deercountry | 13 . autumn catch-all

Plenty of them to start with.

[ It's said as resignation, flat as all the rest. His eyes catch on the coming corpses, and something twists across his face: surprise, then a fleeting and darkening anger, at the new additions there.

The first among them is a girl with a shock of red hair, pinned up like a crucifixion. The birds have taken her eyes. ]

... But I haven't been taking the number down, lately. July wasn't my best showing.

[Willow manages a small nod, and she puts her focus back on the water directly in front of the bow of their little boat instead of the shore, deliberately trying to avoid looking at the bodies on display. She now knows some of the people he associates with, at least in passing, and she does not want to see them here.]

Yeah. I remember - I had some of my own too.

[Her shoulders remain tense - she wants to be here this time about as much as she wanted to be here a year ago, even if perhaps the reasons are different. Hearing him acknowledge July helps at least a little.]

Yeah. It wasn't exactly my best month either. I think the same can be said for a lot of us.

[ He tips his head like noncommittal acknowledgment, makes a rueful noise. ]

I'll admit, this kind of thing [ and he tilts his hand to the scenery, to Gideon's pointedly mounted body ] feels more than a little like rubbing it in... like I lost the fight, and now I'll pay for it.

[ But here they are doing confessions, and he likes Willow, genuinely. She's a good kid. So he looks at her, properly— with something deeply tired settling into the hollows of his eyes— and says: ]

For what it's worth, I'm sorry for kicking off your very bad no-good July. My fights always do seem to spill out of bounds... get a lot of kids caught up in the crossfire.

[ His fights are nothing but crossfire. He's aware. ]

[Her gaze follows his gesture to land on Gideon's remains, and she regrets immediately. It's not as though she knows Gideon particularly well; they've only had a couple passing encounters, but she still doesn't want to see her like that.

Willow sighs, and chooses to put her focus on him instead, and inclines her head slightly in acknowledgement of the offered apology. It helps.]

I think things were going bad before that, that was just the tipping point. I just didn't see it coming. I never should have let you try to fix the wolfwalking thing for me in the first place. I should've known letting someone mess with your soul would end badly.

A lot of people got hurt or killed because of me. Some of them were people I cared about, and our house got burned down on top of that. Trust me, there's no shortage of things I'm sorry for too.

[ I should've known letting someone mess with your soul would end badly, she says, and his expression twists wry. John exhales a low breath, reaches up to rub fingers over his weary face. ]

Not a great month all around, then.

[ The familiar faces keep coming, different from the last time: Paul's body is weathered and in bad shape. Kaworu's is picked down to the bone. Even Faith's corpse has crows on her shoulders, gore smeared across her mouth and dried into her dark hair. ]

[Whether Faith is there because of him or her, Willow is unsure, but she regrets it immediately when the flutter of the crows' wings draw her gaze to the corpse. She startles, rocking the boat, and it's with no small effort she has to remind herself that none of this is real; that it's all some sick illusion of Never Mind's before she can steady herself again.]

No. I, uh. Um. Faith got dragged into it too. I died. Again. Because that was the only way she and Ozpin could get me to stop.

[ It's perversely disappointing that she doesn't even try to rip into him for all the shit he kicked off, and that he knows she won't be riled against the Pthumerians, either. There is nothing in this boat but quiet, listless misery at their own assorted failures.

Bleak as hell, honestly. He could say: I know the feeling. He could say: It's never gotten me to stop. ]

It's not a great club. Me and Ford traded disintegrations, did you hear? Messy stuff.

[ That's leaving aside the assassination and the Pthumerian on his ass. ]

[It's hard to rally much fury over July at this point. Fueled by Corruption, she had been more focused on being grateful for the return of her magic, and not having to worry about wolfwalking. In the aftermath, there's no one she blames more than herself.

It's hard to even summon much anger at the murder of Ford in a month where she was responsible for a number of deaths herself, and even more injuries.]

Yeah. I heard about that. He thought I was going to come after you myself at first.

Glad you didn't. [ He says this like it's small talk, like it's an almost funny bullet for them to have dodged. ] This'd be an even more awkward boat ride.

[ The water has gone red and unpleasant around their boat: it blooms with the oil of human fat, with thin strips of skin and scalped hair. This does not rattle him. But in the distance and now approaching are familiar bodies, the bodies of last time: a woman with peach-colored hair, darkened along the back with terrible gore; Augustine, tall and grave and ghost-pale in death; and a woman strung up to rot, her hair darkened from gold to an ugly wet brown with decay.

His expression draws tighter and more tired, at the sight. ]

Yeah... I think we both have enough regrets already.

[It would have ended badly, that much she's certain of, and she would have far more reason to be angry with him than she already does.]

Still, I probably would have eventually. I - I don't think I would've stopped on my own. It looked like you already had a pretty extensive parade of people looking for vengeance already, though.

[Willow may not have commented on any of the network posts that went up about the matter, but she did notice them upon her return. Just with all the chaos around her at the time, it seemed better to leave it alone.

She pulls her hand away from the side of the boat as the water turns. They've seen this before - they've seen all of this before, even if some of the faces are different this time around. It still doesn't make it any less horrible, and she draws a sharp breath.]

We're talking about the things we regret, why is this still getting worse?

[ He tips his head in agreement like this declaration doesn't bother him, and breathes an amused noise at a pretty extensive parade of people. No argument there. Still the water reddens and worsens around them, and John reaches up a hand to rub at the crease between his eyes.

He exhales a huff of irritation. He gives up. ]

It isn't enough of a confession to satisfy. We already know you would've come for me... and, not to talk myself up, that you probably wouldn't have won. [ There is no humor in his smile. ] Nothing personal. I am very good at killing people... Maybe the best. High score, you know?

[ He tips his hand to the banks, to his beloved's body on the shore, and his throat works with a hard swallow: there is a great and distant fury in him, hard behind his smile. He's so fucking tired. ]

Stopping has never been one of my skills, either. I've had a few people tell me that. Even the people who really mattered.

[It's fortunate, Willow thinks, that at the time she was still grateful enough to not have to worry about wolfwalking, and having her use of magic back that she didn't hold any real malice towards him by the time Faith and Ozpin stopped her. It still would have come later, she suspects. Probably after she had found a way to kill Chara.]

Yeah. I saw what you said on the network. That's still kind of a weird thing to brag about.

[She glances towards the bank and immediately regrets it. Is she ever tired of seeing horrifying bodies on the shore.]

Ever try to destroy the whole world because you didn't know when to stop?

[ It was mostly a joke, he wants to tell her, but he's halted by the question. Everything drops out of him, the building anger and the bitter smile both: he goes empty, goes remote. For a moment there is nothing but the soft sound of water against the sides of their boat.

He looks up to meet her eyes, her bright green to his inhuman black. He says, very deliberately, soft and low: ]

Ever succeed?

[It explains a lot, given the state of the river the last time they were here, and she's not sure why the response comes as a surprise but somehow it still does. Willow's eyebrows raise and for a moment, she's at a loss for words.]

Why did you do it?

[ He exhales a low breath and settles back against the side of the boat, which sends water slapping the wood again. It's pretty bad water, by this point.

There is a moment's silence, just water, and then he says: ]

The planet was most of the way gone already. That wasn't me. It was slow... the last agonal breathing, the death rattle dragging out forever... I was just the guy to pull the plug.

[ That's what he's been telling everyone for a long time now, anyway. ]

Fire and rebirth, like a phoenix. We rebuilt in the ashes. We made something new.

[Willow has helped prevent far too many apocalypses to see it as the mercy killing he is trying to present it as. The fact that he was not up front with any of them about what he was planning when they went out to sea certainly doesn't give her much reason to trust he's telling the entire truth this time either.

She's quiet for a long moment as she studies him, as though trying to determine whether or not he's being genuine in his explanation. Even if he is, it's hard to accept after so many years in Sunnydale, preventing the world from ending so many times. At least she regrets it when it was almost her that brought about the end herself. At least she doesn't think it was justified.]

That wasn't your decision to make. Do you regret it?

[ He's heard that one before. ]

There wasn't much to save. That window closed. We had our chance, and we lost it.

[ He says it with great and distant certainty, like he's said the sky is blue. This is a fact of reality, the ground under his feet. Still: when he looks at her again, he wears the worst attempt at a smile ever known to man. There is some great and still pain held in the tension at the edges of his eyes, his mouth, near to breaking. ]

But what's the theme of the river, right? There are always what-ifs.

Where I came from, something was always trying to end the world. It was practically an annual event. We always managed to stop it. Even when it looked really bad.

[Maybe his world could have been salvageable, it's impossible to say. It's too late to determine that now, though. Perhaps seated there in the boat, trying to pretend he's certain he's done the right thing when his expression makes it so painfully clear he's anything but, is not the time to torment him with the endless possibilities.]

Would you do it again?

[ He exhales a hah and shuts his eyes, lets some of what's in his face get put carefully away. Around them, the river is red and thick and hideous. ]

Yours were probably more exciting. Gods and demons and portals, right?

[ There is no humor in his smile. He wears it like ripped bandages over a wound. ]

Better than letting her die slow. If I could do it all over again... I wouldn't miss our chance.

Yeah. Gods, demons, portals. Ultimate evil, last time I was home. And I don't mean me.

[Willow exhales a slow breath. So he says he has regrets, and what ifs, but given the chance... he'd change nothing. It's a lot to swallow.

She's trying her best not to look at the water, or the shore, and instead keeps her focus on him.]

So. If you'd do it again, you don't really regret doing it in the first place, do you? So what are you leaving out?

[She gestures vaguely behind to worsening scene around them.]

We both know how this works, and I don't think either one of us wants to be stuck here much longer. You may as well just say it.

[ The idea of Willow as ultimate evil is laughable to him, but he doesn't crack a joke about it. He reaches up to rub the heels of his hands over his eyes, and never mind how it jostles the boat and sloshes the blood around them. ]

You misunderstand.

[ He drops his hands and looks at her, exhausted. ]

It was the only option left. [ He says this with hard and vicious determination, without a moment's give. ] We made the best - I made the best - I had to do it. But we could've caught it earlier... we could've kept our escape routes... I could have killed the motherfuckers who put us in that corner, and I could've made it count.

Of course I regret it. [ His voice has dropped so low, backed only by the shuffle of crows' wings as they feast. ] I have spent ten thousand years trying to make it right. Trying to finish this fucking fight, even when no one else is left to remember.

You know the sad thing? I envy you the demon portals. [ He sits back, decisive and disgusted with himself. ] All we had was flooding and nukes.

[Willow sighs. It's horrifying, of course. Most of what John does is, at the very least, mildly horrifying. Clearly, he's convinced that destroying the world was the only possible route to take, and she doesn't think anything she can say will convince him otherwise.]

How is there even still a fight now? The world was destroyed, and if there's no one left to remember it... who's still fighting?

[She draws a deep breath. The world ending through more mundane means, she's not sure she would have a solution for anyway. Nuclear weapons and floods are a little outside of her usual wheelhouse.]

Yeah, I guess I have to admit it. I'm not sure what we'd do if it was a less... supernatural type of apocalypse?

[ The question closes his expression to something still and bitter. For a moment, set into the blacks of his eyes, it's a frightening look. ]

The ones who left us there to die.

[ He sits back even as the horizon starts to fade. This little pocket world is crumbling around them, its toll paid and its purpose fulfilled. The sky is nothing but the abstract whirl of crow's wings. ]

You know the story of Noah and the ark? [ He tips his head to her, his eyes flat with unnatural light and with a great, horrible distance. His little smile does not touch those eyes at all. ] How pissed do you think Noah would've been if someone stole his boat?

[It's not directed at her, she assumes, but the situation. Still, the expression in John's eyes gives Willow pause as she considers his words. Probably better to step lightly here so it doesn't become directed at her.

She isn't going to push, but it sounds like he was going to destroy the world and ditch before he was destroyed right along with it. With the mention of Noah's ark, she assumes he had a selection of those he would save right along with him.]

Ohh, I can imagine. How did you even manage to survive?

We didn't.

[ They don't have long now; they speak under the rush of wingbeats. Good. He's done with this place. He'd been done with it the first time, back at the very start. ]

People act like this town is a clean slate, but I've seen a clean slate. Nobody got back up but me. I had to work it out from there, in the ashes... How can I say I regret it, right? After all that?

[ World of confessions, right? That's the trial, that's the task. So he looks at her, that bitter anger in his eyes, and says low and splintered: ] How can they expect me to start over?

13 . autumn catch-all

blanket cw for corpses, gore, etc

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cw: gore, Nona the Ninth spoilers

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