post tenebras lux

[madimpossibledreamer]

....surprise Joyce?

Main Points:
Buffy/Blake's 7 (Place in the Universe)
Chapter Summary: Willow finds Blake and Avon as well as a few others trapped.
Word Count: 1274
Rating: Teen

 

There’s so much you can see with the benefit of hindsight. But humans tend to focus on the negative. What you did wrong, what you would do differently, if only you could do it all again.
You don’t notice the rest. Precious moments that you should hold in your heart to keep you going in times that feel darkest. We spend so long searching for the place that we belong and how we relate to others that we never think to just...be. Just enjoy and live in the moment. The cynical among us would add, because you never know which might be your last.

        It doesn’t take Willow too long to work out the whole explosion thing. Travis is throwing bombs that it looks like he’s lifted from the army base, and the ragtag army of mostly demons and vampires behind him is enthusiastically joining in. Some of them are probably people in costumes, but she recognizes at least a few of them, who are probably just taking advantage of someone ordering them to cause chaos. Rather like Travis, honestly—he’d just been looking for an excuse to go after Blake, and Servalan happened to give him one, so of course he’d enthusiastically follow that order. She had enjoyed it, particularly since Xander would talk enthusiastically about the places he thought had influenced Babylon 5, but it’s not like they’d had all the VHS tapes at the video store and she kind of had to ignore how they’d seen the others. Not like that really matters at the moment anyway.
        Blake and Avon are shooting back from around an abandoned storefront, probably the only thing keeping the army from advancing close enough that any cover wouldn’t really matter, but it’s already begun to collapse, roof and all, and the surrounding buildings aren’t looking so sturdy, either. One of them appears to be pulling his shots. If she had to bet, she’d say it’s Blake. Avon subscribes more to the school of self-preservation even at the cost of others.
        “Give it up and come quietly, Blake,” Travis calls, entirely mocking. She hadn’t exactly understood when both Jesse and Xander kept being jumpy around vampires, but Angel as Travis really is kind of terrifying, so she kind of gets it. He’s smart enough not to get in range for Avon or Blake, though.
        “We promise the civilians will be unharmed should you give yourself up. You won’t receive so generous an offer again,” Servalan agrees, and—yeah, okay, it’s kind of unclear whether Buffy as a gorgeous and still somehow perfectly dressed Servalan or Angel as a vengeful and cruelly creative Travis is scarier. She drifts a little too close and decides it might be better to make the rest of the approach through the ground, because the demon tries to claw her and her arm actually kind of hurts. Of course, then they try to shoot her the instant she joins them, and that feels weird, too.
        “Sorry.” At least Blake apologizes.
        “Don’t apologize for having even a small fraction of a sense of self-preservation. It might keep the rest of us alive just a little longer,” Avon corrects with a sneer, not even sparing her a glance. They’ve apparently found more kids, who are crouching, whimpering, at the very end of the street.
        And—wait. Is that...Mrs. Summers? She’s trying to calm them down and looks equally as confused about spotting Willow. “Willow? What’s going on? Is Dawn all right?”
        Willow glances at Blake and Avon, but they’re too busy shooting and wouldn’t be too much help anyway. “It’s, um. Just a dream?” She’s not too hopeful that it’s going to work, really, even with the help of Sunnydale Syndrome, but she nods like that’s perfectly understandable.
        “Even if it is a dream, I don’t want you to take too many chances, Willow.” She smiles. Fortunately she’s not in arm’s reach, or she’d probably try to pat Willow’s arm, which would a) probably go right through and b) possibly break through for Mrs. Summers to realize that it’s not actually a dream.
        Blake’s glance is incredulous and a little judgmental, for some reason. Avon is just calculating, and in between shots his stare is longer and far less comfortable. “You don’t happen to have any useful information to tell us?”
        He honestly is as unpleasant as he seems on the show. “I’ll check for exits.” It’s kind of a back alley that from her memory doesn’t lead much of anywhere, but they could get lucky, maybe. It doesn’t take long for her to come back, defeated. “There isn’t really an exit, but it looks like a secondary force is going to try to find one anyway. Or, more likely, make one with the bombs.”
        “How very helpful,” Avon tells her snidely.
        Blake, on the other hand, says nothing, which hurts a little. He’s eyeing everything thoughtfully, trying to come up with a plan, clearly. The pinch at his eyes and frown suggest he’s not finding much, even with their fantastical weapons. And then he stands.
        Avon catches a billowing green sleeve. “You can’t believe a word they’re saying. This is Travis and Servalan, Blake.” Like the man could have possibly missed that.
        Blake smiles, mirthless and a little scared. His hands are shaking, just slightly. “I don’t. Not for a second. But I know Travis. He likes to really take his time. They won’t kill me right away, particularly not if I indicate there’s something about their situation I know that they don’t. And they want the Liberator, which I can’t give them even if I break. They’ll be too preoccupied with their prize to bother overmuch with the rest of you. I can buy you a chance. You’re a smart man, Avon. I’m sure you’ll know what to do with it.”
        “How noble. I knew you had survivor’s guilt, but I didn’t know you wanted to become a martyr that badly. Are you really that ready to throw your life away for people we don’t even know?” The man says that so coldly, like he doesn’t care even a little.
        Blake breathes in, deliberately deeply like he’s trying to steady his nerves. “If I’m not, then all of my speeches aren’t worth a damn.”
        “I’ll—” Mrs. Summers tries to insist, but is instantly shushed by all three of them.
        She has to stop him. “Avon, don’t encourage this! Blake, you don’t have to—”
        “I’m afraid I do, lacking better options,” he responds with dignity, swallowing, carefully placing the gun down, then calls, “Travis? I’m coming out, unarmed, no sudden movements.”
        “We’ll welcome you with open arms,” Servalan promises sweetly as the bombs stop.
        Blake puts up his hands and starts walking, as if marching to his death, brave and terrified and it’s Xander. She can’t help but remember some of the stories her grandmother would tell her, about how they’d gotten out but not everyone had.
        “Do something,” she hisses at Avon, who’s just standing there frozen, staring blankly at the point where they’d lost sight of Blake, swiping an elbow at him before remembering it won’t do anything. “You’re supposed to be a genius, right? Use that brain of yours and come up with something!”
        And then he just turns and runs back down the street the other way, zig-zagging in case they fire or throw more grenades. “Avon!” she yells, but he’s running faster and even with ghost powers she can’t catch up. If Xander dies, she’s never going to forgive Jesse.
        “I hope this isn’t actually a nightmare,” Mrs. Summers announces just a little bit too loudly.