Fic: A Delicate Balance
Title: A Delicate Balance
Fandom: BtVS
Word Count: 730
Prompt: #364 - Dystopia
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, settings, or fandoms. They are the property of their respective creators and companies.
Summary: Eight years after Buffy had thought she had saved the world, she learned she had damned it instead.
A/N: Um, yeah. Nothing really like my normal stuff. I know there are tense changes all over the place, but it's been a hell week and barely got this written and my brain can see it, but can't seem to fix it. Feel free to point out any and all mistakes. :)
Five years.
That's all it had taken.
Followed by a three year descent into hell. Almost literally.
Really, Buffy should have seen it coming. She knew all about the checks and balances in the system she had been 'Chosen' into. Hell, that's what had allowed the First to break through in the outset. Willow messed around with powers she should have stayed away from to bring her back and it further upset the delicate balance of good vs evil. Things were already shaky with two active slayers in play but that tilted the scales just enough to allow the First through.
Seems like something she should have remembered.
But at the time she had been tired. Despite what she had told the First Slayer all those years ago, she was alone. Her friends were great, and she wouldn't trade them for anything in the world despite the difficulties they had that last year in Sunnydale, but they looked to her. She was the one expected to stand at the gates of hell and hold back the tide. She was the one they forced to make decisions and then protested when they weren't the ones they were expecting.
Tired. So very tired.
So she had made the decision to activate all the slayers. Stop the tide of demons from entering their dimension. An army to match the one the other side had in abundance. Create others like her so she wouldn't be so alone.
What she should have done was remember the balance.
In the beginning, things had gone well. They rebuilt the Watcher's Council, rounded up all of the new slayers, provided them training, and then sent them out into the world against evil. Apocalypses had been stopped before they could even begin. The streets were safer at night all over the world. She had truly thought they were making a difference. Making things better for all of mankind.
She should have remembered that her luck didn't run like that.
In a small corner of the world, an apocalypse happened five years after Sunnydale. One they hadn't seen coming. One they didn't see happen.
One they didn't stop.
They hadn't noticed a change at first. Then one slayer disappeared, followed by another, and then another. A year later their numbers had been reduced by half. It took another two years for the Earth to descend into madness where the demons ruled the streets and the vampires hunted with freedom at night.
Eight years after Buffy had thought she had saved the world, she learned she had damned it instead.
Now she spent her days visiting city after city with her sister, trying to keep the resistance alive. They slipped through the streets taking out the occasional demon as they rounded up resources for each given city's enclave. The nights were spent in the relative safety of the communal structures that those who had refused to lay themselves down had constructed.
Some cities were doing better than others. Chicago had even managed to have decent amenities, although she was sure that had more to do with the Mountie they had helping to run things. Every time she had visited them, she managed to fully relax within their walls, rare feat these days. She was able to close her eyes and get a full night's rest without feeling that she needed to keep one eye open for trouble.
She tried to learn what exactly they were doing there that was different from the other cities across what had once been a great country. But they took the same precautionary measures that everyone else did, the same number of slayers on hand, and the same shift rotations. Yet, they were different.
Buffy was still convinced it was the damn Mountie. Where he had come from, she wasn't sure, but something about his presence was soothing.
And yet, at night she would lie in her cot and considered the fallacy of continuing the fight. If it was making any sort of difference for anyone and if things would ever get better. If it was right to continue giving the people hope of a victory. She was pretty certain they had lost this world, if not the dimension, due to her loneliness.
While she no longer felt alone, she truly wondered if that decision she had made all those years ago had been worth it.
Fandom: BtVS
Word Count: 730
Prompt: #364 - Dystopia
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, settings, or fandoms. They are the property of their respective creators and companies.
Summary: Eight years after Buffy had thought she had saved the world, she learned she had damned it instead.
A/N: Um, yeah. Nothing really like my normal stuff. I know there are tense changes all over the place, but it's been a hell week and barely got this written and my brain can see it, but can't seem to fix it. Feel free to point out any and all mistakes. :)
Five years.
That's all it had taken.
Followed by a three year descent into hell. Almost literally.
Really, Buffy should have seen it coming. She knew all about the checks and balances in the system she had been 'Chosen' into. Hell, that's what had allowed the First to break through in the outset. Willow messed around with powers she should have stayed away from to bring her back and it further upset the delicate balance of good vs evil. Things were already shaky with two active slayers in play but that tilted the scales just enough to allow the First through.
Seems like something she should have remembered.
But at the time she had been tired. Despite what she had told the First Slayer all those years ago, she was alone. Her friends were great, and she wouldn't trade them for anything in the world despite the difficulties they had that last year in Sunnydale, but they looked to her. She was the one expected to stand at the gates of hell and hold back the tide. She was the one they forced to make decisions and then protested when they weren't the ones they were expecting.
Tired. So very tired.
So she had made the decision to activate all the slayers. Stop the tide of demons from entering their dimension. An army to match the one the other side had in abundance. Create others like her so she wouldn't be so alone.
What she should have done was remember the balance.
In the beginning, things had gone well. They rebuilt the Watcher's Council, rounded up all of the new slayers, provided them training, and then sent them out into the world against evil. Apocalypses had been stopped before they could even begin. The streets were safer at night all over the world. She had truly thought they were making a difference. Making things better for all of mankind.
She should have remembered that her luck didn't run like that.
In a small corner of the world, an apocalypse happened five years after Sunnydale. One they hadn't seen coming. One they didn't see happen.
One they didn't stop.
They hadn't noticed a change at first. Then one slayer disappeared, followed by another, and then another. A year later their numbers had been reduced by half. It took another two years for the Earth to descend into madness where the demons ruled the streets and the vampires hunted with freedom at night.
Eight years after Buffy had thought she had saved the world, she learned she had damned it instead.
Now she spent her days visiting city after city with her sister, trying to keep the resistance alive. They slipped through the streets taking out the occasional demon as they rounded up resources for each given city's enclave. The nights were spent in the relative safety of the communal structures that those who had refused to lay themselves down had constructed.
Some cities were doing better than others. Chicago had even managed to have decent amenities, although she was sure that had more to do with the Mountie they had helping to run things. Every time she had visited them, she managed to fully relax within their walls, rare feat these days. She was able to close her eyes and get a full night's rest without feeling that she needed to keep one eye open for trouble.
She tried to learn what exactly they were doing there that was different from the other cities across what had once been a great country. But they took the same precautionary measures that everyone else did, the same number of slayers on hand, and the same shift rotations. Yet, they were different.
Buffy was still convinced it was the damn Mountie. Where he had come from, she wasn't sure, but something about his presence was soothing.
And yet, at night she would lie in her cot and considered the fallacy of continuing the fight. If it was making any sort of difference for anyone and if things would ever get better. If it was right to continue giving the people hope of a victory. She was pretty certain they had lost this world, if not the dimension, due to her loneliness.
While she no longer felt alone, she truly wondered if that decision she had made all those years ago had been worth it.