Mirror, 1/1, R, Buffy Gen

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

Sorry guys; I fought Astra to do HSG because I had a really awesome idea to do, but it just wouldn't come. This came instead; hopefully next week she'll let me do more Spred.

Title: Mirror
Rating: R
Fandom: Buffy Gen (Quick mention of Spuffy)
Prompt: #28 - A Penny Saved is a Penny Laying Worthless In the Drawer for tamingthemuse
Chapter: 1 of 1
Warnings: There is NOT a happy ending on this one. I'm sorry guys; the story just CAN'T have a happy ending.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my thoughts, and that's enough these days.
Summary: She began to avoid each mirror she saw.
Wordcount: 1948

AN: This is based on a REALLY wacky plotbunny I got while looking at the Heroes website. Astra wouldn't let go of the idea of Niki and Jessica, and she gave me a slip of an idea that led to a not so great manip that led to, I think, a much better story. So here it is.

She began to avoid each mirror she saw.

It had started out unconsciously, just something she did whenever they went by something shiny enough to give off a reflection. By the end of that week, she'd started studiously avoiding the mirrors, and then avoiding anywhere that had them. The jewelry section of her favorite store. The pillars throughout the mall that were meant to beam light from the skylights. Her car mirrors, inside and out.

She started learning to do her hair without the use of her mirror. The first couple of days, her hair was wild, and earned a few snickers and looks. She got better with it, and the years she'd spent primping and preening to get her hair just so or to put it in a way that would keep it out of her face as she fought fell away, unneeded. The snickers from those around her stopped.

The snickers from the mirror didn't. Despite her ignoring them as best as she could, she could still hear it. Hear it as it was called out each time, and heard it from her memory.

“I won't be in here forever, you know.”

She knew.

“Not happy to see me?”

“What the hell...?”

“Get over it. You know why I'm here.”

“HOW you're here is what I want to know. I'm done with you.”

“Not exactly. Almost. You need me.”

“I need you as much as I need a broken nail. Let's just say it: the big evil, the First Evil, needs ME. For what, I don't want to know.”

“No princess, you need me. Care for me to enlighten you?”

“No.”

“I'd be happy to, sure. Your vampire's in MY domain.”

“...My...? ...Spike.”

“Good girl. Give her five points. Your beloved hero, the one who died bringing me and the rest of Sunnydale down, is in my hands. I think that's a touch of irony, don't you?”

“...He doesn't deserve that.”

“No, he doesn't. I'll be honest; I was surprised when the PTB shoved him my way, but who am I to dispute such a gift? Now, now, no frowns or thoughts of punching me; you'd just get a fist full of glass.”

“Let him go.”

“Well, I could. Let him go, that is. Let him return to the world, and to you, I guess. But I'd need your help for that. I guess we were both right: we need each other.”

“What would I have to do, exactly? Kill everyone?”

“No, that'd be my job; you wouldn't be able to pull it off right. What I need you to do is connect yourself to me.”

“...No. Spike would rather I let him burn forever than do that.”

“All you've got to do is smear some of your blood on the mirror. I need something concrete to hang on to. If you did that, then I wouldn't really need to play with your vamp to keep me busy, now would I?”

“...”

“Come on Slayer, make your choice: do we have a deal?”

“I think I'll kill your sister first.”

She didn't give a response.

“I've never really liked her. Hell, you don't really even like her; I'd be doing us a favor.”

She didn't want to give a response.

“Maybe slowly rip her limbs apart. I've been wondering if I'd see green energy if I did it. On account of her being the key, you know.”

“You're not getting out, so they're just dreams,” she said finally. “And you can keep them to yourself.”

“You're talking to me, then. I'd been wondering how much longer you'd hold out for. I've been bored, talking to no one.”

She turned and glared at the mirror, who simply smirked back at her with her own visage. “I'll paint the town red,” her mirror image said. “You know I will.”

“You're not getting out,” she said, heading for the door.

“That's what you think,” were the last words she heard before she left her room.

The phone was clicked off, then hung back up from fingers tight with shock. It had worked; the promise had been kept.

And he wasn't coming for her.

“That must just...suck.”

She turned to the reflective door of the microwave and saw herself shaking her head sadly. “You bring a guy back, you get him out of hell, and the first thing he does when he finally finds himself corporeal? Doesn't come for you. Does it hurt?”

“Shut up,” she said bitterly, turning away. A low chuckle came from behind her.

“I bet it's glorious hurt. I wish I could feel it. That sharp pain you can feel in your emotional heart, the tightening of your chest, the misery that floods every fiber of your being...damn I wish I was you now. But I'm willing to bide my time.”

“Shut up!” she screamed, turning around to face her reflection. All that stared back at her was her own face contorted with pain and fury.

She heard steps in the hallway and quickly hurried back to her room.

The scythe tumbled from her weary and blood crusted fingers, and she stepped towards the bed as if drunk. Every time her foot touched the floor, she felt pain and the weight of the world rest even more on her shoulders.

“Lost another one?”

“I really don't want to hear you right now,” she said through gritted teeth.

Her reflection gave a shrug. “It's truth, darling. And you know it. The fact that there's more Slayers in the world right now just makes it that much easier to off one. And makes it hurt that much more when they go, because they all matter to you. You know,” it said, holding its chin in a scholarly manner, “I didn't like your idea at first. Make all the Potentials into Slayers. But now? I'm starting to see the benefits.”

She snorted. Of course it'd want the pain. “I'm glad I'm helping someone right now.” Since she couldn't help the others. Or herself.

“It's not just the hurt I'm enjoying,” it said, smiling serenely. “It's the fact that no one cares about you. You're just one out of a thousand now. When you go, no one will really notice me stepping into your place at first, if they do at all.”

She turned to glare at the mirror, tears burning in her eyes, but her counterpart was gone.

“I could do it better, you know.”

She stiffened as the tell-tale voice returned, but kept herself hunched over the desk and her work.

“I could even help you. I'm strong; have been for millennia. We could really do some damage, you and me. Bring in an army worthy of a Slayer.”

She pursed her lips but didn't reply.

“Oh come on already! You've done enough, for hell's sake! Let me help you. Let me be your big gun, since that witch and her carpenter have left you, and good riddance. I'm your lucky penny baby; just use me. A penny saved is a penny earned or some such crap, right?”

“No, a penny saved is a penny laying worthless in the drawer,” she snapped, whirling around to glare at the mirror. She stood, resolute and firm in her choice. “I will not bend or break,” she said, before heading for the door.

“You made a pact with the Devil, and I will be free!” was screamed from behind her. She ignored it and kept walking onward, but couldn't stop the hairs on the back of her neck from rising, or the shiver that rattled her very soul at the sound of the demonic shriek.

“I'll be right there, I swear,” she said, panting as she dashed into her room. “Let me get my purse with her insurance cards, and I'll be right there.”

The conversation was ended as she hit the button on her cell phone, tossing it onto the bed. Where the hell was her purse? It had her insurance cards, the same insurance Dawn had...

“You don't need that.”

She turned, surprised at hearing the voice in so long. It had been a week since their last encounter.

Her reflection stepped up to the edge of the mirror, pressing its fingertips against the glass. “You need me. I'll take out the things that took out your sister.”

“She's not gone,” she said, her voice trembling despite her message of conviction.

“Not yet,” her reflection said, as if reading her inner thoughts. “But she will be soon enough, and you know it. The doctors can try to save her, but her soul is being fought over right now. Heaven's trying to win, but I've got a firm hold, too.”

Her eyes shimmered, and she closed her eyes, letting the tears fall. She knew. Her sister was dying and was good as dead. The hospital couldn't really do anything. There'd been so much blood, and the demons had done so much...

Her mirror image raised its head up, and she saw herself with eyes glowing black. Its beautiful white blouse began to run red with blood, and she finally pulled her gaze from the dirty shirt to the black pools set just above a growing smile. “Let me out,” it said, biting its lip when she stayed frozen on the opposite side of the room. “I'll make you one last pact: if you let me free, I'll give up your sister's soul. I'll let Heaven claim her. It's all I can do. I can't bring her back, but I can let her go on to where she should go, as far as you're concerned. But you have to let me out.”

A eternity of waiting, and a second later, she took a hesitant step towards the mirror. Her reflection nodded slowly, approval evident in its gaze. Another step, then another, and before she knew it, she was arm's length from the glass.

Her cell phone rang, and she jumped, startled at the loud tone. “It's now or never,” her reflection said, its voice low. Dangerously so.

She turned from the phone to the mirror, and slowly raised her hands up to match those of her reflection. Her fingertips pressed briefly against the glass, then melted in before she knew it.

As soon as her hands were in, she was grabbed, pulled through all the way. She gasped as she tumbled in, and found herself in a mirror replica of her room. Almost a mirror replica; she only had the part that was reflected from the room in front of her.

She whipped her head around, and her reflection, now her, shook its golden hair out. “You made a good choice,” she heard herself say, and found herself nodding. She couldn't do it anymore, and she knew it. She was better off as the reflection. All she did was get people hurt and killed.

The cell phone continued to ring, and her reflection manifest walked over and answered it. “Hello? No, I've got it now; sorry it's taken so long. What's that?”

Her mirror image turned back to her and gave a smile. Its hand reached into the drawer beside the bed and pulled out a small crossbow. As her lips parted in horror, the bolt flew and landed in the dead center of the mirror, shattering the shards and her scream.

“Don't worry about it; I'm fine, Faith. Really. I'll be down to the hospital in a bit.” The purse was retrieved from behind the desk. “Oh, that noise? It wasn't really anything major.”

A spared glance at the shards on the floor, and Buffy turned to the door with a growing smile. “It was just the mirror.”

~Nebula