She Who Came Before
Title: She Who Came Before
Author: Koohii Cafe
Rating: FR7
Fandom: BtVS/Mulan
Disclaimer: Since I am a poor chickadee with no wealth to speak of, I think it's safe to say that neither BtVS nor Mulan are mine. ^^;
Written for: TtH ‘To Boldly Go’ Challenge
Summary: There were many Slayers that lived, fought, and died in the past. Buffy can’t escape their memories when she herself is called to take up the mantle of the Slayer.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy sat straight up in bed, heart pounding and sweaty palms clutching wrinkled sheets in desperation as she gasped for breathe loudly; he’d warned her, that it would continue to be like this and worse, but it didn’t make it easier to handle. Slowly, fingers cramping in protest to how long she’d been clutching the sheet, she disentangled her grasp, closing her eyes tight and covering her face with her hands. Even then, when she opened her eyes to peek through her spread fingers into the darkness of her room- she could still see.
The enemies were coming. All hopes rested on them, the last obstacle, the only thing that stood between them and the country they all served with every breathe, with their very lives; and they were still coming, quickly, much faster than the remnants of their forces could hope to move, the clatter of hooves silenced on that soft white blanket of snow, and if they couldn’t stop them… everything would be over. She tensed, standing alongside those with whom she had formed an un-severable bond and knew that it wasn’t enough.
Seconds stretched into an eternity of time, a surge of power running through her as it suddenly seemed her enemies were moving slower, in a molasses that lay between the two forces. Despite the snow, the sounds of their approach was suddenly deafening to her ears- a change she knew had to be due to their impending deaths, adrenaline filling her and honing her senses to the cause- and she could see the individual fibers on the leader of the charge’s tunic, the glint of his raised sword in detail, and her fingers tightened instinctively on the hilt of her own as she raised it.
Before her, moving far too slow, one of her comrades was preparing the cannon even as their leader yelled to aim at the enemies’ commander, and instantly she knew it would be futile. Taking out that man wouldn’t change anything, but, her mind moving faster than it ever had before with this surge of awareness, she knew what would.
Lunging forward, she refused to heed her comrades’ frantic calls as she pulled the cannon effortlessly from his grasp. Strong legs propelled her across the snow faster than she’d ever moved before, inhumanly fast as she sprinted with all her might to the perfect spot. Before they had even registered what she had done, she was crouching in the cold snow upon a rise, her enhanced senses letting her aim the cannon perfectly up towards her target.
Even with her improved speed, they were still coming much too fast. She had to hurry; the leader was bearing down on her, a horrible look on his twisted gray face that promised a horrible ending. She fumbled with her flint, squeezing it desperately as she tried to light the cannon- only to find that she’d mistaken her own strength, for the stone was shattering in her grasp, falling to the ground. A frantic voice in her ear screamed at her to hurry, to light it- and she grabbed the demon upon her shoulder in both hands. He protested even as she pulled none too gently, and the belch of fire that escaped him was just enough- and just in time.
Her lips twisted into a smirk as the cannon head sailed right past her startled enemy- to impact against the snow covered tip of a distant mountain. There was a long, low rumble as the ground shook, and then the snow began to slide away towards all of them. Realization dawned in those horrid yellow eyes as triumph danced in her own, and then his sword was coming down; retribution as it sliced through her armor like it was so much paper, cutting deeply, painfully into her abdomen, and-
She would never forget. Buffy still trembled as she threw the covers back and the hem of her pajama top up, fingers touching the smooth, bare, and unmarred skin of her belly to reassure herself. Frantic hazel eyes cast about in the dim light of the stars that shone through the window, but there was nothing to be seen except the familiar surroundings of her bedroom. There was no battlefield here, no enemy to fight. It was nothing more than another in a long line of dreams about those who had come before her.
Author: Koohii Cafe
Rating: FR7
Fandom: BtVS/Mulan
Disclaimer: Since I am a poor chickadee with no wealth to speak of, I think it's safe to say that neither BtVS nor Mulan are mine. ^^;
Written for: TtH ‘To Boldly Go’ Challenge
Summary: There were many Slayers that lived, fought, and died in the past. Buffy can’t escape their memories when she herself is called to take up the mantle of the Slayer.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy sat straight up in bed, heart pounding and sweaty palms clutching wrinkled sheets in desperation as she gasped for breathe loudly; he’d warned her, that it would continue to be like this and worse, but it didn’t make it easier to handle. Slowly, fingers cramping in protest to how long she’d been clutching the sheet, she disentangled her grasp, closing her eyes tight and covering her face with her hands. Even then, when she opened her eyes to peek through her spread fingers into the darkness of her room- she could still see.
The enemies were coming. All hopes rested on them, the last obstacle, the only thing that stood between them and the country they all served with every breathe, with their very lives; and they were still coming, quickly, much faster than the remnants of their forces could hope to move, the clatter of hooves silenced on that soft white blanket of snow, and if they couldn’t stop them… everything would be over. She tensed, standing alongside those with whom she had formed an un-severable bond and knew that it wasn’t enough.
Seconds stretched into an eternity of time, a surge of power running through her as it suddenly seemed her enemies were moving slower, in a molasses that lay between the two forces. Despite the snow, the sounds of their approach was suddenly deafening to her ears- a change she knew had to be due to their impending deaths, adrenaline filling her and honing her senses to the cause- and she could see the individual fibers on the leader of the charge’s tunic, the glint of his raised sword in detail, and her fingers tightened instinctively on the hilt of her own as she raised it.
Before her, moving far too slow, one of her comrades was preparing the cannon even as their leader yelled to aim at the enemies’ commander, and instantly she knew it would be futile. Taking out that man wouldn’t change anything, but, her mind moving faster than it ever had before with this surge of awareness, she knew what would.
Lunging forward, she refused to heed her comrades’ frantic calls as she pulled the cannon effortlessly from his grasp. Strong legs propelled her across the snow faster than she’d ever moved before, inhumanly fast as she sprinted with all her might to the perfect spot. Before they had even registered what she had done, she was crouching in the cold snow upon a rise, her enhanced senses letting her aim the cannon perfectly up towards her target.
Even with her improved speed, they were still coming much too fast. She had to hurry; the leader was bearing down on her, a horrible look on his twisted gray face that promised a horrible ending. She fumbled with her flint, squeezing it desperately as she tried to light the cannon- only to find that she’d mistaken her own strength, for the stone was shattering in her grasp, falling to the ground. A frantic voice in her ear screamed at her to hurry, to light it- and she grabbed the demon upon her shoulder in both hands. He protested even as she pulled none too gently, and the belch of fire that escaped him was just enough- and just in time.
Her lips twisted into a smirk as the cannon head sailed right past her startled enemy- to impact against the snow covered tip of a distant mountain. There was a long, low rumble as the ground shook, and then the snow began to slide away towards all of them. Realization dawned in those horrid yellow eyes as triumph danced in her own, and then his sword was coming down; retribution as it sliced through her armor like it was so much paper, cutting deeply, painfully into her abdomen, and-
She would never forget. Buffy still trembled as she threw the covers back and the hem of her pajama top up, fingers touching the smooth, bare, and unmarred skin of her belly to reassure herself. Frantic hazel eyes cast about in the dim light of the stars that shone through the window, but there was nothing to be seen except the familiar surroundings of her bedroom. There was no battlefield here, no enemy to fight. It was nothing more than another in a long line of dreams about those who had come before her.