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Dance with Destiny

by Victoria P.

Subject: [glass_onion] Ficlet: (BtVS) Dance with Destiny (1/1) Date: Wednesday, July 24, 2002 10:53 AM

Title: Dance with Destiny
Author: Victoria P. [] Summary: Buffy makes her choice.
Timeline: During Prophecy Girl
Rating: G
506 words.
Date: July 24, 2002
Disclaimer: Do I look like Joss? I own nothing. Archive: Lists, Muse's Fool
Feedback: I'll give you a shiny nickel...

Notes: Thanks to Jen, Pete, Melissa, Dot, and Meg. The dialogue in this was taken directly from the Prophecy Girl transcript. Written for Jae's defining moment challenge. (

Dance with Destiny

'This is the dress they'll bury me in,' Buffy thinks as she prepares for the Spring Fling.

She'd quit. She'd told Giles she wasn't going to face the Master, but she knows, down deep in her bones, that it's not that easy.

Destiny has a way of reaching out and grabbing hold of you, and as many times as she's flaunted it in her time as a Slayer, she knows it's out for blood now. Her blood.

"Buffy?" her mother calls, rushing into the room. "There's something on the news. Willow--"

Buffy's heart clenches in fear, but it's not Willow who is dead.

Not this time, anyway.

The whole way to Willow's house, she tries to justify her decision, tells herself it's okay to walk away, even though more people will get hurt.

She'll still be alive, and that's what matters.

Except, of course, she won't be. The dread that had settled in the pit of her stomach on hearing the prophecy lingers; the sour taste of adrenaline hovers on her tongue and her muscles disobey her at odd moments. Walking to Willow's is almost beyond her, but she manages.

She pushes open the door to Willow's bedroom; Willow is curled up on the bed, crying.

"Hey, Will." Buffy settles on the bed.

Willow looks at her, and Buffy's chest tightens. Fear, love, duty -- they war within her, making it hard to breathe.

"I've seen so much," Willow says. "I thought I could take anything. But, Buffy, this -- this was different."

Buffy nods, numbness creeping over her as Destiny crowds in. "It'll be all right." The response is automatic, even as she's searching frantically for a way out.

"I'm trying to think how to say it, to explain it so you understand."

"It doesn't matter as long as you're okay." It's what Buffy tells herself every morning, and every night she wishes she didn't have to. 'It's not fair,' she thinks. 'It's not right.' She's sixteen years old, and she's going to die tonight.

Willow is still talking. "I'm not okay. I knew those guys. I go to that room every day. And when I walked in there, it... it wasn't our world anymore. They made it theirs. And they had fun." All her excuses pale in comparison to what Willow has seen today. "What are we gonna do?"

"What we have to." She gets up, steeling herself, and exhales. "Promise me you'll stay in tonight, okay?"

Willow nods, and Buffy heads toward the door, knowing she's made her decision, and feeling lighter for it.


She turns and looks back, memorizing the sight.

Willow smiles, and it lights the room, even though she's still crying. "I like your dress."

Buffy looks down at herself and smiles weakly. 'This is the dress they'll bury me in.' "Take care," she says.

She knows that she can't escape, and she realizes, finally, that she doesn't want to. She is the Slayer, and if she's going to die, she's going to take the Master with her.



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