BtVS: "Cry Cry What Shall I Cry?"
Oct. 21st, 2005 04:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alixtiiTitle: Cry Cry What Shall I Cry?
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters: Lydia Chalmers, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Lorne
Timeline/Spoilers: After “Never Leave Me,” but before AtS’s “Awakening.” Spoilers for “Never Leave Me” and "Long Day's Journey."
Word Count: 800+
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After being visited by the First Evil (in A Questionable Shape), Lydia travels to L.A. to find out why she survived the destruction of the Watcher's Council.
Author’s Notes: Part of The Watcher’s Diaries of Lydia Chalmers for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanfic100. The prompt is #074, “Dark.” Title from T.S. Eliot's "Coriolan."
Cry Cry What Shall I Cry?
Lydia held her cross tightly as she made her way through the darkness. With the sun blotted out in L.A., people had been leaving in hordes, and the place had become overrampant with vampires and other demons who enjoyed the constant cover of darkness. But what she needed was in L.A. She would have braved as many hordes of demons as necessary in order to find out what she needed to know.
Here was the building she wanted: the Hyperion Hotel. She entered.
And who should she see but Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. She should have known this wasn't going to be easy. "Lydia," he greeted her without any warmth.
"Wesley," she echoed in the same intonation. For a moment, they just looked daggers at each other, and then Wesley spoke.
"As you can see," he said, "we are far too busy right now for the Council to interfere. We have a . . . situation on our hands."
"An apocalypse," Lydia corrected.
Wesley nodded, accepting the term.
"The Council is gone, Wesley. Destroyed," she told him. "Haven't you heard?"
Wesley looked back at her, in shock. Then he seemed to gain control of himself and his features regained their granite impassivity. "As I said, we have been busy, Lydia."
Still, Lydia could the see the question which played across his face, as impassive as he tried to make it. And the struggle he was going through to not ask it.
So Lydia answered it for him. "Your father is fine. He wasn't in the Council building when it blew." Wesley didn't say a word, just looked at her expectantly, to explain her own presence. "But I was. I was standing mere feet away from Quentin Travers, and now there is nothing left of him but dust and ash. He was vaporized in the force of the explosion. All of them—destroyed utterly. Except me."
"And you want to know why you were saved."
"Krevlornswath, he's here. I need to see the Anagogic."
"He's not seeing clients currently. As I said, we have other concerns that—"
"Wesley," she let her voice display some of the desperation she felt, "I need to know. I came all the way from London, through that interminable darkness out there, to find out. You can't turn me away, now."
"Don't worry, sweetcheeks," came a voice from the stairs. "Ol' Wes won't turn you away. After all, we help the helpless. That's what we do, isn't it?" Lydia turned with relief to see the green-skinned demon descending from the steps.
"Miss Chalmers is most certainly not helpless," Wesley pointed out.
"Sure, but everybody needs a little extra help sometime, right? Why don't you sing a little something for me?"
Lydia nodded, with relief, and began to sing in a soft voice which came from her lower registers:
"My mentor," Lydia explained.
"Well, I can't tell you why you lived and this Quentin chap died. Why the Powers choose who they choose—not my business. All I know is they have plans for you, and they didn't involve you blowing up in a building with a bunch of stuffy British guys. No offense to you or Wes."
"None taken," said Wes as he continued to do whatever he had been doing.
"And what are those plans?" Lydia insisted. "Do they want to use me for good, or ill?"
"Well, that's where you come in," explained the demon. "A pesky little thing humans have. It's called free will. You want my advice, don't go around looking gift horses in the mouth. Sometimes, they bite. You're alive—take advantage of it." Suddenly, he turned somber. "It's been coming to you, hasn't it?"
Lydia nodded. "The First Evil. It's been taking his form. Telling me—" She paused, then began to speak again. "He told me that he's what saved me. That I was going to destroy the world. Is it true?"
Lorne looked pained. "Look, I don't know exactly who it was upstairs that engineered your little not-dying thing. But if it was this First Evil, it's up to you to make sure that it gets more than it bargained for." He sighed. "You know, I think you would benefit from a talk with the broody guy."
A Watcher taking council from a vampire? It was absurd. To her surprise, however, she found herself agreeing. She wasn't a Watcher anymore, anyway, and her world had already been turned upside down.
"Where is he?" she asked. "Take me to him."
"One Tin Soldier" lyrics and music by Dennis Lambert and Brian Potter. Download the song.
Go to The Watcher's Diary of Lydia Chalmers masterlist.
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters: Lydia Chalmers, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, Lorne
Timeline/Spoilers: After “Never Leave Me,” but before AtS’s “Awakening.” Spoilers for “Never Leave Me” and "Long Day's Journey."
Word Count: 800+
Rating: PG-13
Summary: After being visited by the First Evil (in A Questionable Shape), Lydia travels to L.A. to find out why she survived the destruction of the Watcher's Council.
Author’s Notes: Part of The Watcher’s Diaries of Lydia Chalmers for
fanfic100. The prompt is #074, “Dark.” Title from T.S. Eliot's "Coriolan."Cry Cry What Shall I Cry?
Lydia held her cross tightly as she made her way through the darkness. With the sun blotted out in L.A., people had been leaving in hordes, and the place had become overrampant with vampires and other demons who enjoyed the constant cover of darkness. But what she needed was in L.A. She would have braved as many hordes of demons as necessary in order to find out what she needed to know.
Here was the building she wanted: the Hyperion Hotel. She entered.
And who should she see but Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. She should have known this wasn't going to be easy. "Lydia," he greeted her without any warmth.
"Wesley," she echoed in the same intonation. For a moment, they just looked daggers at each other, and then Wesley spoke.
"As you can see," he said, "we are far too busy right now for the Council to interfere. We have a . . . situation on our hands."
"An apocalypse," Lydia corrected.
Wesley nodded, accepting the term.
"The Council is gone, Wesley. Destroyed," she told him. "Haven't you heard?"
Wesley looked back at her, in shock. Then he seemed to gain control of himself and his features regained their granite impassivity. "As I said, we have been busy, Lydia."
Still, Lydia could the see the question which played across his face, as impassive as he tried to make it. And the struggle he was going through to not ask it.
So Lydia answered it for him. "Your father is fine. He wasn't in the Council building when it blew." Wesley didn't say a word, just looked at her expectantly, to explain her own presence. "But I was. I was standing mere feet away from Quentin Travers, and now there is nothing left of him but dust and ash. He was vaporized in the force of the explosion. All of them—destroyed utterly. Except me."
"And you want to know why you were saved."
"Krevlornswath, he's here. I need to see the Anagogic."
"He's not seeing clients currently. As I said, we have other concerns that—"
"Wesley," she let her voice display some of the desperation she felt, "I need to know. I came all the way from London, through that interminable darkness out there, to find out. You can't turn me away, now."
"Don't worry, sweetcheeks," came a voice from the stairs. "Ol' Wes won't turn you away. After all, we help the helpless. That's what we do, isn't it?" Lydia turned with relief to see the green-skinned demon descending from the steps.
"Miss Chalmers is most certainly not helpless," Wesley pointed out.
"Sure, but everybody needs a little extra help sometime, right? Why don't you sing a little something for me?"
Lydia nodded, with relief, and began to sing in a soft voice which came from her lower registers:
Go ahead and hate your neighbour.The demon nodded. "Classic survivor guilt. The Powers intervene to save your life, and you wonder 'why me?'. Why not—Quentin Travers?"
Go ahead and cheat a friend.
Do it in the name of Heaven;
You can justify it in the end.
There won't be any trumpets blowing
Come that Judgment Day,
But the bloody morning after—
One tin soldier walks away.
"My mentor," Lydia explained.
"Well, I can't tell you why you lived and this Quentin chap died. Why the Powers choose who they choose—not my business. All I know is they have plans for you, and they didn't involve you blowing up in a building with a bunch of stuffy British guys. No offense to you or Wes."
"None taken," said Wes as he continued to do whatever he had been doing.
"And what are those plans?" Lydia insisted. "Do they want to use me for good, or ill?"
"Well, that's where you come in," explained the demon. "A pesky little thing humans have. It's called free will. You want my advice, don't go around looking gift horses in the mouth. Sometimes, they bite. You're alive—take advantage of it." Suddenly, he turned somber. "It's been coming to you, hasn't it?"
Lydia nodded. "The First Evil. It's been taking his form. Telling me—" She paused, then began to speak again. "He told me that he's what saved me. That I was going to destroy the world. Is it true?"
Lorne looked pained. "Look, I don't know exactly who it was upstairs that engineered your little not-dying thing. But if it was this First Evil, it's up to you to make sure that it gets more than it bargained for." He sighed. "You know, I think you would benefit from a talk with the broody guy."
A Watcher taking council from a vampire? It was absurd. To her surprise, however, she found herself agreeing. She wasn't a Watcher anymore, anyway, and her world had already been turned upside down.
"Where is he?" she asked. "Take me to him."
"One Tin Soldier" lyrics and music by Dennis Lambert and Brian Potter. Download the song.
Go to The Watcher's Diary of Lydia Chalmers masterlist.
