The Last Showdown, Part 1 of 3
Title: The Last Showdown
Author: Parcae_lj
Characters: Xander, Willow, Warren, female OC
Warnings: Spoilers for the whole series, and major character death. This is not a happy tale.
“I hate guns,” said the slayer. I folded my gloved hands in my lap and tried to remember her name. Charlotte or something, I think. Or Florence.
“I can live without having them pointed at me myself,” I said.
“Shouldn't have brought it with you, then.”
“There is that.”
She shifted her hands on the grip. The slayer heritage doesn't cover proficiency with firearms.
“I hate guns,” she said again. “If it's your hands, or a sword or whatever, you need stamina. You need fortitude. With a gun any jerk with no balls can just walk up to you and boom, it's over.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Why do you use them, then?”
“Because I'm a jerk with no balls.”
“I thought you were, like, this mastermind with a plan for everything.”
“Batman. You're thinking of Batman.”
“Come on.”
“I'm pretty sure none of my friends would call me a mastermind. Or even the second half of the word.”
“You have friends?”
“Sometimes.”
She slapped me across the face, hard enough to break the chair under me and send me sprawling. I got to my feet and brushed myself off.
“I seem to have all the power in this relationship,” she said.
“That's not where power comes from,” I said. “Power is being willing to walk into an apartment and kill a teenage girl and then walk out. That's all.”
“It's not working out too well for you so far.”
“Nope.”
She looked down at her hands. They were shaking.
“I'm going to die, aren't I,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“I have your pistol,” she said. “I'm a slayer. I could break your neck with two fingers and be out of the door before you had time to shit yourself. Why do you think you're going to win?”
“Why do you?”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
“It's kind of your thing, I guess,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“Why does the Council want me dead, anyway?”
“Dunno. Giles signs the paychecks, I just work here.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Every morning. You kill anyone?”
“Yeah.”
“That'd be it, then.”
“Go fuck yourself,” she said again, and raised the pistol. I batted it away and ripped out the switchblade I had sewn into my jacket. I was too slow, of course, and she grabbed my hand hard enough to make me think she didn't like me. Which was fair enough, I suppose. I didn't like the way she was pressing it towards my chest much either.
“I win,” she said.
“I'm sorry,” I said.
Her grip on my fingers was agonizing, but the gloves muffled the pain a little. That was one reason I wore them. I stepped aside and let her impetus carry her, my hand, and the knife into the light switch behind me. That was the other reason.
After she had stopped crackling, I took a photo for Giles' benefit. He likes evidence. The pistol she had taken from me was lying on the floor beside her. I tried to pick it up, but my hands were shaking too badly. It happens sometimes. In the end I gave up and left it there.
At the doorway, I stopped and looked back. Charlotte or Florence was lying with her arms akimbo, staring at the ceiling. She looked surprised. They always do.
Next
Author: Parcae_lj
Characters: Xander, Willow, Warren, female OC
Warnings: Spoilers for the whole series, and major character death. This is not a happy tale.
“I hate guns,” said the slayer. I folded my gloved hands in my lap and tried to remember her name. Charlotte or something, I think. Or Florence.
“I can live without having them pointed at me myself,” I said.
“Shouldn't have brought it with you, then.”
“There is that.”
She shifted her hands on the grip. The slayer heritage doesn't cover proficiency with firearms.
“I hate guns,” she said again. “If it's your hands, or a sword or whatever, you need stamina. You need fortitude. With a gun any jerk with no balls can just walk up to you and boom, it's over.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Why do you use them, then?”
“Because I'm a jerk with no balls.”
“I thought you were, like, this mastermind with a plan for everything.”
“Batman. You're thinking of Batman.”
“Come on.”
“I'm pretty sure none of my friends would call me a mastermind. Or even the second half of the word.”
“You have friends?”
“Sometimes.”
She slapped me across the face, hard enough to break the chair under me and send me sprawling. I got to my feet and brushed myself off.
“I seem to have all the power in this relationship,” she said.
“That's not where power comes from,” I said. “Power is being willing to walk into an apartment and kill a teenage girl and then walk out. That's all.”
“It's not working out too well for you so far.”
“Nope.”
She looked down at her hands. They were shaking.
“I'm going to die, aren't I,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“I have your pistol,” she said. “I'm a slayer. I could break your neck with two fingers and be out of the door before you had time to shit yourself. Why do you think you're going to win?”
“Why do you?”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
“It's kind of your thing, I guess,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“Why does the Council want me dead, anyway?”
“Dunno. Giles signs the paychecks, I just work here.”
“Go fuck yourself.”
“Every morning. You kill anyone?”
“Yeah.”
“That'd be it, then.”
“Go fuck yourself,” she said again, and raised the pistol. I batted it away and ripped out the switchblade I had sewn into my jacket. I was too slow, of course, and she grabbed my hand hard enough to make me think she didn't like me. Which was fair enough, I suppose. I didn't like the way she was pressing it towards my chest much either.
“I win,” she said.
“I'm sorry,” I said.
Her grip on my fingers was agonizing, but the gloves muffled the pain a little. That was one reason I wore them. I stepped aside and let her impetus carry her, my hand, and the knife into the light switch behind me. That was the other reason.
After she had stopped crackling, I took a photo for Giles' benefit. He likes evidence. The pistol she had taken from me was lying on the floor beside her. I tried to pick it up, but my hands were shaking too badly. It happens sometimes. In the end I gave up and left it there.
At the doorway, I stopped and looked back. Charlotte or Florence was lying with her arms akimbo, staring at the ceiling. She looked surprised. They always do.
Next