Okay, a few notes, then I'll get to the update *G*
First - yes, I will probably one day write about Margaret McDonald defeating the Trickster. But that's just one of many MANY writing projects sitting around in my head bugging me at odd hours.
Second - I know this took a very long time, and I'm sorry, but I wanted to iron some plot stuff out in my head before I got going heavy into this one - oh, and I wanted to re-read the end of AD, too ... and that kind of took awhile. So - updates should be a bit faster, though still not AD kind of fast. Probably once a week or so.
Third - Yes, despite the decided lack of W/T in this update, it had to be here, and it had to happen. You can consider it useless filler if you'd like - I prefer to think of it as necessary plot development. Though I prefer writing all W/T all the time, this silly plot thing gets in the way, and that means every now and again, I have to do something like this (which, incidentally, is one of the reasons I'm writing the vignette series).
Fourth - IF I have the next update done tonight, that doesn't mean I'm going to be posting that often ALL the time - it just means I felt like writing W/T after having written this update, and I managed to finish it. That is all.
Title: Lingering Darkness Part 2 - Equilibrium
Author: Sassette
Feedback: Can be sent to
pink_overalls@yahoo.com Summary: Buffy gets her groove back.
Spoiler Warning: Up to and including "Tabula Rasa" in Season 6 and for the previous story, 'Answering Darkness'. For anyone who has NOT read Answering Darkness (or, come to think of it, people who are nuts enough to reread that monster), it's in the Completed Fics Archive here on the Kitten.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. The stories all mine, though.
Rating: PG-13
Notes: For the purpose of this story, all events of Tabula Rasa took place exactly as shown in the series; however, all subsequent events appear in the story 'Answering Darkness'. This story picks up where the previous one left off.
Lingering Darkness Part 2
Equilibrium
By Sassette
Buffy listened at the door, hearing nothing but the low sounds of even breathing. Carefully, she eased it open, confirming with her own eyes that Willow and Tara were curled up on the bed, safe and together as they should be. As they should always be. As they managed to be with no help from her.
Shaking her head, Buffy shut the door again, knowing that what she was feeling was ... well, pretty dumb, but unable to help herself. Here she was, the Slayer ... The Chosen One ... the one girl in all the world, blah blah blah.
With a quiet sigh, Buffy crept back down the stairs, looking back into the living room. It was full of friends and family, and her heart felt full for a moment as she watched them all sleeping, a strange ache in her chest. It hurt, really, to feel anything, but she couldn't help it. Being with these people made her feel, and though she remembered the echoes of her love for them all, for the joy being around them brought her, everything ached and she often felt so very tired.
For awhile things had almost seemed normal again - there was a Big Bad to fight, and friends to protect. But then, Buffy had found herself pretty much helpless. Useless. She really hadn't done anything, though she'd certainly enjoyed kicking the crap out of the Construct and sending him back to Hell. Still, that had done nothing to save Willow or Tara. They had saved themselves.
She certainly wasn't sorry about it - oh, no ... she was so very glad, in an achey kind of way, that they were all right. But she wasn't used to it - she wasn't used to being on the sidelines and watching the action. Or, more accurately, hearing a watered-down version of the action later.
Buffy grabbed a coat and some stakes from the hall closet, slipping out the front door and making her way to the graveyards. It was nearing 3am, and there were only a few hours of patrolling time left, but she felt restless, like she needed to be out and doing something.
The movie and pizza scooby recap meeting had gone a long way towards calming her down after the scare of Willow, then Tara, and then Willow again, walking into Hell.
But the relative peace of that time was gone now, replaced by the unwelcomingly familiar feeling of being ... off ... somehow. Like, there was a part of her missing, and she couldn't quite figure out what it was or how to get it back. She certainly felt she had a purpose again, having realized how much good there was still to do in defending the darkness against the evil that would lurk within it, but there was something else missing ... something basic. Something essential.
"Nice night," came a quiet voice from the shadows as Buffy ambled amid the gravestones.
"Angel," Buffy greeted, nodding her head.
"How are you?" he asked, moving into step with Buffy, his hands jammed into the pockets of his coat.
"Fine," Buffy said, looking at Angel, the familiar lines of his face striking a chord of pain within her. That, at least, made sense. Seeing Angel always hurt - it had hurt before, and so it didn't make her feel like everything was wrong. No, it was seeing people who she knew used to make her happy and feeling hurt by it that made her feel like she had left something behind in the grave that she would never get back.
"No, really, Buffy," Angel pressed. "I know ... I know what this is like. Believe me, I know," he said softly. "It's like, everything's completely numb at first, and then everything just hurts. So how are you?"
"Does it get better?" Buffy asked, her voice plaintive, looking down as she walked, kicking the stones that lay in her path.
"It does," Angel confirmed with a little nod. A far off memory came to him - memory of a sensation he hadn't felt in 200 years. "You know how, when you sit just wrong, your leg will fall asleep? And then when it wakes up, it hurts?" he asked.
"Is it like that?" Buffy asked, finally meeting Angel's gaze. "My feelings are just taking time to wake up, and that's why everything hurts?"
"Yes," Angel said. "It will get better," he said earnestly. "It just takes time - and know that when you look at someone you love, and it ... it stings, inside, it's because they're helping you to wake up. Seeing them helps you to wake up."
"Was it like that for you? When I came to visit, did it hurt?" Buffy asked quietly, her eyes troubled.
"It did," Angel said, a self-effacing smile on his face. "I didn't tell you because I thought you'd stop coming by, and I thought I deserved it - that I deserved to feel that pain."
"You should have told me," Buffy said simply.
"Maybe," Angel admitted. "But it was still the right thing. No matter how much it hurt, seeing you helped me recover."
"So I just need time," Buffy said, sighing softly as they walked. "How do you do it?" she asked, then continued on, explaining further at his confused expression. "How do you get up every night and keep fighting - always fighting? I just ... I get so tired, and I just ... wanna' stop."
"I think it's a little different for me," Angel said thoughtfully, his expression pensive. "I've done such ... truly horrible things. I have a lot to make up for - a lot I can never make up for, but I have to keep going. There's nothing else."
"When was the last time we really talked like this?" Buffy asked after a long moment.
"I don't think we ever have," Angel said with a little shrug.
"Sometimes I think that ... no, all the time," Buffy corrected herself. "All the time, I think that I lost something somewhere. It used to be so very simple. Me Slayer. Evil Things. Kill Evil Things. And then there was that whole thing with Dawn and Glory, and that was simple, too - keep Dawn safe. But I just got so tired of fighting, and I wanted it to be over. I wanted Dawn to be safe, but I wanted it all to be over, and then I was looking into that portal, and it was beautiful," Buffy said, her voice hushed and her gaze distant. "It was so beautiful."
"Peace always is," Angel said simply. "But sometimes you have to fight for peace."
"Yeah - and how lame is that?" Buffy asked. "I mean 'fighting for peace'? That sounds like some stupid excuse to punch someone."
"No, it's a stupid excuse to punch someone back," Angel said.
"Why, Angel," Buffy said slowly, turning and looking at the brooding man. "Was that a funny?"
Angel smiles self-depracatingly. "Just a small one. But don't tell."
"Your secret is safe with me," Buffy assured lightly. "Honestly, I feel better than I have since I came back, but this whole thing has been so frustrating. It's like, they went through all this trouble to bring me back, and I've gone to all this trouble to try to be alive again, and then I didn't >do< anything. I was just kind of ... an extra pair of eyes for reading - and reading? >So< not my thing."
"They need you, Buffy. Especially now," Angel said softly.
"Especially now?" Buffy asked, her eyebrows climbing her forehead. "That sounds ominous."
"It's not meant to be," Angel said. "I just know what Willow and Tara went through - where they were, what probably happened to them while they were there. It's not something they're going to have an easy time getting through - no matter how powerful they become as witches or how many demons they help defeat, they're mortal. They were never meant to be in Hell."
"Tell me," Buffy said. "If you know, tell me what they went through. They were so ... vague."
"Do you know what happens to a person's soul when they become a vampire?" Angel finally asked after a long moment.
"And that has ... what to do with Willow and Tara?" Buffy asked, casting a frustrated look Angel's way.
"Maybe I should skip the long explanation," Angel said. "They faced The Trickster, Buffy. In Hell. That means they had to get to him, by earth, air, fire or water."
"And that means ... what?" Buffy said. "I mean, I'm sure it's bad - it sounds bad - it's just ... still with the vague."
"The Trickster's realm is one where souls are trapped by their own guilt, suffering through self-imposed torment. They burn in the fires, without having the strength of will to break free - or they drown over and over, a weight made real out of their own sense of guilt keeping them at the bottom. Some are buried alive, trying to dig their way out, but unable to trust their own instincts and always digging the wrong way," Angel related, his voice and gaze distant.
"What about the air?" Buffy asked. "You went through earth, water, and fire - what about the air?"
"I think that one's the worst," Angel said. "There is a mountain there in Hell, surrounded on all sides by a broad, flat plain. Crossing the plain, the wind whispers to you, convincing you you're nothing. By the time you reach the mountains, you know just how insignificant and worthless you really are. How feeble. How powerless."
"That's ... that's awful," Buffy said slowly, her face paling.
"But the way out - because there's always a way out - is much clearer there. All you have to do is climb to the very top of the mountain. But you're never strong enough, never fast enough, and the wind pulls you off just as you're nearing the top, and you fall, your body breaking on the rocks. Slowly and painfully, everything knits back together, and then the only thing to do is to start climbing again," Angel finished.
"Is that ... is that what happened to you?" Buffy asked slowly.
Angel nodded in response. "It's where The Trickster sends the warriors. It amuses him to have those souls wage a fight they can never win."
"Why are you telling me this?" Buffy asked, her expression pained.
"Because, like you said - you didn't do anything. They didn't need the Slayer in all of this. But they'll need you now - Willow will need you. Your support and your friendship. She's always needed you," Angel explained. "Besides, you asked."
"Oh, yeah," Buffy said, a rueful expression on her face. "Remind me nod to do that. And Willow …she doesn't need me," Buffy said, shrugging lightly. "She has Tara."
"She'll always need you, and Xander," Angel said with a little shrug.
"No," Buffy said, shaking her head. "We've always needed Willow, but she doesn't need us."
"You're her family, Buffy," Angel said simply. "Different people play different roles in each other's lives. Just because a role is different, doesn't mean it's less important, and sometimes just a lover isn't enough. You need family."
"Is that what you found? In LA?" Buffy asked quietly, her hands jammed in the pockets of her coat, her shoulders shrugging up as a cool wind blew through the graveyard.
"Yes," Angel said with a simple nod. "Thanks to Willow, I had that chance. Tell me about Tara," Angel requested, changing the subject.
"Tara's … very quiet," Buffy said, thinking about the shy young wiccan she had first met, and how she had grown. "She used to be so shy - she looked like she'd run if you said 'Boo' to her," Buffy went on, her voice thoughtful and her gaze distant as memories assailed her - memories of a time when she was so very alive - memories of when she >cared<. "Her family was … well, her home life was much with the major suckage. But Willow always saw something there. I mean, she was always super-nice, but Xander and I didn't see what Willow saw. Not until later."
"How so?" Angel asked quietly.
"She's strong, Angel," Buffy finally said, looking into Angel's eyes. "She's so very strong where it counts. I mean, she's a wiccan, right? She's all with the magicky mojo, but … she's not powerful. Not like Willow is. Was. Is," Buffy said, her brow furrowing slightly.
"Is," Angel said. "Willow is."
"Right," Buffy said, nodding then continuing. "Anyway, she stepped up and joined in when everything was falling apart - from what Anya tells me, Tara took care of everybody while I was … gone," Buffy said, thinking back to that conversation. It wasn't really like Anya to talk so complimentary about anyone, but she was the only one who was blunt enough to just say outright what had gone one while Buffy was dead. "Everyone looked to Willow to be the big gun, to fight and fight, but Tara was always there, tending hurts, making sure everyone ate and slept. Willow would have been so lost without her."
"So she's good enough for our Willow?" Angel asked lightly, making a joke of what he would never admit was an actual concern with him. "I never really liked Oz."
"If you had asked me that two years ago, I would've said that no one could ever be good enough for our Willow," Buffy said, a wry smile crossing her face. "But I think Tara really is. She's probably the only one."
"Good," Angel said simply.
"Wesley's changed," Buffy observed after a long silence.
"He has," Angel said, nodding again. "He's grown into himself. He's a good man."
"You've changed, too," Buffy said.
"Good change?" Angel asked uncertainly.
"I think … probably, yes," Buffy said, nodding.
"Buffy," Angel began, then stopped, composing his thoughts. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he shook his head, then began again. "I should go wake Wes and Gunn. Head back to LA."
"It's getting late," Buffy said, nodding.
"I'm only a phone call away if you need anything," Angel said seriously.
"You'd better go," Buffy said, a slight smile crossing her face. Angel just nodded, then stepped into the night and once again out of Buffy's life.
Buffy shrugged and looked around the empty graveyard, expelling a rush of air. It was a game of hurry up and wait again, she supposed, her lower lip protruding in a glum expression as she walked forward, kicking lightly at the dirt as she went about the business of finishing her patrol.
Willow and Tara were going to need her, Angel had said. But Angel didn't know what she knew - at least, not about how very close Willow and Tara were. Maybe he had a point, she considered, but in a way it really was like all they needed was each other. Or, at least, they were so essential to each other that each couldn't really function right without the other. It was strange, really, how inexorably tied Willow and Tara were in her mind. They were so very >together< that it was almost impossible to think of one and not think of the other.
It was kind of nice, Buffy decided. And she was very happy for Willow, and for Tara, too, really. The more she had gotten to know Tara, the more she had been comforted by how very >right< she was for her best friend … and the more she knew Tara, the more she wanted to know - to be Tara's friend, too, like she was Willow's.
She was, of course, Tara's friend. They were all one big group of friends - but she didn't know Tara nearly as well as she knew Willow, and she wanted to.
Buffy paused, a little frown crossing her face.
She wanted to. She wanted to be better friends with Tara.
A slight smile curved her lips, and she looked around in wonder, the darkened graveyard seeming a strange place for such an epiphany.
She wanted to live - not just mark time inbetween patrols, but to really truly live, interacting with her friends and family.
She wanted to see Dawn graduate - to see Xander and Anya get married. She wanted to be around when Willow got her first big computer job, and see the way she got all giddy about the strangest things. She wanted to know Tara well enough to get her jokes.
"Well, that was easy," Buffy laughed, an honest expression of amusement escaping her. She knew it wasn't over - it wasn't perfectly recovered yet - but it was like she had leapt another hurdle, getting past it like she had when she had realized what her purpose in life was - when she had realized exactly why she had to stick around. So now, she knew why she >wanted< to stick around. And part of her felt free.
"Buffy's got her groove back," she said, laughing some more, and breaking into a little boogie right there in the middle of the graveyard, shaking it for all she was worth, then laughing still more.
She froze when a noise caught her attention, her slayer senses perking up and making themselves known. It was a soft rustle kind of thing, from the bushes near a crypt, and she crept over cautiously, suddenly serious as her hand withdrew a stake from her jacket pocket.
"Slayer …" came a whispery raspy voice, and Buffy stopped up short, ducking down to peer into the bushes, her eyes trying to pierce the gloom of night and make out what was there.
"What?" Buffy asked loudly, standing up when the noises stopped and resting a hand on her hip. "You going to be all lurky, or just jump out and attack me like a normal demon?" she demanded.
"Buffy," the voice rasped again, the sound oddly familiar to Buffy's ears.
"What the -?" Buffy muttered, stomping around the bushes impatiently, wanting to figure out who was there so she could go home and check on everyone.
A familiar bleach-blonde head met Buffy's eyes, attached to a prone form, curled up on the ground, one hand scrabbling in the dirt and trying to gain purchase, then dragging the attached body forward agonizingly slow.
"Spike?" Buffy asked incredulously. "What are you doing?"
"What's it look like I'm doing?" Spike asked testily, his words garbled as he formed them around his battered face. "I'm trying to drag myself back to my crypt before the sun comes up."
"I just saw you a few hours ago. This is a new record for pissing people off until they get violent, even for you," she pointed out, her harsh words softened by her helping hands as she assisted Spike in sitting up, her breath catching in her throat in sympathetic reflex when his head lolled bonelessly onto her shoulder and she could make out the heavy bruising and cuts across his face.
"Ow," Spike said with a wince, his unmangled hand moving to his ribs and probing gingerly, a reflexive hiss whistling through his teeth when he hit an extra painful spot. Spike looked blearily up into Buffy's face, absurdly glad to see her, despite wishing he didn't look so damn helpless. Still, it could be worse, he mused inwardly. It could have been Xander.
"What happened?" Buffy asked, her brow furrowing. "Who did this?"
"Demons," Spike managed to say. "Twelve of 'em. Nasty buggers. Very big."
"Twelve?" Buffy asked, her voice rising in astonishment. "Where are they now?" she asked quickly, looking around.
"Killed 'em," Spike ground out. "Killed 'em all."
"Twelve big 'nasty buggers' …?" Buffy asked slowly. "And you killed them. All."
"Oh, fine," Spike said with a little groan. "There were no damn demons," he admitted, a sour look crossing his face underneath the pain.
"Then what happened?" Buffy asked impatiently, getting Spike's arm around her shoulder and her arm around his waist, helping him to stand.
"I got mugged," Spike said, his voice dripping with self-disgust. He bit his lip and grunted as he reached his free hand into the pocket of his jeans, the broken fingers barely responding to his commands, but finally closing around a rumpled pack of cigarettes.
"Mugged?" Buffy asked, looking at Spike as if he had grown an extra head.
"Yeah, mugged," Spike said, limping and wincing when Buffy started walking him forward. "Wankers came out of nowhere, beat me up, and they bloody well took my coat," he said, each word pulled carefully past his bleeding mouth. He managed to get a cigarette out of the pack, pulling it forth with his split lips, then fishing out his lighter. With a growl, he tried several times unsuccessfully to get his lighter to work with broken fingers, before finally managing to light his cigarette and take a deep drag.
"Some demons rolled you for your coat?" Buffy asked, trying to get a clear idea of what was going on.
"No," Spike said defensively. "If it had been demons, I would've won. Damn bloody humans picking on the chipped vampire. Is that fair?"
"Right. Because it's not fair when humans can fight back," Buffy said with a little nod of her head, grunting as more of Spike's weight fell across her shoulders as he limped along.
"I even put on my game face," Spike sighed. "Damn idiots didn't have the sense to run, oh no - they just went about their business," he grumbled. "Should've picked up my damn coat tomorrow. Bloody bastards probably have no idea how to take proper care of it - it's old! You've got to treat the leather just right. And it needed a good cleaning after what Willow did to it," he muttered.
"What Willow did?" Buffy asked.
"It was all over mud," Spike said with a little shrug, then another groan of pain as the movement sent little shots of agony through his body. "Where are we going?" he asked, looking around, one eye swollen shut and useless to him.
"My house. You're sleeping in the basement until you're better," Buffy said.
"Why, Slayer … I didn't know you cared," Spike couldn't resist needling.
"I don't," Buffy said shortly. "But Dawn does," she said, her voice softening. "She'd be pissed if I just took you back to your crypt. Besides - you helped out Willow, so I owe you one."
"You don't owe me," Spike said, shaking his head, then groaning as the pounding in his skull intensified with the movement. "On second thought, I think you owe me a place to get better, a TV down there, and lots of blood. Warmed properly," he said, the idea of cashing in on the favors he had done suddenly appealing in the face of the large amounts of pain he was in.
"Now there's the Spike we know and tolerate," Buffy said lightly. "Y'know, I think you're getting better already," she said with mock seriousness.
"Ha bloody ha," Spike said.
"So, these muggers …" Buffy began, an impish look crossing her face. "Were they girl scouts? I can so easily imagine you getting beaten up by girl scouts. In fact, I like to imagine that. Often."
"Girl scouts?" Spike asked incredulously. "Oh, you're mean, Slayer. You're a hard, hard woman."
"I know," Buffy said cheerfully as they arrived at the house.
by ExtraFlameyWT » Thu Jun 20, 2002 7:15 pm 
And I'm happy Buffy's doing better. YAY!! I knew she would sooner or later.
That was for the epilogue, right?? Still... I was looking forward to it. I guess I'll just have to go back and read the epilogue for AD. Hee...
at: 7/6/02 11:19:14 pm
Spike mugged by girl-scouts (or cheerleaders, maybe pantyless ones...sorry just got caught up in the image..)! (that almost made up for the lack of W/T goodness). and i also loved the conversation between Buffy and Angel - it was about W&T too - so that's good in my book. plus Angel never liked Oz - I certainly can understand that.
I was just giving you shit, anyway. 
