Hooray for Seasonal Spuffy, mods, creators, and fans!
My entry for this round is a short experiment in minimalism. I’m not sure whether it works or not.
By: caia (thisficklemob on LJ)
Word count: 233
Standard disclaimer: The characters aren’t mine, just the story.
Rating: R for violence and angst.
Warnings: Yep. Dark fic; major character death; references to suicide.
“I wish I could just stop caring what other people think.”
“You took two of my best vengeance demons from me. This is my revenge on you. And your revenge on them.”
“You tried to rape me.”
“I did. But that’s not why you hate me.”
“Then tell us, oh wise and all-knowing one.”
“I thought you wanted me to hurt you. And you did. But what you really wanted was for me to
“I wouldn’t then. I was selfish.
“I will now. I will.”
Some wounds could not be healed. Buffy had been dead, and she was not recovering. She never would.
That was why she’d done those things. Why she’d allowed him to find her. She wanted one of them to take her out. Needed them to.
The only way to help her was to kill her.
Afterwards, he told the Scoobies it was the only way. They protested and cried, but the attack he’d expected never came.
He supposed it made sense. They might never admit it to themselves, but it was what they’d sent him to do. You didn’t summon a killer to talk somebody down.
She came to him with hope in her eyes. When his hands cradled her head in a prelude to snapping her neck, she closed her eyes and whispered, too quiet even for him to hear, ‘thank you.’
Originally posted at https://seasonal-spuffy.dreamwidth.org/815898.html