beer_good_foamy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beer_good_foamy) wrote2018-03-04 12:32 pm
beer_good_foamy) wrote2018-03-04 12:32 pm
Fic: Working in the Pain Mine (BtVS)
Here's a kind of a crossover; inspired by the latest Cloverfield entry, but not technically in canon with or requiring any knowledge of that 'verse (in as much as anything can be canon in a 'verse where every entry is an AU to the last one). So basically, if you want to read it as a Godzilla or Pacific Rim crossover, or just assume that giant kaiju can exist within the Buffyverse, that should work too.
Title: Working in the Pain Mine
Author: Beer Good (beer_good_foamy)
Fandom: Buffyverse, post-series
Rating: PG13
Word count: ~1500
Summary: A giant lizard monster is rampaging across the land. Five Slayers ponder life as they work in shifts to kill it.
If it bleeds, we can kill it.
- "Dutch", Predator
Working in the Pain Mine
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
Buffy kept feeling like she should, well, appreciate this more. Not to disparage all the other apocalypses she's stopped, but taking down (well, potentially) a mile-high lizard monster wading across the Pacific to stomp the western seaboard? That's a classic on a whole other level.
Though honestly, view aside - and most of it was clouds anyway - once the adrenaline started wearing off, and whenever the whole population of California just began feeling too abstract, it didn't feel like slaying, more like chopping wood. Funny how there were no ancient myths about woodcutters… or well, there were, she thought, but didn't they usually lead people they were responsible for out in the woods and leave them to die? She looked back at the others, less than a half-dozen girls up here with her, all looking to her to lead them, and then got back to it. Scythe in both hands, swinging it and slamming it down at the exact same spot on the creature's head again, and again, and again, and... After six hours, there was still not a single dent in the scales, and her arms and back were really starting to burn.
"Getting tired yet, B?"
"Nope." But she paused and took the water bottle Faith handed her, drinking deep as she looked east, hoping not to see land.
Faith grinned and squeezed Buffy's bicep like she was checking an avocado. "Way I figure, old age must be sapping your stamina. All that fancy training Giles put you through was all about short bursts, you've never had to go all night."
Buffy just glared at her, handed her the scythe and walked off to get some rest.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
After a few days of this, there were times when Faith forgot where she was and what she was doing. Her mind would go wandering while her muscles worked on autopilot and she'd find herself rehashing old things she should know by now to leave well enough alone. She wished she had her iPod, but that whateveritwas that took out everything electric when the creature rose up from the deeps didn't just down the world's air forces.
She supposed trying to get under B's skin was easier than getting under this goddamn… Clang. fucking… Clang. lizard's. Prison shrink would probably have something to say about her pushing people away, but a few hours ago this thing avoided LA and instead stomped right over Stockton Penitentiary and she probably had bigger problems right now.
She wondered if they'd evacuated the prison or if they'd left the scum to die. Her cell had faced west. Whoever was in it now would have seen it coming but couldn't have done jack shit about it. And here she was, the supposed atoner, chopping away uselessly at this thing that didn't even fucking notice -
Faith hadn't realised she was almost about to throw the scythe away when Kennedy grabbed it, steadying her. "Hey. You OK?"
"Peachy." Faith spat at the spot they'd all been chopping away at. "Heard from your girlfriend? Any time she feels like turning this thing into a frog, that's fine by me."
"Yeah, apparently there's a conservation of mass issue. A million tons of frog wouldn't necessarily be an improvement. Besides, she's got her hands full keeping us safe up here." She gestured at the vague shimmer around the lizard's giant head, the dome that kept them from falling off or getting brushed off by a whip of its tail. "Wanna trade for a minute?"
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
Kennedy had stopped teasing Faith about Buffy a few days ago. It didn't help anyone. She tried to take every shift they'd give her; even though her arms felt like they were going to fall off, chopping away at the creature's head with no obvious result was better than sitting with the others and staring down at the people far below, trying not to count, trying not to figure out which town was being flattened today.
"They look like ants from up here," she'd once said on Bring Your Daughter To Work Day in Dad's office on the 65th floor. He'd laughed and then gently reprimanded her; he might have worked his way up here by himself, but that didn't make him or her any bigger or more important than the people down there. When she was 15, she called him a hypocrite for that - after all, he'd chosen that office, and the soundproof glass around it, and the eight-foot fence around their house. She'd yelled at him that she didn't want to be like him, she wanted to actually make a difference.
Yeah. Sure, she thought now, like all those people down there in what used to be Wherever, Arizona simply never thought of that.
She redoubled her efforts until her arms screamed and her back felt like it was going to snap in half, until she had no choice but to hand it over to the next shift.
"You know," Vi said, "it might not go through New York."
"These things always go through New York," Kennedy muttered as she stumbled over to her blanket and fell asleep before she lay down.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
...three hundred ninety one, three hundred ninety two, three hundred ninety two, no, wait, three hundred… Damnit. What the hell was she doing up here?
Vi still couldn't quite believe that she was supposed to be part of this. She could usually push that feeling down, but these six-hour shifts chopping away at a giant lizard offered a lot of time to think and the doubt usually set in about the time she lost count. She glanced at the other women, sleeping exhausted or just sitting around waiting for their turn in the improvised camp on top of the lizard's head. (Also, she was pretty sure this ting wasn't technically a lizard, but "reptile" is an outdated term anyway so that was a battle she'd chosen to drop, just like the.issue of whether it was actually evil or just really really big and most definitely endangered, and...) But look at them. Total badasses, with angsty life stories and battle scars and reasons to fight, and who was she? Just a middle-class nobody from Ohio who got saddled with superpowers by accident.
She wished Dawn was here. She could talk to her about stuff like that.
Instead, she ducked her head down and kept chopping, tried not to draw too much attention to herself, tried not to show how much her arms hurt after a few hours. Three hundred… uh… let's say four hundred seventeen, four hundred eighteen… In a way, she was happy to hand over to someone who never asked any questions.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
The others always had to watch when Dana stepped up to do her shift. Partly to make sure she didn't hurt herself or anyone else, but also because it was almost impossible to look away. At first, they'd been afraid she'd simply drop the scythe or throw it away, but that didn't seem to be a problem; she would grip it like a lifeline, white knuckles, as if a hundred Slayers at once grabbed it with her hands, all wishing they'd had it in their final fight. Then she'd start chopping furiously, switching stance any time she seemed to grow tired, even switching from right- to left-handed. Early on, someone joked that they should just let her take every shift, but she was still only one person and even preternaturally empowered bodies are just made of muscle tissue, sinews and bone. Not feeling pain wouldn't change that.
She only ever let Buffy take over after her. Nobody had told Buffy how creepy it was, the way Dana seemed to know without turning around exactly when Buffy rose from her blanket to take her turn, the way she would mirror Buffy's movements perfectly when she handed over the scythe. If Buffy saw it - how could she not? - she didn't let on, just thanked Dana and started her shift.
Clang. Clang. Thud.
They were somewhere high over Kentucky, more than a week into it. Buffy paused when the scythe stuck, a fraction of an inch into the thick hide of the creature. When she yanked it loose, a few droplets of blood glittered in the morning sun and the creature gave an annoyed grunt. She looked at the others, who stood around her, feeling brand-new adrenaline rush through their arms.
"Alright then."
She raised the scythe and struck again.
Title: Working in the Pain Mine
Author: Beer Good (
beer_good_foamy)Fandom: Buffyverse, post-series
Rating: PG13
Word count: ~1500
Summary: A giant lizard monster is rampaging across the land. Five Slayers ponder life as they work in shifts to kill it.
If it bleeds, we can kill it.
- "Dutch", Predator
Working in the Pain Mine
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
Buffy kept feeling like she should, well, appreciate this more. Not to disparage all the other apocalypses she's stopped, but taking down (well, potentially) a mile-high lizard monster wading across the Pacific to stomp the western seaboard? That's a classic on a whole other level.
Though honestly, view aside - and most of it was clouds anyway - once the adrenaline started wearing off, and whenever the whole population of California just began feeling too abstract, it didn't feel like slaying, more like chopping wood. Funny how there were no ancient myths about woodcutters… or well, there were, she thought, but didn't they usually lead people they were responsible for out in the woods and leave them to die? She looked back at the others, less than a half-dozen girls up here with her, all looking to her to lead them, and then got back to it. Scythe in both hands, swinging it and slamming it down at the exact same spot on the creature's head again, and again, and again, and... After six hours, there was still not a single dent in the scales, and her arms and back were really starting to burn.
"Getting tired yet, B?"
"Nope." But she paused and took the water bottle Faith handed her, drinking deep as she looked east, hoping not to see land.
Faith grinned and squeezed Buffy's bicep like she was checking an avocado. "Way I figure, old age must be sapping your stamina. All that fancy training Giles put you through was all about short bursts, you've never had to go all night."
Buffy just glared at her, handed her the scythe and walked off to get some rest.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
After a few days of this, there were times when Faith forgot where she was and what she was doing. Her mind would go wandering while her muscles worked on autopilot and she'd find herself rehashing old things she should know by now to leave well enough alone. She wished she had her iPod, but that whateveritwas that took out everything electric when the creature rose up from the deeps didn't just down the world's air forces.
She supposed trying to get under B's skin was easier than getting under this goddamn… Clang. fucking… Clang. lizard's. Prison shrink would probably have something to say about her pushing people away, but a few hours ago this thing avoided LA and instead stomped right over Stockton Penitentiary and she probably had bigger problems right now.
She wondered if they'd evacuated the prison or if they'd left the scum to die. Her cell had faced west. Whoever was in it now would have seen it coming but couldn't have done jack shit about it. And here she was, the supposed atoner, chopping away uselessly at this thing that didn't even fucking notice -
Faith hadn't realised she was almost about to throw the scythe away when Kennedy grabbed it, steadying her. "Hey. You OK?"
"Peachy." Faith spat at the spot they'd all been chopping away at. "Heard from your girlfriend? Any time she feels like turning this thing into a frog, that's fine by me."
"Yeah, apparently there's a conservation of mass issue. A million tons of frog wouldn't necessarily be an improvement. Besides, she's got her hands full keeping us safe up here." She gestured at the vague shimmer around the lizard's giant head, the dome that kept them from falling off or getting brushed off by a whip of its tail. "Wanna trade for a minute?"
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
Kennedy had stopped teasing Faith about Buffy a few days ago. It didn't help anyone. She tried to take every shift they'd give her; even though her arms felt like they were going to fall off, chopping away at the creature's head with no obvious result was better than sitting with the others and staring down at the people far below, trying not to count, trying not to figure out which town was being flattened today.
"They look like ants from up here," she'd once said on Bring Your Daughter To Work Day in Dad's office on the 65th floor. He'd laughed and then gently reprimanded her; he might have worked his way up here by himself, but that didn't make him or her any bigger or more important than the people down there. When she was 15, she called him a hypocrite for that - after all, he'd chosen that office, and the soundproof glass around it, and the eight-foot fence around their house. She'd yelled at him that she didn't want to be like him, she wanted to actually make a difference.
Yeah. Sure, she thought now, like all those people down there in what used to be Wherever, Arizona simply never thought of that.
She redoubled her efforts until her arms screamed and her back felt like it was going to snap in half, until she had no choice but to hand it over to the next shift.
"You know," Vi said, "it might not go through New York."
"These things always go through New York," Kennedy muttered as she stumbled over to her blanket and fell asleep before she lay down.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
...three hundred ninety one, three hundred ninety two, three hundred ninety two, no, wait, three hundred… Damnit. What the hell was she doing up here?
Vi still couldn't quite believe that she was supposed to be part of this. She could usually push that feeling down, but these six-hour shifts chopping away at a giant lizard offered a lot of time to think and the doubt usually set in about the time she lost count. She glanced at the other women, sleeping exhausted or just sitting around waiting for their turn in the improvised camp on top of the lizard's head. (Also, she was pretty sure this ting wasn't technically a lizard, but "reptile" is an outdated term anyway so that was a battle she'd chosen to drop, just like the.issue of whether it was actually evil or just really really big and most definitely endangered, and...) But look at them. Total badasses, with angsty life stories and battle scars and reasons to fight, and who was she? Just a middle-class nobody from Ohio who got saddled with superpowers by accident.
She wished Dawn was here. She could talk to her about stuff like that.
Instead, she ducked her head down and kept chopping, tried not to draw too much attention to herself, tried not to show how much her arms hurt after a few hours. Three hundred… uh… let's say four hundred seventeen, four hundred eighteen… In a way, she was happy to hand over to someone who never asked any questions.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
The others always had to watch when Dana stepped up to do her shift. Partly to make sure she didn't hurt herself or anyone else, but also because it was almost impossible to look away. At first, they'd been afraid she'd simply drop the scythe or throw it away, but that didn't seem to be a problem; she would grip it like a lifeline, white knuckles, as if a hundred Slayers at once grabbed it with her hands, all wishing they'd had it in their final fight. Then she'd start chopping furiously, switching stance any time she seemed to grow tired, even switching from right- to left-handed. Early on, someone joked that they should just let her take every shift, but she was still only one person and even preternaturally empowered bodies are just made of muscle tissue, sinews and bone. Not feeling pain wouldn't change that.
She only ever let Buffy take over after her. Nobody had told Buffy how creepy it was, the way Dana seemed to know without turning around exactly when Buffy rose from her blanket to take her turn, the way she would mirror Buffy's movements perfectly when she handed over the scythe. If Buffy saw it - how could she not? - she didn't let on, just thanked Dana and started her shift.
Clang. Clang. Thud.
They were somewhere high over Kentucky, more than a week into it. Buffy paused when the scythe stuck, a fraction of an inch into the thick hide of the creature. When she yanked it loose, a few droplets of blood glittered in the morning sun and the creature gave an annoyed grunt. She looked at the others, who stood around her, feeling brand-new adrenaline rush through their arms.
"Alright then."
She raised the scythe and struck again.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
And true, though I like to think in this case there is a win at some point - it takes a long time for the drop of water to hollow out the stone, but it gets there eventually.
no subject
no subject
I can never not write Faith and Buffy without some UST. (Or... maybe one negation more or less in that sentence, but... Oh, you get the drift.)