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Hellbound Train

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  • Hellbound Train

    A bunny bit me tonight, but I can only hope I'm not utterly out of my depth on this one. I didn't even try to get into dialect, but Joss never seems to worry about such things. It should be okay.

    Disclaimer: These characters belong to a clever fellow named Joss Whedon. He isn't me.

    Setting: Buffyverse Tennesee, circa 1840.

    It was dark. Finally.

    He didn't get sore much. Not any more. Not after years. But tired, yes. Worn down. Covered in sweat and dust. And tomorrow he was going to have to pull himself up, walk out, and go back to work. Wasn't anything else to life. Not even a wife, not any more. What a damned joke it'd been to call her that. She was probably in Atlanta by now.

    If he could go one day without having to work, he figured that'd be like paradise. Anything better than that was more than he could dream.

    There should've been noise coming from the bunkhouse. Maybe not a lot, but folk settling down to sleep. They'd kept him later tonight, finishing up--his own fault, of course; it was always his own fault--but Tad snored. Dinah whimpered in her sleep.

    The bunkhouse stank. Not sweat, though of course there was plenty of that. Stank like slaughtered hogs. He couldn't move, and for a moment nothing else did either. Then a huge figure leaned forward from the shadows.

    "You seem like a man with a lot of hate in you." The voice boomed out like a foghorn bellowing from the river. Hate? He didn't, couldn't--what was the point? "Though I suspect you've turned it on yourself, to last so long. Tell me, you want out of this place?"

    Did he....? The idea swam hazily through his mind, refusing to hold still. "I..." He couldn't imagine it. "I'd sell my soul for that."

    Laughter like a beating drum. "Well, good, then." The figure leaned closer, revealing its face in the pale moonlight. A devil's face, twisted out of human shape. "I could use a new second-in-command." Command...? "For Kakistos you're going to die." Hands seized him by the arm, hands like cloven hooves. "And then for Kakistos you'll live again."

    When his heart stopped beating, it felt like rest.
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