Fic: The Worst Part

[spikeysgrl18]

Another entry for 50scenes . This is a companion to all the others I've written, and it's a flashback scene so it will inevitably be a little weird, but stick with me. All will be explained eventually. Read the rest here.

Title: The Worst Part

Author: Jami

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Supernatural

Characters: Sam, Willow, Dean
Prompt: #026- Cost
Word Count: 1,357
Rating: PG
Summary: Flashback scene, companion to Darkness, A Time for Martyrs, and Reconciliations.
Warnings: none.
Disclaimer: I own nothing; all the characters belong to the combined genius of Whedon and Kripke, and their respective producers/distributors. I make no money off this. I wish I did, but I don’t.

Everything in life came with a cost. Being a savior usually meant that cost was your life, and sadly this time was no exception.

 

Buffy glanced up from the body, searching the small crowd for the one person she knew would take this loss the hardest. They lost slayers every day; it was the nature of the beast. Slayers weren’t meant to be long lived; it was only due to numerous interventions of her friends that Buffy had even made it this long. And the inevitable day always came for the risk-takers first.

 

It didn’t surprise anyone that Kennedy didn’t live to a ripe, long age, not even Willow. That didn’t mean the redhead was taking her death any easier. The control that had been absent when Tara was killed was thankfully present, but there was also anger and pain in her eyes. Eyes that had darkened to an unnatural mixture of green and black.

 

Finding her standing stalk still next to an unusually quiet Xander, Buffy wove carefully past the grieving figures of other young slayers and laid a gentle, ashamedly slightly wary hand on Willow’s arm, looking to Xander almost in reassurance that she was indeed doing the right thing.

 

“Don’t worry,” Willow said, voice low and as she choked back the few tears that threatened to spill from her eyes, “I’m not going to go all Darth Willow on you,” she allayed their fears with a strained, sad smile. 

 

“I didn’t—” Buffy stammered softly, expression wholly apologetic as she glanced to Xander for some help, but he too looked like he had been caught. “I’m sorry,” she said, head bowed in embarrassed regret.

 

“S’okay,” she mumbled, her gaze finally dropping from the sight of Kennedy lying on the newly formed Council’s sofa and to Buffy and Xander who were staring at her in worry.

 

“How did it happen, Will?” Buffy asked tentatively. She hated to ask, since the pain was so fresh, but if they were in danger, she had to know.

 

“We were—I thought we had everything under control, you know?” she recounted, a crack in her voice. “It was a pretty boring patrol. There were a couple vamps feeding on this girl and Kennedy ran to stop them, to save her. One ran, so I went after him while she staked the other, but we didn’t think that—” she sniffled, wiping her nose awkwardly on her sleeve and shaking her head. “There must have been a nest. We got separated,” Willow shrugged, not entirely sure how everything happened.

 

“I dusted the vamp and went back to get her. She was—there were at least eight or nine of them. I—if I hadn’t shouted,” she cursed angrily, “she got distracted and then,” Willow sighed, gesturing to the cooling body across the room. “I got most of them, but some of them ran. I didn’t want to leave her there.”

 

“I called Giles,” Buffy told her, squeezing her arm gently in support. “He’s going to make some calls…we’ll take care of her, Will.”

 

“Thanks,” she murmured as Xander threw his arm around her, settling her head on his shoulder and holding her protectively. She stayed in his familiar embrace for a long moment before slowly pulling away from him, wiping away any stray tears.

 

Buffy watched nervously as Willow pulled herself together, the haunting darkness still eerily present in her eyes. When she turned to leave the room, standing tall and stiff, as if she was on a mission, Buffy rushed to step in front of her, eyes wide.

 

“Where are you going?” she asked urgently, sharing a wary glance with Xander.

 

“Out,” Willow replied shortly, gaze hard.

 

“Willow,” Xander drew her name out like a warning.

 

“I’m going to find the rest of them,” she said calmly.

 

“Will,” Buffy’s voice was firmer this time. Willow could hear the unspoken threat in her tone, her silent warning to not make her stop her, and the witch smiled tightly.

 

“Relax,” she looked to Buffy, voice a touch softer this time. “I know what I’m doing.” She stepped past Buffy, offering an “I’ll be back by morning,” as she walked out of the house, leaving them behind with their anxiety.

 

 

 

She didn’t know exactly when her hair started to bleed from her normal red to black, somewhere between dusting the first and second vamps. She knew she had to look almost maniacal as she raced down one of the many back alleys in the heart of Cleveland, eyes fathomlessly black and hair flying wildly as she chased down the figure running just feet in front of her.

 

She could have killed him by now, but honestly the chase was exhilarating and while normally she would suppress such tendencies, today was anything but normal. Her control was still airtight, she was fully aware of everything she was doing, and she felt no regret. They were demons. They were killers. Kennedy deserved retribution. And Willow was going to damn well enjoy every minute of it.

 

In the light of day, she would be ashamed of her actions. But tonight, she wasn’t going to dwell on regrets.

 

When her quarry had nearly reached the mouth of the alley, she knew it was time to end this. Harshly barking out an emotion filled “Thicken!” the vampire slammed into her invisible barrier. Panicking, he turned sharply, looking for another way out. Willow didn’t given him a chance to get far.

 

Softly muttered words from the witch’s mouth sent him hurtling toward a brick wall, pinned immobile a foot off the ground. He sputtered and growled threateningly, but she just stared at him blankly, showing no fear. They both knew who was in control here.

 

His demonic mask of ridges slipped away, leaving only face of the human he possessed. A face that on any other day might have instilled sympathy as he looked to her with fear in his eyes. She raised a hand, a piece of jagged broken wood hanging precariously in the air beside her, just waiting for the signal from her to go sailing through the air.

 

The feel of cold metal pressed against the back of her head caused her to pause, eyes flickering nervously at the unexpected presence.

 

“Drop him,” a voice growled. It was certainly a human growl, filled with anger and rage. “Drop him now or I will waste you. This isn’t a threat, it’s a promise.”

 

The stake wavered in the air as Willow’s eyes never left those of the vampire in front of her. His once panicked filled eyes now held the barest hint of arrogance and triumph. He had won and he knew it.

 

“You don’t understand,” she said slowly, softly, trying not to provoke the stranger.

 

“Do it now,” he barked, the sound of the gun being cocked causing her eyes to clamp shut, horrible memories flashing before her. Her control slipped and the stake fell to the ground harmlessly, the feet of the once pinned vampire hitting the ground only seconds later.

 

“Sammy,” the voice muttered distractedly as someone moved behind her, a young man, leaning down to check on the fallen vampire. Willow went to shout a warning, but he sprung up with reflexes no man could possess, shoving his would be protector out of his way, sending the stranger into metal trash cans across the alley, and ran into the street and the safety of darkness as fast he could.

 

“Sam!” the other one shouted urgently, and he was answered by a groan. He was in pain, but it was obvious he would live. “Turn around,” he ordered. Apparently now he was talking to her, since the gun was no longer pressing against her.

 

Willow spun around slowly, facing the two men, her expression wary. She wouldn’t be nearly as nervous if the shorter one wasn’t still pointing a gun at her. She really didn’t like guns.

 

Glancing from one to the other, Willow could think of nothing else to do or say, so she settled for a surprisingly calmly delivered “Can’t we just talk about this?”

 

The short one didn’t look amused.

  

Comments

[rua1412.livejournal.com]

Another great drabble. It seems that appaerance deceived even Sam and Dean :grin: