In Which I Ramble and Provide Fic.
One day I will get into a regular routine of actually writing things up here. Of course, that'll be the day that everyone will tremble at my might and the poor sheep in my icon/background will flee for safer hills.
Anyway, I have news! I feel a bit of an idiot for not mentioning it before, considering how excited I've been in RL about it, but I'm going to Rome on Tuesday (!!!). That means that I'll be away for most of next week (my god, how will you all cope? ;) ), but will have pretty pictures of fountains etc. to post when I get back. My compositional skills suck, of course, but there might be one or two decent ones in the mix.
In other news, my posting date for watchersdiaries is the 16th, and on that day you will be able to find the story of Propugnatrix Pollia (snappy title, eh?) over there. I'd be really grateful if people stopped by, and can promise that there's no Latin in it apart from the title.
Also, if you're there you'll have the opportunity to read speakr2customrs' fantastic fics, Cloak of Mist and Deid Canny, which'll make up for any disappointment with my Roman thing ten thousand times over.
My final note of news is that I've found the Devics' 1998 CD If You Forget Me on eBay. I'm distinctly excited - though may not win.
Anyway, the fic! It is Chapter Six of History, of which previous parts can be found here. (Please ignore the first Chapter Five, 'cause something went squiggly and the link doesn't go anywhere.)
In case you haven't guessed, the ideas aren't mine. And it's rated PG-13 overall...because I feel a bit pathetic calling it a PG. (Though, to be fair, there's a bit of gore this chapter.)
Thank you to amarasaa.
Warnings: Death/grief, graphic violence
Does he know all my woes?
He watches from above.
In his time; a sickly mind.
And sick I understand.
Her hand tore through the flesh of the woman’s stomach. Gore flooded out, and the body collapsed from its new imbalance. The woman didn’t make a sound as she died, but blood frothed at her lips.
With a scarce glance at the corpse, she held her hand to the sun. The light made patterns in the blood. She grinned, before licking it off.
From nowhere came the sound of drums. She couldn’t move. The sun’s heat faded quickly from her skin, and she was left frozen.
Three men appeared in her line of vision, wearing robes and carrying staffs. With a few words, the three raised their staffs and struck them on the desert floor. The woman’s body disappeared. More words, and a shockwave spread across the desert, flattening the sand in a wide circle under her feet. Still she could not move.
As the day passed, a fire was built in front of her. It was completed in the late afternoon. As it was lit, chains appeared around her wrist and sensation returned to her.
A girl was brought to the other side of the fire. She too was chained.
The sun set, and drums began to sound once more. She closed her eyes to the discord they created.
She looked around. She couldn’t see anything, but there was something in the dark.
“Who’s there?” Her voice echoed, and disturbed the stale air.
A deep chuckle behind her made her jump. She span, and saw green, glowing eyes.
The pain was blinding - literally. She couldn’t see anything but bright white light. An abstract part of her found that amusing.
Except it wasn’t complete. As usual she was being cheated: she could just make out two spots of green in the light, observing her coldly as the pain subsided to newly growing guilt.
“What the hell is going on?” She hated the weakness in her voice.
The creature didn’t respond.
“Answer me!”
“Why are you here, Slayer?” The voice was dark and sardonic.
“I don’t know! You’re the one who’s s’posed to be explaining things.”
“Why would I do that?”
She glared at her twin. He wore the mask of the demon, but his spirit was the same as hers now.
“You cannot say that you’re unaffected.” She was trying hard to keep her rage in check. In the night she had little control.
“Perhaps not. But I refuse to give myself over to another power.”
“The Earth is not a power! She is…” She hesitated, struggling to explain something she had never put into words.
“Your people did this to me. Why would I put myself under another of your agents?”
“The Earth is not my people’s agent, even if they’re still my people. We - all of us - are the Earth’s.” His bitterness was frustrating.
“I am no one’s.” She snorted.
“If you believe that, you are a fool.” He tried to respond, but she interrupted. “Look. We are unique. But we are not right.” Again, he tried to argue. “No. If you were yourself, why did you flee from me?” She shook her head. “We were chained to the Earth, but by breaking those chains we changed. We are no longer of this world.”
“You said that the Earth owned everything.” He smiled.
She fumed. “We are lost, then. The truth is that we must give ourselves over completely to the Earth.” He laughed at her.
She was disorientated for a moment. The dark didn’t help. Still, she had to figure this out at some point.
“The demon’s you, isn’t it?” She got no response. “That means that…you knew the first Slayer.”
“I was a part of her. As I was a part of you.” She reeled momentarily.
“You’re the demon…. You’re the one the Shadow Men used.”
“Yes. But not the one you are accustomed with.”
Blackness. In her throat, in her eyes, in her ears. Oily, vile and penetrating.
Her eyes were closed, and she muttered, “A flashback of my own. I can deal with that.” She squeezed her eyes shut one more time and then looked into the dark again. If she concentrated (it was difficult, but she was trying), she could just make out a foreboding outline. “So, what? The Shadow Men took a bit of you, forced it on a girl and got a Slayer, -”
“No.”
“Huh?” What?
“They did not create the Slayer.”
“No, they did!” She’d almost relived it. “Because they were useless, pathetic cowards and needed someone to fight for them!”
“They created a creature with the strength of a demon. Not a Slayer.”
She was alone in the desert, and rage was running through her fingers. She sensed her prey on the wind, and ran in its direction.
A minute later, a corpse lay at her feet. Its eyes were gouged out and its neck was broken.
There was movement behind her. She turned around.
“Sineya! Why are you away from the village?” She didn’t understand the noises made at her. The creature approached. She attacked, and left another body dead in the sand.
“Wait.” She pressed her palms into her eyes. “She killed a human?” She looked up, disbelievingly, towards where she assumed the demon was.
“It was her initial purpose for running; before she realised that she needed me.”
“Why?” The demon laughed at her. “What?”
“Idiot girl.”
“What.”
“The Slayer and I were the same being in two different incarnations. Are you not aware of this?”
She wanted to say ‘No’, but that would be a lie. She’d been made all too aware. The demon continued:
“The Slayer knew that she could not reverse what the Shadow Men had done. She wished to lessen its power.”
“By using the Earth.” See. She could remember visions.
“Yes.”
“Did it work?”
She felt calmer than she ever had. The desire to fight was still there, but it was a desire to protect, not to kill.
She looked up to the night sky; now able to appreciate it’s beauty. Unconsciously, she grinned.
She winced slightly. The continuous visions were getting kind of painful. “I guess it did then.” The demon didn’t sound like it was going to say anything. “So, what, the Slayer created herself?”
“Yes. In essence.”
“Y’know, I’m just saying, but that doesn’t sound like the first Slayer I know.”
“Are you certain that you summoned the Slayer as she became?”
“Uh.” Had she? “No, I guess.” This was so confusing. How did he know she’d summoned her, anyway? “So. The Slayer made herself, using the Earth. And you had to be there because you’re the same being.” She nodded to herself. “OK, I get that. But if you’re the same as the Slayer, why the hell are you sitting in a cave instead of actually doing something Slayer-y?”
“I am not a Slayer. I am the same being as the Slayer. I hold parts of the same two spirits, but I am not the same. Sineya held the violence of our natures. I hold the opposite.”
“What? Like love and stuff?” The demon didn’t respond. She laughed, glad for any humour she could find. “Oh my God! You’re like a hippy-demon or something!”
“Connecting ourselves to the Earth meant that the alien part of our new natures was lessened.” He sounded slightly embarrassed.
She continued to laugh. “You mean the Slayer became weaker and you became less loved up.”
“Silence!” She shut up. “The Slayer became weaker, yes. Her demonic strength was subdued and her will to fight was that of a human: to protect her family. Her connection to the Earth connected her to all humans on this Earth, and made them as her family. This gave her the will to protect all humans.”
“And what about you?”
“The human will to create and adore was lessened in me. The demon I was before had no such urge, and so I felt little.”
“OK. So you were feeling the apathy, and went off to live in this little cave. What about -”
“No.” He answered quickly.
“No?”
He sounded reluctant, “I did not return here for many years.”
She watched the body burn on the fire, and ignored the flames as they leaped close to her own skin. The body, embalmed like those in the North, was consumed quite quickly.
She had died among foreigners. It was a distressing thought. They had been her friends, however, not strangers.
But she had died so very far from home.
Still, they had returned now. There was nothing left to do.
“OK, so you started the cave living after the first Slayer died,” she continued, rubbing her temples. She wanted to get this over and done with. “Never mind the new Slayer could kinda use your help.”
“I do not have to explain myself to you, Slayer.”
“Uh, coming from a long legacy of girls who fought alone, I think you do.” She crossed her arms defiantly. Headaches were secondary to looking authoritative.
“I do not answer to you.” He sounded like he was growing angry, but she refused to back down.
“The way I see it, you’re part of the Slayer. OK, you’re a demon or whatever, but it sounds to me that you made the first Slayer live longer - most of us don’t get the oh-so-mysterious ‘many years’. And so, if you did make her live longer, you pretty much condemned all of us other Slayers who weren’t her by sitting in this cave.”
“I am not a tool for the Slayer to use.”
“Fine. You’re a warrior to fight at her side. The point is, I’ve done a lot of fighting and it might have been nice to have a big, ugly demon fighting with me.”
“I would not have fought with you.”
“Excuse me?” She was going to kill this guy in a minute. Whether he had answers or not. “Why the hell not?”
“You are not the current Slayer.” She blinked.
“OK. I might be able to see very much right now, but last time I checked I was pretty current.”
“The Slayer line passed from you at the moment of your first death. I was part of that lineage, and so you can make no claim to me.” He sounded indignant, and she couldn’t hold back her anger.
“Like I’d want to! All you do is sit in a cave!” He laughed, which wasn’t really the reaction she’d been looking for. “What?”
“You misunderstand. I said that you have no claim to me.”
“You mean I’ve got a demon of my very own somewhere.” That was an odd thought.
“Yes.” He was still laughing. “I’ve even seen him; recognised the same weaknesses that I once saw in myself.”
“Weaknesses?”
“Yes. They were not as fully developed as mine: his calling was not yet complete, despite your continuing presence. It took the merest of things to complete the process.”
Oh no. “When you say ‘process’….” This had better not be what she thought it might be.
“He would not have known it as such, of course, because that would have required explaining much more than I had a desire to. Also, it was much more entertaining…” No. This was not happening.
So this was what a soul felt like. It was slightly different from what she’d imagined (that being a load of pain and guilt and no desires apart from to repent, or maybe do a spot of brooding). There was guilt - of course there was guilt - but other than that everything seemed to revolve around a certain Slayer, especially since she’d got back and seen her again.
She wasn’t sure if it was a guilt thing coming into play, but it was definitely Buffy that her desires centred around: helping her, fighting with her and, God, just her generally. Having a soul wasn’t that much different in that respect. It was kind of disappointing.
Especially when her raison d’être didn’t seem to do anything these days but stand around and tell her to kill people. It didn’t half make things confusing.
Coming back to reality was just a little harder than it had been before.
“You’re kidding, right?” She couldn’t get the words out in more than a whisper. “Please. Tell me you’re kidding.” There was no response.
She tried to pull herself together. It did nothing.
She put a hand to the wall for support, and her hand grazed over something with a different texture to the rest of the stone. It was a painting, maybe.
What remained of the body lay on the sand in front of her. The immediate area was covered in blood and the remnants of organs. The smell was glorious.
She was on the ground, vomiting. Tears were in her eyes and she was shaking. She regained her feet and backed away from the sick on the floor.
“So.” Her voice was strangled. “What does the amulet have to do with all of this?” Hopefully he’d just answer the question and she could get out of there.
The demon continued as if nothing had happened, “the amulet and the gauntlet are modified versions of devices made when the Slayer and I visited what you would call Mesopotamia.” He said it dismissively, as if she should know what the hell he was talking about.
She had learnt a lot by coming north. She’d learnt that the world was much larger than she’d known, and that life could be so much more. She’d learnt that, as part as her new power, she could talk to whomever she wanted and still be understood. And she’d learnt the folly she’d made in suppressing the demon’s power back into the Earth.
Hope was not lost, however. With the objects she held in her hands, that power could once again be utilised. The sun-necklace would be worn by Bushku, and he would then be able to draw upon their combined powers. She would channel these powers through the bracelet, cleansing the area around them. As a result, they too would be cleansed: of their power.
She held the necklace up for inspection. It was a powerful tool, as was the bracelet. She was glad to have them in her possession. She just prayed that she never had to use them.
“Great, scrubbing bubbles.” Her head was splitting, but she didn’t really care. “The thing is, I’m talking about this ugly-ass pendant with a massive diamond in the middle, not some clonky thing the first Slayer had.” Anger was good. She could do anger.
“The Mapacha were altered many times by a tribe who worshipped the Slayer.”
“Well, where the hell are they now?” Anger beat the alternative hands down, as long as she could hold onto it.
“They were killed several years ago by disease.”
“Right.” She nodded. “Right.” Don’t think of death. “I still don’t understand -”
Was it wrong to feel so blissfully happy? Others were dead, and it turned her stomach to think about it, but she was alive - they were alive - and the First Evil was gone. And there was nothing in the way anymore: no slayer-crap, no prophecy, no nothing.
And they were in the sun, together! They weren’t speaking or anything, but that had never really been an issue with them. Besides, after the light show in the Hellmouth she felt like she was a part of him - it made speech kind of unnecessary.
She knew now. She really knew.
She had to tell him.
Not now though. No matter how much the secret burned her, it wouldn’t be right. Later, when everything had settled down. She’d set something up; make it special.
They had the time, right?
Slowly, she opened her eyes and glared at the demon. Pain made her body taut and glazed her eyes with tears.
“You know,” she bit out, “you could just tell me instead of making with the visions.” He laughed derisively.
“I am not the one causing you to see.”
“Then who the hell is?” Her cry echoed around the cave. “I’m so sick of this crap! You would’ve thought I could get a break after giving seven years of my life to this goddamn world, but I guess that just wasn’t good enough.” She calmed for a moment. “So. What am I s’posed to do, huh? What do you want me to do? Bring Spike back from the dead? Kill the First again? Build a replacement amulet ‘cause yours got all burnt up?” She was shrieking again, and crying breathlessly. “Tell me, dammit! There’s gotta be a reason!”
For several seconds there was no sound apart from her laboured breathing.
“You are suffering the consequences of using the Mapacha incorrectly. There is no other cause.” The demon laughed. Again.
Just he knows
Strange things grow
To please my tired mind.
Now his eyes become my eyes.
-Devics, Why I Chose to Never Grow
[Chapter 7]
Anyway, I have news! I feel a bit of an idiot for not mentioning it before, considering how excited I've been in RL about it, but I'm going to Rome on Tuesday (!!!). That means that I'll be away for most of next week (my god, how will you all cope? ;) ), but will have pretty pictures of fountains etc. to post when I get back. My compositional skills suck, of course, but there might be one or two decent ones in the mix.
In other news, my posting date for watchersdiaries is the 16th, and on that day you will be able to find the story of Propugnatrix Pollia (snappy title, eh?) over there. I'd be really grateful if people stopped by, and can promise that there's no Latin in it apart from the title.
Also, if you're there you'll have the opportunity to read speakr2customrs' fantastic fics, Cloak of Mist and Deid Canny, which'll make up for any disappointment with my Roman thing ten thousand times over.
My final note of news is that I've found the Devics' 1998 CD If You Forget Me on eBay. I'm distinctly excited - though may not win.
Anyway, the fic! It is Chapter Six of History, of which previous parts can be found here. (Please ignore the first Chapter Five, 'cause something went squiggly and the link doesn't go anywhere.)
In case you haven't guessed, the ideas aren't mine. And it's rated PG-13 overall...because I feel a bit pathetic calling it a PG. (Though, to be fair, there's a bit of gore this chapter.)
Thank you to amarasaa.
Warnings: Death/grief, graphic violence
Does he know all my woes?
He watches from above.
In his time; a sickly mind.
And sick I understand.
Her hand tore through the flesh of the woman’s stomach. Gore flooded out, and the body collapsed from its new imbalance. The woman didn’t make a sound as she died, but blood frothed at her lips.
With a scarce glance at the corpse, she held her hand to the sun. The light made patterns in the blood. She grinned, before licking it off.
From nowhere came the sound of drums. She couldn’t move. The sun’s heat faded quickly from her skin, and she was left frozen.
Three men appeared in her line of vision, wearing robes and carrying staffs. With a few words, the three raised their staffs and struck them on the desert floor. The woman’s body disappeared. More words, and a shockwave spread across the desert, flattening the sand in a wide circle under her feet. Still she could not move.
As the day passed, a fire was built in front of her. It was completed in the late afternoon. As it was lit, chains appeared around her wrist and sensation returned to her.
A girl was brought to the other side of the fire. She too was chained.
The sun set, and drums began to sound once more. She closed her eyes to the discord they created.
She looked around. She couldn’t see anything, but there was something in the dark.
“Who’s there?” Her voice echoed, and disturbed the stale air.
A deep chuckle behind her made her jump. She span, and saw green, glowing eyes.
The pain was blinding - literally. She couldn’t see anything but bright white light. An abstract part of her found that amusing.
Except it wasn’t complete. As usual she was being cheated: she could just make out two spots of green in the light, observing her coldly as the pain subsided to newly growing guilt.
“What the hell is going on?” She hated the weakness in her voice.
The creature didn’t respond.
“Answer me!”
“Why are you here, Slayer?” The voice was dark and sardonic.
“I don’t know! You’re the one who’s s’posed to be explaining things.”
“Why would I do that?”
She glared at her twin. He wore the mask of the demon, but his spirit was the same as hers now.
“You cannot say that you’re unaffected.” She was trying hard to keep her rage in check. In the night she had little control.
“Perhaps not. But I refuse to give myself over to another power.”
“The Earth is not a power! She is…” She hesitated, struggling to explain something she had never put into words.
“Your people did this to me. Why would I put myself under another of your agents?”
“The Earth is not my people’s agent, even if they’re still my people. We - all of us - are the Earth’s.” His bitterness was frustrating.
“I am no one’s.” She snorted.
“If you believe that, you are a fool.” He tried to respond, but she interrupted. “Look. We are unique. But we are not right.” Again, he tried to argue. “No. If you were yourself, why did you flee from me?” She shook her head. “We were chained to the Earth, but by breaking those chains we changed. We are no longer of this world.”
“You said that the Earth owned everything.” He smiled.
She fumed. “We are lost, then. The truth is that we must give ourselves over completely to the Earth.” He laughed at her.
She was disorientated for a moment. The dark didn’t help. Still, she had to figure this out at some point.
“The demon’s you, isn’t it?” She got no response. “That means that…you knew the first Slayer.”
“I was a part of her. As I was a part of you.” She reeled momentarily.
“You’re the demon…. You’re the one the Shadow Men used.”
“Yes. But not the one you are accustomed with.”
Blackness. In her throat, in her eyes, in her ears. Oily, vile and penetrating.
Her eyes were closed, and she muttered, “A flashback of my own. I can deal with that.” She squeezed her eyes shut one more time and then looked into the dark again. If she concentrated (it was difficult, but she was trying), she could just make out a foreboding outline. “So, what? The Shadow Men took a bit of you, forced it on a girl and got a Slayer, -”
“No.”
“Huh?” What?
“They did not create the Slayer.”
“No, they did!” She’d almost relived it. “Because they were useless, pathetic cowards and needed someone to fight for them!”
“They created a creature with the strength of a demon. Not a Slayer.”
She was alone in the desert, and rage was running through her fingers. She sensed her prey on the wind, and ran in its direction.
A minute later, a corpse lay at her feet. Its eyes were gouged out and its neck was broken.
There was movement behind her. She turned around.
“Sineya! Why are you away from the village?” She didn’t understand the noises made at her. The creature approached. She attacked, and left another body dead in the sand.
“Wait.” She pressed her palms into her eyes. “She killed a human?” She looked up, disbelievingly, towards where she assumed the demon was.
“It was her initial purpose for running; before she realised that she needed me.”
“Why?” The demon laughed at her. “What?”
“Idiot girl.”
“What.”
“The Slayer and I were the same being in two different incarnations. Are you not aware of this?”
She wanted to say ‘No’, but that would be a lie. She’d been made all too aware. The demon continued:
“The Slayer knew that she could not reverse what the Shadow Men had done. She wished to lessen its power.”
“By using the Earth.” See. She could remember visions.
“Yes.”
“Did it work?”
She felt calmer than she ever had. The desire to fight was still there, but it was a desire to protect, not to kill.
She looked up to the night sky; now able to appreciate it’s beauty. Unconsciously, she grinned.
She winced slightly. The continuous visions were getting kind of painful. “I guess it did then.” The demon didn’t sound like it was going to say anything. “So, what, the Slayer created herself?”
“Yes. In essence.”
“Y’know, I’m just saying, but that doesn’t sound like the first Slayer I know.”
“Are you certain that you summoned the Slayer as she became?”
“Uh.” Had she? “No, I guess.” This was so confusing. How did he know she’d summoned her, anyway? “So. The Slayer made herself, using the Earth. And you had to be there because you’re the same being.” She nodded to herself. “OK, I get that. But if you’re the same as the Slayer, why the hell are you sitting in a cave instead of actually doing something Slayer-y?”
“I am not a Slayer. I am the same being as the Slayer. I hold parts of the same two spirits, but I am not the same. Sineya held the violence of our natures. I hold the opposite.”
“What? Like love and stuff?” The demon didn’t respond. She laughed, glad for any humour she could find. “Oh my God! You’re like a hippy-demon or something!”
“Connecting ourselves to the Earth meant that the alien part of our new natures was lessened.” He sounded slightly embarrassed.
She continued to laugh. “You mean the Slayer became weaker and you became less loved up.”
“Silence!” She shut up. “The Slayer became weaker, yes. Her demonic strength was subdued and her will to fight was that of a human: to protect her family. Her connection to the Earth connected her to all humans on this Earth, and made them as her family. This gave her the will to protect all humans.”
“And what about you?”
“The human will to create and adore was lessened in me. The demon I was before had no such urge, and so I felt little.”
“OK. So you were feeling the apathy, and went off to live in this little cave. What about -”
“No.” He answered quickly.
“No?”
He sounded reluctant, “I did not return here for many years.”
She watched the body burn on the fire, and ignored the flames as they leaped close to her own skin. The body, embalmed like those in the North, was consumed quite quickly.
She had died among foreigners. It was a distressing thought. They had been her friends, however, not strangers.
But she had died so very far from home.
Still, they had returned now. There was nothing left to do.
“OK, so you started the cave living after the first Slayer died,” she continued, rubbing her temples. She wanted to get this over and done with. “Never mind the new Slayer could kinda use your help.”
“I do not have to explain myself to you, Slayer.”
“Uh, coming from a long legacy of girls who fought alone, I think you do.” She crossed her arms defiantly. Headaches were secondary to looking authoritative.
“I do not answer to you.” He sounded like he was growing angry, but she refused to back down.
“The way I see it, you’re part of the Slayer. OK, you’re a demon or whatever, but it sounds to me that you made the first Slayer live longer - most of us don’t get the oh-so-mysterious ‘many years’. And so, if you did make her live longer, you pretty much condemned all of us other Slayers who weren’t her by sitting in this cave.”
“I am not a tool for the Slayer to use.”
“Fine. You’re a warrior to fight at her side. The point is, I’ve done a lot of fighting and it might have been nice to have a big, ugly demon fighting with me.”
“I would not have fought with you.”
“Excuse me?” She was going to kill this guy in a minute. Whether he had answers or not. “Why the hell not?”
“You are not the current Slayer.” She blinked.
“OK. I might be able to see very much right now, but last time I checked I was pretty current.”
“The Slayer line passed from you at the moment of your first death. I was part of that lineage, and so you can make no claim to me.” He sounded indignant, and she couldn’t hold back her anger.
“Like I’d want to! All you do is sit in a cave!” He laughed, which wasn’t really the reaction she’d been looking for. “What?”
“You misunderstand. I said that you have no claim to me.”
“You mean I’ve got a demon of my very own somewhere.” That was an odd thought.
“Yes.” He was still laughing. “I’ve even seen him; recognised the same weaknesses that I once saw in myself.”
“Weaknesses?”
“Yes. They were not as fully developed as mine: his calling was not yet complete, despite your continuing presence. It took the merest of things to complete the process.”
Oh no. “When you say ‘process’….” This had better not be what she thought it might be.
“He would not have known it as such, of course, because that would have required explaining much more than I had a desire to. Also, it was much more entertaining…” No. This was not happening.
So this was what a soul felt like. It was slightly different from what she’d imagined (that being a load of pain and guilt and no desires apart from to repent, or maybe do a spot of brooding). There was guilt - of course there was guilt - but other than that everything seemed to revolve around a certain Slayer, especially since she’d got back and seen her again.
She wasn’t sure if it was a guilt thing coming into play, but it was definitely Buffy that her desires centred around: helping her, fighting with her and, God, just her generally. Having a soul wasn’t that much different in that respect. It was kind of disappointing.
Especially when her raison d’être didn’t seem to do anything these days but stand around and tell her to kill people. It didn’t half make things confusing.
Coming back to reality was just a little harder than it had been before.
“You’re kidding, right?” She couldn’t get the words out in more than a whisper. “Please. Tell me you’re kidding.” There was no response.
She tried to pull herself together. It did nothing.
She put a hand to the wall for support, and her hand grazed over something with a different texture to the rest of the stone. It was a painting, maybe.
What remained of the body lay on the sand in front of her. The immediate area was covered in blood and the remnants of organs. The smell was glorious.
She was on the ground, vomiting. Tears were in her eyes and she was shaking. She regained her feet and backed away from the sick on the floor.
“So.” Her voice was strangled. “What does the amulet have to do with all of this?” Hopefully he’d just answer the question and she could get out of there.
The demon continued as if nothing had happened, “the amulet and the gauntlet are modified versions of devices made when the Slayer and I visited what you would call Mesopotamia.” He said it dismissively, as if she should know what the hell he was talking about.
She had learnt a lot by coming north. She’d learnt that the world was much larger than she’d known, and that life could be so much more. She’d learnt that, as part as her new power, she could talk to whomever she wanted and still be understood. And she’d learnt the folly she’d made in suppressing the demon’s power back into the Earth.
Hope was not lost, however. With the objects she held in her hands, that power could once again be utilised. The sun-necklace would be worn by Bushku, and he would then be able to draw upon their combined powers. She would channel these powers through the bracelet, cleansing the area around them. As a result, they too would be cleansed: of their power.
She held the necklace up for inspection. It was a powerful tool, as was the bracelet. She was glad to have them in her possession. She just prayed that she never had to use them.
“Great, scrubbing bubbles.” Her head was splitting, but she didn’t really care. “The thing is, I’m talking about this ugly-ass pendant with a massive diamond in the middle, not some clonky thing the first Slayer had.” Anger was good. She could do anger.
“The Mapacha were altered many times by a tribe who worshipped the Slayer.”
“Well, where the hell are they now?” Anger beat the alternative hands down, as long as she could hold onto it.
“They were killed several years ago by disease.”
“Right.” She nodded. “Right.” Don’t think of death. “I still don’t understand -”
Was it wrong to feel so blissfully happy? Others were dead, and it turned her stomach to think about it, but she was alive - they were alive - and the First Evil was gone. And there was nothing in the way anymore: no slayer-crap, no prophecy, no nothing.
And they were in the sun, together! They weren’t speaking or anything, but that had never really been an issue with them. Besides, after the light show in the Hellmouth she felt like she was a part of him - it made speech kind of unnecessary.
She knew now. She really knew.
She had to tell him.
Not now though. No matter how much the secret burned her, it wouldn’t be right. Later, when everything had settled down. She’d set something up; make it special.
They had the time, right?
Slowly, she opened her eyes and glared at the demon. Pain made her body taut and glazed her eyes with tears.
“You know,” she bit out, “you could just tell me instead of making with the visions.” He laughed derisively.
“I am not the one causing you to see.”
“Then who the hell is?” Her cry echoed around the cave. “I’m so sick of this crap! You would’ve thought I could get a break after giving seven years of my life to this goddamn world, but I guess that just wasn’t good enough.” She calmed for a moment. “So. What am I s’posed to do, huh? What do you want me to do? Bring Spike back from the dead? Kill the First again? Build a replacement amulet ‘cause yours got all burnt up?” She was shrieking again, and crying breathlessly. “Tell me, dammit! There’s gotta be a reason!”
For several seconds there was no sound apart from her laboured breathing.
“You are suffering the consequences of using the Mapacha incorrectly. There is no other cause.” The demon laughed. Again.
Just he knows
Strange things grow
To please my tired mind.
Now his eyes become my eyes.
-Devics, Why I Chose to Never Grow
[Chapter 7]