DISCLAIMER: The Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel characters are the property of Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon, and Fox Studios. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2001 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.
Sanctuary
by Djinn
Sounds everywhere. Noises that, even muffled, made her
jump. And people, seen through fuzzy
eyes, all around her, trying to get to her.
Xander.
They looked at her and it
hurt. They talked and she wanted to
scream. They wouldn't leave her
alone. She could feel their eyes on her,
even if they didn't touch her with their hands.
She fled. But Dawn found her. Dawn saved her and she saved Dawn. But from what? She wanted to flee again. But it was too late. The others found them at the base of the
crumpled tower. "Buffy," they
shouted and ran toward her. Their feet
stomped painfully on the concrete, filling her ears.
Inside, she pulled away. Wondered again, is this hell?
They joined Dawn, kneeling
down, staring at her. Voices coming all
at once.
"Buffy, you're
back."
"Buffy, say
something."
"Are you insane?"
"Can you hear us,
Buffy?"
"Don't ever leave
me."
She shuddered. This was hell.
She turned, tried to find a
calm corner to hide in. Somewhere dark
and quiet and free of hands and voices and eyes.
There were no corners.
She allowed them to pull her,
bundle her along with them. They led her
home, to her old bed, stood around her and smiled down. Large, open-mouthed smiles. So many teeth. Blinding her.
She tried to close her eyes.
Their smiles faded, but they didn't leave.
She wasn't tired. Wouldn't have slept if she had been. Knew instinctively that waking up would be
terrifying. Dark and stuffy and all
alone. Alive again and in a box. Her fingers suddenly ached as they relived
clawing to freedom, bursting through the dirt finally and into the night
air.
She sat up so suddenly she
scattered them as they stood above her.
"No," she gasped. Her
voice sounded like the grave. She looked
at the others, knew from their faces that they didn't like what they saw. Felt guilty.
Felt angry. Felt despair.
This was hell.
"Buffy, what's
wrong?" Dawn's voice. Too loud.
Too shrill. Please be normal, it
said. Please be my sister again.
"Leave me alone,"
she croaked. "Go away."
The faces were firm. Her friends didn't move. She felt panic set in as they tightened the
circle around her.
"No!" she screamed
at the top of her lungs. Or tried
to. Her voice barely filled the room.
"We better leave her
alone for a while."
Yes.
"Maybe I should
stay," her sister offered.
No!
"No." Willow again.
Seeing the truth. Seeing the
failure.
This was hell.
She wanted to be dead.
She could taste their
disappointment as they backed out of the room, eyes not quite meeting
hers.
Freak. Monster.
Buffy.
She sighed in relief. The panic withdrew. She slid down the bed, pushed herself out the
window and onto the roof. Breathed
deeply of the burnt night. Better than
inside, better than being buried. Fresh
air, if slightly sulpheric. Hell was
like that.
"Slayer." A soft voice.
Gentle.
She turned slowly. Waited for the touch, the shout. The seconds passed.
He didn't move. His eyes drank her in, but his hands stayed
at his side. He was silent. Expecting nothing.
She remembered him. Felt emotions rage through her.
Bad. He was bad.
Like the bikers. Her hands formed
fists.
Good. Or at least not bad. She saw him falling from the tower she had
walked up tonight, had run up before. He
had been selfless. His life for
Dawn. Or it would have been if he were
mortal. Her hands relaxed.
"Not sure who you
are?" His tone held no urgency, no
pleading. No judgment.
"Slayer."
"Yes. Slayer."
He smiled. Showed no teeth.
"Slayer." She repeated.
"Buffy."
He slowly eased himself down
next to her. "Yes. Buffy.
Buffy the Slayer."
"Vampire slayer. You're a vampire." Her memories were jumbled. She saw him too many ways all at once,
falling again from the tower, attacking her in the school, with Drusilla and
Angel, fighting Adam's demons in the Initiative, standing in the sunlight
taunting her. She remembered each thing,
how it felt. The memories re-sorted
themselves. She moaned.
"Hurts. I know."
He handed her a cigarette. "This might help."
She shook her head,
frowned. "This is hell."
He lit the cigarette for
himself, nodded, laughing very softly.
"Without a bleedin' doubt."
"Death is my
gift." She blinked back sudden
tears. "They took my gift
away."
"Maybe you living is
everybody else's gift?" he suggested.
"They want too
much. I can't do it again." She closed her eyes as the memories assailed
her. Joyce on the couch, eyes staring lifelessly. Angel as she thrust the sword through
him. Kendra bleeding on the library
floor. "Too much." She shivered.
He didn't say anything. Just took off his coat and wrapped it around
her.
"They want me just like
I was." Her voice was getting stronger as she became more like the
Buffy that wandered her memories. The sad one anyway. Not the light
one, even though she remembered that girl, could see her laughing in the
library, running a Scooby meeting in Giles' living room, trading quips with
Faith. "They want it all to go back the way it was."
"Can't go
back." He looked out at the fires
in the distance; his eyes reflected their glow.
She felt the mantle of doom
settle over her again. All the
responsibility. Closed her eyes,
resignation already filling her.
"I'm the Slayer. I have to
go back."
He turned to her. "Not right away, you don't. Take some time. Let them think you're coming around
slow. I won't give you away." His smile was sad.
"How long can I
pretend?"
He looked back at the
fires. "As long as you need
to. As long as you have to."
She didn't answer and they
sat in silence for a long time. Finally
she stirred. "Sun's coming."
He nodded.
She took off his coat. Handed it to him. "Thanks."
"Sleep now."
"I'll dream."
"Yeah. You will." He put his coat back on. "Don't let them push you, Buffy."
She crawled back into her
room. Then she poked her head out. "You're the only one that doesn't seem
happy to see me. Thank you."
He laughed, a small angry
sound. "Bringing you back to
hell? Not sure I'd wish that on my worst
enemy, much less someone I care about."
She looked down. As he started to move off, she called out
softly. "Come back tomorrow?"
He turned, smiled. "And the day after that, and the day
after that, and the day...."
Her mouth lifted just
slightly as she closed the window. Her
bed beckoned. She lay down slowly,
curling into a ball as she closed her eyes.
Sleep was long in coming, but finally it carried her off. Her dreams were jumbled nightmares and
snatches of memory. When she awoke a few
hours later, her face was wet.
She heard the others
stirring, considered joining them but then curled up tighter. She would take a little more time. Pretend just a bit longer. As long as she needed to. As long as she had to. As long as it took to get used to this.
And this was hell.
FIN