Grief & Friendship - August 9
Title: Grief & Friendship
Author: LadyWinterlight (songs_of_winter)
Fandoms: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Agents of SHIELD/MCU
Rating: PG
Word Count: 738
Notes: In 2008, a tragic event happened in Bahrain. Buffy wasn't there, but she visits her friend in the aftermath. Possible spoilers if you're several seasons behind on AoS, I suppose.
I still do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, S.H.I.E.L.D. or anything to do with the MCU.
2008 - Post-Bahrain
“Buffy,” an exhausted and stressed Andrew Garner greeted her when he opened the door to his home. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.” He stepped back, allowing her entry without a verbal invitation. She’d managed to instill the habit in most of her friends and was pleased that he remembered - even if it was daylight.
“Hey, Drew,” Buffy gave him a small smile, and he made the effort to return it. “I wish I could’ve been here sooner, but I was a little tied up. How are you holding up?”
Andrew shrugged. “Not great, but better than Mel.” Buffy nodded sympathetically and silently offered him a hug. She wasn’t surprised when he accepted it, just letting him lean into her strength for a few long moments. “I’m worried about her, Buffy.”
“I know. I heard… well, as much as Phil could tell me.” Buffy sighed. “I get what she’s going through. I thought… maybe it would help.”
“She won’t talk about it. At all.”
“I get that, too.” Buffy sighed. “Take a break, Drew. Catch a nap, take yourself out for a meal or something. Giles and Dawn are at the local House if you want company. I’ll stay here until you get back, promise.”
“I…” Andrew started to object, then shook his head. “You might be right. I’ll go meet up with Rupert, maybe stay for dinner. But if you need anything…”
“I’ll call.” Buffy waited until Andrew was in his car, headed down the street, before looking for Melinda. Not that May was difficult to find; Buffy found her curled up in bed, the lights off and her back turned to the door - and the empty space on the bed.
Ignoring the big, empty space, Buffy circled around the bed and sat on the floor where Mel couldn’t help but see her if she’d just open her eyes. “Hey, Mel,” she said softly. She didn’t really expect an answer, but that was okay. She was more than capable of filling the silence. “I heard you had a pretty horrific mission. I get that, you know?” She saw Melinda’s eyes crack open slightly; the older woman’s expression could’ve been carved from stone for all the emotion it held. But her eyes… Mel’s eyes held a world of pain.
Reaching inside herself for memories that would answer that pain, share in it even if the situations weren’t the same, Buffy sighed. She leaned against the side of the bed and the mattress, holding Melinda’s gaze. And slowly, quietly, began to tell the story of the first Prophecy regarding her own death. The Anointed One. The Master. Then Angel, and Angelus.
Some of the hardest moments of her life, all faced before she was even legally an adult.
It wasn’t the same. When Melinda finally began to talk, her anguished voice speaking quietly of having to kill a little girl because power had driven her mad… Buffy knew it wasn’t the same. But in a way, it kinda was.
“You know… one of the hardest things for me to learn about my line of work was to separate the demon from the human. But those stuffy old Watchers were right about one thing. ‘When you see a friend who has become a vampire, you aren’t looking at your friend. You’re looking at the thing that killed him.’” Buffy took a slow breath. “I know it’s not the same, because she wasn’t possessed by a demon. But in a way, that little girl still lost her life to a power beyond her ability to handle. The power killed her. You only took away the vessel the power tried to claim.”
Melinda shook her head. “I… I can’t. No. Buffy. I killed her.” Melinda’s voice broke and she cut herself off rather than continue.
“I know it feels that way now,” Buffy agreed. She moved up to sit on the bed, wriggling herself under Melinda’s head until she could comfortably wrap an arm around her friend. “I know it hurts, and you hate yourself for what you were forced to do. I just… I know, Mel.”
She didn’t comment on the damp patch growing on her clothes as tears finally broke from Melinda’s hold. She didn’t comment on her own streaked cheeks, either. She just sat there quietly as grief released itself for an undetermined amount of time.
When Andrew got home that evening, the two women were curled up together and both asleep.