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madimpossibledreamerMain Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Iron Man Crossover (Self-Made Hero)
Summary: What is a tech superhero with all their little gadgets?
Word Count: 750
Rating: Gen
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Iron Man Crossover (Self-Made Hero)
Summary: What is a tech superhero with all their little gadgets?
Word Count: 750
Rating: Gen
“You can’t stop this,” she promises, and he hits the switch, disengaging the armor as he walks toward her. She’s throwing magic at him, and this is potentially suicide.
Which she points out. “You’re going to die.”
He shrugs. “If the Earth is doomed, what’s the point? I’m going to die anyway, and if it’ll be a world where my bestest best friend in the whole world is the one to kill me what makes you think I’d want to live in that world?” Despite White Star yammering in his ear, he waves a hand and the protective magical second skin shimmers and disappears. He takes a ray of dark energy and coughs. His flesh screams, and it hurts to breathe. He’s probably got a broken rib, but that’s the least of his troubles. “I love you Willow. Even now. You’re the sister I never had, which is good, because I would never wish Daddy Harris on anyone. You know me best out of anyone. You don’t have to shoot me in the chest to destroy me, not when you know me inside and out and can disassemble me with just one word and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He smiles. “I’d rather die with you at my side. You’ve come a long way from the little girl with the broken yellow crayon in kindergarten. You’re so much more open now and less shy. You’ll actually talk back to people now, and you own up to your mistakes. Most of the time. Though I’m not one to talk, huh?” He smiles, takes another shot to the chest and falls to his knees, but he stands up again and keeps walking. That’s the point. Walking and talking means he’s alive. And maybe he’s messed up. Maybe the whole universe is messed up. But he feels so alive right now, more than he’s felt in a while. “Not like hiding a crayon in a desk. You still haven’t gotten that much better in asking for help. Admitting when you’re hurting. Not like you needed to say anything right now.” He gestures at the desert around them. “Kinda obvious, right? And as for mistakes, well, the whole ‘end the world’ plan kinda obviously a stupid decision, but me, I’m not making one right now.”
“I’m going to kill you. Why don’t you defend yourself?” She’s angry and hurting and she’s losing her evil façade.
He shrugs. “Still not a mistake. Mistakes are when you walk away from friends. Mistakes are when you don’t support them. Mistakes are when you try to protect yourself rather than pointing out ‘hey, this is a dumb idea but I’ll go down swinging with you anyway.’” He smiles. She’s killed. In all books he’ll ever read she’s the supervillain, but he will never stop loving her. “I’m not gonna defend myself; you wanna know why? Because I want to be here. Because I don’t want to hurt you. Do whatever you want. It’s not going to make me think any less of you. A little disappointed, maybe, but you’re still Willow and I still love you.”
“Stop talking!” she screams, and starts doing the Darth Willow choke hold thing, and he coughs and splutters and the tinges of his vision go black, but he musters the will and the magic and still keeps walking toward her.
Thing is, it’s not hard. He’s not scared. Well, maybe a little. He’s pretty sure his voice shook a little, at one point, but he’s not scared to die. He’s scared for her. His best friend. And he doesn’t need to say anything else. Everything that needs to be said has been said. He’s made himself vulnerable. It’s easier for her, if she really does want to kill him. He loves the suit, loves what he looks like. He’s a dork who reads too many comic books and gets caught up in working on his suit and forgets to eat. And sometimes he’s neglectful or stupid or isn’t there for his friends, but he’s here now, and that’s what matters, and it wasn’t a bad life. And if she kills him, he wants her to be the last to see his real face. He wants to go out as he is. Not a still unnamed superhero. Not the ghost of Tony Stark. Just as Xander.
Which she points out. “You’re going to die.”
He shrugs. “If the Earth is doomed, what’s the point? I’m going to die anyway, and if it’ll be a world where my bestest best friend in the whole world is the one to kill me what makes you think I’d want to live in that world?” Despite White Star yammering in his ear, he waves a hand and the protective magical second skin shimmers and disappears. He takes a ray of dark energy and coughs. His flesh screams, and it hurts to breathe. He’s probably got a broken rib, but that’s the least of his troubles. “I love you Willow. Even now. You’re the sister I never had, which is good, because I would never wish Daddy Harris on anyone. You know me best out of anyone. You don’t have to shoot me in the chest to destroy me, not when you know me inside and out and can disassemble me with just one word and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He smiles. “I’d rather die with you at my side. You’ve come a long way from the little girl with the broken yellow crayon in kindergarten. You’re so much more open now and less shy. You’ll actually talk back to people now, and you own up to your mistakes. Most of the time. Though I’m not one to talk, huh?” He smiles, takes another shot to the chest and falls to his knees, but he stands up again and keeps walking. That’s the point. Walking and talking means he’s alive. And maybe he’s messed up. Maybe the whole universe is messed up. But he feels so alive right now, more than he’s felt in a while. “Not like hiding a crayon in a desk. You still haven’t gotten that much better in asking for help. Admitting when you’re hurting. Not like you needed to say anything right now.” He gestures at the desert around them. “Kinda obvious, right? And as for mistakes, well, the whole ‘end the world’ plan kinda obviously a stupid decision, but me, I’m not making one right now.”
“I’m going to kill you. Why don’t you defend yourself?” She’s angry and hurting and she’s losing her evil façade.
He shrugs. “Still not a mistake. Mistakes are when you walk away from friends. Mistakes are when you don’t support them. Mistakes are when you try to protect yourself rather than pointing out ‘hey, this is a dumb idea but I’ll go down swinging with you anyway.’” He smiles. She’s killed. In all books he’ll ever read she’s the supervillain, but he will never stop loving her. “I’m not gonna defend myself; you wanna know why? Because I want to be here. Because I don’t want to hurt you. Do whatever you want. It’s not going to make me think any less of you. A little disappointed, maybe, but you’re still Willow and I still love you.”
“Stop talking!” she screams, and starts doing the Darth Willow choke hold thing, and he coughs and splutters and the tinges of his vision go black, but he musters the will and the magic and still keeps walking toward her.
Thing is, it’s not hard. He’s not scared. Well, maybe a little. He’s pretty sure his voice shook a little, at one point, but he’s not scared to die. He’s scared for her. His best friend. And he doesn’t need to say anything else. Everything that needs to be said has been said. He’s made himself vulnerable. It’s easier for her, if she really does want to kill him. He loves the suit, loves what he looks like. He’s a dork who reads too many comic books and gets caught up in working on his suit and forgets to eat. And sometimes he’s neglectful or stupid or isn’t there for his friends, but he’s here now, and that’s what matters, and it wasn’t a bad life. And if she kills him, he wants her to be the last to see his real face. He wants to go out as he is. Not a still unnamed superhero. Not the ghost of Tony Stark. Just as Xander.
