Many thanks to Ruth. 
This thing is not liking tab...
TITLE: "Hero"
AUTHOR: Shadowcat
E-MAIL: oneiric22@yahoo.com
FEEDBACK: Yes, please. All kinds accepted.
DISTRIBUTION: Sure. Just let me know where.
SPOILERS: End of Season 3 and Season 5.
CONTENT: A little Buffy, but mostly my own characters.
RATING: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: Buffy and gang belong to Joss, Fox, Mutant Enemy and whoever else. Karen and Angela are mine, baby, all mine! Bwahahaha!
SUMMARY: Someone recalls meeting Buffy, and how it changed her.
NOTE: I had an idea to do a fic about Buffy's death from someone outside the main cast. Buffy's saved so many people over the years that we sometimes forget how that can affect people. Maybe this is one example of it.
WARNING: This fic is not a happy fic. It is dark and somewhat depressing.
"Hero"
I first met Buffy Summers on a sunny day in July, about two years ago. She hadn't been much older than my big sister, but seemed so small it was as though you could almost sneeze and she'd fall over. One would hardly think that the little woman was the scourge of vampire-kind. There were two things that gave it away, if you bothered noticing; most men looked and saw a beautiful blonde that looked like something out of a wet dream; most women saw a model from some cosmetics commercial, promising that they could be as beautiful if only they'd buy her brand of makeup. But if you looked, I mean really looked, there was no way you would think she was just another pretty face. Buffy moved like a cat; one minute slow and stalking, the next fierce and pouncing. She had the natural fluidity that fighters get after training for years. That was one thing you could spot from far away. The other you'd actually have to meet her to understand.
Back then, my sister and I used to go to Shakespeare in the park every Sunday. A group from the local college put it on, and even if the acting wasn't five star, it was something to do. Every week we'd pack a basket full of sandwiches, complete with a checkered blanket and everything.
Angela always said, "No matter how crazy life gets, you have to hold onto the little normal things, or you go crazy with it." My sister didn't have many moments of profound wisdom, but when she did they sure were something.
It was on one such Sunday that I first saw her, this seemingly insignificant woman who would change my life forever. The play had already started when two shadows fell upon the blanket. I glanced up at the girls curiously. They weren't blocking our view, or even looking at us. The blonde had her hand half-covering her eyes from the sunlight, scanning the crowd for, I assumed, a place to sit. The girl with her chattered in a steady stream. I wondered if she even knew what was coming out of her mouth.
"I got a new cage for Amy. I thought a change of environment might cheer her up. She's just been moping around, not even running on her wheel, or anything. I think she's depressed. What do you do for a depressed rat? If she were just a regular rat, I might get her a mate, but when I think about it, I just go 'eww.'" The red head looked to her friend expectantly, as if the other girl were an authority on rodents.
"I dunno, Will. If I were stuck as a rat for a year, I'd be pretty depressed, too. Not to mention cranky," the blonde replied. She spotted what she was looking for, and started navigating around the other blankets and lawn chairs.
A grin split my face, and I coughed over a chuckle. In my head, a little cartoon rat lay on a couch, talking to a therapist about how stressful her life was. "Why do people always choose pets that are natural enemies? Cats and rats weren't meant to coexist," it complained.
Angela looked over to me, and nodded her head to the two walking through the crowd.
"See the blonde? That's Buffy Summers."
I looked at my sister quizzically.
"So?"
"So, she's the one that saved her graduating class from getting slaughtered."
I looked over to the blonde head shining golden in the sunlight. Could that small girl really be the hero I'd heard so much about?
"No way. Not her. She looks like a cheerleader,” I said, looking at the blonde sceptically.
"She was. You know better than that. Pretty doesn't mean stupid,” she replied flatly.
Few people can get me to blush, but my sister is one of them.
"She just looks so... normal."
A melodious laugh poured from my sister’s lips. I loved to hear her laugh. She was the closest thing to an angel I'd ever met. Hero worship, me? Nah.
"She's blown up two schools, and has a police record. No, Buffy is not your average cheerleader."
I looked at the girls as they sat in the grass, stretching out as much as room would allow. If the blonde was Buffy Summers, then the red head must be Willow Rosenberg, her best friend. I'd heard a hundred tales of how the two girls and their friend, Xander Harris, had organized a pseudo army out of Sunnydale's high school class of 1999 to battle a giant snake and a hoard of vampires. Angela was a year behind them, and me a year behind her. We'd heard all sorts of rumors about those three, but everything had changed when the school went boom. "So she's a punk. What of it? All those stories can't be true."
"Not all of them, no. You know how stories grow in every telling. I don't think she's a demon, or a bug lady waiting for her next male victim. But Buffy's not a punk. I've talked to her a few times. There's something about her. I can't really explain it. She really listens and cares about what people say. She's not fake, like Cordelia and her group. She seems...” My sister picked at a long blade of grass, twirling it around in her fingers while she thought. “She’s…loyal. Trustworthy. Buffy’s like a hero or something."
Even Angela knew how ridiculous her words sounded, and looked away. She had a thoughtful expression on her face I rarely saw, when she was thinking about something she couldn't quite grasp. I frowned and looked back at the two girls who were watching the play now. Could they be real life heroes? Real monster fighters who protected the general populace? Monsters were real in Sunnydale. Why couldn't heroes be?
The next time I saw Buffy Summers was not a happy occasion.
I sat on the ground cradling my sister in my lap. My hands shook as I held her, rocking back and forth in my nightmare come true. Blood ran down her neck from a gaping hole, spilling over my arms and onto the grass. A street light shown down over me, setting all the colors in a surreal brightness.
"Angela? ...Ange? Please Ange, don't leave me. You can't leave me. I need you here with me. Who's going to help me through Physics? Sis, come on... Stop bleeding. Please... Please, don't leave me..."
My throat closed then. The only sounds I could make were loud sobs that seemed to come from a place deep inside me that I didn't even know about. I sat there on my front lawn feeling my sister's warm blood spill over my arms, and I knew she was dying. She was dying and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
A hand touched my shoulder tentatively, as if afraid to disturb me in my misery. I barely noticed. Let the monster come back, and kill me too. I didn't care. The person I loved most in the world lay dead in my arms. What did my life matter?
Blonde hair spilled in front of my vision. My sister had black hair. This hair was different. I don't know why it caught my attention, but I slowly focused on the face before me.
"I'm sorry, Karen. I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner. Karen, listen to me. You have to let her go. There's nothing you can do for her. Can you hear me?" Buffy gripped my shoulders as she spoke, looking at me with a deep concern. I focused on her blue eyes. Angela had blue eyes, but hers had been so deep you could almost swim in them.
"Buffy? ...There was a monster... A monster hurt her Buffy, you have to stop it..."
Her face relaxed a bit, but she still held me with her eyes. I could hear now. There were sirens in the background. When had everything gone quiet? I hadn't noticed until Buffy had started talking.
"There's no more monster. It's ok. The monster's gone, Karen."
Anger suddenly filled me with a blinding rage I'd never known. I had a bad temper, but I was so angry now that my vision went hazy.
"You have to kill it! It has to pay for this! We have to kill it, Buffy, I have to kill it," I yelled as I tried to stand. She held me down with just her hands on my shoulders, her face turning to stone. She really was stronger than she looked.
"The monster is dead, Karen. I killed it. It's over."
It took a moment for the words to register in my brain. I kept thinking about how I wanted to kill what had taken away my sister's life. Slowly, I stopped struggling. My shoulders slumped. My sister was dead. Her killer was dead. The killing was over for the night.
Men in uniforms began appearing. I barely noticed them. What I did notice was that Buffy stayed by me until everyone was gone, and I had washed the blood from my arms. I never forgot that. It really takes something for a person who barely knows you to stay with you through the biggest trauma of your life. That was that something Angela had tried to tell me about the day at the park. I didn't have a word for it either, but I understood it.
I never blamed Buffy for not getting there in time. Things had gotten weird between Angela and her boyfriend. He'd been missing for a month, and then just showed up. I listened to them fight from the stairs. Jack had been a creep in life, but he'd turned outright nasty in death. When he started threatening her, I ran for the phone. I don't know why I did it. Maybe it was a memory of that conversation about her that brought her to mind so quickly. I called Buffy Summers and told her that there was a vampire in my house, threatening my sister. She didn't even hesitate.
"I'll be there in five minutes," she said, and the phone went dead. Just like that. No questions. She just showed up ready to save the world.
Buffy and I rarely talked after my sister's death, but always greeted each other when we met. There's something about death that binds people. She understood it, and just accepted it. I'd been puzzling over it for the past two years. Buffy Summers never left my mind. I was only starting to accept that when I heard that she had died. I can't help but let a few tears slip out as I stand before her grave.
"Buffy Anne Summers. She saved the world a lot," the tombstone reads. It actually brings a smile to my face. If I weren’t careful, I'd start laughing and not be able to stop. No, I didn't want to laugh hysterically in front of her family.
Family. Her mom had died a few months ago. Her father was still off in Europe somewhere. Her only living family was her sister, Dawn. The dark-haired girl was standing by the grave, looking almost empty. It must have been how I'd looked when they put my sister in the ground. Heck, I hadn't been much older than Dawn. I never thought she would have to go through this.
I wonder what Dawn will do now. Her friends stand around her, offering her their strength in the middle of their own misery. At least she still has them. Willow hovers with her girlfriend to one side of Dawn; Xander and his girlfriend to the other. She does have family. More family than I had, at any rate. I silently pray she will be all right.
"Dawn?" I walk over to Buffy's sister and wait for her to focus on me. She gives me a quizzical look so much like my own I nearly cry.
"Yes?"
"I'm Karen Moore. I was a friend of your sisters. I just wanted to give you my condolences."
"Oh..." She seems a bit lost for a moment, then focuses on me again. "Thank you."
I nod, and start to turn away. Something makes me turn back.
"Dawn..."
She looks back at me again, questioningly.
"When I was about your age, my sister was attacked. I watched her die. Buffy tried to save her, and I'll never forget that. She stayed with me through the whole mess. If you ever need anything, just ask. Ok?"
The young woman manages a ghost of a smile.
"Buffy was always saving someone. I'm sorry about your sister."
"I owed Buffy. If you need anything, call me. All right?"
Dawn nods, and I leave her to grieve over her sister.
When I get home, I take out my kit. Two years ago my sister had been killed by a vampire. The Slayer had tried to save her, but hadn't made it in time. Maybe if she'd had a gun, it'd be different.
I empty my kit on my bed. Vials of holy water, silver ammo (cause you never know what you’ll come across at night in Sunnydale), a sawed off shotgun, crosses, stakes, water balloons, and a giant super soaker look back at me. For two years I'd made killing vampires a hobby. Now the Slayer was dead. Buffy had been a hero, the kind you read about in comic books and sappy novels. I didn't know if I had that thing in me, but I could sure try. The people needed another protector, and I found myself volunteering for the job. Angela must be smiling down at me from her cloud. She's probably laughing. I'm such a sap for romantic crap. Here's hoping I live up to the name: Hero.
(end)
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"...It's a higher power trying to tell me through bunnies that we're going to die." -Anya
[This message has been edited by Shadowcat (edited June 06, 2001).]
