Title: Between Life and Death
Rating: R or M…depends on what system you want to go by.
Author: White Werewolf
Spoilers: Post “Chosen” in BTVS, post “Haunted” in DLM
Summery: During a mission from Giles, Xander has an unfortunate accident. But just how unfortunate is the question.
Disclaimer: Buffy: the Vampire Slayer is owned by Fox, UPN, Whedon, and ME. Dead Like Me used to be own by Showtime, now Sci-Fi airs it, so I really don’t know who owns it anymore. Not me though. If I did, I’d put it back on the air in a heartbeat.
Author Notes:I know I promised a return of one of my older fics, but when I saw Dead Like Me on Sci-Fi I got intrigued. Bought the dvds, and was hooked. Now, I just want Sci-Fi to start airing new episodes if ratings are high enough.
With DLM, it’s very used to having the main character speak in her point of view. So, if I want to focus on her as a main character, I thought this be a POV piece. Think A Hairy Situation, but with two characters, not one.
Have you ever felt like you made a choice that was wrong? Like you were told a task to do, you did it as suggested, and later found out that your boss made a mistake. And because of that mistake, not only were there repercussions, but those repercussions were both bad and good at the same time.
In case you don’t know who I am, my name is George Lass. I’m 18 years old, and for the time being, bound to this world as a grim reaper. I don’t age, nobody can see the real me, I can’t reconnect with my family, and did I forget to tell you…I’m undead.
The world sees me as Mildred Hagen. But, people call me Millie for short. The world refuses to accept that Georgia Lass still exists. But it’s not their fault, it’s how the world works. You’re born to loving parents, grow up and mature with age and intelligence, then you die. I know people do more than that. They actually age, marry, and create families to continue to grow the human population.
But not me…
I died at the age of 18. My first day on the job, and what kills me? A toilet seat from the fucking Muir Space station. I still remember my last words on Earth, ‘Oh shit.’
Not life changing or profound. Just a reaction, simple fucking reaction, and then I was gone.
Forever to walk the Earth as a reaper.
Actually, that I don’t know. At some point, I’ll reach my quota and go somewhere. Somewhere, I don’t know. Just go. I’ll leave this world yet again, and not know where I’ll end up.
Sorry if I sound kinda morbid, but it’s the truth.
I let out a sigh, and realize its been over a year since I died.
Rube says its not best to connect to your past life, and I have to admit, it makes things easier. But sometimes, sometimes you just need something small to remember who you were, what you are now, and where you came from.
So, I’m standing in front of my grave. Yeah, my actual gravestone looking down to where I was buried. ‘Georgia Lass,’ 1985-2003. My life sucks sometimes. Or should I say, unlife.
I look at my watch and realize I have to meet the others at Der Waffle House. Then we’ll get our daily post-it and continue our reaping duties.
“We are approaching Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. The time is now 10:00 in the morning. When the lights go off and the plane comes to a complete stop, you may exit the plane.”
Ah, Seattle, Washington. My latest mission. And in case you don’t know who’s speaking, that actually makes sense. Think about it. You pick up this story, and you start to read it. You’re not going to know who I am. Well, my name is Xander…Xander Harris.
A slight smile emerged on my lips as I started to feel the wheels of the plane hitting the pavement.
“Welcome to Seattle, and thank you for choosing Delta.”
The plane started to slow down as I continued to yawn. Dammit. I hate it when my ears block. My voice always sounds funny and I can’t stand it. Of course to the world, I sound normal, but to me, I sound way off.
That’s one of the only reasons why I hate flying. Sure I’ve been doing it quite a bit lately, but it always has the same effect on me.
The engines to the plane slowed down as we headed for the terminal. As the plane came to a halt, I got out of my seat and went for my bag that was just sitting above me. Grabbing it, we started to file out of the plane.
My time in Seattle wasn’t a social visit. Dammit. I wanted a vacation, but no, this couldn’t be the reason I was here. I had to do an errand for Giles. A contact of his had some crucial information on a rare breed of demon…maclaxers.
Don’t ask me to think that word again; it’s too hard to remember at times. Well, maybe not, but it is weird. Who ever heard a word such as maclaxer. It’s as if someone just came up with the word out of nowhere.
Who comes up with these names? What ever happened to the classics? Polgara demons for example. See, I remember those. Demons who had the ability to shoot out spikes from their forearms. It was as if they had a Wolverine fetish.
We started to shuffle through the terminal and got into the waiting room. Shaking my head, I headed for the baggage claim. There, I’ll get my suitcase and head for the hotel.
What I want to know though was why was this contact in Seattle of all places. Rainy Seattle. When I hear the word Seattle, the only thing my mind comes up with Frasier. Well, that’s what I think of. It’s an alright show. It’s about to end too. 11 years. God, that’s a long time for a sitcom. If you were to ask Buffy, Willow, and even Dawn, they probably might say Sleepless in Seattle as an answer to what they think of when it comes to Seattle.
They love it. That goes both for Willow and Buffy. Not to mention Dawn. As for Faith, all I can say is that I’m glad that there is another person who could always go for a Bruce Willis movie. Sin City is a definite fav.
All I have to now is find my bag and then I can get this dumb mission over with.
The only reason I’m here is because Giles’ contact doesn’t feel comfortable discussing information over the phone. It was as if his contact was Amish. There was no as if about it, he was in fact Amish. Giles told me that his friend was very simple, and he didn’t like using electronics. If it wasn’t home-made, then it wasn’t good for this guy.
Shaking my head, I grab my bag and head toward Hertz a car,
I entered Der Waffle House only to see Rube waving his hand openly, “Over here, Peanut.”
“Ok,” I drawl out.
Peanut. That’s Rube’s nickname for me. At first, I didn’t understand the reference. But recently, I found out that Peanut was the nickname he used for his daughter. At first I kinda hated it, but after finding out the truth, I find it kind of endearing.
I couldn’t help but give a slight grin, “Morning, Mason.”
That’s Mason. He died back in the 60’s. Trying to reach the ultimate high when screwing a hole down the center of his head. Of course, he wasn’t successful, but that’s how he died.
The Brit smiled in return.
“How are we doing this morning?”
I was about to reply when Rube announced, “Before we start your breakfast conversation, I need to hand out your post-its.”
One by one, Rube handed out five post-its.
Roxy looked down at her’s, “Fuck.” She then turned to Daisy. “Move.”
And that’s Roxy. She actually died back in 80’s. An incident combining an invention of hers, legwarmers. Greed. It’s one of the most common motivations. It worked for her killer.
Daisy questioned, “Why?”
Then there’s Daisy. She died back in 1938. Her claim to fame was blowing everyone famous in the 1930’s. Anything to help her career as an actress. I think it was a fire with her.
Roxy rolled her eyes, “Move girl, or I will seriously fuck you up. I got a reap in fifteen minutes.”
“Say excuse me.” My blond friend said.
Roxy glared at her, “Daisy. Move it.”
I knew that tone of hers. “Better move.”
She nodded slowly and pulled out of the book.
The police woman grinned, “Thank you. Now was that so hard?”
Daisy rolled her eyes, “No.”
She then walked out of the waffle house as Daisy sat back down.
Mason and Daisy looked at their post-its as well. He smirked, “Well, D. Jackson, it looks like your time is up.”
He then spotted the ETD on the post-it. “I still got a few hours on this one.”
Daisy nodded as she glanced down at hers. “I might as well get going too.”
With that said, Mason and Daisy said goodbye and headed out of the restaurant.
“How you doing, Peanut?” Rube said.
As for Rube, I dunno. I don’t know how he died, and I rather not ask. Talking about your death is something the person has to come in context with first. I’m sure he has, but I don’t think he’ll like me asking about it.
That’s how we died. When that happened, we became reapers. Whenever a previous reaper reaches their quota, or maximum number of souls to crossover, they disappear, and the person they last reaped becomes the next reaper. That’s how it was for me. It was some black guy. I forgot his name, but with me, he reached his quota, and bingo. I become the next grim reaper.
It’s amazing how well the system works out, isn’t it?
With that though, I scanned at my post-it. “I got some time too. Mine’s at 6:21. I can do it after Happy Time.”
He grinned and shrugged, “Just make sure you’re.”
She nodded and said silently, “Alright, looks like you have some time, A. L. Harris.”