One Last Shot

Disclaimer: The characters of BtVS belong to Joss Whedon, M.E. Production & other suit types I don’t know. The original characters in this piece do belong to me.

A/N: This is a repost. The story has been worked over, steam rolled, red inked and re-edited to bring it up to a livable standard. When I first started writing, I didn’t have a beta or a clue as to what the hell I was supposed to be doing. I’ve learned. I’ve grown. And I’ve gotten LOTS of help. I’m also still learning. So… =0)

Thank You’s: Dirk for being my wonderful primary beta. Dennis for the moral support and the humor. Thumper for allowing her minion some alone time. Howard Russell for his spit and polish on the final touches. Lastly, Valyssia, who when this is all said and done, should probably get writing credit on it as well.

Table of Contents

1. American Heartbreak
2. Tired of Waiting
3. Whiskey Sour
4. Unusual
5. Fist City
6. Thin White Line
7. Beautiful Trash
8. Furious and Outdone
9. Fallen Angel
10. Tear It Down
11. Get Well Card
12. Stranger
13. Ground Zero
14. Fabulous Disaster
15. Saving Grace

American Heartbreak

Chapter 1 - American Heartbreak

A chilly breeze whipped through the city that night, so Buffy pulled her knees up to her chest to guard against it. High above the streets on a roof ledge, she sat reflecting while the city lights glared all around her. She watched the steady stream of traffic moving along a nearby expressway and a soft sigh passed through her parted lips. New York is pretty at night, but I miss the quiet streets of Sunnydale. Of course, I was responsible for the town’s destruction, but hey, it was that or let the world go to hell. Some choices aren’t really choices at all. Like, who I am? I had a choice to either reject my destiny or embrace it, but the rejection would have meant the annihilation of the human race and, with it, everyone I hold dear. So, choice? Not so much.

It’s been two years since we took out my home. The Watchers’ Council is up and running, there are over two hundred active slayers through out the world and another one-hundred-sixty-three in a school designed to teach them to slay and have a life. I guess I’m not the Chosen One anymore. It’s been hard to reconcile that fact. For years it was me and me only, even with Kendra or Faith. They didn’t live on the hellmouth, but now, I don’t either. Two years is a long time to drift through life.

I hardly see anyone anymore. I go to work, patrol a few times a week, and at night I try to cry myself to sleep, but the tears won’t come. I haven’t cried in over three years. You’d think that something would trigger some tears, but no. The last time I cried was in the arms of my friend’s dead lover.

( Read more... )

American Heartbreak

Chapter 1 - American Heartbreak

A chilly breeze whipped through the city that night, so Buffy pulled her knees up to her chest to guard against it. High above the streets on a roof ledge, she sat reflecting while the city lights glared all around her. She watched the steady stream of traffic moving along a nearby expressway and a soft sigh passed through her parted lips. New York is pretty at night, but I miss the quiet streets of Sunnydale. Of course, I was responsible for the town’s destruction, but hey, it was that or let the world go to hell. Some choices aren’t really choices at all. Like, who I am? I had a choice to either reject my destiny or embrace it, but the rejection would have meant the annihilation of the human race and, with it, everyone I hold dear. So, choice? Not so much.

It’s been two years since we took out my home. The Watchers’ Council is up and running, there are over two hundred active slayers through out the world and another one-hundred-sixty-three in a school designed to teach them to slay and have a life. I guess I’m not the Chosen One anymore. It’s been hard to reconcile that fact. For years it was me and me only, even with Kendra or Faith. They didn’t live on the hellmouth, but now, I don’t either. Two years is a long time to drift through life.

I hardly see anyone anymore. I go to work, patrol a few times a week, and at night I try to cry myself to sleep, but the tears won’t come. I haven’t cried in over three years. You’d think that something would trigger some tears, but no. The last time I cried was in the arms of my friend’s dead lover.

( Read more... )