Wish Upon A Demon
by UrbanGoth
Journey To Oz - Pt. 1
[reviews]
AUTHOR: Megan
RATING: PG-13 will do for now.
WARNINGS: Femslash. Violence. Angst. It's all very sad.
FEEDBACK: Oh god yes. Review me or email. smegazoid@hotmail.com. Either way, I'm under your scrutiny.
THE USUAL: I do not own. I just don't.
NOTES: Text encased in -------------- is flashback. Except the little one in there.
1. Journey To Oz - Pt 1
She sat silently on the bus staring at nothing through the window with hollow eyes. Her brow hung heavily over her young features, giving them an aged glare, even though she was only barely 18. Buffy Summers had left. Left her own body.
She was lost a long time ago with her only friend.
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The grass folded beneath the thick, rubber soles of her black boots, as she wound her way between the gravestones and round the wide trees. It was a cold night in Cleveland, and the clouds were, as usual mid-October, hovering quite ominously overhead. Buffy Summers, on full alert, scanned the perimeter for civilians. Every working night she did this now, careful not to drag any unsuspecting bank manager or student into the fight. She just didn't want anyone to wind up dead. Her gaze pierced through the blanket of fog and she listened intently to her life, focused only on one thing. Ash.
Arriving in Cleveland, the slayer was young and impressionable and seemed to believe that being chosen didn't mean you had to shut out the rest of the world. It wasn't as easy to make friends as it had been in LA. In Hemery she was adored. In Cleveland, at the new school, it wasn't the same. Her secret weighed on her. Dating? When would she have time to see a guy? Shopping? You don't get paid to kill things that society doesn't believe exist. Her Watcher took up most of her time, with training and research. Slaying was her job, what she did, and no one could know about it. No one could be endangered.
Then she met someone. A girl. She didn't stand out from the crowd, she wasn't extraordinary in any way, but Buffy couldn't help feeling drawn to her. A usual stop on her regular patrol was a little club. Kinda a cross between a nightclub and a youth club. She'd been lurking in the shadows, listening, feeling for them within the crowd, hoping she wouldn't be seen in her little hidey-corner. The music swirled between the dancers, all blissfully ignorant of the danger that surrounded them. Buffy's blood turned green with envy. Every now and again, even though she had resigned herself to this life, she wished, so vehemently, that she hadn't been chosen. She wished that she could just dance the night away without having to think, or touch or fight vampires, wished that she could, just for a day, live like she had in LA. No one understood what it was like. No one understood how lonely her life was. She saved people every day, and I suppose one would think that their gratitude, or the feeling that she was the balance for evil in this world, that she was here for a greater cause, or even just the fact that she had super powers would be enough to satiate her need for a life that's wasn't this one. And it was. Most of the time. But sometimes it hurt more than can be imagined. No one would understand what it's like because they don't know.
She continued feeling them out, scanning the plebs, the ordinary. They walked past her to the bar from the dance floor, to the seats from the bar. A boy about her age scooped his drink from the counter and headed over towards his seat alone. 6 inches away she was, and he couldn't even fathom that there was a presence near. She sighed lowly enough for only herself to hear. Another boy passed her and joined his friend on the couch, sipping his drink, and they laughed together.
Still no vampires. Her eyes continued to run through the crowd, taking in the countless living bodies in the room, jumping up and down, playing pool, drinking, laughing, dancing, singing.
She froze. A pair of eyes had found her. A pair of eyes that were about 7 inches away and fast advancing on her. Girl's eyes. The slayer screamed at her to move but Buffy couldn't. Her legs were immobile, feet rooted to the ground. Half of her wanted to run, but a bigger half of her wanted to discover why she had been discovered. She hadn't moved, hadn't done anything out of routine. For weeks this had been a patrol spot and not one person had noticed her. Until now.
Why?
"Hi." She said. The girl had dark brown hair that highlighted her piercing blue irises and it sat just below her shoulders, which belonged to a delicate, almost elfin frame. Her features weren't small but they were closed, kinda frightened, yet at the same time she had so much confidence it radiated around her. Her hands gently gripped a small blue glass, the littlest finger nervously rubbing on the clear substance. They were elegance in a nutshell, even despite the short-cut nails. Her skin glowed with the lightest tan and looked as if it was rather thick. She was slightly taller than the slayer but mimicked her style. Tank top, trousers, although she wore sneakers.
Buffy's eyes flew wide. "What?" She hadn't even found anything to kill to get her out of this foul, jealous mood, and already she had to get out. The last thing she wanted was someone inviting themselves into her life. Best they stayed out. It would be less painful for both of them.
"Uh..." The other girl's confident glow faded a little. "Sorry I, uh, just saw you on your own and figured, y'know, I'd see if you were ok, 'cause I know a little bit about being on your own, y'know, its not the nicest thing it the world, I mean I know that goes without saying but, heh, that's me! Undisputed queen of the totally obvious cliché."
Buffy listened to the ramble in full. Couldn't help it. It was adorable, like a child. A child that new long words... Undisputed? [Guess who cuts class to play with a punch bag...]
The taller girl apologized. "Sorry, it's just... a habit. A bad habit. I babble and yammer and, on occasion, I have been known to ramble."
Buffy's eyes softened. "I'm Buffy," she finally admitted.
"I'm Ash," was countered, and she broke into a huge grin.
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It was dark on the bus at the minute, so finding the hastily made sandwiches was proving to be a difficult task. She raked her arm through the backpack, throwing an extra top to the side, muttering all the while. Nothing was going right and she was trying. She really was trying.
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The two had quickly bonded and it wasn't long before she was in on Buffy's secret. Ash was a crazy, tomboyish creature who had some very intriguing half hours of madness. Buffy loved them. She was out of the ordinary. Instead of shopping and checking out and dating 'cute guys', a bit of a wild child, she preferred kickboxing and track. She didn't own a skirt and never screamed at spiders. Yet she retained this inherently female elegance that Buffy tried in vain to grasp. She was always clean and smelled so fresh and welcoming that the slayer, after a while, began to miss it when she wasn't around. Ash was the sister that Buffy never had in so many ways. Buffy found herself smiling more often than not and realised what she had been craving. A companion.
However, the other ways, the ways in which she wasn't the sister that she never had, were less abundant but much more powerful. After the first month, Buffy found herself not only noticing how comfortable she and Ash were together, but everything about the dark haired girl. Buffy saw the way she wrinkled her nose when she laughed, the way her eyes glinted at the sign of anything naughty, the way she moved, how gracefully she fought. When Ash was happy, Buffy was happy. When Ash was pained, Buffy was pained. When Ash cried, Buffy cried.
Which is why it killed her when she died.
It had been the usual patrol - cold, busy and dark. As always, Buffy flew through the charnel-houses, dusting left, right and centre. That is, until she was met by one of the best challenges in months. There was nothing special about him, just another newbie vamp to her, but for some reason he presented a challenge. She wasn't ill. In fact, she felt better than she had done for a long time. She had someone to share with, training was going well, and, honestly, she found herself enjoying the fight, taking his low and high punches in her stride, welcoming the buzz. At one point he even had her on her back, leering over her, lusting after her neck...
Which was when Ash jumped in, dragging him away from the slayer.
Buffy's anger raged. "What are you doing here!?"
Ash was visibly upset. "I-I thought that... that I'd come help."
Buffy softened and sighed. Inching her way slowly, she moved towards her friend and placed a hand on her arm, which tensed under her touch. "Ash, it's too dangerous out here. They're str-" She pushed the girl out of the way, and countered the vamp's attack, blocking his harsh backhander. Missing the uppercut, she found herself on the floor again, sprawled next to the brunette. Spotting his lunge, she used his own weight to throw him over her tiny, floored form and continued her lesson. "Stronger than you think."
They both staggered to the floor. "Stay."
As soon as he stood, Buffy had him in a series of hits, never letting up. She was focused and ready and fired and enthralled.
So much so she didn't even feel the footsteps dragging away her only companion.
Thus was the last time she saw her Ash.
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"UGH!" She shoved the top back in the backpack and threw her herself against the uncomfortably wooden seat. Nervously, after hearing a crack, she swivelled round and, as inconspicuously as possible, checked over the chair for any visible breakages. Spotting none, she swivelled back again and resumed staring through her own reflection out into the enthralling nothing, doing nothing, thinking nothing.
It was the safest way.
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It had been a week since it happened. Over the seven days, Joyce Summers had noticed, Buffy had receeded further and further into herself. She spoke less, she ate less. She went out more and came in later. Joyce was at a loss. She had thought they had gotten somewhere, she and Buffy, after the burning gym incedent. Of course, at first, it was a bit mind-boggling to think of but as soon as she came to terms with the fact that Buffy was a superhero, they talked it out and, eventually, things returned to something resembling normal. Joyce knew the patrol routes if she needed Buffy at any time, the slayer had a cell phone and they had regular girlie nights, just the two of them, Ben, Jerry and some Fried Green Tomatoes.
But today, had been the worst. The night before last, Buffy hadn't come home, Joyce had been to work, come back and not a single sign of her daughter's return could be seen. She'd called her watcher. Nothing. Twighlight was settling in, she could see, between the trees, and the night was calling. She picked up the receiver and dialed Buffy's cell. After getting no answer, she reached for a coat and did the only thing she could do - she went in search of her little girl.
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Buffy closed her eyes and continued flailing at her newest victim. She didn't even care that she was the hunter, the killer. Hell, she liked it. Made it easier to kill. No mercy, no loose ends. No civilians. She felt her way from one to the other, running swiftly, soaring into another red-hot attack on the next in line. Behind her eyelids a fire burned, it's flames swirling into bittersweet pictures of orange and blue. Her eyes stung hotly, as the image of Ash invaded her mind again, and her speed picked up. She flew from one to the other, pushing all of her anger, pain and loneliness into her muscles.
"Buffy! Oh, thank God you're alright."
"Mom. Mom leave! Leave now." Buffy called frantically to her mother, fending off a rather large vampire.
"I was so worried. I thought I'd lost you." Joyce shouted back.
"Mom, can we talk about this later? Like when I'm not fighting Mr. Heavy for the world?" She rolled around him and came up in front of another - not so heavy, but very axe-weilding.
"I just wanted to make su- hey! Get away from my daughter with that axe!" Mrs. Summers was on a role. The vampire in question stopped, leaving Mr. Heavy to resume his attack and turned his attention to the older woman.
"Buffy! Help!" She yelled as he began to sprint towards her. "Buffy!"
Shoving Mr. Heavy vehemently, Buffy fished into the ankle of her right boot and grabbed a knife and, after a swift throw, it hurtled through the night.
Into her mother's temple.
He had caught up, shifted his footing and pulled Joyce into the knife's path.
She couldn't move. Couldn't close her eyes. Couldn't breathe.
"Mom?" Somehow her feet had started to take her to her mother.
"Mom?" Her eyes turned to water, her arms hung limp and her chest heaved. Still she couldn't close her eyes. Joyce's eyes stared directly through her baby girl. Empty. Lifeless. Dead.
"Mommy?" She stood inches from her rigid form, propped against a tree, black blood dribbling from the steel nightmare protruding from the right side of her head, ugly and evil. And cried.
A sharp slice floored her. Looking up into the sky she reached up a desperate hand to her lips and shrieked at the pain. On the right side, her lip had been split up to the nostril and down to the labrette. Blood flowed freely into her mouth as she yelled, and she felt the vomit rise through her throat. Rolling onto her knees, she proceeded to throw up on the grass, wincing everytime the sick hit the slash, vomiting everytime she winced at the sudden pain.
Then, feeling a thud of a heavy foot on her back, she swallowed the pain, she swallowed the regurgitated days alcohol, she swollowed every piece of anger, and let it churn in her stomach.
Nothing after that was remembered.
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The hardest thing about saving the world for Buffy was having nothing to save it for.
Through the nothingness, a small yellow flash caught in the slayer's eyes.
WELCOME TO SUNNYDALE.