Apologia
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfic by Brian Doyle
No permission has been granted, no offence has been intended.
--------------------------------------------------------------
He didn't want to have to do this, it was wrong on levels he hadn't suspected existed before now. But it was really the only way, he had to convince himself of that.
He also didn't know whether it was easier doing this knowing what he knew, or whether ignorance would, in this case, be bliss. He had a feeling there was no right answer to that question.
At one level he still felt numb, they'd been friends since forever, and now that was over, like blowing out a candle. They'd been sat next to each other in kindergarten by the teacher, but as soon as they'd started talking it was like they'd known each other for their entire lives. Admittedly, that only amounted to four years each, and their vocabulary at the time was somewhat limited, but they giggled a lot at the same things (comic books, beetles, the dark haired girl sitting in front of them, that sort of thing) and that was a good foundation for a friendship. The little red-headed girl who sat next to them was keen to join in but, even then, girls were girls and that's never the same.
And then they had discovered a mutual fascination for that most sacred of food groups; Snack foods! Twinkies! Ho-ho's! Ambrosia with additives! From that moment on they'd been inseparable.
He had been the only boy not to laugh when he'd been scared by the clown at his birthday party, about the only person actually, even the little red haired girl, who he could normally rely on, had joined in.
So it had continued through Junior High and High School. Neither of them had ever quite fitted in to any of the seemingly self-perpetuating cliques that sprang up: The fashion victims, the jocks, the deadheads. They'd actually been turned down by the nerds, which had sort of hurt at the time. So they had naturally gravitated to the non-intersection set that was happy geek-dom, or as happy as geeks were allowed to get. Being an outsider was fun in its way, you got to laugh at everyone else equally. You also got beaten up by everyone else equally, but that's "half empty" thinking.
In their adolescent cocoon of assumed-immortality they'd planned on continuing in a similar vein for the rest of theirs lives. Oh sure work, and maybe college, and maybe other things (Like maybe someday, oh please, oh please, WOMEN!) would intrude, but they'd always be there for each other whenever needed, or even just wanted.
And then their reality had taken a hairpin bend into screaming madness and the truth about his hometown had been revealed to him.
He hadn't actually seen his best friend die, and the fact that best friend had still walking around afterwards had made it even harder to accept. Add to this the fact that he actually _had_ been there at the... the.... he groped for the right word, never having needed such a term before.. "Re-death"? "Un-un-death"? And the fact he'd sort of been responsible, up to a point (and no pun intended) for that... "re-demise" was something that would haunt him for ever.
A familiar face, a face he knew as well as his own reflection, had twisted into something obscene in front of him, had said things that he should never have heard, had actually been about to kill him, and then had shattered into dust. He hadn't even had the movie style consolation of a "thank you" as his friends soul was released... his soul was already long gone.
Yet it was strange, already the shock was leaving him. The horror and emptiness remained, but it had a faint sense of unreality about it now. He'd been told it was an aspect of the town's inbuilt curse. Terrifying events that would normally send people shrieking into madness.... well, it STILL left them shrieking into madness, but those around them would sort of block out the problem, edit their own memories and carry on.
There must be hundreds of individual pockets of abject misery in the town; families grieving, parents mourning, children left orphans, but somehow it never came together in a way that would trigger mass panic at a citywide level, the way it should. Police and forensic investigations came up mysteriously blank. The towns "solved-to-reported" crime ratio was lower than some third-world dictatorships, and the worst thing was, no one seemed to care.
He'd been told the best story to tell, by someone who had clearly had way too much experience in this area for someone her age. Play it dumb, play it cool, and act surprised, concerned and sad when the appropriate times came. Well, at least that last part would be easy.
It was the ultimate catch-22. Tell the truth and destroy their lives, lie to them and leave them guessing forever, starting at every ring of the telephone, searching the mail every day. The runaway theory offered some crumb of hope, however false, and there was no way they'd believe the truth.
Well, if the town wouldn't mourn, he would in his own way, and though his friends family might never know the truth, he would do his best to make sure that as few families as possible had to go through what he was about to do to them.
He felt tears running down his face as he hit a certain speed-dial button for what might well be the last time. He wiped his eyes, cleared his throat and controlled his voice so nothing would show through.
A familiar voice answered and he said the hardest words he'd ever had to say in his entire life.
"Hello? Mrs Hartman? Hi, it's Xander... Oh, just fine thanks. You? Great... Say, is Jesse there? No he didn't show up at school today, I thought he might be home sick or something... No, I haven't seen him since last night at the Bronze... Yeah, there was this girl, passing through town from somewhere. He seemed to be getting on well with her, made the usual comments about her being the girl of his dreams and going with her but I was sure he was joking..."
And the Hellmouth gaped a little wider...
Fin
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfic by Brian Doyle
No permission has been granted, no offence has been intended.
--------------------------------------------------------------
He didn't want to have to do this, it was wrong on levels he hadn't suspected existed before now. But it was really the only way, he had to convince himself of that.
He also didn't know whether it was easier doing this knowing what he knew, or whether ignorance would, in this case, be bliss. He had a feeling there was no right answer to that question.
At one level he still felt numb, they'd been friends since forever, and now that was over, like blowing out a candle. They'd been sat next to each other in kindergarten by the teacher, but as soon as they'd started talking it was like they'd known each other for their entire lives. Admittedly, that only amounted to four years each, and their vocabulary at the time was somewhat limited, but they giggled a lot at the same things (comic books, beetles, the dark haired girl sitting in front of them, that sort of thing) and that was a good foundation for a friendship. The little red-headed girl who sat next to them was keen to join in but, even then, girls were girls and that's never the same.
And then they had discovered a mutual fascination for that most sacred of food groups; Snack foods! Twinkies! Ho-ho's! Ambrosia with additives! From that moment on they'd been inseparable.
He had been the only boy not to laugh when he'd been scared by the clown at his birthday party, about the only person actually, even the little red haired girl, who he could normally rely on, had joined in.
So it had continued through Junior High and High School. Neither of them had ever quite fitted in to any of the seemingly self-perpetuating cliques that sprang up: The fashion victims, the jocks, the deadheads. They'd actually been turned down by the nerds, which had sort of hurt at the time. So they had naturally gravitated to the non-intersection set that was happy geek-dom, or as happy as geeks were allowed to get. Being an outsider was fun in its way, you got to laugh at everyone else equally. You also got beaten up by everyone else equally, but that's "half empty" thinking.
In their adolescent cocoon of assumed-immortality they'd planned on continuing in a similar vein for the rest of theirs lives. Oh sure work, and maybe college, and maybe other things (Like maybe someday, oh please, oh please, WOMEN!) would intrude, but they'd always be there for each other whenever needed, or even just wanted.
And then their reality had taken a hairpin bend into screaming madness and the truth about his hometown had been revealed to him.
He hadn't actually seen his best friend die, and the fact that best friend had still walking around afterwards had made it even harder to accept. Add to this the fact that he actually _had_ been there at the... the.... he groped for the right word, never having needed such a term before.. "Re-death"? "Un-un-death"? And the fact he'd sort of been responsible, up to a point (and no pun intended) for that... "re-demise" was something that would haunt him for ever.
A familiar face, a face he knew as well as his own reflection, had twisted into something obscene in front of him, had said things that he should never have heard, had actually been about to kill him, and then had shattered into dust. He hadn't even had the movie style consolation of a "thank you" as his friends soul was released... his soul was already long gone.
Yet it was strange, already the shock was leaving him. The horror and emptiness remained, but it had a faint sense of unreality about it now. He'd been told it was an aspect of the town's inbuilt curse. Terrifying events that would normally send people shrieking into madness.... well, it STILL left them shrieking into madness, but those around them would sort of block out the problem, edit their own memories and carry on.
There must be hundreds of individual pockets of abject misery in the town; families grieving, parents mourning, children left orphans, but somehow it never came together in a way that would trigger mass panic at a citywide level, the way it should. Police and forensic investigations came up mysteriously blank. The towns "solved-to-reported" crime ratio was lower than some third-world dictatorships, and the worst thing was, no one seemed to care.
He'd been told the best story to tell, by someone who had clearly had way too much experience in this area for someone her age. Play it dumb, play it cool, and act surprised, concerned and sad when the appropriate times came. Well, at least that last part would be easy.
It was the ultimate catch-22. Tell the truth and destroy their lives, lie to them and leave them guessing forever, starting at every ring of the telephone, searching the mail every day. The runaway theory offered some crumb of hope, however false, and there was no way they'd believe the truth.
Well, if the town wouldn't mourn, he would in his own way, and though his friends family might never know the truth, he would do his best to make sure that as few families as possible had to go through what he was about to do to them.
He felt tears running down his face as he hit a certain speed-dial button for what might well be the last time. He wiped his eyes, cleared his throat and controlled his voice so nothing would show through.
A familiar voice answered and he said the hardest words he'd ever had to say in his entire life.
"Hello? Mrs Hartman? Hi, it's Xander... Oh, just fine thanks. You? Great... Say, is Jesse there? No he didn't show up at school today, I thought he might be home sick or something... No, I haven't seen him since last night at the Bronze... Yeah, there was this girl, passing through town from somewhere. He seemed to be getting on well with her, made the usual comments about her being the girl of his dreams and going with her but I was sure he was joking..."
And the Hellmouth gaped a little wider...
Fin