A Little Death Never Hurt Anyone
TITLE: A Little Death Never Hurt Anyone
AUTHOR: Fyre
EMAIL: Fyredansa@hotmail.com
SUMMARY: Whee! How Buffy deals with a REALLY invincible demon :)
FEEDBACK: If you wanna tell me I'm crazy, its still feedback :-)
DISTRIBUTION: Want. Ask Have. Just let me know if you want it up.
RATING: PG
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Do you think I would honestly do this if it were?
NOTES: What can I say? I wanted to beat my record of eleven deaths in a fic. This was the way I decided to do it :)
Dedication: To my buddies at YGTS? for inspiring my craziness to such epic proportions.
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“That’s it?” Buffy crooked a brow, looked from Giles to the demon and back again, shook her head with a sigh of disgust. “I can’t believe that is the thing that everyone’s been making such a big deal about.”
Giiles shrugged helplessly. “I just do the research.” He reminded her, rubbing his glasses on his shirt. “It says this thing is-is-is exceptionally dangerous, so I suppose we-we should treat it so.”
“I’ve met a Fyrian before.” Anya put in, overly-brightly. “It killed everything within fifteen feet without even moving.” She paused, rubbed her jaw thoughtfully. “We went for a cup of mead afterwards and compared notes. Nothing can stop them.”
“Not reassuring well, Anya.” The Slayer shook her head in disbelief. “It doesn’t look that dangerous though.” She put in cynically.
Her friends had to agree.
It was clearly humanoid in form, looked female and plain, with a tangle of dark, unruly hair around her shoulders. Two rust-coloured horns protruded from her head and, on their tips, a gleaming ring of white sat neatly.
Terrifyingly pale blue eyes glinted behind oval, brass-rimmed spectacles that were held together with sticky tape. She was sitting in the middle of a protective circle, reading something on her laptop that was open in her denim-clad lap.
Punching her glasses up her nose, the demon glanced around, flashed a small, quirky grin at the gathered Scoobies.
“So you’re here.” She remarked, her fingers pounding a rapid beat on the laptop keys. The demon paused, grimaced. “Gosh darned typos. Makes killing everyone a bit of a pain, don’t you think?”
Leaning towards Giles, Willow murmured uneasily. “What has spelling got to do with anything?”
“It’ll kill you.” Anya informed her, paused, her brown eyes widening in sudden realisation. “She’s going to kill us all!” The demon shot an amused grin at the former demon.
“No offence, Anyanka.” She shrugged. “I have a quota to reach.”
Grabbing Xander by the arm, Anya tried to pull him away. “We have to get away from her.” She pleaded desperately, tugging the brunette’s arm frantically. “She’s going to kill us, don’t you understand?”
“You can run, Anyanka.” The demon drawled, typing more slowly, pausing to frown at her screen, a wrinkle appearing in her brow. “But you, of all people, should know that you can’t hide. If I choose you, you’ll go.”
Reluctantly stopping, she glanced from demon to boyfriend. “Can me and Xander orgasm one more time, before?” She asked hopefully.
“Talk about pressure.” Xander muttered.
The demon shrugged. “Whatever.”
“You won’t be doing that.” Buffy took a step towards the circle, her hazel eyes narrowed to slits. The Fyrian raised an eyebrow, the ring of white on her horns starting to glow, the circle around her doing the same. “What the…”
Anya shot a disdainful look at the Slayer. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with, Slayer.” She growled. “You can’t stop her. Nothing can stop her. She holds all the power in her…erm…laptop.”
“Think I should show her what I can do, petal?” One white-blue eye winked naughtily around the ancient spectacles.
“Don’t do this.” Anya whispered. “Please?”
The Fyrian chuckled. “I’ll start nice, okay?” She typed for several minutes, then smiled and tapped return. There was a mini-sonic boom, a blaze of light and the light cleared, revealing a group of horribly familiar people.
The Slayer took a shaky, uneasy step back, felt Giles’ hands on her shoulders, stabilising her. “Giles?”
“I know.”
“They…they can’t be…”
Angel, Cordelia, Wesley, Drusilla, Darla, Spike, Faith, Kendra, Harmony, Anne, Devon, Oz, Doyle, Amy, Larry, Jenny Calender, Verruca, Joyce, Riley, Dawn, a blonde woman, a young, black man and two people who looked like they would be at home in a law firm stood before them, blinking, bewildered.
“What the hell’s going on?” Darla seemed to speak for them all, tried to take a step forward, only to find her feet rooted to the spot.
The Fyrian stood up, stretched lazily and rubbed her eyes, then slowly turned in a circle, looking over the extended group. A naughty grin tweaked the corners of her mouth up.
“I’m having fun.” She explained. She settled back down at her laptop, watching as furtive glances were exchanged between different groups. “And I’d advise you to stay semi-quiet if you want me to be nice.”
Most of them seemed to accept that, but there had to be exceptions.
“Anyone care to tell us what’s going on?” The woman that none of the Scoobies asked with clearly feigned pleasantness. Her arms were crossed severely over her pin-stripe-suited breasts, eyes cold.
Brushing tufts of brown hair back from her pale eyes, the demon tucked them behind her horns, smiled prettily, flashing a dimple in one cheek. “Here’s what’s happening.” She said, with a deceptively nice smile. “I’m going to kill you all.”
Naturally, there was a moment of uproar.
A long moment, to be sure, but still a moment.
“Bloody hell.” Mumbling around a cigarette, Spike sighed. “I always knew hanging out with you bleedin’ ponces would get me bumped off. How do I go, then? Staked by Slutty? How unoriginal…”
There was a resounding slap, though none of them moved, leaving an imprint of an unseen hand on the vampire’s cheek.
“Don’t you dare to insinuate that I’m not bloody original, goldielocks.” The pale eyes flared in silent anger, her voice quiet, calm. “I’ve killed people in ways you wouldn’t even imagine. I’ve twisted nature on its head so often, I’m sure I’ve confused even the smartest of people.” She smirked smugly. “I know how to go about a good downfall.”
“So that’s it?” Dawn clinging to her, Joyce stared at the Fyrian. “You just kill us all for no reason?”
Unsuccessfully attempting to raise an eyebrow, the demon squinted, paused and frowned. “Well…not in so many words…I have a readership, y’see. They’ve come to expect death from me. I have to keep ‘em satisfied or I lose my stones.”
“And you’re going to kill all of us?” The one-armed man narrowed suspicious – with every right to be so – eyes.
“Um, duh?” Shaking her head, the brunette demon started typing patiently. “I hate having to explain myself more than once.”
“Why all of us?”
There was a small smile. “I have a record to beat. I need to beat eleven.” She did a head-count, nodded. “I say at least twenty deaths makes that record out of date, no?”
“You better not try and kill me.” Darla’s face shifted, her eyes glowing in all her I’m-pissed-so-don’t-mess-with-me-you-bitch glory.
“Oh really?” There was a cryptic smile. “What are you going to do now that you’re…” She paused, hit a key or two. “Human?”
Raising a hand to her throat, Darla froze, felt the unnervingly familiar thump-thump-thump of a pulse against her fingers. “No…not again…not this…”
“Fuck, I’m hungry.” Cordelia lifted her head, smiled a wicked smile. She took a step towards the now-human, who blanched in terror, tried to back away, but couldn’t escape the penetrating sharpness of Cordelia-vamp’s fangs.
Darla’s corpse dropped to the ground silently and Cordelia licked her fingers. “I don’t even remember being turned.” She remarked.
“Holy shit.” Spike muttered.
“Triple shit that from me.” Devon added, a moment before a ton weight dropped from the sky and smooshed him into gunky paste.
“And you thought I wasn’t original?” There was a pause, then a beam of sunlight exploded out of the night sky and smashed into Cordelia, reducing her to a pile of dust in seconds. “Erm…didn’t mean that one…damn typos…”
Doyle sniggered, clamped a hand over his mouth and promptly started to shrink as a bucket of water was tossed over him from nowhere, howling feebly. “I’m shrinking! Melting!”
“I don’t *like* being laughed at.”
The blonde woman snatched out her badge and gun and screeched in an annoyingly nasal voice. “Detective Lockley – you’re under arrest!”
The Fyrian shrugged, did a little typing and cackled madly as Angel grabbed the policewoman, ripped open her throat and offered it to his chipped childe. She sniffed back a tear as he drank and applauded as Broody dropped the body, horrified at what he’d done, as usual.
“Blood shrieks around your mind.” Drusilla noted absently, stroking Riley’s rear with a smile. Abruptly, he’d ripped her head off and was staring at the dust in his hands, looking blank.
The Fyrian chuckled. “Nice.” She hit a key again and Riley’s head did the same as the Gentlemen’s had, many months before.
Wiping blood off her face, Buffy shook her head in disbelief. “You can’t just do this!” She whispered. “You can’t.”
“Oh?” There was a leer. “Wait to see what I have in store for you…” Keys were tapped and almost instantly, Giles and Buffy found one another more attractive than anyone else in the world, pouncing and shredding one another’s clothes off with delight. “That’s for the Wench. I hope you are very happy…until you die of exhaustion in about ten minutes…”
Harmony wiped splurges of Riley blood from her hair. “Ewww.”
“Poor Harm. Let me get that for you…” The flamethrower that erupted from the demon’s hand more than got rid of the vampiress’ messy hair problem. “And now…who’s next?”
Joyce’s eyes were fixed on her eldest daughter going at it with her Watcher, and promptly keeled over and died of shock. Indignant that her mother had been more shocked by her sister having sex than Dawn being the key, Dawn stomped her foot, pouted, whined and did an excellent Rumplestiltskin impression.
“You can’t kill us!” The lawyer dude protested. “Our souls belong to someone and he gave us long term life-insurance policies!”
The demon grinned. “I changed my mind.” Both lawyers were swept away in an avalanche of paper work from their dodgy dealings.
“I was in jail! I was being good!” Faith interjected indignantly. “Why the hell you wantin’ to kill me?”
“Fun?” The Fyrian chuckled with glee as a familiar demon-Mayor appeared, glared down at the illusive Slayer.
“Boss…shit…”
“I told you about using language like that, Faith.” His voice rumbled reprovingly, in the seconds before he gobbled her down, followed swiftly by Larry. “Can’t change dietry habits, can we?”
There was a flicker of flame, then the demon snake seemed to notice something on its tail. “Oh, gosh!”
For the second time, Mayor-meat splattered Sunnydale.
Unfortunately for the person who had missed it, Jenny was caught in the cross-splat and killed on impact. Sniff. Tragic. No, really.
At the site of such mindless violence, Wesley shuddered. “This is frightful. It really is frightful.”
“It is, ain’t it?” The Fyrian looked impressed, wiped some mayor-meat and Riley-brain (yes, folks, he did have one, but it was sooooooooooo tiny, most people wouldn’t notice!) from her screen, she continued to type.
A tea crate dropped from the heavens and flattened the Englishman with a delicious-sounding squish. Sadly, the crate shattered, the tea spilled and the poor Verruca was overwhelmed by the fumes.
“You realise this is bloody ridiculous?” The demon shrugged. “It’s also bloody hilarious, though.”
“You would think so.” Xander tried to lunge at the demon, only to find a vortex opened before him. He issued a shriek as he sailed through into Hell, never to be seen again.
The Fyrian smiled. “Go to Hell. Go directly to Hell. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars!”
There was a lull in the massacre only broken by grunts and groans from Slayer and Watcher senior. Then there was silence and Kendra stared at the two bodies blankly. “Are ya goin’ ta kill me?”
“Since you asked so nicely…” Amy walked over and cut the Slayer’s throat. The Fyrian wiped a teary eye. “The old ones are the classics.” She smirked as Amy turned the blade on her wrist.
The more death, the better.
Mr. G. Reaper was sweating in his pants. He had finally found some form of serious competition. And it was insane enough to go after him too. And probably would if he tried to intervene.
Unexpectedly, Anne grabbed her chest, squeaked once and dropped dead from a coronary.
Tara and Willow gripped one another’s hands for support.
However, a vain attempt at a spell meant that they drew all the electricity from a storm that was brewing overhead as well as every electric circuit in the town and fried themselves into one, big messy lump.
Breaking free from the Fyrian’s hold, Anya managed to run, aiming for the road, unaware that there was a car speeding towards her, driven by none other that her previous employer, D’Hoffryn.
“Anya!”
She stopped, the car shot passed.
It smashed into a tree, full force, killing D’Hoffryn and his passengers – the Master and the Anointed one – on impact.
Sadly, Oz had tried to be a hero, got caught in the air that had swept over the streamlined vehicle and had fallen unceremoniously down a well and died. Ding dong bell, werewolf’s in the well.
Running to his aid, Anya tripped on a tree root, uprooting the massive tree by sheer force.
It started to fall.
The Fyrian clapped her hands with glee.
Gunn went splut.
Anya squealed like a stuck pig, fainted and fell into the path of an oncoming train and was promptly and swiftly killed, leaving two very nervous-looking vampires to face the Fyrian alone.
“Well, boys.” She looked them over. “What do I do with you then?”
The two exchanged glances, shrugged helplessly.
“Let’s start by redefining the word sex, then we’ll try the living bloodily ever after.” She smiled brightly, horns and halo aglow. “How does that sound to both of you, now that you’re free and single and stuff?”
“We don’t die?” Angel breathed hopefully.
“Nope.”
“We do fuck?” Spike breathed equally hopefully.
“Yup.”
“Deal.” Two male voices eagerly agreed.
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