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From: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com (Buffyfic-digest)
To: buffyfic-digest@lists.xmission.com
Subject: Buffyfic-digest V1 #84
Reply-To: buffyfic@xmission.com
Sender: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com
Errors-To: owner-buffyfic@lists.xmission.com
Precedence: bulk
Buffyfic-digest Saturday, January 17 1998 Volume 01 : Number 084
In this issue:
BUFFYFIC: "A Truth Worse Than Lies" -- 4/12
BUFFYFIC: "A Truth Worse Than Lies" -- 5/12
BUFFYFIC: "A Truth Worse Than Lies" -- 6/12
BUFFYFIC: "A Truth Worse Than Lies" -- 7/12
BUFFYFIC: "A Truth Worse Than Lies" -- 8/12
See the end of the digest for information on subscribing to the buffyfic
or buffyfic-digest mailing lists and on how to retrieve back issues.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: Sat, 17 Jan 1998 13:23:11 -5000
From: "Dianne la Mercenaire" <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "A Truth Worse Than Lies" -- 4/12
"A Truth Worse Than Lies" -- 4/12
by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. la Mercenaire)
<Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She'd been dragged from her bed and her throat torn open, her blood
spattering her shift and matted into her long, fair hair, where it had
fallen across the wound.
Edith, arriving for her mother's bowl, felt a chill of horror wash
over her. She and Catherine had been friends since they were Dru's
age.... Who could possibly have done such a thing?
At that thought both the nightmares that were keeping her up more and
more often nights and Angelus' hideous picture of her supposed destiny
came rushing in upon her. Neighbors offered words of comfort at what
they assumed was grief for a friend, but Edith didn't even hear them,
stumbling back home in recoil at the pain of her own thoughts.
She spent most of the day doting upon her niece, desperate for
thoughts of life and joy and daylight-- something, anything to drown
out the images in her mind.
Still, when Angelus appeared at Billy's side after work that evening,
Edith felt a definite sense of relief.
She was sitting on the garden wall, plaiting Drusilla's hair. The
child on her lap begged remorselessly for one more song. And another.
And another. So she was still there singing when Billy and Angelus
arrived.
"Hasten, hasten, run and catch,
The lamb is caught in the blackberry patch...."
She caught a stray lock of the child's raven-black hair, brushed it
smooth with her fingers, and worked it neatly back into the plait she
was making.
"Do you hasten, hasten well,
The new spring foal is lost in the dell...."
Drusilla interrupted her with a shrieked "Uncle Billy!" and was
scrambling down to the ground before she'd finished the words, the
half-finished braid tumbling loose about her shoulders.
"Drusilla!" He seized her by the waist and swung her around through
the air, squealing in delight. Pulling her close and holding her in
front of him at eye level, he adopted an almost comical frown and
lectured her with mock-severity, "Now, I'm not your uncle yet. So stop
calling me that, or Edith's mother will think I've gone and done
something very, very naughty with your aunt Edith here!" The lecturing
scowl at the niece turned into an open leer at the aunt.
"Billy! Not in front of Dru!'
He just laughed. "Ah, Princess! Dru here," he tossed the child up into
the air one more time before setting her gently on the ground, "She's
too little to know what I'm saying." He turned to his friend. "And
Angelus is old enough to know perfectly well-- even after all that
time with the monks, no, Angelus?"
As the two exchanged schoolboy snickers, Edith found herself turning
away, pulling the child protectively into her lap once more. The
mention of Angelus' origins brought back the horror of this morning
and the insanity of two nights past.
Billy noted the change in her at once and was at her side. "Princess,
I'm sorry. I'm being rude and...." He gently turned her chin so that
she faced him again. "Forgive me?"
They just looked at each other for a moment, then Edith smiled a
little and Billy followed. "There we go! That's how I like to see my
love-- all smiles." Billy turned to his companion. "Angelus! have a
seat." He indicated the garden wall beside him. "We can play at being
old married men with families sitting out of a summer evening."
He pointedly ignored Edith's playful elbow in his side and laughed as
Dru, hearing the sounds of her friends' approach, blithely disrupted
the little tableaux by sliding out of Edith's arms and tearing around
the corner of the house-- her half-braided hair swinging wildly.
Angelus smiled and took the proffered seat.
"So, have you got a girl you're planning to marry someday yourself,
Angelus?" Edith asked, trying to draw him out.
He laughed, "No. Nothing but quickly passing fancies, I'm afraid."
"Angelus here is still a wild roving lad, Edith," Billy protested.
"No, surely not," Edith corrected, eyeing the subject of their
discussion critically. "How many years do you have, Angelus?"
"Enough to think I've missed something by always hurrying on so
quickly." His look caught her eye just a second over-long. "It's not a
mistake I intend to make again."
His smile for a second seemed too cold for the sentiment, but a
moment later Drusilla appeared, eyes wide in childish distress, and
Edith was able to shake off her morbid feeling.
"Aunt Edith! Uncle Billy! The kitten...." her voice was overcome by
tears.
Billy dropped to one knee in front of her, "What's happened to the
kitten, Dru?"
She looked at him with a stricken expression as it all came out in a
rush: "The puppy chased it and it got up on the fence and I can't get
it and it's _crying_!"
Scooping her up in his arms, he turned to the other two with a hidden,
conspiratorial grin. "I think I can handle this. Be back in a minute."
Formally addressing the little girl he carried, he assured her,
"You've come to the very finest, m'lady. Billy Brown, heroic knight,
at your service-- rescue of wayward kittens a specialty!"
As his voice faded with distance, Edith found herself looking at the
hands clasped in her lap. Before she could find words, Angelus broke
the silence.
"The child is your niece?"
Much as she needed to speak to him on more disquieting subjects, she
could not regret the reprieve. "No, not really. She's my best friend
Beth's little girl. Beth and I grew up only two houses apart and used
to pretend we were sisters, because neither of us had a real one."
She smiled a little and managed to look up. "Now Drusilla knows that I
won't scold her for getting mud on her dress or for speaking out of
turn, so I'm her favorite aunt." The intense gaze that met hers caused
her to look down again. "It's just me and my mother in the house here
since father died... it's so quiet sometimes...."
"So you have no brothers? No sisters?"
She looked up in surprise this time. "No. I was the only child my
parents ever had."
The confusion on her face deepened as he nodded in satisfaction. "Yes,
that is always the way with the Slayer."
Without conscious movement Edith was on her feet, looking first in the
direction Billy had left, and then down at Angelus where he still sat
on the low wall. "What you've said isn't true. It _can't_ be!"
He looked up at her with a slightly bemused smile. "Why not?"
But the look on his face only made her angry. "I cannot fight
demons!"
"Yes, you can."
"You're mad!"
"You *must*." His eyes seemed to bore right into her.
"Why?" she demanded.
"Because no one else can."
Edith looked and looked but could find nothing but sincerity in his
eyes. "This is why you've been having the dreams, because the last
Slayer died in France two weeks ago and you are the next. The one girl
in all the world who can battle the forces of darkness and _win_."
Without warning he raised one hand, as if to strike her across the
face....
...and with an even faster reflex motion of her arm she stopped it.
Immediately cradling that forearm in the other hand, she stared at him
wide eyed. "That _hurt_!" And it had. That had been no feint. Angelus
had swung hard, obviously intending to really strike her.
"But you stopped it." And that was also true. She would swear that she
hadn't even had time to see him move... and yet she'd stopped it
without effort.... But it was still madness, no?
Edith looked again after Billy. What was keeping him? With relief she
heard his voice again, coming closer.
"You can't tell him, Edith." She started visibly. "Billy. You can't
tell him or tomorrow morning you may find him laid out on the ground
just like Catherine."
She looked at him in utter horror as Billy and Drusilla came nearer.
"Not a word, Edith," he repeated with no trace of humor in his face.
"*Please*. I promise, you'll regret it if you do."
And she had no time to respond.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Comments, flames, praise, and chocolate always appreciated!
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- <cat.goddess@pobox.com>
}:o * Merc Forever * HorseChick of the Apocalypse* SunS List Mom
- -
------------------------------
Date: Sat, 17 Jan 1998 13:23:54 -5000
From: "Dianne la Mercenaire" <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "A Truth Worse Than Lies" -- 5/12
"A Truth Worse Than Lies" -- 5/12
by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. la Mercenaire)
<Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Late that night when every shutter was closed and every honest man
sound abed, Edith rose, dressed herself in her warmest dress and
cloak, and crept downstairs to meet him. As he took her arm and guided
her quickly into the unknown darkness her shivering was not from the
cold.
"Catherine was buried today?" The soft whisper almost in her ear made
her start.
"Yes, of course. At St. John's, just down the way." She pointed and
felt him alter course slightly to follow. "Why?"
"Tonight you must begin your training." Edith felt a piece of wood
pressed into her hand as they walked. Raising it slightly before her
in the low moonlight, she could see that it was a rough-hewn stake.
Arriving at the churchyard, he steered her towards the new grave, only
slacking pace as they came within view of it. With a gallant sweep he
dusted off and offered her a seat on one of the older tombstones, but
she refused it with a shudder, preferring to face the darkness on her
feet. With a shrug he seated himself instead and settled in as if to
wait.
"Why are we here? What are we doing?" Edith demanded, fear giving
strength to her irritation.
"You are the Slayer. You are the only one who can stop the
vampires."
"Like the one who killed Catherine?" she asked, only the slightest
quaver in her voice.
"Yes, like that one," he responded softly, his face hidden by shadow.
"But should we not warn people?" she demanded, beginning to pace up
and down, "Should we not tell them to allow no stranger in their house
after nightfall? To stay within in safety?" She was becoming more
agitated as she paced, punctuating her words with unconscious motions
of the stake.
Gingerly Angelus caught at her arm and deliberately took back the
stake, causing a slight blush to rise in her face. "We would do
nothing but panic them to tell them of this. Staying within is no
guarantee of safety-- think on Catherine. Was she like to wander
abroad in her shift at night?"
"No, no, of course not!" Edith insisted, confusion evident on her
face. "She... she must have been charmed into opening the door...."
Angelus laughed aloud at that, a sound eerily out of place in the
darkened graveyard. "Charmed? Was she blind _and_ stupid then?"
Meeting Edith's shocked gaze he calmed himself quickly. "Edith," he
continued in a serious tone. "The first thing you must learn as a
Slayer is to know your enemy. Much of what you have heard whispered by
frightened people in the dark is nonsense." He laid one hand
protectively on her arm and smiled reassuringly at her. "That is why I
am here. After all, how can you fight what you don't understand?"
She hesitated for a full minute in silence, then laid her hand over
his. "And you will be with me?"
"Always," he promised. "Always."
Edith managed a weak smile in response and settled next to him on the
tombstone. "So they have no power to charm?"
Angelus reached one arm around her and settled her in against him.
"Once you have seen one, you will understand. Even creatures of the
Devil do not have such power as to hide their true natures. They are
demons, and have the manners and faces of demons. You would have to be
mad to be charmed by these beasts."
"And they've no need of invitation?"
"No. That much power Satan has given them-- that they may walk
where they will. That is why there must be a Slayer, that they not
stand unopposed."
Edith sat silent for a few moments, trying to order her thoughts. But
even with Angelus there at her side, the silence soon became
overwhelming. "So," she smiled at him, "If I am to know the demons by
their faces, am I to know the angels as well?"
Before he could answer the ground at their feet exploded.
Edith tried to scream, but could find no voice. She felt a jolt from
behind and found herself stumbling forward, off-balance, toward the
ghastly figure in white that was struggling upwards from the earth.
She recognized the figure in the dirt-covered shift as Catherine-- it
was her form, her hair. But the _face_....
Belatedly Edith found the power to scream. At the same instant she
felt Angelus at her back, blocking her retreat, forcing the stake once
again into her hand and ordering into her ear, "Stake her. Anywhere!
Just stake her quickly!"
Instinctively following the command, Edith swung at the staggering,
monstrous corpse of her friend, slashing at the flailing arms that
reached vaguely for her and finally managing to drive the stake hard
through the center of its chest.
But still it kept coming. Growling and screeching like the unearthly
demon it was, yet twisting and crying out like the young woman she'd
known, Edith watched it take the death blow... and continue its
stumbling, uncoordinated advance.
"Again!" Angelus shouted, "You must do it again!"
A strength she couldn't explain rose within Edith then, giving her the
power to reach forward and pull the stake free of Catherine's corpse.
With the same strength of will she ignored the blood pouring from the
wound, ignored the shrieks of pain and rage the monster made, and
plunged the stake in again... and again... and ag....
And with a sudden puff of ash in the moonlight, it was gone.
Edith stood for a moment, staring stupidly at the empty space before
her... before collapsing in on herself like a rag doll.
Angelus caught her before she hit the ground and held her. She clung
to him, shaking like one fevered, wracked with uncontrollable sobs. He
stroked her hair gently for long moments as she struggled to regain
her composure.
Finally she was still, arms wrapped tight about him, her words just a
breath in his ear. "I can't do it, Angelus, I can't. Find someone
else."
Still holding her he pulled away far enough to see her face. "But you
did it, Edith. And there is no one else who can."
Placing a kiss on her forehead he turned and started back, letting her
lean heavily upon his shoulder as he walked her back to her door.
~~~~~~~~~
She sat awake for hours after he left, wrapped once again in her
blanket. Sitting on the bed with her back against the wall and her
knees drawn up tight against her, she stared unseeing and unfocused at
the shutters that were all that stood between her body and the horrors
of the night her mind could not escape.
She was still there when the cry was raised just before dawn.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Comments, flames, praise, and chocolate always appreciated!
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- <cat.goddess@pobox.com>
}:o * Merc Forever * HorseChick of the Apocalypse* SunS List Mom
- -
------------------------------
Date: Sat, 17 Jan 1998 13:24:34 -5000
From: "Dianne la Mercenaire" <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "A Truth Worse Than Lies" -- 6/12
"A Truth Worse Than Lies" -- 6/12
by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. la Mercenaire)
<Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Drusilla's friend little Paul was the last child of the bakers who
lived next door. Fully ten years younger than his siblings, he had
always been his aging mother's pride and joy.
So when his mother found his tiny, bloody little corpse just a few
steps from the back door her screams woke most of the neighborhood.
~~~~~~~~~
Edith spent most of the day at Beth's house, holding Drusilla close
and singing her own mother's songs over and over to the child. Billy
stopped by several times to see her, becoming more and more worried.
True it was a tragedy, a horror. But none of that explained how
exhausted Edith looked, nor why the child's death had caused her to
withdraw into herself so. It was hard even to tell how much of little
Drusilla's fearful expression reflected the understanding that her
playmate would not return, and how much was a reaction to Edith's
shaking hands and voice.
After speaking with an equally worried Beth, Billy was finally forced
to attribute her behavior to concern for Dru-- after all, she doted on
that child so. But Beth had no intention of letting Dru out of the
house where a mad stray could attack her, and she had nothing that a
bloody-minded villain like the one who had attacked Catherine two
nights before could want. For all some of the older people were
starting to mutter nonsense about demons, the child was as safe as any
in this world, and, after some effort, he and Beth finally convinced
Edith to return home and to bed.
~~~~~~~~~
She was still desperately asleep when Angelus appeared at her
window that night.
So drugged with sleep was she that she had opened the window to
him before she was even consciously awake. But one look at the long
sliver of wood in his hand and she rebelled. "No! No, Angelus! Not a
child! Not little Paul! I *can't*!"
With a scowl he hissed at her, "Hush, you fool! Do you want the
entire neighborhood to wake?" Pausing for a breath he regained a bit
of his calm demeanor. "Do you want the demon to hear our plans?"
"Then come in from the bloody window and close the shutters!" she
snapped back, unable to recapture her usual demure composure.
Startled slightly for a moment by her show of temper, Angelus then
smiled and proceeded to follow her command. "That's the spirit you
need, Edith. *That's* the resolve of a Slayer!'
~~~~~~~~~
Edith managed it quickly and with as little conscious thought as
possible. The feelings of inner strength and courage that had
surprised her over the last few days were accompanied by such a
crushing feeling of coldness, of disconnection-- as though she were
not even within her own body when these things happened to her... when
she forced herself to do these terrible things.
It was at her insistence that they dug up Paul's tiny coffin, catching
the demon within him still unawakened. Edith paused, arm upraised, to
look at the little corpse. Even with the horrible wound in his throat
and the waxy pallor robbing his face of any appearance of life....
Still.... She looked at the stake in her hand, so very _big_ in
contrast to the childish chest below it....
And then the eyes opened. The face deformed, and her impulse to
strike was pure reflex.
Mercifully the first blow tore such a hole, it only took one strike to
shatter the horror into dust.
Edith did not cry this time, did not collapse. Much to her own
detached surprise, she merely gathered her cloak from where Angelus
had laid it over a tombstone for her earlier and turned back towards
home without a word.
"Edith, wait!"
With the same lack of concern she turned to wait for Angelus. Before
he could speak, she found herself speaking aloud, in an almost
dreamlike voice: "Drusilla."
"Pardon?" Angelus looked confused.
"Drusilla played with him from the day they could both walk by
themselves, you know." She smiled faintly at the memory. "Before they
had nine years between them he had already asked little Dru to wed him
at church door someday." She gave a weak little laugh. "In answer, she
pushed him so hard he landed on his bum in the gutter...."
"Edith...," Angelus pulled the cloak closed about her and sat her on
the broken edge of a crypt.
She allowed him to, indifferent, as she kept up her monologue, "Did
you ever dream of the children you would someday have, Angelus?
Holding them, singing to them, laying them safely in their bed at
night?"
"Edith, don't."
But she gave no indication of having heard him. "I have. I've dreamed
of singing my mother's songs to them as I do for Drusilla." The wan
smile returned and her eyes became even more distant. "It's as though
I can see them already. And they're like her-- pure and innocent and
untouched by the world. Like little Dru."
"Edith...."
"Don't you think Drusilla is a beautiful name...?"
"The real Drusilla was a mad Roman empress who fell on her back
for every man in the palace, including her own brother, Caligula!"
Within a heartbeat Angelus was on his own back on the ground,
looking up at a horrified, yet very much aware Slayer looming over
him. "That is _terrible_! What could even make you say such a thing?"
Dusting himself off, Angelus rose warily. "It's true, Edith." She
shook her head in repulsed denial. "It's one of those things I learned
from the monks. The Romans were all mad-- worse than old King George."
He reached out quickly and caught her hands in his before she could
pull away. "Edith, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said such a thing." He
appealed with sorrowful eyes. "Forgive me? It's still a beautiful
name."
She finally pulled away from him, but slowly. "I want to go home now."
He walked her home, but before they reached her door he stopped her in
the street and pressed yet another stake into her hand. "Keep this
with you night and day, Edith."
"Day?" she repeated in confusion.
Angelus pulled her to the darker shadow cast by a shopfront and
dropped his voice even lower. "Vampires are creatures of the night,
Edith, but they are not bound by it. They are free to walk abroad by
day as well, as long as they take care to keep to the shadows."
"But vampires are burned by the sun...!"
"No, Edith. They are merely inconvenienced by it. By day it is harder
to hide their ferocious faces and horrible deeds." He shook his head
sadly. "But you cannot count on the daylight to save you. Keep this
with you always."
This time when he pressed the stake into her hand, her fingers curled
around it.
But a bare moment later she was shaking her head and trying to hand it
back, as though the danger it was meant to defeat could be as easily
pushed away. "No, I cannot do this night _and_ day." She took a step
backwards. "Soon Billy and I will be married. We'll have children and
neighbors and... I _can't_!"
Angelus' face reflected what looked like genuine pity. "Edith, you
have no choice."
"But...."
"That is precisely why the Slayer does not have a family, does not
have children. She has-- *you* have-- a greater responsibility. Only
you can defeat these creatures. And if something were to distract you,
pull you away from the path you were meant to walk, all of mankind
would be doomed."
"No!"
"Edith, you _can't_ marry Billy...."
"But if I could only explain to him...."
"Not unless you want to see his throat torn out before your eyes!"
Edith fell back, wide-eyed, before the fury in his tone. With a
visible effort, Angelus regained his composure. "You don't understand,
Edith. They can read the very thoughts in your head."
He paused for a moment to watch that thought settle in her mind, in
her stricken expression. "You have thwarted this one twice within a
handful of nights. It will be angry. It will want to hurt you, kill
you. And if you are too well-protected, it will go after those you
love."
He took her chin in his hand and spoke reassuringly, "Go to sleep.
Keep the stake with you always and do not think on them-- your mother,
Billy, Drusilla-- none of them." He smiled encouragingly in response
to her stupefied expression. "Think not on them for a few days and
they will be safe, I promise."
And with a swift kiss to her forehead he was gone.
~~~~~~~~~
Wrapped in her blanket Edith sat up by the window this time,
determined not to sleep and to enlist the aid of the ice-cold air
outside if necessary to keep herself alert and in control of her
thoughts.
Ruthlessly she forced those thoughts, time and again, _away_ from....
No.
_To_ her new duty as the Slayer, cursed to fight these creatures
forever, at the price of the family she had always wanted. The family
she had planned with Billy....
No.
_To_ the horrors of this past night, driving the stake brutally
through the chest of a child. No, a _demon_ in the form of a child,
who'd burst into shapeless dust-- along with her dreams of a future,
of a child like him, like Drusilla....
No!
In another moment she caught herself deliberately thinking of
Angelus in pure anger. That realization frightened her so that she was
able to manage several whole moments of detached mental calm....
But within the space of a score of minutes her exhausted body had
failed her and she lay slumped, head against the shutters, lost in
restless dreams....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Comments, flames, praise, and chocolate always appreciated!
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- <cat.goddess@pobox.com>
}:o * Merc Forever * HorseChick of the Apocalypse* SunS List Mom
- -
------------------------------
Date: Sat, 17 Jan 1998 13:30:11 -5000
From: "Dianne la Mercenaire" <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "A Truth Worse Than Lies" -- 7/12
"A Truth Worse Than Lies" -- 7/12
by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. la Mercenaire)
<Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning Edith woke with a small cut on her cheek from
where the stake, still clutched in her hand, had pressed against her
face. The blanket about her was twisted so tight from her restive
night that she had awoken from dreams of being buried alive. She
wasn't sure what had interrupted her slumber, but it was already late
morning and she felt none the more rested for her sleep.
It was as she stumbled her way to her feet and began to recall the
night before that she realized with a shock of horror that she'd
dreamed-- nightmares of fact and myth, blood and death, and.... She'd
dreamed of them. _All_ of them.
Gasping out a shuddering, choked sound she lunged to her feet,
twisting herself free of the cloak she was wrapped in. She had to find
them, warn them, protect them....
But there were no new cries of grief or horror to be heard. Her mother
greeted her with a smile and assured her that no new horrors had been
visited upon any in the night.
Yet somehow, Edith couldn't stop shivering.
Billy stopped by on his way to work, fretting over her pale cheeks and
shadowed eyes, but she managed to reassure him and send him on his way
quickly.
Too quickly, perhaps, to judge by the last look he gave her. A weary
sigh escaped her. She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings, but merely
having him around now made her fear for his safety. Angelus'
revelation of the night before still shook her badly-- she had thought
daylight would protect her from the red-rimmed eyes and terrible grasp
of demons. Now she knew it would not.
In how much else was she confused? She still could hear Angelus'
warning from that first night in the churchyard: "How can you fight
what you don't understand?" He was right. As much as she wanted to
bury all of her terrible new knowledge away, she knew that it would
rise again to attack her, as had little Paul....
She shuddered as she reached for her cloak and walked out to the
garden, the stake grasped tightly in her hand. This demon had created
a monster out of a little child, what else was it capable of? The only
way to protect those she loved was to become this Slayer that Angelus
spoke of, always on the alert for danger, striking instantly to
protect....
The puppy's growl made her look up, and the sight before her drained
all thoughts from her mind. Anne stood at the gate huddled close to
Dru, her mouth and fingers sticky and red with blood, reaching out....
"*NO*!" The sound echoed in her ears as Edith found herself bearing
down upon the children at full speed, stake clutched in her upraised
hand.
The sound of Drusilla's piercing scream and the look of utter terror
on Anne's upraised face brought Edith back to her senses just before
she could drive the point of the stake into little Anne's chest.
Stunned at her own actions, Edith watched paralyzed as the puppy ran
to fetch the half-eaten pomegranate the girls had let fall. Dazed, she
watched the red fruit roll like a child's ball along the paving stones
as she sank to the ground.
Pomegranate juice. Sticky and red and not blood. Not demons.
*Children....*
When the full realization of what she had almost done hit her, Edith
was unable to think at all.
When she regained her senses she was sitting in a heap upon the
ground, propped up only by the fencepost. Anne was crying loudly and
Dru was silent, staring at her with the widest eyes Edith had ever
seen, her pale skin so white she looked like the very life had run out
of her.
Then people were all around-- her mother, little Paul's mother, Beth,
the housekeeper Anne's father hired, strangers from the street-- all
gathered around in a milling, dizzying confusion. As from a great
distance she felt her mother's hand on her arm, on her forehead. She
heard Anne sobbing out the story through her tears, all the way back
to the pomegranate Dru had been given by her Uncle Billy's friend the
evening before, the one she'd saved all night to share with Dru this
morning....
For her part, Edith could not stop shaking. Nor could she make a sound
in her own defense.... What defense? She'd almost killed an innocent
child because she had thought it a hell-born demon. What defense could
there be for such a thing?
Those assembled seemed of a like mind. The muttered whispers and
sidelong glances said as much. Even Beth looked at her askance, then
would not meet her eye.
"Dru." The word finally managed to pass her lips as she realized that
she had heard nothing from her little 'niece'. Trying to peer amongst
the forest of legs that separated them she could see nothing. An
overwhelming fear dragged her to her feet.
She was there, in Beth's arms, being carried to safety, away from her
mad 'aunt'. Her face was so still and pale.
Finally the crowd dispersed. Anne was taken swiftly back to her
house, her tears slowly subsiding, and her father was sent for. The
adults moved away to rejoin their usual lives, muttering and casting
sideways glances back at her. Looking at them Edith saw revulsion in
the few pairs of eyes that would meet hers, and wordlessly she
stumbled back into the house on her mother's arm.
~~~~~~~~~
Just after dusk Billy brought word that little Dru was gone.
Apparently she'd run away. Weeping, Beth told those who gathered at
the house that the child had not recovered from the morning's terror.
First little Paul, now this; she had been withdrawn and silent all
day. Beth had tried to get her to eat, but she would not. Finally,
Drusilla had simply vanished from the back porch as night fell.
Little Anne had no idea where her playmate might have gone, vowing
that they had always stayed close in the neighborhood. Given the
recent deaths of little Paul and Catherine, no one was willing to just
hope Drusilla would calm down and find her own way home by dawn. Billy
gathered a few of the young men (although Angelus was nowhere to be
found) and joined the small group of parents that had gathered to
search. Little Anne was left behind over her protests, but her puppy
tagged along. As Billy pointed out to one of the mocking older men, it
might be too young to be of much use, but it had at least known the
child well.
Edith insisted on joining the search party, ignoring the raised
eyebrows it caused.
They asked through the streets, finding a vague trail of people who
had noticed the child's pale, frightened expression, but there was
little consensus. Some said she had seemed to be following someone
through the crowds, but others swore she was alone. Still others
admitted that, in the busy streets and shifting shadows of evening,
they could not have been sure.
The trail, such as it was, led finally all the way to Hyde Park, a
giant expanse of green in the middle of the city, with trees, ponds,
and countless places for a child to become lost. Or worse. And, as
night fell, black as death itself.
Nonetheless they wandered the park for almost an hour, stumbling by
the light of lanterns and calling her name. Despite Billy's concern
for her health and safety, Edith refused to return home, her own guilt
driving her on well past her normal endurance.
Had she not scared the children so badly this morning, Dru never would
have run away. Had she accepted her calling earlier, had she worked
harder with Angelus, she might have already found and destroyed the
vampire who was causing such destruction. Had she not been who she
was, all who came in contact with her-- even this child she loved as
if she were blood-- might not be in mortal danger.
Billy was careful to keep close to her as they searched, but every so
often in the growing darkness they were parted by a stand of trees or
the edge of a pond.
Thus Edith was alone when she found Drusilla.
The edge of the circle of light cast by her lantern on the ground
barely brushed the child's ankle, but with the slightest motion of her
wrist Edith covered the child with light. The shock of finding what
she'd searched for for so long froze her in place long enough to take
in the limp way the little body slumped against a tree, the unnatural
way the head lolled back.
The torn flesh and cold, congealed blood at her throat.
The scream that came from Edith's own throat had no words; no
words could possibly convey such suffering and desolation of the
heart. The lantern fell from her numb fingers and she stumbled blindly
back along the path she'd taken, uncaring of the roots that tripped
her and the stones that turned under her feet, until she collapsed in
Billy's arms.
As the others gathered around, drawn by the sound, she managed to sob
out what she had seen. Leaning heavily on Billy and trying not to hear
Beth's wailing cries, she managed to lead the group back to the body.
But it was gone.
Lying against the tree, near her own abandoned lantern, lay a torn and
bloodied corpse indeed. But the victim death had found there was not a
human child. Anne's puppy lay in the clearing, small head against the
tree and throat viciously torn out, the blood still dripping slowly
from its neck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Comments, flames, praise, and chocolate always appreciated!
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- <cat.goddess@pobox.com>
}:o * Merc Forever * HorseChick of the Apocalypse* SunS List Mom
- -
------------------------------
Date: Sat, 17 Jan 1998 13:31:00 -5000
From: "Dianne la Mercenaire" <Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "A Truth Worse Than Lies" -- 8/12
"A Truth Worse Than Lies" -- 8/12
by Dianne T. DeSha (a.k.a. la Mercenaire)
<Cat.Goddess@pobox.com>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Curfew was by that time fast descending, and it was long past time to
leave the darkened streets to the villains-- human and demon-- that
haunted them after nightfall. Reluctantly the search was called off
until dawn. Billy carried Edith most of the way to her home, trying to
shield her with his arms from the mistrustful stares, the uneasy
sidelong glances of the others who muttered that her own guilt had
unhinged her mind.
And he wondered if they were right.
That night Edith slept the deep and dreamless sleep of utter collapse,
her mother sharing the bed and Billy sleeping upright in a chair
across the room. With first light he was gone to resume the search,
but Edith continued to sleep until a commotion in the street below
brought her awake.
When she met her mother coming up the stairs, Edith could see the
tears in her eyes.
~~~~~~~~~
When Billy arrived at Uncle Edward's house to find Edith covered in
blood, for a moment he felt a deathly fear that, in her grief, she had
done herself harm. Thus he actually felt a sort of sick relief when he
realized that the gore came not from her, but from the twisted body of
the child in her arms.
"Hasten, hasten, run and tell,
The new spring foal is lost in the dell...."
His heart broke to see her like this, cradling Anne's small body, eyes
closed to hold back the vision of violent death. Rocking back and
forth, singing softly....
The decently covered forms of Uncle Edward and the housekeeper
lay silent in the corner, but the neighbors could do nothing for Anne.
Even Edith's mother had thrown up her hands, unable to wrest the
child's body from her own daughter's surprisingly strong grip.
Billy walked forward hesitantly, unsure how to approach her. She had
been so withdrawn, so haggard recently-- disinclined to talk to him.
The last he'd seen her she was almost mad with grief and worry over
Drusilla's disappearance. She had nearly attacked the children the
morning before. He had worried she might have been struck by some sort
of brain fever, but this...?
Reaching her he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, only to wince as
she flinched away. "Edith? Love, they have to take her now."
Edith responded with a horrible, heartrending whimper that made him
think of the mewl of an injured kitten.
Instantly he found himself at her side, arms wrapped tight around both
her and her burden. "Princess, I'm sorry. I'm *so* sorry."
Tears began to run down her cheeks then, falling unheeded on bloody
clothes and cold, torn, bloody flesh. And Billy held her, rocked her
in his arms, as one of the neighbor women took little Anne away.
~~~~~~~~~
For the rest of the day Edith sat in the garden, stone-still and
wrapped like an invalid in an afghan that seemed to dwarf her. Her
mother offered her food, which sat beside her uneaten, and comfort,
which fell on deaf ears. Meanwhile the rumors and speculation spread.
No one had come up with a sane, natural explanation for the deaths of
her Uncle's family. With nothing to counter them, speculations about
demons and monsters of every description were spreading wildly. Almost
as well speculated upon was Edith Shepherd's role in the recent
tragedies. After all, the victims were all people known to her, and
she had acted as one possessed after the Taylor child's death-- a
story that had no doubt already grown with each telling.
The kinder gossips argued that she was merely cursed, or haunted-- a
victim as much as any of the others. But more vocal members of the
community suggested, sometimes quite strongly, that she must have
consorted with demons, willfully bringing down this horror on them
all.
Or even that she was a demon herself.
The search continued, half-heartedly, into the early evening, but few
held out hope any longer. Drusilla's parents were inconsolable; while
Edith simply sat, her vacant eyes staring out at nothing.
When Angelus called just after dusk, Edith's mother had already
brought her inside and put her to bed like a sick child. Hearing him
at the door, Edith simply feigned exhausted sleep until he left.
She utterly refused to think what he had wanted of her.
~~~~~~~~~
It was well after nightfall when the cry was raised.
Only at her mother's excited call did Edith reluctantly rise from the
bed, wrap herself in a shawl, and make her way to the front door. The
sight that met her eyes felt as though it had stopped her heart
completely.
Dru. Wrapped in her father's arms. Alive. Whole.
Stumbling forward with a moan, Edith reached out to touch the
child's cheek as the crowd passed, but she was pushed aside. She
didn't care; never had she thought to find such ecstasy in being
proved mad after all.
Standing in the street in bare feet and her shift, shawl trailing
behind her and all modesty forgotten, Edith watched wide-eyed and
dazed with joy as people came up, offered their prayers and
congratulations, and joined in the triumphant procession to the Taylor
house.
Then little Drusilla's eyes met hers over her father's shoulder as
they all disappeared into the gloom. It was just for the space of a
breath and no more before the darkness took them all, but it was
enough to make Edith's heart clutch in her chest. She felt as though
she'd been struck, drenched in cold water; every nerve in her body
burned in sudden pain.
And then it was gone. She tried to shake it off, the lasting urge to
go after them, to scream, to warn... to hold her, to touch her warm
face, hear her breath... to fight, to kill, to destr....
When Billy came up behind her she nearly struck him down out of
pure reflex. Catching herself only at the last second, she stood
there, shaking uncontrollably, until he scooped her up and carried her
inside.
As though from a distance she heard her mother's murmured
reassurances as she was put back to bed-- She is chilled but not
harmed, even after all this time. It's a miracle, Edith!-- and she
made herself believe it. She fought down her own bizarre reaction,
forced herself to ignore it. After all she would have sworn before God
himself that she had seen the child dead in the park the night before.
Obviously-- Praise Heaven!-- her own senses could not be trusted.
With a rush she tried to sit up; she *had* to see Dru. The certainty
burned inside her like the cold night air through her lungs. She must
go now, she must be sure....
Both Billy and her mother had to hold her until she calmed, and she
finally only quieted when her mother reminded her how much she would
disturb the child in her current state. There would be plenty of time
tomorrow, she murmured. Plenty of time....
The sudden slam of a window shutter woke Edith up in the dead of
night, her pulse racing and every sense alert as it had not been since
this living nightmare began. She climbed quietly out of bed, careful
not to disturb her mother, and was reaching silently past Billy for
her cloak before she even realized what she was doing. And even then
she didn't stop.
All she needed was to be sure. She had to see for herself, or she
would know no peace at all. She need not even enter the house....
She was halfway to Beth's house before the cold in her feet told her
she had forgotten even slippers in her hurry to leave. She dismissed
the thought, hurrying on, unable to even begin to explain the sudden
dread in her soul.
The lamps were lit at Beth's house, still. Given the horrors the
family had been through, she could not blame them. It would be easy to
simply peer through the glass....
She noticed the streaks upon the glass first, the thin trails of
blood on the inside, as though left by small fingers.... With a
strength she didn't even question Edith had wrenched open the door,
and stopped short at the sight of Dru before her, blood spattered on
her little hands and across her small white shift.
Drusilla was standing there alone in the front room, amidst over-
turned furniture and wide smears of blood upon the floor, obviously in
shock, her eyes wide and horrified.
"Aunt Edith!" She cried desperately as the spell seemed to break and
she rushed forward into the young woman's arms. Instinctively, Edith
reached down for the child, swinging her up and crushing her
protectively against her chest as she looked for signs of Beth or her
husband. "Aunt Edith! Monster....," any further words were lost as the
girl buried her face in Edith's hair, her young body wracked with
sobs.
She didn't dare set the child down again. Clutching her tighter with
one arm, Edith stooped down long enough to break a leg off the nearest
chair with the other hand. Then she moved towards the back kitchen.
One look was enough to tell her it was too late. The blood spattered
everywhere obviously came from the gaping wounds across Beth and Tom's
throats. Their bodies lay like limp and broken dolls in the midst of
broken dishes and upset stools. They had obviously put up the best
fight they could.
Stepping backwards quickly, so as to spare Drusilla the sight of her
parents' end, she thanked God that at least the child had somehow been
saved. How in all this destruction she had managed....
The pain at her neck was so unexpected that it took a second to
register. But before she could be sure what she was feeling, Edith had
already pulled the child away and thrown her to the floor-- a reflex
action that would have horrified her, had not the sight of little
Drusilla's _face_ horrified her more.
No.
Drusilla was alive. Spared by some miracle from God. She was _not_
this tiny monster-faced demon. Not this horrible caricature of the
child Edith so loved.
Not a beast who could have torn her own parents' throats out.
"Aunt Edith?" The demon child before her lisped through bloodied
fangs, the confusion in her voice obvious, even through the unholy
mask she now wore. "Aunt Edith?"
Edith felt her heart breaking, _felt_ the fragile tissue rip in a
searing pain that threatened to overwhelm her completely.
And as Drusilla ran forward again, arms outstretched, Edith embraced
her hard one last time-- with a loving arm... and a stake that
transformed her tiny body into a burst of ash.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Comments, flames, praise, and chocolate always appreciated!
Dianne la Mercenaire... -*- <cat.goddess@pobox.com>
}:o * Merc Forever * HorseChick of the Apocalypse* SunS List Mom
- -
------------------------------
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