More of that drabble...no regrets
Mar. 28th, 2005 08:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shadowkat[Where I'm at - which ain't far - Will had gone to get Buffy tea. Buffy at 40 has gone to visit a human Spike, after both he and Angel shanshued years before. There's no sex in this baby and I haven't a clue where it's headed, nor is it proofed or betaed.]
Will came back into the room carrying a tray, startling her from her reverie.
"It isn't much, just a few scones that Annie made. Charely brought them up.
Along with a few other things. Shame couldn't convince him to stay longer, so you could get acquainted like. "
"He seemed nice, does he come up here often?"
Will shrugged. "Not really. Once or twice a month, sometimes more. Sometimes Liam tags along, or Annie. But mostly it's just Charely boy."
"No one else?"
He shook his head, pouring the tea into two cups. As he did so, she studied his hands, spotted with freckles no longer smooth and white as she remembered. The skin leathery, tanned, as if he'd spent a lot of time in the sun. "Cream?"
She shook her head. Taking the cup from his fingers, which felt warm and rough.
Noticing a slight tremor in them, a nervousness. He pulled back his hand and quickly offered her a scone, which she accepted graciously. "So you are alone up here?"
"More or less. Have a couple of hawks in a nest out back and the occassional deer or raccoon. Saw a few badgers the other day. And once, a mountain lion - which is a rarity."
"But no people?"
"Outside of Charely? No not really." He averted his eyes as he spoke, studying his hands or the cup or the trees outside the windows.
"Sounds lonely."
"I suppose. But I like the quiet."
"Where'd you get the photos?" She asked tilting her head towards the wall of pictures. Not so much a shrine as what one might find in someone's home or on a photographer's wall.
"The newer ones - I took or one of the Gang did. The older ones...acquired over the years. Some snagged off you lot, when you weren't looking. Others..."
He swallowed, then placed his cup on the tray, delicately. Stood and approached them, staring at the ones towards the windows. Sipping her tea, Buffy quietly watched him, curious which of the photos he was focusing his attention on. The one of the attractive black woman in the long black jacket that resembled his old one? The picture of the orphans standing in front of
a large building? Or the pictures of the students she vaguely remembered from her old high school, long dead and buried? Holden Webster? Sheila? Ford? Harmony? The pretty blond punk vampire she'd fought ages ago on the Sunnydale U campus, whose name, assuming it had a name, escaped her. One didn't think too much about the vampires one killed. He moved back slightly from the wall and towards the windows, digging his hands into his pockets as he did so.
"Have you ever killed anyone Buffy?"
The question caught her off guard. "What do you mean?"
"Not vampires or demons or monsters, but people, a living person. Did you ever kill anyone?" His voice was so soft it sounded as if it came from a long ways away.
She thought about the question for a moment. Had she? People had died during her watch, sure, that was inevitable - you couldn't save everyone. But somehow she doubted that was the same thing. Besides, she'd made her peace with that ages ago. Learned how to let things go and not worry at them like old wounds or for that matter worry how others may view them. She had and still did her best, that was all one could ask of oneself after all. "No," she said finally.
"Didn't think so. Heros don't. Kill people that is. Right level wonder woman, you are. Always saving the day, even when everything seemed to be against you." He shook his head and lifted a finger to touch the glass. "Up here, things are so simple, you have deer and you have wildcats. The wildcats eat the deer. Raccoons and others pick up the waste. Normal. Natural. Beautiful even in its symmetry. Killing for food. Simple. Necessary. Ever had deer meat?"
"Can't say that I have."
"Not bad. Sort of gamey, used to have it a lot back in the day, 'fore I was turned, 'fore I died. Course seemed a bit unseemly at times. Back then...so many things did. Remember thinking that fighting, even discussing fighting was unseemly, made much more sense to focus on things of beauty, flowers, pretty girls, poetry. Wanted nothing to do with fisticuffs or such stuff. Abhored the idea of it. Or so I thought. Thought of myself as a good man, right horrible poet, but a good man."
"And you've become one, Spi-" Buffy caught herself, "sorry, I mean Will."
He laughed, soft bitter laughter. "Have I? Was I ever?" Then leaned his forehead against the sill.
She got up and tentatively approached him. "I thought the shanshue was supposed to wash you of this, give you fresh outlook on life?"
Laughter. "That what old Liam tell you?" He glanced at her. "Yeah, suppose it does in its way. I mean the pain is gone, no longer hear them screaming in my head like I once did and so's the guilt, don't feel it quite the same way as back then. But haven't forgotten either. Not that I want to." He glanced back at the photos. "Some of those people up there don't have anyone to remember them but me. All trace of them is gone. We did that - Angel, me, Dru, Darla, and others like us. Took their lives as ours were took. Some we changed, turned into something else. They were the end of their line, like we were. Best I can do for them is to remember. Remember what they were. What we all were once, before we became monsters that had to be killed." He sighed. "In nature - a rabid dog can go on for months without being taken down, spread its disease. Vampirism is sort of like that, except worse, I suppose. Because you don't die. Not until someone dusts you. Rabies? You die. Nature's cleaner that way. There's life, death, and life again. Vampires? We just go on and on and on, staying young and pretty forever. Sucking the life out of everything around us in the process."
"Oh. Don't get me wrong, I'm not eaten up with it - not like the old man is. No good comes of that. But, I do...Sorry, Charely boy were here, he'd rip me a new one. Says I worry over what was done and gone too much - sounding like some namby-pamby Nancy boy. "
[Stuck. Not sure this bit works at all....may delete and try again tomorrow.]
Will came back into the room carrying a tray, startling her from her reverie.
"It isn't much, just a few scones that Annie made. Charely brought them up.
Along with a few other things. Shame couldn't convince him to stay longer, so you could get acquainted like. "
"He seemed nice, does he come up here often?"
Will shrugged. "Not really. Once or twice a month, sometimes more. Sometimes Liam tags along, or Annie. But mostly it's just Charely boy."
"No one else?"
He shook his head, pouring the tea into two cups. As he did so, she studied his hands, spotted with freckles no longer smooth and white as she remembered. The skin leathery, tanned, as if he'd spent a lot of time in the sun. "Cream?"
She shook her head. Taking the cup from his fingers, which felt warm and rough.
Noticing a slight tremor in them, a nervousness. He pulled back his hand and quickly offered her a scone, which she accepted graciously. "So you are alone up here?"
"More or less. Have a couple of hawks in a nest out back and the occassional deer or raccoon. Saw a few badgers the other day. And once, a mountain lion - which is a rarity."
"But no people?"
"Outside of Charely? No not really." He averted his eyes as he spoke, studying his hands or the cup or the trees outside the windows.
"Sounds lonely."
"I suppose. But I like the quiet."
"Where'd you get the photos?" She asked tilting her head towards the wall of pictures. Not so much a shrine as what one might find in someone's home or on a photographer's wall.
"The newer ones - I took or one of the Gang did. The older ones...acquired over the years. Some snagged off you lot, when you weren't looking. Others..."
He swallowed, then placed his cup on the tray, delicately. Stood and approached them, staring at the ones towards the windows. Sipping her tea, Buffy quietly watched him, curious which of the photos he was focusing his attention on. The one of the attractive black woman in the long black jacket that resembled his old one? The picture of the orphans standing in front of
a large building? Or the pictures of the students she vaguely remembered from her old high school, long dead and buried? Holden Webster? Sheila? Ford? Harmony? The pretty blond punk vampire she'd fought ages ago on the Sunnydale U campus, whose name, assuming it had a name, escaped her. One didn't think too much about the vampires one killed. He moved back slightly from the wall and towards the windows, digging his hands into his pockets as he did so.
"Have you ever killed anyone Buffy?"
The question caught her off guard. "What do you mean?"
"Not vampires or demons or monsters, but people, a living person. Did you ever kill anyone?" His voice was so soft it sounded as if it came from a long ways away.
She thought about the question for a moment. Had she? People had died during her watch, sure, that was inevitable - you couldn't save everyone. But somehow she doubted that was the same thing. Besides, she'd made her peace with that ages ago. Learned how to let things go and not worry at them like old wounds or for that matter worry how others may view them. She had and still did her best, that was all one could ask of oneself after all. "No," she said finally.
"Didn't think so. Heros don't. Kill people that is. Right level wonder woman, you are. Always saving the day, even when everything seemed to be against you." He shook his head and lifted a finger to touch the glass. "Up here, things are so simple, you have deer and you have wildcats. The wildcats eat the deer. Raccoons and others pick up the waste. Normal. Natural. Beautiful even in its symmetry. Killing for food. Simple. Necessary. Ever had deer meat?"
"Can't say that I have."
"Not bad. Sort of gamey, used to have it a lot back in the day, 'fore I was turned, 'fore I died. Course seemed a bit unseemly at times. Back then...so many things did. Remember thinking that fighting, even discussing fighting was unseemly, made much more sense to focus on things of beauty, flowers, pretty girls, poetry. Wanted nothing to do with fisticuffs or such stuff. Abhored the idea of it. Or so I thought. Thought of myself as a good man, right horrible poet, but a good man."
"And you've become one, Spi-" Buffy caught herself, "sorry, I mean Will."
He laughed, soft bitter laughter. "Have I? Was I ever?" Then leaned his forehead against the sill.
She got up and tentatively approached him. "I thought the shanshue was supposed to wash you of this, give you fresh outlook on life?"
Laughter. "That what old Liam tell you?" He glanced at her. "Yeah, suppose it does in its way. I mean the pain is gone, no longer hear them screaming in my head like I once did and so's the guilt, don't feel it quite the same way as back then. But haven't forgotten either. Not that I want to." He glanced back at the photos. "Some of those people up there don't have anyone to remember them but me. All trace of them is gone. We did that - Angel, me, Dru, Darla, and others like us. Took their lives as ours were took. Some we changed, turned into something else. They were the end of their line, like we were. Best I can do for them is to remember. Remember what they were. What we all were once, before we became monsters that had to be killed." He sighed. "In nature - a rabid dog can go on for months without being taken down, spread its disease. Vampirism is sort of like that, except worse, I suppose. Because you don't die. Not until someone dusts you. Rabies? You die. Nature's cleaner that way. There's life, death, and life again. Vampires? We just go on and on and on, staying young and pretty forever. Sucking the life out of everything around us in the process."
"Oh. Don't get me wrong, I'm not eaten up with it - not like the old man is. No good comes of that. But, I do...Sorry, Charely boy were here, he'd rip me a new one. Says I worry over what was done and gone too much - sounding like some namby-pamby Nancy boy. "
[Stuck. Not sure this bit works at all....may delete and try again tomorrow.]
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Date: 2005-03-28 08:05 pm (UTC)