felt as her body hit the
> glowing portal and hung suspended for an achingly long
> moment in time was relief. She had made it. Thank God
> she hadn’t feared until the last moment and there
> hadn’t been a turning back. But why had she only
> thought of Dawn? That seemed…
>
> Buffy blinked and came back to herself as she lay in
> the wreckage. There hadn’t been anymore. After that
> thought she’d been senseless. Dead. She didn’t
> remember the falling and hitting the ground that Dawn
> had mentioned to her, or her body bouncing as she hit
> the concrete (which she’d overheard Anya say). She
> remembered a space and then heaven. Softest warm
> whiteness like…she stopped herself. A pain like a hook
> scrabbling into her belly had begun with 
> thoughts
>  of
> heaven. She couldn’t let herself return there even in
> fantasy. It made reality so much worse.
>
> She closed her eyes finally, tears leaking out the
> corners, and waited out the feeling. It took awhile
> but with a carefully blanked mind she was able to
> return to numbness. As the pain faded a strange kind
> of peace lapped invitingly along the raw edges of her
> senses. It was here. This place. It was like a kind of
> home to her. The last place where she’d been alive
> with purpose, fully herself and fully the chosen one.
> The last place she’d been alight with love. This tent
> of metal was like a familiar bedroom and for the first
> time in a week she felt sleepy. Not the soul-devouring
> weariness, just a desire to sleep rushing softly over
> her. A pleasant feeling. Irresistible. She gave the
> stars a mental salute and without further thought
> closed her eyes and let herself drift into blackness.
>  
>
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> Willow: "It's a good fight, Buffy, and I want in."
> Buffy: "I kinda love you."
> —'Choices'
>
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Willow: "It's a good fight, Buffy, and I want in."
Buffy:  "I kinda love you."
                      —'Choices'

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