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Title: The Run
Author: Diana
Disclaimer: Make a wild guess. Joss, that wonderfully sadistic man, owns all. Along with UPN, the WB, and some other really rich people.
Rating: PG-13 to R, for language and content.
Distribution: E-mail me at mikonoda@bellsouth.net. Ask and you shall recieve.
Author's Notes: This was written in a span of three hours, with a basic idea forming in my head, and it jump started from there. My first posted B/A fic, so please review! Tell me if I should to this thing where I write more often.
Author's Notes 2: Told in Buffy's POV, so it's gonna sound rushed and, at some points, nonsensical.
Spoilers: The entire show, basically (both for BtVS and AtS)
Feedback: WANT! Want badly!
Summery: Buffy needs to get away from someone in her past she thought was gone forever...
***
I'm running.
I'm running, running, running and I can't stop. Oh, god, please don't let him kill them...
Running.
I'm running from him, and I can't stop, won't stop, because if I do I'm positive that I'll scream. I'll scream and I'll scream and I'll scream. I'm so scared.
I can't feel my arm. My left arm. Is it gone? No, it's swinging violently by my side. Bouncing with my frantic steps. It's broken, I think. I'm not sure, because I can't feel it and I don't want to look. If I look, I'll be sick and I'll have to stop to vomit, and then I'll start to scream.
Running.
Oh, god, I loved him. I do. I still do, even now. Even when he's like this.
Tears are blurring my vision. He had made love to Cordelia. He'd found perfect happiness with her. With Cordelia. The woman I'd thought would never steal him away.
Except for once upon a time.
Running.
Once upon a time when all that had me worried was a new presence in town. Some stupid new vamp named Spike. Just a new guy who I didn't fear because he was simply that -- a vamp. And Cordelia was there.
Cordelia, who resented us, our small group of Willow and Xander and me, for being who we were on the social chain. But she new *what* we were, what I was. And she grudgingly hung out with us.
She wasn't bad. Just mean, from years and years of grooming to be popular. So she was what she was and we didn't mind very much.
And occasionally she'd take a pass at my boyfriend.
Boyfriend.
God, I used that term so innocently back then. I loved him more than anything and I wasn't sure if I trusted him. But I loved him and that's what mattered.
So she'd flirt with him endlessly, before and after he was deemed mine. Nothing there but want. I never thought...
I was so fucking innocent.
I didn't know about his demon, and about how he'd love me even while I was killing him, sending him to hell. About how much it'd hurt while he was away, really dead, and how much it'd hurt after he had come back, and we knew. About how he'd leave "for me" and I would die a little more each day, and that I would never really see him much anymore. About how it'd feel when I learned about him and Darla and how he has a son.
Had a son.
Oh God.
Running. Running faster and faster and faster.
My legs are starting to hurt, the small of my back is like liquid fire, and I'm worrying about my arm a little. I can feel it mending, I can feel the bones fuse together again, and the joints repair themselves. I have a slight twinge.
It's no use to think about the past when it can't be changed. Who always said that? Anya, I think. More tears in my eyes. Anya...
But I can't stop thinking about the past. It's so fresh and horrible in my mind now.
Angel slept with Cordelia and lost his soul. I wonder if she felt the way I did when she realized what had happened. But this was not as new and as sick and repulsive as it used to be. She knew what she had to do. And she couldn't.
She ran away and tried to re-curse him. Just like Jenny.
But he found her, I think she knew he would, and he killed her. Broke her neck in the end. But first he had fun with her, torturing her, maiming her.
I know firsthand because he told me. He told me when he came to me tonight, long ago, centuries, eons ago. He walked into my house, sat on a stool, comfortable as could be, and told me how her screams sounded.
He told me that he voice was high-pitched and annoying as hell. He told me that he hated it even as he was jacking off to it. He told me wanted to make me scream, because my screams would be sweet. He told me I would be screaming while he raped me, and that he would revel in it.
And them I ran, like I'm doing now, to anywhere that was away. It was too soon. I couldn't cope with his return. But he followed me, and we fought. That's where he broke my arm, and I gave him a pretty nasty scar that I'm sure will leave a mark forever.
Running.
Out of breathe, out of time.
Xander attacked him. He killed Anya before he came to me. He told me hadn't meant to, that he was looking for Xander in the first place, but she was there and Xander was not, and there was a beautiful little carving knife he couldn't resist getting a little creative with.
When Xander found her two hours later, she had his symbol, the griffin, carved everywhere on her body.
Xander snapped. I don't think he would have lived much longer even if he hadn't gone after Angelus. Not without Anya. Not knowing what happened to her. Not knowing she was alive when Angelus finished his little art project. Angelus ended up simply breaking her neck, but complained to me that it was no fun because she was unconscious by the time he did.
Willow and Dawn were dead. They'd found me in the cemetery, hiccuping and crying hysterically. They'd fought against him, but he was stronger than he used to be. Dawn lasted longer than Willow. She battled valiantly, using her wits instead of magic or brute force, reminding me of myself when I was so young. When I was sixteen and I came to Sunnydale, and I met him and my life changed so many, many times.
I fought also. Xander interrupted, the rage swirling around him like a storm and he hurt Angelus too. But he was dying even as he gasped for me to run.
"No," I was crying and sniffling and trying to wrench Angelus away from his crumpled form. "I can't, I have to kill him!"
Angelus agreed, wanted to sate his lust, and then turn me. Or turn me and then sate his lust; he wasn't really sure.
Xander would hear none of it, "You have to -- for Dawnie. For Willow!" he started to cry. The first time I've ever seen Xander cry. The last. "For Anya, Buffy, for Anya. Please. Get away from here!"
The blood he'd lost was getting to him. He couldn't focus on me. "Get away...Buffy." And then he smiled, reliving a joke from so long ago, "Love you, duchess of Buffonia. Always have. Now run!"
And I did. But for Xander.
I've been running beside the highway leading out of Sunnydale for some time. I don't know, but I'll have to stop soon.
And I can't stop crying.
Everybody's gone. Dead. Giles is in England. He won't hear about it. Who would know to send him a letter, an email, a call? Would Angelus? Would he simply go to Giles and tell him face to face before killing him?
Everybody I've loved is gone. Angel. Why would he sleep with Cordelia? Didn't he remember? Or was is as passionate as it was with me and he just couldn't stop? Was it even more passionate? I don't want to think about it.
My arm has almost completely healed. It's taking long enough.
I have to stop. Here's a small roadside fast food restaurant... Just for two seconds, to rest. To eat.
Spike skipped town. News travels fast along to vampire grapevine. Or would that be a bloodvine? He's God-knows-where now. I wonder if he'll even bother to mourn.
"How can we help you?" asked the man behind the counter.
You could help me by staking Angelus. You could help me by reversing time, before he slept with her, before he left me, before he even slept with *me*. You could help me by letting me change it all. By bringing back Dawnie and Willow and Xander and Anya.
I couldn't talk for a minute. It seemed like hours before I could catch my breath. It seemed like never.
"A...a--number two..." I gasped. I didn't care what it was, what I was ordering. It didn't matter. "And a large drink, please."
"That'll be three-fifty, Miss," the man told me.
For one awful second I wondered if I had cash. But in the next I felt a wad of crumpled bills in my back pocket from taking Dawnie out for lunch only this afternoon. This afternoon that was a forever ago.
The man looked at me closely, "Are you OK? You want me to call a hospital?"
I was aware that my left arm was dangling limply by my side, having not regained strength yet. My hair was plastered to my forehead, with a messy ponytail tied in the back of my head. My clothes were sticking to me, and sweat was gathering in large wet spots on my shirt and pants. My face was red with exertion, and I was still gasping for breath.
"It's OK," I said, "I was just jogging."
When he gave me a skeptical look, I elaborated, "It's been a long time since the last time I ran five miles non stop."
The man gave up and handed me my food and my change. I counted my money. Twenty bucks, give or take. Enough for a phone call to Tara to tell her to mail me my purse, my credit cards, and some clothes. I would need to stay with Dad for a while in LA.
I was certain Angelus wouldn't kill Tara. He didn't know about her. I hoped he'd followed me a little, a least so he was away from my house. From Sunnydale.
My feet felt like lead. I sat down at a table and bit into my sandwich. I almost moaned with delight. I was so hungry. And thirsty.
I finished in record time and pushed my frame from the chair, nearly collapsing when I felt the ache return full force.
I stumbled over to the pay phones, and placed a call. I nearly cried in relief when Tara picked up.
"Tara, thank God," I said.
"Buffy? Is that you?" She sounded alarmed, "What is it, what's wrong?"
"It's--"
"Willow!"
"No, not Willow." I hiccuped, "But, yes, it is Willow too."
"Are you guys in trouble?" she asked.
"We were," I told her, "Now it's just me."
"For God's sake, Buffy!" Tara cried fearfully, "Tell me what happened!"
So I did. I told her the the short version, aware of the little time I had. Angelus came, Angelus saw, and Angelus conquered.
"Tara, listen" I said, urgently "You can cry later. Now I need you. More than I've ever needed anyone in my life."
I told her what I needed, and told her I'd pay her back, but Tara wouldn't hear of it. I told her the address of my father's house in LA. And then I hung up.
And I wished I hadn't.
Angelus had just walked out of the men's room, wiping his hands on his pants. Ohgodohgodohgod....
He gave me an easy smile that didn't reach his eyes, "Buffy! Did you finish your little chat?"
I shook my head numbly. It couldn't be. I ran. I ran so far....for so long...please, no...
He reached out to take my hand, and squeezed it. Hard.
"Come on, Buffy." He sounded carefree. "Let's get outta here. Let's go see your dad, huh?"
He led me out of the restaurant, whistling merrily.
---
At least, that's how my dream goes. My nightmare. Then I wake up screaming and Dawnie and Willow will hop in bed with me and hug me. they'll try to comfort me.
"What's wrong, Buffy?" they'll ask with worry.
But I don't tell them. I just mumble something about remembering dying or some such nonsense.
They'll never know.
They can't ever know.
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