Requisite Author's Note:
Eric Kripke owns the world of Supernatural and Joss Whedon/Kuzui Enterprises own BtVS. I think.
Reviews are absolutely lovely and I'm still searching for livejournal friends :).
A huge thank you to MistressAshley for making gorgeous art for this.
Buffy dreams of grey eyes, eyes made of thunderstorms and warnings. Eyes following her as she goes about her day, as she tries to keep to her Father’s orders and stick to her daily agenda.
She dreams about being the leader of a battalion, a soldier, a commander. She sees a sword in her dreams, bright and gleaming so sharp that it hurts in ways that are strangely comforting. She dreams of thick droplets of demon blood, ichor black and sulfurous, dripping off the razor thin edge of her blade.
Buffy is the same as she always was, sharp and flighty with a sense of humor that shouldn’t be present in whatever her dreams are- but at the same time, she’s so very different.
She’s not entirely female for one thing. She’s something else, old and timeless, impossibly ageless and stretching through forever in ways that are incomprehensible for the human mind to understand. She thinks that she’s been around for as long as there has been time, since the very beginning
Her home is not like it’s described in the books. It’s not rolling hills and butterflies and dead people congregating in one place with roly poly grandmothers greeting their clans on arrival. Heaven, for humans at least, is a collection of memories, both good and bad but all managing to evoke the same sense of nostalgia for life and for time long gone.
Heaven for angels is something else entirely. It is battle, preparations, it’s laughter in the barracks and it’s obeisance since the beginning. Heaven is sharp and it’s shiny and it’s more than anyone can ever hope to describe. It smells like the air does before winter, ozone-laden and teeth achingly cold. Heaven is clean.
Buffy, at least the dream version of her- she misses it terribly.
Buffy sees faces in her dreams, the faces of her brothers and her sisters and she thinks that she remembers happiness. She remembers belonging and absolute certainty of safety.
She thinks that she remembers home.
Her dreams are always tinged with the inevitable sense of doom, like she’s waiting for the clock to hit midnight and the whole thing to blow up in a fairly spectacular way. She knows
the end is coming. She’s been preparing for it.
The Morningstar and Heaven’s Sword have been fighting more and more, flashes of lightning and fire and ice that leave the other angels terrified and the sky around them weeping. The end is coming for them too.
Buffy is a leader in her dreams, she is a commander and so she makes contingency plans for when their family will fall. For when Michael will cast Lucifer out and when Gabriel will leave. For when their family is no longer whole and when her heart is shattered by the betrayals around her.
She makes plans and surprisingly enough, her sisters follow her. Buffy feels shocked because she knows that they’re in the same boat too, that they’re just as intertwined with the Archangels as she is, that it’ll be like ripping themselves apart at the seams for them to leave. Like tearing space and time into a hemorrhaging sore in order to escape even a bigger wound that’s coming.
Her sisters and her are a special unit, they’re soldiers and yet- they’re so much more.
Buffy is the tactical operations planner, she is the head behind most of the major battles and she is the reason why the fledglings are trained the way they are. Buffy is orders and obedience, she is training and toil and the reason why so few of their soldiers fall in their Mission. She protects them in the only way she knows how, training the fledges for the wars that rage on around them and making exquisitely detailed battle plans
Her middle sister, and Buffy is really not surprised to see that her subconscious has picked out Faith’s face for the dark haired soldier, is one of the most skilled fighters that delivers Heaven’s orders. The being wearing Faith’s face is all blood and grace, and a fight that burns fire bright underneath the vortex that is her. She fights because she believes, with a desperate sort of love in their Father and that what they’re doing is right.
It’s sort of heartbreaking how much Faith rages, even in this form.
Her youngest sister is Dawn of course, all slender Grace and laughing joy bundled into the clouds and ozone that all of Them are inherently made of. She is the most serene out of them all, not a soldier by any means but more of a planner. She charts paths and destinies, she holds the keys to Heaven within her reach. She is the Gatekeeper, her inherent essence holds the balance between worlds in a firm grip and she is the barrier between chaos and the newly borne world of Humanity. Dawn is the Key to the Celestial Order.
They fight for the Angels and for Humanity, for each other and for above all- they fight for the Father that made them, that loves them.
They fight until the very last. Until the day that they leave, setting their plans in motion and storing their individual Grace until the moment when they can remember Home again.
They don’t say anything, they really can’t- not when the entire Host is waiting with bated breath for the outcome of Lucifer’s latest rageful silence. He’s so close to the edge, to the Abyss that everyone can feel his doom coming a mile away and yet nobody wants to admit it.
Not when Michael’s taken to testing the fledges, riding in his winged chariot- decked out in his best gear while he tests and pummels the soldiers that have come out of Buffy’s training. It feels like he’s psyching himself up for what has to be done eventually. Like he’s purposefully stepping out of his big brother shoes and into the uniform of the battle hardened soldier. Like he’s forgotten what it was like to protect Lucifer, to laugh with Buffy and is now working on pure instinctual drive.
Not when Gabriel is so still, his usual mirth gone as he watches and thinks and plans. The youngest brother to the most powerful beings in Creation, the jokester, the prankster has become thoughtful and silent. He too know what’s coming.
Not when Raphael picks up a sword- the only one out of them who has decided to not be a soldier, to heal instead of tear. Poor Raph, with his morality and his almost prudish attitude to life- it’s physically painful
to see him as a killer just like them.
They leave before things are irrevocable and before they can see the Destruction that is sure to come. They leave those they love the most, save for each other. They leave the beauty of their home. They leave hope and glory and the certainty of a future with a mate.
They leave until the End, until they’re needed again to clean up the mess that their other halves will surely make.
Should I continue in this verse?