Hello! My contribution today is a short story in two parts. Chapter 2 will be posted some time tonight, LiveJournal allowing. No WIPs from me this time. (Incidentally, if you caught my WIP Tekubi during the last S_S rounds, it is once again in progress; you can find all chapters of Tekubi in my memories here.)
The Spotlight, Chapter 1
By: caia
Thanks: to rabid1st for the beta and to itmustbetuesday for the stellar comm.
Rating: PG
Standard disclaimer: The characters aren’t mine, just the story.
Distribution: Do not post elsewhere without permission. Ask, I may say yes.
Feedback: Please. If only to let me know anybody’s managed to get onto LJ to read this.
~ the set of a news program in a tv studio in Los Angeles ~
She felt like Demi Moore.
Not dating-Ashton-Kutcher past-forty-svelteness Demi, but G.I. Jane Demi, who was selected as the attractive, not-too-butch face of female empowerment for public relations purposes. In the last week and a half since the video of a Slayer in action had broken, she had become G.I. Buffy… but no shaved head.
There were good reasons she was chosen as the public face of the Slayers. She had the hard-to-argue-with seniority and the first-hand knowledge of events that went with it. She was one of the original “Scooby Gang”, an appellation more fitting to their high school days that had nonetheless been adopted as shorthand for her friends and herself by the news media. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder whether she’d have been hustled out to the front of their PR campaign if she hadn’t been such an obvious choice for Slayer poster girl.
She was pretty, petite and blonde; nice and non-threatening-looking. With a smile and an idiosyncratically-constructed sentence, she could soothe the frightened public. With some self-deprecation and batted eyes, she could charm half the males in the chattering classes who were suddenly insecure at the news that there were hundreds of women and girls in the world who could, in theory, use their not inconsiderable bulks as hand weights.
That was the idea, anyway. Giles had told her, when she was having her entirely justifiable freakout over becoming a spokesslayer, that she was ideal simply by being herself. But what if she hadn’t been? If she had been not-pretty, or hell, not personable, white, American, or straight, would she be out here right now? If Rona or Kennedy or Cho-Ahn had been the Sunnydale Slayer instead of her, would they be out here?
Was it wrong of her to envy them? Or to resent Faith, just a teensy bit, because her checkered past was keeping her out of the spotlight?
The spotlight was hot, dammit. And she never knew which camera to look at, or how fast to speak. When she’d seen replays of her first public appearances, she’d wanted to hide. Why hadn’t Giles remembered that she turned goofy when she was nervous? She so wasn’t a good fit for this.
She was getting better at it, though. A lot of that had to do with planning what she was going to say and biting her tongue when she was done. Otherwise, she just had to maintain a pleasant and attentive expression while Giles or Willow or Xander was talking. She privately thought of that as ‘Buffybot default facial expression #3′, although she aimed to project a bit less of the vapid medicated serenity than the robot.
And if Willow reverted to some high school-Willow-style rambling on occasion… and Xander occasionally made comic book-style sound effects — Foom! Eeee! Splat! — with accompanying hand gestures… at least it wasn’t her making a total fool of herself.
Anyways, as Giles had grudgingly stated after one of Xander’s performances, it all served in the cause of mollifying a skittish populace. The Scoobies’ deceptively light-hearted recountings of their past exploits encouraged people to view them and their fight against resurgent and ever-present evils as a lark, or as a grand story with a preordained happy ending. It was one thing to mention sacrifices and lost comrades. It wouldn’t do for them to dwell publicly on the bad; the constant Hellmouth-y undertow of horror, fear, and grief.
Buffy supposed this explained certain glaring omissions in the narrative.
Some editing for television was necessary, naturally. They obviously weren’t going to mention that one year’s near-miss apocalypse had been courtesy of Willow. To those without the equanimous Sunnydale mindset, in which “these things happen” very nearly covered it once the crisis was over, such information would have been utterly damning. They didn’t even need to discuss it. They never did discuss Willow’s murder of Warren and subsequent Apocalypsus Interruptus anymore anyway.
In public, they had mostly steered clear of the word “apocalypse” entirely. It made people antsy, and tended to particularly antagonize those in the Bible Belt. Better not to piss off the televangelists any more than strictly necessary. One preacher with a mad-on for Slayers had been enough. For similar reasons, they minimized the role of magic, and avoided all mention of things like hell gods and resurrections from the grave. There was no need to rile the authorities more than necessary either, and so the Initiative had become “a secret organization of scientists and former soldiers” rather than a government program.
Buffy was just as happy not to have the Angelus saga offered up for public consumption. “A vampire tried to use an ancient demon statue to suck the world into hell, Buffy sent him there instead,” that was one thing. “He was her boyfriend, and good until she boinked the soul out of him,” that was more information than she wanted the world at large to have. Her fan mail was already disturbing enough. She’d stopped reading it.
But there was no mention of souled vampires at all.
Giles said mentioning them would complicate matters. A public newly-cognizant of the existence of the blood-drinking undead needed to understand that vampires were evil. That they couldn’t invite their turned former friend inside and expect him to behave like a person. You couldn’t try to reform a vampire like he was a person. Vampires were not people.
Buffy got it. She’d basically said as much, training some of the Slayers when they were Potentials. Somehow it had felt like less of a lie with a souled vampire standing behind her. She wouldn’t have let him stand with her in front of them as he’d been the year before. But because he’d had a soul, he could be good, and she could let them see at least that much nuance.
Vampires are all about the hunt, the kill. They’re animals. This one sleeps in my basement. He rescues damsels in distress and the laundry from the washing machine.
Although the destruction of Sunnydale and the calling of the many Slayers was the most frequently referenced and recounted event from their past, no one had said his name. No one had said his name for years.
Buffy lifted her chin from where it had dipped towards her chest. She should really pay attention. Willow was talking again. Waving her hands and effusing about the spell that empowered the Slayers. How these few dozen young women defeated legions of uber-vamps and closed the Hellmouth.
To her own surprise, Buffy found herself saying, “No. That’s not how it happened.”
That right there, that tendency to make with the speaking before the thinking? That was another reason she sucked at this.
~ across town in an old hotel ~
“You’re gonna wanna come see this.”
“What for? Heard what they have to say. Lived the rest.”
“You want to come see this,” Gunn reiterated, taking him by the arm and dragging him bodily into the lobby. With his diminished but still unusual strength, he could have resisted, but it would have spoiled his carefully constructed imperturbable facade. With no time to prepare, he found himself deposited before the television. Buffy was talking.
“… His name was Spike. They want to take him out because it makes a better story or something.” The Scoobies’ expressions ranged from to stunned to disgruntled. Buffy kept speaking, quiet, resolute. “But he died for the world, and I won’t let him be erased.”
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/165221.html
