THE LEGACY OF MEMORY ; Scream

Chapter Twenty-Three / So Who's Afraid?

“Always gotta shoot ‘em in the head.”

With the barrel against Quinn's head the gun is fired off.  She doesn't have to look to know the damage.

Wayne's scream says it all.

Her fist unfurls from now dampened hair.  The body drops,  the same form Amber finally took last year,  and Ellie distantly wonders how badly this blood will stain her mirrors until the truth of the matter sinks into her veins.

Whoever fucks with her family isn't human.  What becomes of them is of their own accord.

In the aftermath of Amber she had stood,  bloodied and bruised and beaten by her own insistence for justice, between two of her girls.  Buffy held Sidney's gun and Tara clutched Mom's,  two guns pointed to one grave.

Ellie-Marie knew Amber wouldn't be getting back up.  She'd made sure of it after her ultimate failure.

That didn't stop her sigh of relief when she saw dual bullets enter her skull.  She'd watched silently as the terror of Amber Freeman came to an abrupt,  violent,  unceremonious end.

She felt guilty for her lack of remorse.  It was easy to accept what she'd always known; of course she'd kill someone for her family.  They matter more than any morality she upholds.  What she had feared was them seeing her in a similar light to the true evil behind it all, soaked in blood down to her glittering heart.  With time and continued company,  it did become easier to bury such a fear.

It's nice to not feel it now.

“ELLIE!”

Her name breaks through the crimson painted haze that's settled around her.

And it hits.

There's pain that blisters through her hip,  bolstering an award for second place- who would have known her original scars would pale in full-scale comparison?-  as she forces herself to turn, one hand pressing against her open wound like she's trying to hold herself together.  She's undoubtedly a mess now,  predictably soaked in blood that has become less hers than it was Quinn's,  but-

“Thank fuck!” 

It's the only warning she gets before there are arms around her.  She recognizes the feeling like sunflowers recognize warmth,  melting into Tara's touch with a choked sound.  Words are useless now,  she thinks.  There's no honest way to claim she is fine or declare that she's painless.  All she can do is sink into the touch she calls home and close her eyes,  reluctant to settle entirely against Tara in fear of staining her with a battle she shouldn't have faced in the first place.

“Thank fuck,”  Tara breathes out again, bowing her head against Ellie's shoulder.  “I thought-I thought I lost you there,  Sunshine.”

She's not feeling very sunshine-y right now.  She's feeling very ouchie,  actually,  but that's a problem for later.

A problem for when she doesn't hear a gun cocking.

It's from above.  Ellie-Marie can practically feel her years of preparation controlling her movements as she pulls from Tara's hold.  She's come this far and she's already taken another life,  she won't let Tara be next.

Neither will Sam.

She sees it the moment Tara does,  the rage click in the eyes of their fearless leader before she surges forward, tackling with a scream that could count as demonic in a world that isn't already plagued with them.  It feels like slow motion,  watching the two fall in a way nearly identical to how Ellie just did.

She can hear Tara scream.  She can hear Rory yelling.  She can hear it all.

But she can't think of anything besides ‘It's about to finally be over’.