Epitaph Again 5/?
Title: Epitaph Again
Author: ghostofsnickerdoodle/ghostyouknow27
Chapter 5: Cast a Cold Eye
Pairings: S/B.
Rating: 15-18. There are a few bad words thrown around and the story's set in a brutal post apocalyptic world - that said, I don't get graphic.
Warnings: None.
Summary: One hundred years after Chosen, Buffy lives in a world destroyed by the Dollhouse's technology, looking for something she can't let herself remember. Her life changes when she gets a box in the mail (never mind that mail no longer exists) containing a certain incorporeal someone. The Dollhouse's technology plays a role in this fic, but the characters are strictly Buffyverse. This story has been nominated at the Sunnydale Memorial Awards for Best Crossover (TV). Go vote, if you're the voting type. If I win, I promise to give the whole world puppies.
Disclaimer: Joss owns everything.
CAST A COLD EYE
“Have you seen Spike?” Buffy asked Jo, nibbling on some hardtack she had pocketed. Jo could find lunch in any old sewer, but Buffy was more finicky.
Buffy had been too stubborn to ask about the vampire for the past few weeks, knowing that he was avoiding her. Two could play that game. And Buffy stayed busy, interrogating demons, exploring the tunnels. Chasing rumors for reasons she didn’t fully know. Or half-empty know, for that matter.
The two one-time Slayers were in a tunnel beneath the Potomac - an oppressive damp seeped through the ceilings and walls - following information given by a Grolschwag nesting in the catacombs of L’enfant. There was said to be an opening, not to the outside, but to a deeper, hidden place. The sort of place Buffy knew, somehow, that she needed to find.
“He comes and goes,” said Jo. “This tunnel was a bit darker than most, causing her red eye to shine more brightly. “I don’t think he can help himself. He’s tied to you somehow, Buffy. Mystically, I mean. I don’t think he can leave.”
“I get the impression he never left, even when he could, and I was doing everything in my power to make him.” Buffy caught Jo’s curious glance. “What?”
“Don’t be too quick to trust him,” said Jo, slowly.
“It’s hard to explain,” said Buffy, “because, y’know, my memory’s riddled with holes. But I know that I knew him. I trusted him. I -”
“You cared for him,” finished Jo.
“He was in my heart.” Buffy admitted softly. “I don’t know much, but I know that.”
The women fell into silence.
“I can sense him, even when you can’t.” said Jo, finally. “He watches you sleep. Sometimes he stretches out next to you. Sometimes he just sits there, staring at you, like he’s trying to puzzle you out. He looks so intensely sad.” Jo shook her head, “I don’t think he wants to hurt you, Buffy. But someone bound him to you. He’s not his own man. He might not be able to help himself.”
Buffy barked out a laugh. “Like I’m my own woman.”
“You’re still you. Take what you can.” Jo flicked her tongue out for a second, “There’s something here. Do you feel it?”
Buffy nodded. She placed her hands against a section of the wall, felt something thrum up her spine. “There’s power. But I don’t think it’s in the tunnels.”
“It’s coming from this point in the river,” agreed Jo. “But I don’t see how the access point can be underwater. They couldn’t scuba dive to the power source.”
“The one in Ohio was on an electric grid. This one’s magic. Magic means different rules,” said Buffy. “Maybe it’s drawing on the elements. I’ve been thinking about the power flows. They kinda spiderweb out. Most of the time, you’d expect to see a grid. Not these random patterns.”
“Have you been able to follow any of them?”
“No, they’re all physically inaccessible.” Buffy sighed. “I know it’s here, I can feel it. But I’m stumped. There are days when I really miss Giles.”
Jo raised her remaining eyebrow. “Giles?”
Buffy closed her eyes, gritting her teeth against the sudden pain. When she could speak again, her voice sounded hoarse, “Just another name I’m not to remember.”
Jo put a gentle hand on Buffy’s elbow, leading her back the way they had come. “I guess I should have spliced with a scallop, huh?”
Buffy, still on edge, laughed louder than the joke deserved. “No worries, I’ll hire a techno pagan. I hear gills will be all the rage in ‘104.”
But there was a hopeless pressure building in her chest. That was the trouble, Buffy thought, with giving up your memories for a chance to save the world. You forget what you’re fighting for.
She wanted to get drunk. To get high. To get outside of herself and forget about not remembering. Hallucinate her way out of these tunnels. These endless dead ends .
“I need some hicha,” said Buffy.
“Oh, Buffy,” sighed Jo. “Be careful.”
****
Author: ghostofsnickerdoodle/ghostyouknow27
Chapter 5: Cast a Cold Eye
Pairings: S/B.
Rating: 15-18. There are a few bad words thrown around and the story's set in a brutal post apocalyptic world - that said, I don't get graphic.
Warnings: None.
Summary: One hundred years after Chosen, Buffy lives in a world destroyed by the Dollhouse's technology, looking for something she can't let herself remember. Her life changes when she gets a box in the mail (never mind that mail no longer exists) containing a certain incorporeal someone. The Dollhouse's technology plays a role in this fic, but the characters are strictly Buffyverse. This story has been nominated at the Sunnydale Memorial Awards for Best Crossover (TV). Go vote, if you're the voting type. If I win, I promise to give the whole world puppies.
Disclaimer: Joss owns everything.
CAST A COLD EYE
“Have you seen Spike?” Buffy asked Jo, nibbling on some hardtack she had pocketed. Jo could find lunch in any old sewer, but Buffy was more finicky.
Buffy had been too stubborn to ask about the vampire for the past few weeks, knowing that he was avoiding her. Two could play that game. And Buffy stayed busy, interrogating demons, exploring the tunnels. Chasing rumors for reasons she didn’t fully know. Or half-empty know, for that matter.
The two one-time Slayers were in a tunnel beneath the Potomac - an oppressive damp seeped through the ceilings and walls - following information given by a Grolschwag nesting in the catacombs of L’enfant. There was said to be an opening, not to the outside, but to a deeper, hidden place. The sort of place Buffy knew, somehow, that she needed to find.
“He comes and goes,” said Jo. “This tunnel was a bit darker than most, causing her red eye to shine more brightly. “I don’t think he can help himself. He’s tied to you somehow, Buffy. Mystically, I mean. I don’t think he can leave.”
“I get the impression he never left, even when he could, and I was doing everything in my power to make him.” Buffy caught Jo’s curious glance. “What?”
“Don’t be too quick to trust him,” said Jo, slowly.
“It’s hard to explain,” said Buffy, “because, y’know, my memory’s riddled with holes. But I know that I knew him. I trusted him. I -”
“You cared for him,” finished Jo.
“He was in my heart.” Buffy admitted softly. “I don’t know much, but I know that.”
The women fell into silence.
“I can sense him, even when you can’t.” said Jo, finally. “He watches you sleep. Sometimes he stretches out next to you. Sometimes he just sits there, staring at you, like he’s trying to puzzle you out. He looks so intensely sad.” Jo shook her head, “I don’t think he wants to hurt you, Buffy. But someone bound him to you. He’s not his own man. He might not be able to help himself.”
Buffy barked out a laugh. “Like I’m my own woman.”
“You’re still you. Take what you can.” Jo flicked her tongue out for a second, “There’s something here. Do you feel it?”
Buffy nodded. She placed her hands against a section of the wall, felt something thrum up her spine. “There’s power. But I don’t think it’s in the tunnels.”
“It’s coming from this point in the river,” agreed Jo. “But I don’t see how the access point can be underwater. They couldn’t scuba dive to the power source.”
“The one in Ohio was on an electric grid. This one’s magic. Magic means different rules,” said Buffy. “Maybe it’s drawing on the elements. I’ve been thinking about the power flows. They kinda spiderweb out. Most of the time, you’d expect to see a grid. Not these random patterns.”
“Have you been able to follow any of them?”
“No, they’re all physically inaccessible.” Buffy sighed. “I know it’s here, I can feel it. But I’m stumped. There are days when I really miss Giles.”
Jo raised her remaining eyebrow. “Giles?”
Buffy closed her eyes, gritting her teeth against the sudden pain. When she could speak again, her voice sounded hoarse, “Just another name I’m not to remember.”
Jo put a gentle hand on Buffy’s elbow, leading her back the way they had come. “I guess I should have spliced with a scallop, huh?”
Buffy, still on edge, laughed louder than the joke deserved. “No worries, I’ll hire a techno pagan. I hear gills will be all the rage in ‘104.”
But there was a hopeless pressure building in her chest. That was the trouble, Buffy thought, with giving up your memories for a chance to save the world. You forget what you’re fighting for.
She wanted to get drunk. To get high. To get outside of herself and forget about not remembering. Hallucinate her way out of these tunnels. These endless dead ends .
“I need some hicha,” said Buffy.
“Oh, Buffy,” sighed Jo. “Be careful.”
****