Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or places of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The television show and all things related are the express legal property of Joss Whedon, the WB, Mutant Enemy, and a bunch of other people who aren't me. Please don't sue. Oh, the demon and Meghan are mine, but I seriously doubt anyone wants them. . .
Author's Note: This is a response to the challenge put forth by Blair Provence yesterday. This was the gist of it: a demon bent on splitting up the Scooby gang comes to town, captures them somehow, and tells Buffy that she must choose one companion to live, the rest must die. If she doesn't choose, they all die, including her. She could choose one and the two live with the consequences. OR she could choose one, deus ex machina saves them all and they all deal. Couldn't resist, though I changed the terms a bit. It's shorter and has less to do with the actual consequences of the choice than the choice itself. . . and it's kind of about strength.
"Meghan, you must be strong and face this, I know you can do it-"
"STRONG? Be STRONG?!? All you do is sit here and look shit up, you have no idea what strong is, what it means!" Giles looked up at his young slayer with a deadly look in his eyes. The tone of his voice changed from pleading and encouraging to low and menacing.
"Don't you dare presume to tell me what I do or don't know about strength." Meghan narrowed her eyes at him and drove the dagger home.
"Lemme guess, this has something to do with the a-MAAA-zing Buffy Summers, the strongest slayer in recorded history. How strong was she? Huh? Couldn't have been that strong, she's dead! How do you think SHE'D react to this prophecy tha-ugh!" She was cut off suddenly and unexpectedly by Giles' hand on her throat. Her gaze turned from defiant to terrified. Giles had never displayed this much emotion to her in the three years they'd been working together. He squeezed a little harder for a second before releasing her.
"I'm. . . sorry, Meghan, I should never have let myself get carried away like that." Meghan regarded him warily, still massaging her barely-wounded throat.
"How did she die?" Meghan got no answer. "What happened to her? Was it your fault or something?"
"Yes. . . no. . . it doesn't matter. No matter how strong you think you are, regardless of how strong you think you can be, there's always something you're not prepared to face, a choice that you're not strong enough to make, or a choice that you're not strong enough to deal with having made. . ."
"Tell me what happened." It wasn't a question. Meghan was too direct and straightforward for that. Giles shook his head.
"Giles, tell me!" He studied her for a long time, at length speaking in a quiet and controlled voice about the demon they'd researched, a demon who thrived on dischord, though not chaos. The demon that had fooled them all, captured them one by one, and told Buffy that she had to make a choice, a terrible choice. . .
Buffy Summers, the Slayer, the Chosen one, clapped her hands over her ears and shook her head
violently from side to side.
“Nonononononononononono. . .”
Despite her litany of denial, the callous laughter of the demon and the shouts of her friends and family rang in her ears.
“Buffy, you HAVE to choose!”
“Don’t even THINK about choosing me!”
“Buffy, what is going on here, I don’t understand. . .”
“Buffy, please, take Willow. . .”
“No, Oz, what are you saying?”
“SILENCE!!” The deafening voice of the demon made the people chained to the wall wince and shrink back in terror. At the sudden lack of noise, Buffy fell to the ground, sobbing. The demon continued to speak to her.
“What’ll it be, Slayer? Don’t tell me you don’t have a favorite amongst these your confidantes. . .” the demon, a deceptively small woman with a faint greenish hue to her skin and flowing brown hair, trailed off as she stalked over to the weeping blonde on the floor of the underground cavern. Reaching down, she took Buffy’s chin firmly in the fingers of her right hand, forcing the slayer to look at her.
“Rise, Slayer,” she commanded. Buffy, shaking uncontrollably, acquiesced. “Look at them. Look carefully. Which of these seven can you not live without? All you need do is choose one of them, and you and your chosen will live. But if you refuse. . . you all die. You'll get to see all of them die, one after another, before I kill you. Now, my sweet. . . who is your favorite? Who do you need the most?” Buffy regarded the seven people painfully. The demoness stroked her hair and the side of her face almost lovingly. Buffy had to blink several times to clear the tears from her eyes enough to really make out any of their faces. The demon let her hand slide from the side of Buffy’s face to her slight shoulders as she whispered into her ear.
“Don’t just look at them, Slayer. See them. Gaze into their eyes. Your choice will come from deep within you. . .” she trailed off with a tight smile on her face, taking slow steps backwards from her and crossing her arms over her chest. Buffy looked.
Giles. Willow. Xander. Mom. Oz. Cordelia. Angel.
Despair overtook her once again, and she looked down at the floor, the tears flooding her eyes. Incensed, the demoness strode back to Buffy’s side and smacked her across the face, the image of her hand on Buffy’s cheek turning white, then red as the blood rushed to the spot. Buffy’s knees gave out, and she collapsed to the floor once again. The demon sniffed.
“They call you strong, did you know that? They all do! The demons and the angels! The saints and the sinners! God and the devil, man and the animals, they all testify to your strength! Your. . . strength.” The last word came out a mocking whisper, and Buffy flinched away from it’s unknowing power. The demoness circled the slayer’s prone form, verbally assaulting her as she clawed at the stone floor, tearing the flesh away from her fingertips, as if she might dig herself a hole in the earth to escape the torment of her choice.
“Finally, I have found my match, I thought! Finally, someone worthy of making this choice! Do you know how many other times I have done this? DO YOU?” The demon punctuated her question with a sharp kick to Buffy’s ribs. “Answer me, Slayer!”
“N-no,” was the barely audible reply, her voice raspy and low from crying. A sparkle of mischief entered the demon’s eye.
“What was that. Slayer? Hmm?”
“I SAID NO!!” Buffy shreiked, lashing out at the demoness with one boot-clad foot and missing, dissolving into more helpless sobs. The image of the woman laughed, a sound like the peals of tiny silver bells, a surprisingly sweet and innocent sound that prodded Buffy to begin tearing at her hair. The demon threw a casual smile over her shoulder at the group lined up on the wall, the kind of look that said ‘We’ll be done here in a minute.’
Everyone on the wall was now weeping openly, a rare and disturbing sight, save for Cordelia, who now stared blankly ahead, the listless gaze of a china doll. Joyce was still looking furtively around the cavern as if she might find a way out. Giles’ head was hung, his chin pressing into his chest, which was wracked with silent sobs. Willow was beginning to choke and have difficulty breathing since her legs, too, had given out and she was hanging limply from her wrists, her knees scant inches from the floor. Xander shook with harsh, barking sobs, but couldn’t tear his eyes off of the tortured blonde in front of him. Oz cried without a hitch in his breathing, the tears streaming quietly and steadily down the planes of his face. Angel was mad with grief, vamped out, the manacles tearing the flesh of his wrists to ribbons, snarling, as blood tears ran down his distorted cheeks.
The demoness turned her full attention back to Buffy. “No, you don’t know, I really hadn’t expected you to,” she continued conversationally. “I’ve done this five times. Five times since the beginning of your pathetic race’s existence. None of the five had the strength to choose.” She began circling Buffy again, like a predator would it’s prey, looking for the best opening to dive in for the kill.
“They all died, Slayer. All of them. Two of them were actually Slayers, like you. . . three of them were, well. . . I suppose you could call them ordinary people, but they were far from ordinary. I shouldn’t have chosen them otherwise, you understand. But they all died, every last one. They didn’t choose. . . and they died along with every one of their precious kith and kin. They simply didn’t have the strength to choose.” She broke off here, looking at the Chosen one, who was now whimpering and rocking herself back and forth, hugging her knees to her chest. The demoness cocked her head, looking at Buffy like some sort of new and interesting species for a moment before her placid expression screwed into a mask of rage and she reached down to haul the teenager to her feet.
“DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!?” she roared suddenly. “You are the one! The one who can choose! I know this, my efforts WILL be justified! You are the one who can send me back to the demon dimension where I belong! You will stall me no longer, I will not abide it! CHOOSE NOW!” The demoness shoved Buffy towards the line of her loved ones. Buffy stumbled, then slowly and deliberately straightened her posture, turning her head to glare at the greenish woman.
The Chosen One presented a ghastly picture. Her straight blonde hair was sticking out in all directions, streaked with crimson from her bleeding fingers. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, but cold and hard as the stone beneath her feet. Her cheeks were smeared with dirt and tear-tracks, there were wet streaks on her gray tank-top from where the tears had dripped off of her chin. Her hands, clenched into fists by her sides, oozed and dripped blood. The demoness recognized something in the Slayer’s steely gaze, and she bowed her upper body slightly forward at the waist, permitting her to do what she felt was necessary before she chose.
Buffy faced the seven people chained to the wall.
“Buffy-” Giles began, but stopped mid-sentence when Buffy closed her eyes and put one bloody finger to her lips: “Shhhh.” She walked slowly to one end of the line. She stopped in front of Angel, who immediately let his human mask drop down over his vampiric features.
“Buffy, no. . .” But Buffy was looking him in the eyes, and the vampire Angelus sighed at the message he read in their hazel depths. She placed her still-oozing fingers over her lips, and when she drew them away, Angel moaned. Reaching up, she took his face in her small hands and kissed him, one perfect kiss full of passion and tenderness and loss. Angel whimpered into the kiss and tried unsuccessfully to hold back a sob when she pulled away from him. Buffy pulled his head down to hers again, pressing their foreheads together so she could look straight into his deep brown eyes. In a moment of pure synchronicity, the vampire and the slayer closed their eyes and sighed deeply. When Buffy pulled away this time, Angel did not open his eyes.
Buffy moved on. Buffy gazed sadly at the former May Queen, who still stared blankly ahead of her in shock. The Slayer smoothed the brunette’s long brown hair behind her ears and dropped a small kiss on her forehead before continuing to the left.
“Buffy, I just-” Buffy cut Oz off by holding up her hand in front of her: no words. “Hey. . .” Oz began again, leveling her with his intense gaze. “Can I please talk?” Buffy smiled slightly and nodded almost imperceptibly. “I guess the thing here is silence. . . which I totally understand. It’s just that all my life, I’ve been quiet. I never really found the right words to express what I was feeling, so I never said much of anything.” Oz stopped for a minute to look down at the floor. He cleared his throat a little to make it less gravelly and continued.
“I’ve learned a few things in my life. . . nothing too monumental. . . but one of those things is that words aren’t big enough for feelings. You’re never gonna find the right words to express exactly what’s going on inside of you. I just thought I’d give it a shot now. Seems appropriate. Whatever happens next. . . I just want you to know how much I appreciate you. I guess what I’m trying to say is. . . thank you.” Buffy had been looking at the floorwhile Oz spoke, but looked up at him now, the tears standing brightly in her eyes, but she did not let them fall. She slid her hands under his and gave them a tight squeeze. He gave her a small half smile.
Joyce said nothing as her battered daughter stepped in front of her. As mother and child communicated silently with each other, they extended apologies and forgiveness. . . for being who they were. For all that Buffy loved her mother, there had come a time when she had needed to let go of being the daughter. And sacred duty or no, Joyce could be no more and no less than Buffy’s mother. In a gesture that seemed the ultimate in role-reversal, Buffy reached out her hand to gently caress her mother’s cheek before turning away.
Xander watched Buffy carefully, knowingly, as she approached him, got as close as a breath to his face. She smiled sadly, but with great purpose. He closed his eyes and sighed, an oddly peaceful sound, and she lifted her hands to his face. She trailed her mangled fingertips over the contours of his face, memorizing each crease and dip, over his eyelids, nose, cheekbones, lips, forehead, jaw, uncaring of the trails of sticky maroon liquid she left there like streaks of gruesome war-paint. She stopped with her fingers on his temples and waited for him to open his eyes. Eyes open, knowing and aware, they kissed, a small, sweet kiss, behind it all the understanding and pain of the last few years.
Upon laying her eyes on Willow, the tears standing in the Slayer’s eyes began to fall rapidly. The redhead made a small crooning sound as she straightened to look at her best friend. Buffy flung herself at the diminutive hacker, engulfing her in her embrace, sobbing loudly, the sounds wrung from her body like those of a dying animal. Willow just lay her head atop Buffy’s, her chin trembling as the tears began to fall from her own eyes. The two girls remained like that for a few minutes, lost in their own world, grieving their loss of innocence, now utterly complete.
“Slayer?” the demoness shattered the moment with her rather bored-sounding enquiry. Buffy stiffened and turned to face her enemy. The demon looked up from where she had been filing her long nails and arched an eyebrow. “I take it that you have finally reached your decision?” The Chosen One nodded slowly. Behind her, Giles began to search helplessly for a denial of what he realized must be the truth.
“Buffy, no, you can’t choose me! Please, don’t do this! Buffy, look at me!” he screamed, and the demoness clapped her hands delightedly at the show.
“Marvelous! The Slayer chooses her Watcher. How stunning! I never would have imagined. . . you chose tradition of all things. Over true love, blood ties and friendship of the highest order, you chose tradition. Well,” she said, standing up quickly and dusting off her nails, “the Coucil should be very proud.” The demon gestured grandly towards the people at the wall. . .
And the chains holding them there broke. Willow and Cordelia slumped to the floor, the rest of them looked dumbly at their hands. The demoness picked up her small purse from on top of a rather flat rock and slung it over her shoulder, smoothing her hair back. Giles stared at her incredulously.
“But I thought. . .”
“What, that you’d all die in flames? Please,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “That got old centuries ago. You shouldn’t believe everything you read, Watcher.” She winked audaciously at him. He and Angel charged the demon, who idly waved a hand at them, sending them crashing into the rock wall, stunned.
“Well, Slayer,” she addressed the blonde who was sitting on the floor in shock, “I’m glad to see someone in this world has some balls. You should be proud of yourself.” The silver-bell laughter rang out again, bouncing hideously off of the hard rock of the cave. Buffy cringed. “Remember, sweetheart, only the strong survive.” And with that, the demoness vanished.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer howled in anguish.
Giles inhaled deeply, wiping his eyes on the handkerchief he kept in his breast pocket. The
young slayer stared at him, her eyes wide and shimmering with tears. What had ever posessed
him to frighten Meghan so with that story, he didn’t know. Meghan was a little like Buffy used
to be. . . so trusting, retaining so much purity and innocence long after such things had been
ripped violently from her life at her Calling.
“I-I’m sorry, Giles. . . I didn’t know. . .” she stammered, before bursting into tears. Giles sighed and took her into his arms.
“There, there. . . it’s all right. As far as legend goes and according to what the demon told us, she’s found her way back to the demon dimension. She won’t bother anyone on earth again.” Meghan sniffed loudly.
“I’m sorry I kept asking about her. . . it’s just that prophecy made me so mad and. . . and. . . you’ve mentioned her so many times and you loved her so much. . .” Giles tensed a bit and released his charge, handing her his handkerchief. She blew her nose loudly with it before continuing weakly.
“So. . . the demon killed her?” Giles looked up at the domed ceiling of the library, as if searching for an answer.
“In a sense, yes. Buffy never spoke to a soul after that day. Her mother was heartbroken. . . went to live in Maine with some relatives, and left custody of Buffy to me. She slayed for almost three months after that incident. . .” he trailed off, deep in thought.
“So. . . Willow and Xander and Angel? What happened to the rest of them?” He snapped his gaze back to her, and his eyes held such painful sorrow that Meghan began to cry a little again.
“Well, Angel stayed near Buffy until she was. . . killed. After which, he killed himself. Xander, to my knowledge, is still serving in the Marines, though I haven’t heard from him in ages. . . Willow is a professor at MIT, and still writes to me on occasion, but will never speak of Buffy. Cordelia and Oz. . . I have no idea. We all just sort of. . . fell apart, if you will.” Giles took his hanky back from Meghan, looked at it distastefully, and rose to put it in the office. The young slayer looked after him, confused.
“So. . . that’s it? That’s all? Buffy died slaying and you all just stopped speaking to each other? You guys saved the world time and time again, but you couldn’t live with that?” Giles gave her a look that she had never seen before. It was dark, knowing. . . and somehow distant. She flinched a little from it.
“Sometimes, Meghan. . . sometimes you’re not as strong as you think. One day it all becomes too much to handle. You still have the physical strength, but emotionally, mentally. . .”
“What, Giles?” she hadn’t quite heard the last mumbled sentence from his mouth. He turned back to her, a lone tear sliding down the creased plane of his face.
“Only the strong survive, Meghan. But sometimes, strength isn’t enough.”