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The Demonic Soul of the Slayer

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  • The Demonic Soul of the Slayer

    Not long before Graduation Day

    The Demonic Soul of the Slayer

    A cold sweat began to drip down the side of her cheek, slowly trailing a path down the skin and dropping to the dirt from her chin. Staring down at the drop on the ground, she felt it again. She was scared. She was sweating and scared, and this had to be the end.

    Fear shows your defeat.

    Her eyes welled up with tears as she tried to move away from the wet spot in the dirt, showing her defeat. She was afraid. It was far too late.

    A single hot tear ran from her eye and to the corner of her mouth, tasting bittersweet and salty, before falling down into the dust.

    Pain is defeat.

    She began to sweat harder, stumbling away from where she stood. She couldn't lose. She wouldn't lose. Her life was already lost to her, and now there wasn't a kill she could let get away.

    All for the kill, she gripped the knife, staring into its reflective surface. With real clarity, her grip tightened until her knuckles whitened and she plunged the knife deep into her stomach.

    With a wave of confusion, she stumbled backwards up a step. What did I see??


    Buffy awoke with a gasp, feeling the sweat building coldly down the back of her neck, sticking her hair to her skin. Attempting to separate the two entities with her hands, she wiped her fingers on her quilt in disgust, getting the sweat off her, and letting her hair fall back in place.

    "Oh boy?" she muttered, exasperated, as she crawled out of bed to reach for a brush, struggling to brush her matted hair into shape and pull it from her neck. "They're connected?" she murmured faintly, tugging at her locks, "you know, who would have thought that the worst part of bad dreams would be after you've woken up from them?"

    She paused from her fumbling work before pouting and continuing to brush. "Fine, don't answer my rhetorical question?"

    Buffy glanced in the mirror again to see a dark-haired girl staring back at her. Her eyes widening, she stood and stumbled backwards, traces of sweat beginning to form again. As she looked away, she shook her head desperately, feeling for the comfort of her quilt.

    "I've got wet hair?" she reassured herself, struggling for comfort, "duh." Taking a glance at the mirror again, she cautiously reached for a towel, hung up over a chair, and began to dry her hair.

    "Won't get caught in that mistake again?"


    "Giles, there's something wrong with me," Buffy began as she entered the library, causing both former and current Watchers to turn and look at her.

    "Wrong?" Giles asked, putting a book down onto the table and turning to Buffy.

    "Is it, perhaps, that you never listen to my orders and have an utter disrespect for the Council?" Wesley asked, smiling faintly with a pompous tinge, "or is it too much to hope that you've seen the error of your ways."

    "I wouldn't call it an error," Buffy retorted snidely, turning away from Wesley to look at Giles.

    "Buffy, what is it?" Giles repeated, attempting to cut past Wesley's sarcasm.

    "I keep having, this- this dream," Buffy began, "an- and I know it sounds weird, but I'm sweating, and because I'm sweating, I've lost this fight. And then because I'm sweating, I start to cry, and because I'm crying I lose the fight even more!"

    "What kind of fight?" Wesley cut in, swooping around Buffy to stand next to Giles and be in her view.

    "I? I dunno," Buffy finished dejectedly. Stirring up again as she realised more, she continued, "but it isn't just that. Giles, sometimes? I see myself, and I? I feel bad."

    "Bad?" Giles asked, taking off his glasses to rub them with a cloth.

    "Bad like not good," Buffy pressed.

    "Yes, I got the meaning," Giles mused, replacing his glasses, "but in what kind of context?"

    "Well, I don't know!" Buffy cried, throwing up her hands and turning away, "I- I?"

    "Buffy, I suggest you just go to class, and try to forget about it," Giles said, "these kind of things happen? little depressed moments, bad dreams, with all the stress of the ascension and Faith that's on you it's perfectly understandable."

    "The Mayor's ascension is just over a week away, Buffy," Wesley imparted, "and I suggest that we prepare for that."

    "I'll? go to class," Buffy accepted, lowering her head with slight hurt. Turning away, she made her way out of the library.

    As she reached the door, Buffy turned slightly, and half-smiled back at Giles. "I? sometimes feel like I'm Faith," she admitted, "like I'm looking at? you know, Faith."

    As Giles opened his mouth, Buffy shrugged and turned back towards the door, leaving the room.


    Buffy stepped around an errant gravestone in the cemetery as she walked towards a mausoleum, intending to check for a vampire's nest. Her eye twitching, Buffy caught flashes of a dark figure stalking her. Continuing towards her goal, Buffy didn't try to look? she would catch them in the dark.

    Opening the doors, Buffy stepped into the darkness, carefully placing one foot in front of the other until she caught a faint light ahead of her, that brightened as she drew closer. Finally she reached the dim torch and used the flame to light another, throwing the room into visible sight, and she looked at the figure before her.

    "You're not? a vampire, are you?" Buffy asked with absolute assuredness to the woman before her.

    The woman had straw-coloured hair and pale skin that seemed to be thrown into near-luminescence by the power of the torch. Her dress was faded black, and long and flowing, so that if Buffy continued to look at it she was sure that she could see all the loneliness and darkness of the past in it's weaving.

    "I am a manifestation," the woman replied, staring intently at Buffy.

    "Of what?" Buffy asked, beginning to circle slowly, and uncertainly.

    "Does it matter?" the woman asked, amused.

    "Well? yes," Buffy replied, lifting an eyebrow, "I'd say it does."

    "You should be able to tell," the woman intoned.

    "This is a dream, isn't it?" Buffy asked, trying to work her way to understanding.

    "Then you should already know," the manifestation purred, continuing to circle.

    Buffy stared at the black cloth of the dress, as the woman's gaze remained firm on Buffy. "Are you? are you showing me the Slayer?" Buffy asked quietly.

    "I am just somebody who speaks and understands. But what I show? what I wear? that is the Slayer."

    "That's nice," Buffy deflected, trying to smile and lighten the mood, "that you can really suit your outfit right to the job? a lot of working class women try to do that nowadays?"

    The woman stared back at Buffy, making no response at Buffy's comments.

    "I know, pretty lame, right?" Buffy looked away. "Trying my best?"

    "Your best may not be good enough, Buffy," the woman intoned. Buffy turned to look at the woman, searching her eyes and indicating for her to continue. The woman smiled.

    "What you're looking for, what you're clawing at? you don't really want to find it."

    "Tell me what I want to know, and I'll get out of your crazy dream-mausoleum," Buffy pressed firmly.

    "That dream isn't yours," the manifestation said, her voice dropping by at least a fifth, "but it may as well have been."

    "Uh? explain?" Buffy asked, confused.

    "Everything is connected. This whole universe of subtle connections. But a Slayer? there is a deeper connection and it was not meant to be felt."


    "You are like her, and she is like you," the woman intoned, "you are the same at the basest level."

    "I'm? I'm not the same as Faith!" Buffy cried, holding her head in her hands, "we're not connected!"

    Buffy and Faith pull in for a passionate kiss, tearing at each other as they do.

    "Deep down," the woman pressed, her voice raising in volume and tone, "there is something within you both."

    No?" Buffy cried, increasing the tempo as she glared across at the manifestation of her soul.

    Buffy and Faith snarl at each other as Faith leaps in to the attack, slashing a knife in Buffy's direction.

    "Stop that!" Buffy screamed, tugging at her hair.

    "You are the same!" the woman yelled.

    "No!" Buffy threw back. Her voice becoming a chant, she screamed with fury at the woman. "I am Buffy, I am a blonde, I have friends, I am not? her!"

    The woman smiled at Buffy. "You have a demon's rage within you."

    Buffy stopped, realising what she was doing, and ferociously gripped at her hair.

    "She is you, and she is a sign!" the woman shouted, increasing her pace as the mausoleum around them seemed to swirl, "be the Slayer, and do not be beaten, because the darkness and victory is all of your soul!"

    Buffy fell to her knees, nauseous and sick as her dream swirled in around her.

    "You are not a girl? you are just a Slayer."


    Buffy awoke with a gasp.

    "I am not? her," she whispered, struggling with the fury left over from her dream, "I'm not a demon, and I can't be Faith."

    Feeling the cold sweat dripping into her hair, her eyes widened as she pressed her head against her pillow, firmly staring away from the mirror.

    "I'm just a girl, I'm just a girl, I'm just a girl?" she repeated.
    Last edited by Kold; 22-11-07, 01:21 PM.