Title: You Gotta Know When To Walk Away
Summary: Another take on another aspect of post-"The Gift" (5th season finale). Spoilers, obviously.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.
Notes: Owes more than a little to the wonderful Terry Pratchett.
Thanks to: Pete, Dot, Jen, and Vic, as always.
Joyce folded her arms, staring at the silent figure in front of her. "What do I have to do to get her back?" Wind whipped her hair into her face. She refused to look around, aware that nothing in her surroundings -- the grass, the clear, black sky, the wolf howling in the distance -- was real.
A GAME. The figure lifted its scythe, exposing a skeletal arm. YOU MUST BEAT ME IN A GAME.
"What game? Chess?"
NOT CHESS. I CAN NEVER REMEMBER HOW THE HORSE MOVES.
****
"You cheated!"
I DID NOT.
"You can't keep taking cards until you find the one that says you won second prize in the beauty contest!"
****
PAPER.
"Scissors."
THREE OUT OF FIVE?
****
"How do her breasts stay attached? This is completely unrealistic. How many tombs are there for her to raid, anyway?"
QUIET. I'M ALMOST ON LEVEL 3.
****
"Gin."
BUT --
"No. No 'But'. Gin. I win. I have won every single game. Enough's enough."
Death stood. Joyce felt instantly colder.
ALL RIGHT. He opened his cloak.
Buffy fell out, onto the grass, shivering. Joyce dropped to her knees beside her daughter. She helped Buffy sit up.
"I'll miss you," Joyce said softly. She clutched Buffy close, absorbing the sight, the smell, the *feel* of her daughter in her arms. A skeletal hand tapped her on the shoulder. Joyce disengaged reluctantly.
Buffy sucked her lower lip between her teeth. "I'll miss you too, Mom. I love you."
YOU WON'T SEE HER AGAIN.
"I know," Joyce said. "Not until it's her time. I can live with that."
Death nodded slowly.
Buffy's eyes were fixed on Joyce's. She shimmered and disappeared.
Joyce gulped, and rubbed her eyes with the back of one hand. "All right," she said briskly. "Who else have you got?"
