TGoL 2
May 2001
Dawn:
I’m babbling and I know I am. That’s what happens when the
holy beejesus is scared out of me. My inner motor runs on high, and I
can’t force myself to shut up. If I can keep talking, then bad things can’t
happen, ‘cause it’s rude to interrupt, right? I don’t know why. It’s a stupid
thought. But I have to focus on something…
Oh God Glory knows what
I am she’s going to kill me she’s going to hack me up into teeny pieces oh God
I’m gonna die and it’s gonna hurt oh please oh God
…other than my brain numbing, knee trembling, spine crawling
fear.
“And then, whoosh! All of a sudden, Glory’s standing right
in front of us, all skanky and blonde and thinking she’s all bad ‘cause some
bumpy head minions kiss her stinky feet - she does have nice feet - and then
she’s coming right at us and Buffy’s just standing there not even blinking,
like
‘bring it on’ and then WHAM! Hellbitch in orbit.”
I leave out the part where I stopped running and Buffy had
to pick me up and carry me like I was a…a big scaredy cat, or something.
We almost didn’t make it, and it would have been my fault.
“Go, Buff!” Xander enthuses, thinking…oh. I think I might
have told it wrong. Did I make it sound like Buffy hit Glory?
‘Cause…oops.
“I knew you’d best Glory eventually,” Giles says proudly.
“All our years of training – ”
“A truck hit her,” Buffy interrupts quietly, staring out the
window. Her gaze is locked on some point off in the distance that I can’t see.
Her voice is…different, somehow. She seems…and I really don’t want to think it,
but she sounds so...
Defeated. And we all hear it. You couldn’t miss it. She’s
been my sister my whole life, or for what passes as my whole life. I’ve heard a
million different things in her voice – sadness, anger, annoyance – but this
is something completely different. Utter defeat and a vague emptiness.
A long, awkward pause stretches out in the room until Anya
breaks the silence. “Did ya throw it at her?”
Oh, please. But Buffy isn’t rising to her own defence, and
since I thought the whole ‘truck hitting hellgod’ thing was pretty awesome, I
go into babble mode once more.
“Well, no, she kind of…waited for it to hit her.” Okay, not
helpful. Add something. You’re your sister’s dignity. “But then Buffy ran
really fast! And we got away.”
“I don’t know how we did. That truck couldn’t have slowed
her down for more than a second,” Buffy responds, beginning to do that thing
with her hands she does when she gets nervous. Winding them around each other
and tugging on a knuckle. Mom always used to do the same thing.
A sharp ache begins to worm its way into my stomach. Mom. I
want my mom here so much. Everything wouldn’t be so scary if I could
curl in her lap, and she’d stroke my hair and tell me it’ll work out fine in
the end.
But let’s face reality. My big sister’s a superhero. Super
strong and super fast and super smart….well, when it comes to fighting and
stuff, anyway. And even she can’t make this go away, because she’s up
against someone who’s super-er. If Buffy can’t stop this, then I know
Mom couldn’t.
It doesn’t stop me from wishing she was here, though. If
only for her to hold me and call me her little punkin’ belly. Just to say she
wouldn’t let anything happen to me. Your mom is supposed to be the person who
can make everything all right. But instead, she’s in the ground in Restfield
Cemetery. Instead of sitting on the couch, popping her knuckles and looking
concerned, she’s nestled in a coffin, slowly breaking down into… That’s an even
more frightening thought than the idea that Glory could be on her way over
here, so I turn back to the scariness at hand.
Giles is attempting to pacify Buffy’s musings. “Well, how
isn’t important. All that matters now is that the two of you are safe.”
Inwardly, I snort. Oh, right, Xander’s apartment is totally
the Fortress of Solitude. He doesn’t actually believe –
And then I catch a glimpse of my sister. She’s turned to
face Giles, and she looks…completely different. If the sound of her voice has
changed, her entire appearance has, too. It’s like the light has gone
completely out of her. Why didn’t I ever notice the drawn, aged look in her
face before? Has it always been there? Since she became the Slayer? Since Mom
died, or since Tara got brain sucked, or… There’s something in her eyes I’ve
never seen before. Something hard and cold and…scared. Oh, God, if Buffy’s
scared…but she’ll stop it. She will. She’s Buffy.
“Safe?” She practically growls the word. “We’ve barely been
able to manage not getting seriously dead every time we’ve crossed paths with
Glory. And now that she knows Dawn’s the Key…”
I tune out at that. This is my fault. If anything happens to
anyone else, it’s my fault. Me, the stupid Key. God, I wish Kirsti had been
right back in school. I wish I had cut myself…more than the one
time. Maybe if I was dead, if I had slit my wrists and my body was drained dry,
then my family wouldn’t be suffering this way. Maybe if I was dead, their
memories would have been wiped clean of me and they’d be safe from evil gods
and I’d be up in heaven with my mom…or would I be? Do Keys go to heaven? If
you’re not real, do you have a soul that goes somewhere, or is my soul made
up like the rest of me?
“Piano!” Anya says excitedly, and I snap back to the present
once more. Did I miss out on something important? Well, since it came from
Anya, doubtful, but…we’re fighting Glory with a piano now?
“Oh, right, ‘cause a piano is what we used to kill that one
demon one time,” says Xander. Buffy gives him a blank look. “No, wait,
that was a rocket launcher. An, what are you talking about?”
“We should drop a piano on Glory,” she says seriously,
trying to be helpful. “It always works for the rabbit in those cartoons when
he’s trying to escape that nice man with a speech impediment.”
“Yes, or perhaps we could paint a convincing tunnel on the
side of a mountain,” Giles interjects dryly. “There has to be something in the
book of Kelsor that we missed – ”
“We can’t fight her," Buffy says again, in the same
quiet, defeated tone.
“Well, not yet, no – ”
“Not ever!” Buffy exclaims, frustrated. “She’s too
strong, Giles. We aren’t gonna win this with stakes or spells or pulling out
some uranium power source. She’s a god, and she’s coming for us. So let’s just not
be here when she starts knocking.”
“Run away?” Anya says, disbelieving. Then she smiles
broadly. “Finally, a sensible plan.”
“My mouth goes dry. Is she suggesting we – ”
That’s not what she meant,” Xander says firmly. “Um, is it?”
“We can’t stay here,” Buffy says impatiently. “She’ll
just kill us off one by one until there’s no one left standing between her and
Dawn.”
Giles breaks in. “Buffy, we understand the severity of the
situation, but there must be another – ”
“No! We stay, we die.” And there’s a grim finality in my
sister’s voice. “Show of hands for that option?” Nobody makes a sound. “All
right. Nobody goes home, nobody tells anybody we’re leaving. Just pack up
whatever supplies we need and that’s it, we’re gone.”
“No.” Buffy turns to look at me, and I blanch. Oh, man. I
said that out loud. But I have to tell it like it is. I know Buffy’s scared. I
am, too. I want to run more than anything else, get somewhere safe. But where
could we possibly go where Glory won’t find us? And I can’t believe I’m the
one who sees it, and my big Superwoman sister doesn’t.
“What?” she asks, disbelieving.
“We’re not running. We can’t.”
“Dawn, you don’t underst-”
“Yes, I do! Buffy, we can’t. If we take this on the
road, you don’t know what’s going to happen. We don’t know how many innocent
people are going to die when we have to try and fight her. You think
she’ll have any problem ripping through all the cars to get to us?” I
pause. “I can’t live with that. I can’t live with more people dying, or getting
hurt – ” I sneak a glance at Tara, who’s idly fiddling with a piece of lint on
her top and giggling. A feeling of strong, utter guilt surges through me at the
deep sadness in Willow’s eyes and the happy oblivion in Tara’s. “Not because of
me. I just can’t. It’s not going to work. All it’s gonna do is
buy us a few more minutes, just put off the inevitable. We have to figure out
something else.”
The room goes silent, with Buffy staring at me in total
disbelief. Suddenly, I want to run to her, throw my arms around her and hug her
and say this isn’t her fault, she’s the best sister in the world and I love her
so much. But would it make any difference to her?
And then I have this long, horrible moment when something
occurs to me. Does Buffy even care? I mean, if Glory got to me, if she…unlocked
her door or whatever. Would she care more about getting me back, or just
stopping the end of the world?
What’s she scared of? Losing me, or just having to fight
someone more powerful than her? And I can’t believe I’m even thinking this,
because it’s awful, because I know Buffy and I know how much she loves me…but I
can’t help the thoughts popping into my head anyway.
Finally, Willow speaks up. “I think she has a point, Buffy,”
she says softly.
“Then what else can we do?” Buffy snaps. “If anybody
has a better suggestion, please, speak up.”
Anya’s eyes widen. “Ooooh!” She stretches her hand like
she’s a first grader in a classroom who knows the right answer.
Buffy sighs, already knowing this won't be anything ever vaguely
resembling a solution. “Yes, Anya?”
“Well, apparently the truck did her some damage, right? So
perhaps we should just...rent a truck. And find her, and repeatedly ram her
with it until she resembles one of those squished raccoons on the side of the
freeway. And Buffy could be driving at this time, since from what I’ve
heard, she’s a terrible driver, and also, it’d make up for her…you know.
Suggesting we run. Earlier.”
Xander shakes his head. “Anyone for the Hummus Offensive,
instead? Our foolproof backup plan.”
“What’s hummus?” I ask.
Buffy starts pacing again. “Guys, the clock is ticking here.
We don’t know how long its going to be before she – ”
Someone knocks on the door.
My blood turns to ice in my veins. “Buffy,” I whimper. She
looks to me and immediately comes to my side. She squeezes my shoulder, then
steps in front of me slightly, shielding me. Like it’ll buy me anything more
than another thirty seconds. My mind starts racing. Xander has weapons, right?
Why isn’t anyone running for a crossbow? Why isn’t Willow chanting, doing
something...witchy? Why are they all just sitting here?
And then I get it. Because they know. The clock just
ran out. There’s nothing we can do now.
I squeeze my eyes closed tightly, trying to squeeze back the
tears burning in my eyes.
Oh, Mommy…I’ll see you soon.
Buffy:
I’m
shaking. And bizarrely enough that frightens me more than anything else,
because it means I’m vulnerable. I’m not the super-calm Slayer that kicks ass
on a regular basis and breezes her way through life. I’m just Buffy – a girl
who’s still in mourning for her Mom, who’s terrified of losing her sister as
well, who hasn’t a clue what to do or say next and who is utterly overwhelmed
by this entire situation. Everybody has their limits, right? Well, I think I’ve
just reached mine.
A
truck just ran over Glory. A truck. And it barely even scratched her.
Several tonnes of metal screeching towards her at forty miles per hour and all
it achieved was to distract her long enough for me and Dawn to run away.
Six
years of intensive Slayer training and experience and what did I do when faced
with The Crisis? The Big One. I ran. I threw away all my principles of
“toughing it out” and “holding my ground” and “fighting the good fight”.
I
just gave up, because there was nothing else I could see to do. There are no
other options left to me. I can’t fight her – Glory’s too strong and I’m too
tired. But I can’t let her take Dawnie either. She’s my little sister, I’m
supposed to protect her, and I can’t even do that properly.
I
stare at the door, knowing I should probably answer it. I should take charge
and deal with the new threat like the superhero everyone here seems to think I
am. But I’m afraid. The rational voice inside my head tells me that Glory can’t
possibly at the door right now, because she wouldn’t knock. She wouldn’t stand
there oh so politely waiting for admittance; she’d just barrel her way in and
kill us all in blink of an eye.
Oh
God. I have to do something. Dawn is looking at me with huge blue-grey eyes
full of the fear I am trying so desperately to mask. Her chin is quivering, her
cheeks growing steadily wet with tears…but she keeps looking at me, waiting for
me to act and save her, help her, defend her…
Is this what it’s like to be a mother? To have someone so
utterly dependent upon you just to survive. To love that person so much you
would do absolutely anything for them, but to feel completely helpless
because there is nothing that can be done. I would walk to the ends of the
earth and back in order to save Dawn. I would kill, I would die – gladly
– and still it wouldn’t be enough.
“Buffy?”
Dawn prompts in a small voice, so tiny and vulnerable it reminds me of when she
was four and I was ten and I got mad and pushed her over in the dirt. She cut
her forehead open and she just lay there, blood running unchecked down her face
looking at me in that accusing way that said I betrayed her. Her big sister,
who’s supposed to take care of her and love her and always be on her side, let
her down. A wave of guilt rushes through me, I have to do something…anything.
I have to pretend to that hero she always looked up to, even if I know I’m not
inside.
I
pick up a crossbow, more for show than anything else, because at this point I
know it’s not going to be of much use. Then I walk tentatively towards the
door, motioning for the other’s to stay back as I do so. Suddenly changing my
tactics from cautious to full-on attack mode, I spring towards the door,
wrenching it open with lightening speed and raising my crossbow high up in the
air, straight towards the face of –
“Angel.”
The
weapon clatters to the floor and I stare at him in shock. I’ve long since moved
past the time when I saw him as my knight in shining armour, when I was never
truly afraid of the things that went bump in the night, because I always knew
he would be there to protect me from them. He left, and suddenly I had to deal
on my own. I had to carry the entire weight of the world on my shoulders alone.
I had to be the strong one that everyone relied upon, the heroine to come along
and save the day.
So
now, to see him standing there in his long leather coat, with dark gaze fixed
upon me so intensely…it’s like witnessing an apparition out of a romance novel
and I can barely believe my eyes.
But
in a single second his hand is clutching my upper arm tightly – almost hard
enough to bruise – and his body is mere inches from mine, his habitual breath
cool and tingly on my face. And if even if my eyes are lying I know the rest of
my senses are not as I feel him so close and hear his voice, rich and deep.
“Buffy,
thank God you’re okay, I was so worried.”
Tears
of relief well in my eyes, but I don’t let them fall – he’s here and he’s come
to take away some of the pain, just like he did after Mom died. Then it wasn’t
much – only a single night spent with carefully measured words and
unarticulated feelings. But it helped. After that night I knew bone deep…soul
deep, that he loved me. It became an irrefutable fact bound up with all the
rest of those painful certainties in my life.
Of
course, as many tragic romance novels as that realisation would sell, it
doesn’t offer much comfort in the middle of the night when you’re cold and
alone and trembling. It doesn’t stop your arms from aching for his or your lips
missing the taste of his kisses. It doesn’t help you defeat a deranged Hellgod
and her army of loyal minions. But actually having him here, with his wisdom,
strength and unwavering support…well, I can’t help entertaining a flicker of
hope that it might just tip the balance of the scales slightly more in my
favour.
But
hope is something I’ve learnt to ignore, because with it comes disappointment.
I push away all my fantasies of jumping into his arms and letting him wash away
my pain with his cool kisses and soft words. Love won’t help cure this
situation, it won’t conquer all – life isn’t like that. Or maybe, more
technically, my life isn’t like that.
Instead,
I just offer him a forced smile and a curt nod. “It’s good that you’re here –
we could use the help.”
He
doesn’t answer, just pulls me into an awkward hug. His arms tight and familiar
around me, crushing me to his chest in some desperate gesture I don’t
understand. Angel was always so reticent with physical contact before – even at
the height of our affair, when we were pretending to be just two people in
love, ignorant of any curse, it was always me who reached for his hand,
who drew him into the embraces. And since we broke up we’ve barely
touched at all, always keeping that six-inch safety barrier between us. It
confuses me, and I stay stiff in his arms, refusing to melt into him like the
Buffy he remembers would have. But still he doesn’t let go.
Xander
breaks the silence, folding his arms across his chest and addressing Angel
belligerently. “Speaking of which, exactly why are you here, anyway?”
Before
Angel can answer the question however, a female voice cries out shrilly from
behind him. “Enough with the mushy stuff, already! Can’t you two take your
hands off one another and stop blocking the doorway, so I can actually get past
sometime this decade?”
Angel
seems to snap back to his usual reserved self and steps away from me abruptly.
I shiver involuntarily, a rush of loneliness washing through me as we lose
contact. Cordelia steps past Angel into the room, a group of other people
trailing behind her. One of them I recognise easily as Wesley, but the other
two – a young, handsome black guy and a nervous, birdlike woman – I have never
seen before in my life. It makes me a little sad to realise these are Angel’s
friends and I don’t even know their names. But, the melancholy lasts only a few
seconds until I manage to get a good look at Cordelia.
“What
the Hell are you wearing?” Xander manages to get the question out before I can
get over the sudden shock.
Anya
frowns deeply and inches closer to Xander. She slides her arm through his and
leans her head on his shoulder possessively, glaring daggers at Cordelia. “That
outfit is not going to help you win him back,” she declares staunchly.
“He’s mine now.”
Cordy
scowls, deliberately ignoring Anya. “Angel wouldn’t let me change – he said we
didn’t have time. Now can I please use your bathroom?”
Xander
raises his eyebrows. “What were you doing in that…that thing, in the
first place? Taking belly-dancing lessons? Or are they starting harems back up
in LA nowadays?”
Cordelia
turns a bright shade of red, managing to compound the fashion faux pas
by clashing with her outrageous outfit. “I’m warning you Harris, one more word
and I’ll – ”
“You’ll
what?” Xander taunts. “Perform the dance of the seven veils?”
I
abruptly turn around, hearing a stream of giggles from behind me. Dawn is
laughing helplessly, nearly hysterically at the display, joined by Tara who, in
her current state doesn’t seem to get the joke but it having fun with it,
anyway. A weak smile crosses my lips and I can’t help sneaking a glance in
Angel’s direction, feeling secretly glad he’s here, breathing new life into our
thoroughly demoralised group.
Dawn
catches the gesture, her giggles drying up as soon as they began, Tara’s manic
laughter lasting a little longer, until Willow gently soothes her into silence.
“I’m sorry,” she hiccups, totally misreading the gesture. “I didn’t mean to…”
Oh
Dawnie, I try to communicate understanding with my eyes. Don’t be sorry,
it was so good to see you laugh again…
Meanwhile,
Giles is working to settle the dispute between Xander and Cordelia, before it
escalates into one of the epic battles I remember from high school. He
shepherds Cordelia in the direction of the bathroom and silences Xander with a
stern glare.
Peace
temporarily restored, Dawn sniffs loudly, her thoughts firmly returning to our
rapidly impending doom. “Angel,” she lifts her eyes up to look at him and tries
to make a joke that falls utterly and completely flat. “I guess things really
must be serious if you’re here.”
A
shadow flickers across his face at the remark, but is gone again so quickly
that I’m pretty sure I’m the only one in the room to understand it’s meaning.
He’s feeling guilty he left, that he hasn’t been there for me during the tough
times of the past two years. But he knows as well as I do that now isn’t the
time for such self-indulgent thoughts. He can deal with his regrets later – if
the world doesn’t end before then, that is.
For
now he just nods sombrely, neatly changing the subject. “You grew your hair
Dawn – it looks good, very grown up.”
She
tucks a strand of her glossy, light brown hair behind her ear and gives him the
smallest of grins. With a flash, I remember the last time he saw her it was
nearly six inches shorter...and how close they always were, how much she loved
him and looked up to him. The night we broke up, she’d yelled at me for close
to a half an hour for "letting him go so easily" and "being such
a wimp" and finally ending her tirade by bursting into tears. She cried
more than I did, I think. She always said she wanted someone to love her the
way he loved me.
“Thanks,”
she says softly then her expression darkens. “Why are you still standing in the
doorway?”
Angel
glances self-consciously over at Xander then back towards Dawn. “I can’t come
in – I have to be invited first.”
Xander
hesitates then waves his hand dismissively through the air. “Alright, I suppose
you can come in, Dead Boy.”
I
shoot a fierce glare towards my so-called friend, whilst Giles sighs heavily.
“How very gracious of you, Xander.”
I
fold my arms protectively across my chest, eyeing the new comers warily. I’m
fighting for control right now – struggling to prevent my emotions falling into
that familiar tailspin I suffer from every time Angel sees fit to wander back
into my life. I’m ignoring the call of my blood as my body reacts to his in the
way it always did – adrenaline rushing through my system, primal fear combined
with searing arousal. I force away the pain too, channelling it instead into
bitterness.
Somehow
I think I would have remembered sending that memo requesting his help to save
my sister and the world from the insane Hellbitch that seems determined to
destroy them both. So, I take a deep breath before phrasing the question,
everyone else here (apart from Xander) is being too polite to ask.
“What exactly are you doing here, Angel?”
His eyes immediately take on a guarded expression, like he
is trying to protect me from information he thinks might hurt me. “I…uh…it’s
really a long story…”
My
first instinct is to walk towards him to cover one of his hands with mine and
reconnect that private link we always had with one another. But I can’t. I just
can’t handle opening up the whole mess that used to be my relationship with
Angel. It’s too much to deal with right now. I’m already stretched to breaking
point and I think if I have to touch him, to bring back all those old hurts and
desires then I might just snap.
I
hug myself protectively, instead setting up a physical barrier between us, my
words coming out harsher than I ever intended them to. “What? Is there some new
big Armageddon for me to stop now? C’mon, you can tell me – I’m a big girl. I
can handle it.”
He
looks at me with heart-wrenching sadness in his eyes and something inside me
suddenly sinks. This isn’t just Angel coming to check up on me or to hold my
hand through a tough time. This is bad. His greeting comes back to me. I was
so worried about you. Worried enough to come rushing back to Sunnydale with
all his crew in tow. Worried enough for Cordelia to not even bother changing
out of her Princess Leia Meets Jabba garb. If I hadn’t already been in all out
panic mode about the Glory situation then my internal alarm bells would start
ringing at full volume right now. As it is, all that happens is the shaking in
my knees, which briefly stopped in the shock of seeing him again, starts up
once more.
“Angel,” I snap. “We don’t have a Hell of a lot of
time here. Just spill it, okay.”
He swallows deeply, hesitating before he speaks. “Cordelia
had a vision. And I know I promised I’d call next time something like that
happened involving you,” he adds quickly. “And not come barging straight into
your town uninvited. But this…this is different.”
“Different how?”
Angel pulls away from me, turning and walking to the other
side of the room, running his hand nervously through his already highly spiked
hair. He faces the wall, his shouldered hunched and tense, his voice no more
than a mumble. “She saw your death.”
A shocked silence blankets the room – the metaphorical able
to hear pins dropping kind.
I start to laugh.
Not like Dawnie was laughing earlier, either. Not honest
amusement to break the tension, but a harsh, short, ironic sound. Just when I
think things can’t get any worse, a former cheerleader decides to foretell my
death. Haven’t I been here before? Aren’t I sensing some kind of déjà vu? Must
be that time of year again – Buffy’s death day. D’you think perhaps I could
make a celebration out of it, maybe have a party, get presents?
I should be reacting but I’m not. I’m just numb inside,
completely numb, all the emotion wiped away from me, like I don’t even care
anymore. God, could this day get any crappier? First we get attacked and nearly
killed by Glory, then by some fluke random chance I manage to escape only to
find out I needn’t have bothered trying in the first place.
Giles recovers before anyone else in the room, going quickly
into full Watcher mode. “These visions of Cordelia’s – are they generally
accurate?”
Wesley nods, the two Brits disappearing into a world of
their own, populated by library stacks, dusty tomes and ancient artefacts.
Sometimes I wish I could follow them there, because at least it’s removed from
the immediacy of the situation. The brutal reality of life and death, blood and
violence, is reduced to incomprehensible symbols in extinct languages and dry,
sterile facts, while I’m stuck with the full Technicolor, roll with the
punches, go-pick-out-a-choice-plot-in-the-cemetery version of events.
“The visions usually depict events that are happening at the
time or are to come in the near future,” Wesley clarifies. “We haven’t yet –
not in one single instance – found them to be anything less than completely
true to real life circumstances.”
A strangled cry echoes from behind me and I twist around
abruptly to see Dawn’s horrified expression, her face pale and drawn. Our eyes
meet and she leaps up out of her seat and rushes into Anya and Xander’s
bedroom, slamming the door firmly behind her.
“Dawn…” I call out uselessly, since there is nothing I can
really say to comfort her. I can’t promise that everything will be all right,
because I don’t know that it will be. And somewhere along the line, I stopped
expecting that it would be. I gave up even hoping, and hearing about
Cordelia’s vision just makes something click inside of me. Yes, I’m ready to
go. I want to leave this place with lovers who won’t stay, and pain that does.
I want to be free from duty and responsibility. I want to see my Mommy again…
But something else rises up inside me. Something primal.
Part of it is the Slayer, but part is something even deeper – the woman, the
mother. If I give up now then Glory wins. Dawn dies and there’s no way I’m
going to let that happen. I made a promise to Mom I’d look after her and
whatever happens I’m going to keep that promise. I’m done fighting for myself,
or for Angel, or even for the world. Now I just have to keep going to protect the
one person who depends upon me the most. And after that – who knows?
“I’m so sorry, Buffy,” Angel makes his way towards me once
more. I raise a hand to stop him. What’s he got to be sorry about? None of this
is his fault – he just has this talent for stepping into hopeless situations
then getting landed with the blame for them. I see him now with a new clarity –
the clear sight of the damned – and I’m glad he’s here. Not because I need him
to protect me – that I can manage fine for myself – and not because I want to
crawl into his arms and let him kiss the emptiness inside me away. He didn’t
come for a cuddle-a-thon, he came to fight. And that’s what we’re going to do:
two warriors together, just us and the battle to end all battles.
“It’s okay,” I gaze up at him with a steely determination I
want him to see, and more importantly share, because we’re going to need all
the superpeople we can get against Glory. “I beat death once, remember. Let’s
see if I get lucky again.”
After all, the stakes are so much higher this time…