FF Say it or Slay it (Part II of II)

[badbard]

First off, can I just reveal that Buffy and Willow are
mid highschool (post Angel going to hell fa ah la la
la) and by old Slayer, I meant just that. Buffy is
pretty old for a Slayer IMO. Just look at how long
Kendra made the grade. *EG*

***



II

Buffy glanced sideways at Willow as the hacker stuffed
a handful of peanut butter and banana basted crackers
into her mouth. "That's so disgusting."

"Shno it'sh shnot," protested Willow, munching away
merrily. "It'sh healthish and delicioush."

Buffy stared down into her own mostly empty lunchbag
than looked back at Willow's heaping of 'healthy and
delicious' snacks, telling her growling stomach to
shut the hell up, because Buffy sure wasn't going to
stomach any of that...food.

"Where's your lunch, Buff?" asked Willow, noting
Buffy's hungry expression which seemed to be directed
somewhere in the general vicinity of Willow's chest.

"Stayed up late last night, staking vamps," admitted
the Slayer. "Was in a rush this morning, never did
get to the whole making lunch deal. Mom was to busy
playing twenty thousand questions to help out."

"Questions?" asked the Wiccan, offering a cracker.

"Yuck," said Buffy, accepting it. "Y'know, stuff
like, how long are you going to be doing this Slaying
thing?"

"Only the rest of my unnatural life," mumbled Willow,
playing Buffy to the hilt...of the stake.

"Were you in danger?" remembered Buffy.

"I WAS the danger, does that count?" rejoined Willow
as Buffy.

"Who did you er eradicate?" repeated the Slayer,
mimicing her mother.

"Did the vermin have a name?" offered Willow. "I
spray holy water first and exchange phone numbers
later."

"Righton." Buffy grinned conspiratorily at her best
friend. "How well you know me. What did you do last
night? Chat in b&d rooms as the Mistress of Pain? Go
watch Oz play? Er play in the band. Not play,
godforbid, Mistress of Pain..."

"I cast bad-ass black magick," revealed Willow,
looking around the lunchroom for potential
eavesdroppers. There was a clear space right around
their 'unpopular' table, so she deemed it safe to
continue. "I conjured up a...a...clone!"

"A clone?" giggled Buffy. "Amazing! Wait 'till
scientists everywhere hear of your amazing solution to
their problem. The Occult. And that's a fact."

"What's a fact?" asked Xander, seating himself and
pulling out a hardboiled egg. His friends stared at
it in revulsion. Apparently Xander's bad-egg
experience hadn't wised up the raging and
indiscrimantory beast that was his appetite.

"Willow cast the first clone," answered the Slayer,
edging away from the egg.

"I'm impressed," decided Xander biting into his treat.
"Who got the honours?" Willow stuffed her face full
of crackers and was conveniently unable to answer.
Buffy and Xander took this in with growing suspicion.

"Tell me," demanded the Slayer. Willow gulped. Buffy
didn't let things go.

"Secret," she squeaked.

"Say it," insisted the Slayer, stubbornly. "Who'd you
clone? Tell me or I'll tickle you 'till you reveal
how much body hair were-Oz has. And where."

"Eugh!" put in Xander.

"Eugh don't know the half of it," grinned the Slayer,
with just a hint of uncharacteristic venom.

"It doesn't matter," said poor Willow, rather
desperately. "It didn't tell me what I wanted to
know. It couldn't."

"They never can," sighed Buffy, suddenly overwhelmed
with the many memories she held of interrogating newly
risen corpses, taking her anger out on them, needing
to know. Wouldn't it be easier to ask the only one
who knew?

"Willow," she began hesitantly. "Willow, I need to
know..."

"Who I cloned," cried the Wiccan, misunderstanding.
"I cloned you, okay, Buffy? Okay?"

"Why?" gasped Buffy.

"Why?" wondered Xander, smooshing up his egg in order
to destory any unhatched egg-demons.

"I...I...needed to know...stuff," babbled Willow.
"Stuff only B...Buffy knows. Buffy stuff."

"So why don't you just ask her?" shrugged Xander,
grabbing one of the hacker's crackers. "I'll sit here
and listen in."

"Ask me," echoed Buffy, feeling strangely surreal.

"I can't," whispered Willow hanging her head. "I'm
scared."

"Of me?" asked Buffy disbelievingly. Somehow Willow
found the strength to be honest.

"Sometimes," she whispered. Xander failed to sense
the seriousness of the situation and brought his wit
to play.

"Buffy scary Slayer lady," he put in. "Mash Master's
bones to moosh. Break up with boyfriend by sending
him to hell. Bad Buffy. Bad bad Buffy."

"I see your point," noted the Slayer weakly.

"No, Buffy, I didn't mean it like that!" protested a
distraught Wiccan.

"Keep it to yourself," bit out Buffy, hurt making her
voice harsh. "I don't wanna know." It was a lie.
She didn't want Willow to keep it to herself. She
needed to know. Had to find out. Who could she ask?

That night Buffy rammed Mr Pointy into the vampire's
gullet.

"Missed me," it wheezed, choking up dust. The undead
were never unpredictable or even very clever.
Probably came from having bullet's put throught their
brains.

"Didn't miss," denied the Slayer, pushing her rage to
the fore. Digging her stake deep into rotting flesh.
"And I won't miss you when you're dead and actually
dead. Now tell me what I wanna know..."

THE DARK, DARK, DID I MENTION DARK, ARE YOU AFRAID OF
THE DARK, END



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