August 31st, 2016

Buffy - The right words

Fic: What would have to be proved

Fandom: Forever
Title: What would have to be proved
Spoiler: Anything up the season finale
Summary Jo did remember what he told her about his "condition". But when, a few weeks after their Talk, she's confronted with it in all its bloody glory all she can do is not let it break her.
Warning: Some swearing, blood and tears. Must be Tuesday.
Rating: If you watch the show you can read this.
Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me and I very much intend to give them back after playing.
Words: about 5000

Her feet hit the pavement in a dramatic staccato rhythm that would've made a heart patient jitter with fear. Her breaths came in painful gasps while her eyes raked the pavement in front of her for unexpected obstacles that would've turned her run quickly into an acrobatic tumble and she didn't need that.

It was 3am and so it wasn't like the streets were crowded, but it was a generally known fact that New York never slept. Traffic was slow and the occasional honking and laughing as well as the booming of loud music accompanied her flight. Her eyes started to water and she wasn't sure whether it was because of the pain in her side, the cold wind in her eyes or the knowledge that she was spattered with the blood of the man she started to like a little more than a friend. Which, of course, she'd never have admitted.

"Whoa, lady!" A man yelled, jumping violently out of her path, but she had already passed him before she even had the chance to apologize. She didn't care. She also didn't care that she probably looked like a psycho with her whole front, arms and hands covered in a dark red blood, itching where it started to dry.
With an Olympic jump she vaulted the hood of a car, leaving behind an ugly trace of blood over the yellow hood and another angry voice yelled obscenities after her. She still didn't care. All she cared was the river and the fastest way to get there.

Don't be dead! Don't be dead!, her mind kept screaming while at the same time the hope kept pulsing that maybe – just maybe – he wasn't crazy after all. Maybe, the story he had told her – the one that had stood between them since that day a few weeks ago – wasn't the result of a delusional mind and advanced photoshopping but the story of his admittedly long life. And maybe he really had told the truth when his last words before he died and vanished (HE FUCKING VANISHED) into thin air were a hoarse "See you at the river…"

Because the alternative was unthinkable.
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