A Tear for each lost soul
Fandom: Buffy
Title: A tear for each lost soul.
Rating: PG
Summary: It's been Fifty years since Sunnydale was destroyed, and one Irish Wolf Slayer sits with her grandchildren, as they beg to hear the story once again of love lost, and found, in an LA Hotel room, many years ago.
"Grandma, tell us a story." The little five year old girl asked from her Grandma's knee. Her two brothers and five cousins agreed. Grandma had been sewing long enough in peace, it was time for her to tell a story.
"All right, little Anna, what story would you like to hear?" She asked, setting aside her sewing, so that she could look at the youngest grandchild, the one whom reminded her of herself, so very long ago, when her hair was still red, and her Papa was still alive.
"Tell us about how you and Grandpa got together." fifteen year old Allain the Third said. "you know, after you had left Sunnydale?"
"Yes, Allain, I remember quite well. Old age has not yet made me senile." Sighing, she began to rock in her chair, thinking back to that day. "It was fifty years ago. Your father, Allain, was still six months away from being born..."
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I sat in the back of the sweltering schoolbus, which some of the younger Slayers had nicknamed the Cheesewagon, much to Uncle Ripper's chagrin, my head resting on your grandfather's shoulder. The weight of the loss we had just been dealt not fully comprehended in our battle weary minds. He sat near the window, staring out, not really saying anything. He didn't need to. We had been friends far too long, and words were no longer needed to express to each other our feelings. We simply knew how great the other's loss had been, and knew that we were needed for the other to be a silent, comforting presence in this time of loss.
I hadn't realised I had fallen asleep until the movement of the bus abated, and Uncle Ripper came to the back to ask your grandfather to take over driving the rest of the way to LA. The old man wasn't as young as liked to think he was, and this final battle had zapped alot of his reserves. He needed some time to rest. He agreed, and I got up to let him out to make his way to the driver's seat. Uncle Ripper took his seat, and soon, the two of us were asleep. My head on his shoulder, as so many times before when I thought Uncle Ripper made a good pillow.
The next time I woke up, was when we had reached LA. Your grandfather was kind enought to come get us up, as this time not even the arrested movement of the Cheesewagon had pulled me from my slumber, nor had Uncle Ripper awakened. We staggered off the bus, where an Anxious Angel waited on the Steps of his new lawfirm, Wolfram and Hart. I didn't even want to know how he aquired it, all I cared about was the key to the fifth floor flat that he provided for me, and off I went, with nothing but the clothes on my back.
It was a beautiful flat. All the comforts of home: a stocked fridge, an entirely new wardrobe which I was pretty sure he had Fred pick out, cause Angel himself was not exactly the height of fashion, and nice frilly queen-sized bed. that, more than anything else, seemed like paradise to me. But the bed was not the first place I went.
No, the first place I went was the balcony, overlooking pool of the complex. The sun was setting, so I knew I facing west. Finally, after so long, I was able to shed the tears for those i had lost.
The first tear was for my cousin Irving, whom since I was seven, was the closest thing to a father i've had. My mentor, my trainer, my confidant, my Watcher. It was because he was a Watcher that he was killed by the Harbingers of the First. It was as he died that I found out I was not the only Potential in our family. That my cousin, whom I had started taking out with my on patrols, Jollin, was also a Potential, and that I was given the responsibility to take care of her, and protect her from the First. I only wish I had reached my home in time to save him.
The second tear was for Allain's family, who had died when the Harbingers had come for me, and for their youngest daughter, a Potential. Jollin and I had been sent by Uncle Ripper to gather Bianca and bring her to the Summers' home so we could protect her. We had been too late. The family was already dead, and Bianca lay dying in my arms. I had failed Uncle Ripper, but more importantly, I had failed Allain. I couldn't save his family, because we had been too late. He said it wasn't my fault, but after that, i had been unable to meet my love in the eye.
The the third tear was for my beloved sister, Irena, who had died in the final battle with the first, and her uber Vamps. Side by side we had fought, the werepanther mystic, and the werepanther Slayer, fighting with Stakes and claws. Of my immediate family, she was the one I trusted, and loved more than anything else. She was the only one who would come to my side, and stay with me, through it all. It seemed fitting that she died fighting by my side. It was a grand battle, and oh what a glorious death she had. But she was still my sister, and despite knowing she died bravely, I missed her terribly. I missed her heavy Irish accent whispering in my ear, I missed dragging into trouble and letting her drag us both out. I missed her smile, her laugh, her voice.
The fourth tear was for Anya. The twice made Vengeance Demon, the twice made human. Xander's girl. A friend who was brutally honest, whether you wanted the truth or not. Despite that, we had become friends, close and true. We had laughed together, cried together. We had talked about both our upcoming weddings, pouring over the Bridal Magazines, picking out the dresses for ourselves, and for our bridesmaids. To have her hear broken, on her wedding day, by my best friend, was very hard. None of us blamed her for her choices that she made. Now, to have given her life, for another, for Andrew, no less, it was a fitting end for her.
The fifth tear was for that loveable Big Bad with the heart of gold, Spike. So many times had he proclaimed himself the Big Bad, yet had proved he wasn't truly evil, not even when he didn't have a soul, not even when he didn't have the chip. So many times he could have killed me, or Willow, or Xander, and yet, we still breathe. A strange Vampire, who spent way too much time watching Soaps, especially Passions. I never had understood his choice of that show. Though I had understood why he had gone chasing after a soul, so he could be the Buffy-whipped Lapdog that had once been Angel's position. That she had chosen him as her champion, and that he had willingly accepted it, and willingly gave his life. He would be sorely missed. Of course, at that time, I didn't know that he would be coming back to us a mere nineteen days later.
The final tears fell for my beloved, Allain. The one man whom I had thought I could love. The father of our son, whom had yet to be born. My secret husband. I found out I was pregnant while the First waged it's seige against us. Allain insisted we marry then and there, in a private ceremony, so that if something should happen to him, I would be a beneficiary for the Life Insurance policy we had taken out. So that our child would be taken care of. Had I but known that last night was to be our be our last moments together, I would have cherished those moments much more. Had I but known he would be the first to fall to the terrible monsters. Sighing, I leaned over the balcony, screaming, crying out for my lost love.
In that moment, I made a rather rash decision. I climbed over the railing of the balcony. I could not imagine living without my husband, without Allain. We were on the fifth floor, and I stood a good chance of dying instantly, and being back within my lover's arms again. I would have jumped, too, had it not been for your grandfather. I didn't remember leaving the door to my new apartment open, but I must have, for he had walked in, somehow knowing that one of his best friends needed the comfort only he could provide.
I was standing on the edge of the Balcony, gathering the courage to leave this world behind, when a strong arm grabbed me, and pulled me back inside. "Haven't I lost enough," He said, holding me to him once he had pulled me inside, "must I lose my best friend as well?"
I cried again, cried on his shoulder as he cried as well. Mourning together for those who had left us behind to live. Willow came in the next morning to find us intwined together on the bed, your grandfather's hand resting on my swollen belly. Allain had told him about the pregnancy mere hours before his death, so that if something should happen to him, our young son would be taken care of.
We took it slow, after that morning, not sure how to proceed, but feeling an attraction to each other that went beyond our long friendship. It was two years later we finally married, finally admitting that we finally started seeing what had been there all along.
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The Irish woman smiled, noting that all but the oldest children had long since fallen asleep. Brendan and Allain smiled at their grandmother "All right, kids, story time's over, time for you to take the young ones, and go to bed." She said to oldest.
"Ah, but Gran," Brendan complained, "You said we could wait up for Gramps to get home."
"So she did. Now I'm here, so off to bed with you." A voice coming from the door said. The Red head smiled at her husband, who, at seventy three, was still spry enough to patrol for the monsters that lurked in the shadows. What she would give to be out of this wheelchair, and back in the action, side by side with the man that she loved.
The children reluctantly left the Harris's alone. She smiled at Xander. "How are Dawn and Conner doing?"
"I'm still outpacing them, Dreav, and their younger than I am."
"Well, Mr. Harris, I think it's time we also went to bed."
"I agree, Mrs. Harris. I agree."
Title: A tear for each lost soul.
Rating: PG
Summary: It's been Fifty years since Sunnydale was destroyed, and one Irish Wolf Slayer sits with her grandchildren, as they beg to hear the story once again of love lost, and found, in an LA Hotel room, many years ago.
"Grandma, tell us a story." The little five year old girl asked from her Grandma's knee. Her two brothers and five cousins agreed. Grandma had been sewing long enough in peace, it was time for her to tell a story.
"All right, little Anna, what story would you like to hear?" She asked, setting aside her sewing, so that she could look at the youngest grandchild, the one whom reminded her of herself, so very long ago, when her hair was still red, and her Papa was still alive.
"Tell us about how you and Grandpa got together." fifteen year old Allain the Third said. "you know, after you had left Sunnydale?"
"Yes, Allain, I remember quite well. Old age has not yet made me senile." Sighing, she began to rock in her chair, thinking back to that day. "It was fifty years ago. Your father, Allain, was still six months away from being born..."
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I sat in the back of the sweltering schoolbus, which some of the younger Slayers had nicknamed the Cheesewagon, much to Uncle Ripper's chagrin, my head resting on your grandfather's shoulder. The weight of the loss we had just been dealt not fully comprehended in our battle weary minds. He sat near the window, staring out, not really saying anything. He didn't need to. We had been friends far too long, and words were no longer needed to express to each other our feelings. We simply knew how great the other's loss had been, and knew that we were needed for the other to be a silent, comforting presence in this time of loss.
I hadn't realised I had fallen asleep until the movement of the bus abated, and Uncle Ripper came to the back to ask your grandfather to take over driving the rest of the way to LA. The old man wasn't as young as liked to think he was, and this final battle had zapped alot of his reserves. He needed some time to rest. He agreed, and I got up to let him out to make his way to the driver's seat. Uncle Ripper took his seat, and soon, the two of us were asleep. My head on his shoulder, as so many times before when I thought Uncle Ripper made a good pillow.
The next time I woke up, was when we had reached LA. Your grandfather was kind enought to come get us up, as this time not even the arrested movement of the Cheesewagon had pulled me from my slumber, nor had Uncle Ripper awakened. We staggered off the bus, where an Anxious Angel waited on the Steps of his new lawfirm, Wolfram and Hart. I didn't even want to know how he aquired it, all I cared about was the key to the fifth floor flat that he provided for me, and off I went, with nothing but the clothes on my back.
It was a beautiful flat. All the comforts of home: a stocked fridge, an entirely new wardrobe which I was pretty sure he had Fred pick out, cause Angel himself was not exactly the height of fashion, and nice frilly queen-sized bed. that, more than anything else, seemed like paradise to me. But the bed was not the first place I went.
No, the first place I went was the balcony, overlooking pool of the complex. The sun was setting, so I knew I facing west. Finally, after so long, I was able to shed the tears for those i had lost.
The first tear was for my cousin Irving, whom since I was seven, was the closest thing to a father i've had. My mentor, my trainer, my confidant, my Watcher. It was because he was a Watcher that he was killed by the Harbingers of the First. It was as he died that I found out I was not the only Potential in our family. That my cousin, whom I had started taking out with my on patrols, Jollin, was also a Potential, and that I was given the responsibility to take care of her, and protect her from the First. I only wish I had reached my home in time to save him.
The second tear was for Allain's family, who had died when the Harbingers had come for me, and for their youngest daughter, a Potential. Jollin and I had been sent by Uncle Ripper to gather Bianca and bring her to the Summers' home so we could protect her. We had been too late. The family was already dead, and Bianca lay dying in my arms. I had failed Uncle Ripper, but more importantly, I had failed Allain. I couldn't save his family, because we had been too late. He said it wasn't my fault, but after that, i had been unable to meet my love in the eye.
The the third tear was for my beloved sister, Irena, who had died in the final battle with the first, and her uber Vamps. Side by side we had fought, the werepanther mystic, and the werepanther Slayer, fighting with Stakes and claws. Of my immediate family, she was the one I trusted, and loved more than anything else. She was the only one who would come to my side, and stay with me, through it all. It seemed fitting that she died fighting by my side. It was a grand battle, and oh what a glorious death she had. But she was still my sister, and despite knowing she died bravely, I missed her terribly. I missed her heavy Irish accent whispering in my ear, I missed dragging into trouble and letting her drag us both out. I missed her smile, her laugh, her voice.
The fourth tear was for Anya. The twice made Vengeance Demon, the twice made human. Xander's girl. A friend who was brutally honest, whether you wanted the truth or not. Despite that, we had become friends, close and true. We had laughed together, cried together. We had talked about both our upcoming weddings, pouring over the Bridal Magazines, picking out the dresses for ourselves, and for our bridesmaids. To have her hear broken, on her wedding day, by my best friend, was very hard. None of us blamed her for her choices that she made. Now, to have given her life, for another, for Andrew, no less, it was a fitting end for her.
The fifth tear was for that loveable Big Bad with the heart of gold, Spike. So many times had he proclaimed himself the Big Bad, yet had proved he wasn't truly evil, not even when he didn't have a soul, not even when he didn't have the chip. So many times he could have killed me, or Willow, or Xander, and yet, we still breathe. A strange Vampire, who spent way too much time watching Soaps, especially Passions. I never had understood his choice of that show. Though I had understood why he had gone chasing after a soul, so he could be the Buffy-whipped Lapdog that had once been Angel's position. That she had chosen him as her champion, and that he had willingly accepted it, and willingly gave his life. He would be sorely missed. Of course, at that time, I didn't know that he would be coming back to us a mere nineteen days later.
The final tears fell for my beloved, Allain. The one man whom I had thought I could love. The father of our son, whom had yet to be born. My secret husband. I found out I was pregnant while the First waged it's seige against us. Allain insisted we marry then and there, in a private ceremony, so that if something should happen to him, I would be a beneficiary for the Life Insurance policy we had taken out. So that our child would be taken care of. Had I but known that last night was to be our be our last moments together, I would have cherished those moments much more. Had I but known he would be the first to fall to the terrible monsters. Sighing, I leaned over the balcony, screaming, crying out for my lost love.
In that moment, I made a rather rash decision. I climbed over the railing of the balcony. I could not imagine living without my husband, without Allain. We were on the fifth floor, and I stood a good chance of dying instantly, and being back within my lover's arms again. I would have jumped, too, had it not been for your grandfather. I didn't remember leaving the door to my new apartment open, but I must have, for he had walked in, somehow knowing that one of his best friends needed the comfort only he could provide.
I was standing on the edge of the Balcony, gathering the courage to leave this world behind, when a strong arm grabbed me, and pulled me back inside. "Haven't I lost enough," He said, holding me to him once he had pulled me inside, "must I lose my best friend as well?"
I cried again, cried on his shoulder as he cried as well. Mourning together for those who had left us behind to live. Willow came in the next morning to find us intwined together on the bed, your grandfather's hand resting on my swollen belly. Allain had told him about the pregnancy mere hours before his death, so that if something should happen to him, our young son would be taken care of.
We took it slow, after that morning, not sure how to proceed, but feeling an attraction to each other that went beyond our long friendship. It was two years later we finally married, finally admitting that we finally started seeing what had been there all along.
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The Irish woman smiled, noting that all but the oldest children had long since fallen asleep. Brendan and Allain smiled at their grandmother "All right, kids, story time's over, time for you to take the young ones, and go to bed." She said to oldest.
"Ah, but Gran," Brendan complained, "You said we could wait up for Gramps to get home."
"So she did. Now I'm here, so off to bed with you." A voice coming from the door said. The Red head smiled at her husband, who, at seventy three, was still spry enough to patrol for the monsters that lurked in the shadows. What she would give to be out of this wheelchair, and back in the action, side by side with the man that she loved.
The children reluctantly left the Harris's alone. She smiled at Xander. "How are Dawn and Conner doing?"
"I'm still outpacing them, Dreav, and their younger than I am."
"Well, Mr. Harris, I think it's time we also went to bed."
"I agree, Mrs. Harris. I agree."