Part 1 - Prologue
A/N: There’s quite a bit that I need to say, unfortunately I think the more I say the more you’re going to yawn, so…I’ll try and be brief. The following story is, for right now, the last in the One Last Shot Universe. You may need to read the preceding stories, One Last Shot and Dark Passenger, to get an idea of what’s going on. You also need to know a bit of Law & Order SVU.
When I left you with Dark Passenger earlier this week there were unanswered questions. Some of these will be answered here in this story. To all of you that are going to follow this sit down and buckle up. I’ve got this puppy outlined for a full 21 chapters broken up into three parts. This is the introduction to the first part.
I hope all of you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.
Disclaimer: Wow…where to start…the most obvious is that the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Dexter and Law & Order SVU do not belong to me. They belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, Dick Wolf, NBC, Showtime, Jeff Lindsay and probably a few others that I don’t know. I’m just mucking about in their worlds for some recreational fun and entertainment. Don’t sue me…it’s really not worth it. You ‘ll end up the happy (or not so happy - depending) owner of three snakes and three dogs and maybe some pocket lint and some spare-change…good luck with that.
Disclaimer 2: There is femslash here in this story. The pairings are, of course, Buffy/Willow and Olivia/Alex. For those of you that don’t care for that, there’s a whole lotta fic out there that may suit your tastes better. This is probably not going to be one of them. Close the tab or browser window now…it’s lot’s easier than gripping at me. Whining usually gets you nowhere where I’m concerned. If after all of this you choose to read. Bless you!
As always…feedback, flames, rants, grumblings and babblings can be left here (if the option exists) or you may email me at firstname.lastname@example.org
Oh! And Happy Holidays… =0D
Part I - PrologueI’ve found that there are moments in one’s life where if you look closely enough, if perhaps you are paying enough attention, the path that you must travel is laid out before you. It is clear and direct. There is very little second guessing on what needs to be done.
As I stand here in the not-quite-chilly autumn night, the heat from the fire warms my skin. Careful not to get too close, the blaze holds poetry few masters of the pen have ever been able to capture. The flames lick the frame of the house, consuming it and the occupants inside.
There is orchestration to the blaze. The crunch, pop and sizzle are the allegro, the beginning of the piece. The screams of the victims begin as the fire takes shape. They act as the slow build. The minuet comes in the form of the sirens. They start off in the distance, faint and indiscernible. It builds against the backdrop of the first two components. As the minuet melds into the rest of my masterpiece, the final portion of my beautiful symphony comes alive.
They gaze into the blaze and their cries of panic and grief create the rondo. My symphony devours and devastates. The wails of the dying and those left behind warm me; envelop me with a sense of accomplishment. The pain swells and crashes over me.
As the police and fire trucks grow near, I know it’s time for me to leave. I mustn’t get caught here. I gaze longingly at my tour de force and the living victims it has left. I comfort myself with the knowledge that I will see them again. They are only a start. I have others to consider and take under my wing. The ones remaining will receive my final message soon enough.
I turn away and slip into the night, allowing the darkness to wrap around me and conceal my departure.
Onward and upward as they say.