![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamer Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: The rest of the team realizes Johan's gone and faces a difficult choice.
Word Count: 1117
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
It’s almost unforgiveable, honestly. It should have felt like suddenly missing a limb, but instead, it takes Darling tugging on his sleeve, eyes wide, for him to know. The absence of their second source of hamon-sourced light doesn’t even clue them in immediately. Maybe he’d grown complacent; he’d have noticed in most other situations, with a sudden lull in the conversation as one of Jojo’s stories is cut short. But they’re quiet as they explore, looking for Wesley, and as such the absence went unnoticed for goodness knows how long.
“Where’s Jojo?” he demands immediately, hoping against hope that one of the others has seen something, but Robin merely looks alarmed, breathing even deeper and channeling more of the Ripple to his hands for brighter illumination, and Beefheart—
Beefheart focuses on the wrong thing. “If we’re being attacked by a Stand, it means we’re probably getting close. We should press on, watching for clues to deal with it.”
“We can’t leave him behind!” Fitz disagrees vehemently, gesturing at the pyramid’s walls violently. She doesn’t have to say it for him to know what that means. She hadn’t mentioned a rescue party after all. Darling shuffles quietly, but she doesn’t speak up.
“For all we know, he’s checking out a side room and he’ll be back with us soon enough,” Robin suggests, attempting to console, and it’d work if it wasn’t so laughably ridiculous. The timing alone, let alone the lack of a warning….Johan might be easily distractible but he’d still say something, because he cares about making sure they don’t worry.
And then, just there, out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. The torn aviator's jacket, just a glimpse, down the hallway, heading into one of the side rooms. “Jojo!” he calls, but there's no response, and the Captain grabs his arm, concerned. He very nearly shrugs her off, but he's trying to play nice. He really is.
“We don't have time to play hide-and-seek. Any time now, Wesley is going to finish the ritual, which will worsen the odds.” The sympathy in her eyes does not blunt her tone.
And this should work, with everything he's said, with the front he's shown to the group. All he can give in return, though, is an explanation, inadequate as it might be. “I can't leave him behind.”
He turns and runs, chasing after that shadow. Instinctually, he knows it's the wrong decision, that logically Xander should be saying something, that it's always best to stick together. He's spent years pretending that logic is what drives him, that he's a sensible Brit with common sense.
Damn logic. Damn it all to the fiery pits.
He could take the objectively right action here, but even if Johan emerges entirely unharmed, he'd still regret it.
At first, when he runs in, the fact that the room is empty takes him aback. Perhaps it's the same type of shadow that's been haunting them the entire time since Darling noticed it. Perhaps it's even a Stand, or a demon, or a ghost, or whoever knew what else at Wolfram & Hart's disposal. Then, silently, a part of the wall swings inward, a gaping maw to a black abyss. An invitation.
He'd be a fool to take it, and yet he's gladly a fool. Maybe he's been influenced for the better by his friends; more likely this is all original, a foolishness he could never rise above because it's a fundamental part of him. With a breath, he plunges inside, water pistol at the ready.
“She isn't wrong,” a voice so familiar and yet profoundly wrong states into the dark. “You'd watch the world burn to save me, Fitz.”
The words...hurt. Of course, this isn't Jojo—or at least, it is, but he's teasing, not cruel, and these words are nothing but cruel. Because they're true. Because Fitz has already failed, time and time again, to save the people he most cares about. Because he vowed that he would never fail again. The world hasn't done much to help him; perhaps that's not a particularly heroic attitude (in fact, he knows it isn't; if there's anything he is it's well-read), but he'd like to say those who extol the virtues of heroic self-sacrifice have never had to experience so much loss in their lives. It's easy to tell another to 'be strong' when you've never experienced such hardship.
But there had been...an unspoken understanding. That they'd work on it, together, find a way that involved neither. Xander had been so desperate to save him, back when Darling had accidentally hurt them in a desperate attempt to get away, and it was clear enough the man was too stubborn to think that any compromise was necessary. Fitz needn't die to save the brunet, and vice versa. Saving the world didn't need a sacrifice; he'd make it work with sheer will if necessary.
An understanding that Fitz needed time, that he needed a gentle hand. This is neither.
Johan had been absent for an amount of time. It's possible he'd been affected in some way, or simply—or simply replaced.
The blond might not be able to see much through the dark, but his ears certainly still work. Without hesitation, he levels the water pistol at the shadow's forehead. Perhaps, if he only had lethal moves at his disposal, he might pause, but as it is it wouldn't even be the first time he's used his powers on Xander. “So I’m predictable. Tell me something I don’t know—preferably, are you possessed or merely pretending to be my friend?”
The sudden light of the torches flaring to life in a silent wind on either wall might be dull, but compared to the gloom surrounding them, it’s like staring directly into the sun. Rather than flinching, aim wavering, Fitz opts to freeze in place, blinking to attempt to see.
Surprisingly, the faux Jojo hasn’t taken the theatrical moment as an opportunity to attack. Instead, he’s settled, posing casually, unconcerned, with arms crossed, leaning against the wall like this is merely some sort of outing rather than the potential end of the world. Like the blond hasn’t moved the barrel to point squarely at the center of his friend’s forehead, heart hammering at the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He doesn’t even show any concern at the flash that signals the arrival of LJ. Doesn’t bring out his Stand or start hamon breathing or anything of the sort. “So, you’re saying this isn’t like me?” That mischievous grin would be a welcome sight in any other situation. “Be honest with yourself. How long have we actually known each other?” Menace hangs heavy in the air.
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: The rest of the team realizes Johan's gone and faces a difficult choice.
Word Count: 1117
Rating: Teen
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
It’s almost unforgiveable, honestly. It should have felt like suddenly missing a limb, but instead, it takes Darling tugging on his sleeve, eyes wide, for him to know. The absence of their second source of hamon-sourced light doesn’t even clue them in immediately. Maybe he’d grown complacent; he’d have noticed in most other situations, with a sudden lull in the conversation as one of Jojo’s stories is cut short. But they’re quiet as they explore, looking for Wesley, and as such the absence went unnoticed for goodness knows how long.
“Where’s Jojo?” he demands immediately, hoping against hope that one of the others has seen something, but Robin merely looks alarmed, breathing even deeper and channeling more of the Ripple to his hands for brighter illumination, and Beefheart—
Beefheart focuses on the wrong thing. “If we’re being attacked by a Stand, it means we’re probably getting close. We should press on, watching for clues to deal with it.”
“We can’t leave him behind!” Fitz disagrees vehemently, gesturing at the pyramid’s walls violently. She doesn’t have to say it for him to know what that means. She hadn’t mentioned a rescue party after all. Darling shuffles quietly, but she doesn’t speak up.
“For all we know, he’s checking out a side room and he’ll be back with us soon enough,” Robin suggests, attempting to console, and it’d work if it wasn’t so laughably ridiculous. The timing alone, let alone the lack of a warning….Johan might be easily distractible but he’d still say something, because he cares about making sure they don’t worry.
And then, just there, out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. The torn aviator's jacket, just a glimpse, down the hallway, heading into one of the side rooms. “Jojo!” he calls, but there's no response, and the Captain grabs his arm, concerned. He very nearly shrugs her off, but he's trying to play nice. He really is.
“We don't have time to play hide-and-seek. Any time now, Wesley is going to finish the ritual, which will worsen the odds.” The sympathy in her eyes does not blunt her tone.
And this should work, with everything he's said, with the front he's shown to the group. All he can give in return, though, is an explanation, inadequate as it might be. “I can't leave him behind.”
He turns and runs, chasing after that shadow. Instinctually, he knows it's the wrong decision, that logically Xander should be saying something, that it's always best to stick together. He's spent years pretending that logic is what drives him, that he's a sensible Brit with common sense.
Damn logic. Damn it all to the fiery pits.
He could take the objectively right action here, but even if Johan emerges entirely unharmed, he'd still regret it.
At first, when he runs in, the fact that the room is empty takes him aback. Perhaps it's the same type of shadow that's been haunting them the entire time since Darling noticed it. Perhaps it's even a Stand, or a demon, or a ghost, or whoever knew what else at Wolfram & Hart's disposal. Then, silently, a part of the wall swings inward, a gaping maw to a black abyss. An invitation.
He'd be a fool to take it, and yet he's gladly a fool. Maybe he's been influenced for the better by his friends; more likely this is all original, a foolishness he could never rise above because it's a fundamental part of him. With a breath, he plunges inside, water pistol at the ready.
“She isn't wrong,” a voice so familiar and yet profoundly wrong states into the dark. “You'd watch the world burn to save me, Fitz.”
The words...hurt. Of course, this isn't Jojo—or at least, it is, but he's teasing, not cruel, and these words are nothing but cruel. Because they're true. Because Fitz has already failed, time and time again, to save the people he most cares about. Because he vowed that he would never fail again. The world hasn't done much to help him; perhaps that's not a particularly heroic attitude (in fact, he knows it isn't; if there's anything he is it's well-read), but he'd like to say those who extol the virtues of heroic self-sacrifice have never had to experience so much loss in their lives. It's easy to tell another to 'be strong' when you've never experienced such hardship.
But there had been...an unspoken understanding. That they'd work on it, together, find a way that involved neither. Xander had been so desperate to save him, back when Darling had accidentally hurt them in a desperate attempt to get away, and it was clear enough the man was too stubborn to think that any compromise was necessary. Fitz needn't die to save the brunet, and vice versa. Saving the world didn't need a sacrifice; he'd make it work with sheer will if necessary.
An understanding that Fitz needed time, that he needed a gentle hand. This is neither.
Johan had been absent for an amount of time. It's possible he'd been affected in some way, or simply—or simply replaced.
The blond might not be able to see much through the dark, but his ears certainly still work. Without hesitation, he levels the water pistol at the shadow's forehead. Perhaps, if he only had lethal moves at his disposal, he might pause, but as it is it wouldn't even be the first time he's used his powers on Xander. “So I’m predictable. Tell me something I don’t know—preferably, are you possessed or merely pretending to be my friend?”
The sudden light of the torches flaring to life in a silent wind on either wall might be dull, but compared to the gloom surrounding them, it’s like staring directly into the sun. Rather than flinching, aim wavering, Fitz opts to freeze in place, blinking to attempt to see.
Surprisingly, the faux Jojo hasn’t taken the theatrical moment as an opportunity to attack. Instead, he’s settled, posing casually, unconcerned, with arms crossed, leaning against the wall like this is merely some sort of outing rather than the potential end of the world. Like the blond hasn’t moved the barrel to point squarely at the center of his friend’s forehead, heart hammering at the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He doesn’t even show any concern at the flash that signals the arrival of LJ. Doesn’t bring out his Stand or start hamon breathing or anything of the sort. “So, you’re saying this isn’t like me?” That mischievous grin would be a welcome sight in any other situation. “Be honest with yourself. How long have we actually known each other?” Menace hangs heavy in the air.
