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Sharp Knife of a Short Life (the ‘If I Die Young’ Remix)
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cof_remix.
Title: Sharp Knife of a Short Life (the ‘If I Die Young’ Remix)
Author: Sroni
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: PG-13? Mild cursing, at any rate.
Disclaimer: Characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, and the WB and UPN.
Original story: “Vigil” by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eilandesq
Notes:aadler is still working on his remix, so this is by no means to replace that; I checked with him to find out if he'd like me to do a pinch hit for until he finishes is, and he agreed. And then my mom arrived in Ireland and I proceeded to get sick as a dog, so I haven't had a chance to work on it until today. So, Eiland, I hope you like your pinch hit, and I can't wait to read Aadler's real story for you!
Sharp Knife of a Short Life
(the ‘If I Die Young’ Remix)
***
If I die young, bury me in satin
***
A Watcher usually outlives their Slayer. This is common.
What is usually left off, though whispered in hushed voices, is by how long.
It’s far from unusual for a Watcher to outlive their Slayer long enough to do their final duty for the girl they took care of and loved — and they did take care of the girl they’d been assigned to and loved them despite themselves, no matter how much they tried to remind themselves that she was a tool, and a replaceable one, at that — and no longer.
If Buffy had been the typical type of Slayer, willing to listen and follow directions and not have friends or a life and not be Buffy, Rupert might have gone that same route. But the family she’d created for herself still needed him, and he couldn’t be selfish enough to follow her, even though he felt like he was even more broken than her body had been.***
Lay me down in a bed of roses
***
Dawn insisted on filling Buffy’s coffin with roses, reasoning that they’d been Buffy’s favourite.
She also insisted that Mr. Gordo be put in it with her so that Buffy wouldn’t be lonely.
The funeral, such as it was, was quiet, with no one really knowing what to say. She hadn’t been buried in the cemetery, after all, and no one except them knew about Buffy’s death. Perhaps no one could say anything because it hadn’t yet sunk in that Buffy was gone.
At any rate, it was much quieter than Joyce’s had been, though this one was at night so that both Spike and Angel could be there. Rupert had talked to them both long enough to let them know that if they fought there, he would stake them both himself, because he wouldn’t stand for them upsetting Dawn like that. Dawn looked so much like Buffy when Buffy had first walked into the library years ago; her limbs were longer, and her eyes the wrong colour, but her hair wasn’t much darker than Buffy’s had been then. Rupert had failed Buffy, but he would keep Dawn safe.
And if that meant killing the vampires that he didn’t have much love for, well. That’s what would be done.
***
Send me away with the words of a love song
***
Every word that was said could have been replaced with “I love you” and “I’ll miss you”, and it would have meant the same thing. If that doesn’t say everything, nothing will.
***
The sharp knife of a short life
***
The smallest coffins are the heaviest.
Buffy wasn’t the smallest coffin Rupert had ever had to carry, but she was his heaviest.
He’d spent his first year as her Watcher prepared for her to not come back every time he’d sent her out. Then he’d found the Codex, and the prophecy that she would die that night. He’d tried to shield from it because he knew he wouldn’t be able to bear that weight.
But she’d survived. More than that, she’d thrived.
Kendra had shown up and he’d been relieved that the burden wouldn’t all fall to his Slayer any longer. Kendra had been killed and God help him, he’d been relieved that it was Kendra and not Buffy. He’d sent a letter to Sam Zabuto, expressing his sorrow and condolences, and every word he’d written had tasted of celebration and “not my Slayer”.
Rupert had been unsurprised to find out that Sam had died within a few weeks.
No one talked about it afterwards.
He’d spent so long prepared for Buffy’s death every time she’d gone out, but she’d kept coming back, and he’d slowly, slowly, slowly let his guard down.
She was Atlas, with the weight of the world on her shoulders, and when she’d slipped, she’d sacrificed herself to make sure she didn’t drop the world.
Rupert would have sacrificed something else to make sure it wasn’t the world that was dropped, but Buffy had made it clear that he wasn’t allowed to.
Rupert was pretty sure he could handle Buffy’s anger much better than he was handling her death.
He’d let his guard down and now he felt like a part of himself had died with the girl he’d loved like a daughter.
***
What I never did is done
***
Rupert approached the grave to fill his last duty as a Watcher. Because after this, he wasn’t going to be one ever again.
He wasn’t as surprised as he probably should have been to see Spike and Xander sitting there with weapons of their own.
He nodded at the other two, not having the energy to talk to them. He was somewhat surprised that Xander was tolerating the blond vampire, but so long as they didn’t bicker, Rupert wouldn’t protest them staying.
He’d put up wards on the grave, of course, but there were some things that the wards wouldn’t be able to protect her from during her first night under the earth, and it was his duty as a Watcher to make sure nothing took her body from its resting place.
And much like Dawn, he couldn’t stand the idea of her being alone, not for the first night, no matter how much he knew that she was gone and wouldn’t know.
So he sat his vigil, feeling much older than his years.
***
Gather up your tears, save ’em in your pocket, save ’em for a time you’re really gonna need ’em
***
Giles dropped onto his couch, a bottle of scotch in his hand as he listened to his records.
He’d done his duty. Now he could get hungover.
A shame he couldn’t let that be his new state of being.
His duty as a Watcher was done.
But he would never stop being Buffy’s Watcher, and he still had a duty to her to take care of the people she’d loved.
cof_remix.Title: Sharp Knife of a Short Life (the ‘If I Die Young’ Remix)
Author: Sroni
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: PG-13? Mild cursing, at any rate.
Disclaimer: Characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer are property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, and the WB and UPN.
Original story: “Vigil” by
eilandesqNotes:
aadler is still working on his remix, so this is by no means to replace that; I checked with him to find out if he'd like me to do a pinch hit for until he finishes is, and he agreed. And then my mom arrived in Ireland and I proceeded to get sick as a dog, so I haven't had a chance to work on it until today. So, Eiland, I hope you like your pinch hit, and I can't wait to read Aadler's real story for you!(the ‘If I Die Young’ Remix)
If I die young, bury me in satin
***
A Watcher usually outlives their Slayer. This is common.
What is usually left off, though whispered in hushed voices, is by how long.
It’s far from unusual for a Watcher to outlive their Slayer long enough to do their final duty for the girl they took care of and loved — and they did take care of the girl they’d been assigned to and loved them despite themselves, no matter how much they tried to remind themselves that she was a tool, and a replaceable one, at that — and no longer.
If Buffy had been the typical type of Slayer, willing to listen and follow directions and not have friends or a life and not be Buffy, Rupert might have gone that same route. But the family she’d created for herself still needed him, and he couldn’t be selfish enough to follow her, even though he felt like he was even more broken than her body had been.
Water and blood was wiped away by gentle hands. Broken bones were straightened and re-aligned. Dawn had picked out the dress, but that was the only help Rupert had allowed to be given to him.
This was his duty to do. He’d failed at keeping her alive. He’d do his duty.
Lay me down in a bed of roses
***
Dawn insisted on filling Buffy’s coffin with roses, reasoning that they’d been Buffy’s favourite.
She also insisted that Mr. Gordo be put in it with her so that Buffy wouldn’t be lonely.
The funeral, such as it was, was quiet, with no one really knowing what to say. She hadn’t been buried in the cemetery, after all, and no one except them knew about Buffy’s death. Perhaps no one could say anything because it hadn’t yet sunk in that Buffy was gone.
At any rate, it was much quieter than Joyce’s had been, though this one was at night so that both Spike and Angel could be there. Rupert had talked to them both long enough to let them know that if they fought there, he would stake them both himself, because he wouldn’t stand for them upsetting Dawn like that. Dawn looked so much like Buffy when Buffy had first walked into the library years ago; her limbs were longer, and her eyes the wrong colour, but her hair wasn’t much darker than Buffy’s had been then. Rupert had failed Buffy, but he would keep Dawn safe.
And if that meant killing the vampires that he didn’t have much love for, well. That’s what would be done.
Send me away with the words of a love song
***
Every word that was said could have been replaced with “I love you” and “I’ll miss you”, and it would have meant the same thing. If that doesn’t say everything, nothing will.
The sharp knife of a short life
***
The smallest coffins are the heaviest.
Buffy wasn’t the smallest coffin Rupert had ever had to carry, but she was his heaviest.
He’d spent his first year as her Watcher prepared for her to not come back every time he’d sent her out. Then he’d found the Codex, and the prophecy that she would die that night. He’d tried to shield from it because he knew he wouldn’t be able to bear that weight.
But she’d survived. More than that, she’d thrived.
Kendra had shown up and he’d been relieved that the burden wouldn’t all fall to his Slayer any longer. Kendra had been killed and God help him, he’d been relieved that it was Kendra and not Buffy. He’d sent a letter to Sam Zabuto, expressing his sorrow and condolences, and every word he’d written had tasted of celebration and “not my Slayer”.
Rupert had been unsurprised to find out that Sam had died within a few weeks.
No one talked about it afterwards.
He’d spent so long prepared for Buffy’s death every time she’d gone out, but she’d kept coming back, and he’d slowly, slowly, slowly let his guard down.
She was Atlas, with the weight of the world on her shoulders, and when she’d slipped, she’d sacrificed herself to make sure she didn’t drop the world.
Rupert would have sacrificed something else to make sure it wasn’t the world that was dropped, but Buffy had made it clear that he wasn’t allowed to.
Rupert was pretty sure he could handle Buffy’s anger much better than he was handling her death.
He’d let his guard down and now he felt like a part of himself had died with the girl he’d loved like a daughter.
What I never did is done
***
Rupert approached the grave to fill his last duty as a Watcher. Because after this, he wasn’t going to be one ever again.
He wasn’t as surprised as he probably should have been to see Spike and Xander sitting there with weapons of their own.
He nodded at the other two, not having the energy to talk to them. He was somewhat surprised that Xander was tolerating the blond vampire, but so long as they didn’t bicker, Rupert wouldn’t protest them staying.
He’d put up wards on the grave, of course, but there were some things that the wards wouldn’t be able to protect her from during her first night under the earth, and it was his duty as a Watcher to make sure nothing took her body from its resting place.
And much like Dawn, he couldn’t stand the idea of her being alone, not for the first night, no matter how much he knew that she was gone and wouldn’t know.
So he sat his vigil, feeling much older than his years.
Gather up your tears, save ’em in your pocket, save ’em for a time you’re really gonna need ’em
***
Giles dropped onto his couch, a bottle of scotch in his hand as he listened to his records.
He’d done his duty. Now he could get hungover.
A shame he couldn’t let that be his new state of being.
His duty as a Watcher was done.
But he would never stop being Buffy’s Watcher, and he still had a duty to her to take care of the people she’d loved.
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