21/11/08

whattingawhat: (destructive)
["Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal." - Albert Camus]

In hindsight, she should have opted out of dinner when she broke the alarm clock that morning.

Buffy actually liked going to Danny’s parents house despite the fact that she and his father often looked like bears, bristled up to each other. Neither would dare attack but neither was backing down either. In some way, she was pretty sure his dad respected her for it and she could understand that. An opponent that backed down wasn’t much of one at all. His mom played peace keeper, fluttering in at just the right moment to call them to the table to hustle them into the living room for coffee and dessert.

She always felt like she was part of this here. It was the tension that sealed the deal. People were always fake!nice with people that didn’t fit. They were real when all the people involved belonged.

She thought maybe the night would be the thing that broke the string of things gone wrong that day—like the kid who’s nose she’d bloodied that afternoon in class or the phone receiver she’d shattered in her office. However, when she broke her wine glass at dinner, she realized this wasn’t the case. Red wine splashed everywhere and glassed embedded it in Buffy’s hand.

“oh God, I’m sorry,” she apologized as she stood up.

“Oh honey, you don’t have a thing to apologize for. Danny, you take her on in the bath and get her cleaned up. She might need stitches.”

“No, it’s not that deep,” Buffy reassured her. The last thing she wanted was to have stitches she’d wake up trying to pull out because the cuts had healed and the stitches were grown into her skin.
Danny led her by the wrist to the bathroom, cupping her hand in his until they got there. She sat up on the counter while Danny got out the first aid kit and started cleaning up her hand.

“You okay, Summers?”

Buffy nodded. “It’s just been one of those days. I’m having a hard time keeping super me under wraps.”

Danny turned her hand over and kissed her knuckles. He returned his attention to patching up her hand. If she’d been human, she probably would have needed stitches. As it was he pulled the bigger cut open with a butterfly bandage and put some bandaids on the others.

“There you go,” he told her as he leaned in and kissed her, grinning against her lips as he deepened it.

“Haven’t you heard, I’m breaking everything I touch today?” Buffy only half teased him as she hesitantly wound one arm around his neck and hooked one leg over his hip.

“I’ll take my chances, Sunshine,” he grinned as he pulled her closer.
whattingawhat: (she's a fighter)
A. Kill one person to save 1,000,000 others? (you are not allowed to kill yourself)

Hello? His name is Angel. Yeah. I have and I will again. I’m a slayer. We don’t the luxury of answering no to this question. I’m not saying it’s easy or that it ever gets easy. In fact, I hope it doesn’t ever get easy because then I think I become this monster and Monster Buffy? So not a desirable future for me or anyone. There are people I say no to. Dawn is never going to be an option.

B. Kill 1,000,000 people to save someone in particular? (you are not in danger in this instance)

Maybe. I know it makes me a bad slayer to say that. I know that the answer to this question should be absolutely not. I’ve lost way too many people I love to say no. If killing a million people would have saved Mom…I don’t know. I miss her. The thing is it’s never just about killing a million people. It’s who you become when you do something like that. For my Mom, I just might become that person.

Extra Credit question:

Would you sacrifice yourself in order to save 1,000,000 people even if they never learned your name?

Hello? I’m a slayer. Been there. Done that. It was called a swan dive from the top of a very tall tower. It’s called every single night since I was sixteen. Sometimes they say thank you. Most of the time they just run and I think it’s because they can’t figure out who the bad guy is because if the bad is scared of you, maybe you’re just a bigger bad guy. You know how wild animals can get into territorial disputes and completely ignore all the prey that’s scampering for high ground. So yeah, most of the time they don’t say thank you and they never my name.

But the monsters always do. What does that say about me?
whattingawhat: ([Shipper] Buffy/Danny sexy)
[“Not being able to sleep is terrible. You have the misery of having partied all night... without the satisfaction.” - Lynn Johnston]
Co-written with [livejournal.com profile] stillacrime and [livejournal.com profile] whattingawhat


Insomnia drove her from the apartment even though purple-black shadowed her eyes. She needed sleep but lying on her back staring at the ceiling made her even more exhausted. It was frustration blended with exhaustion and overriding it all was this need that scritched at everything inside of her. She couldn't explain that restless itch that rode just under her skin. Occasionally she could subdue it with meditation or tai chi. If that didn't work, sometimes she could pound it out against the punching bag. Tonight wasn't one of those nights; she just needed to slay. Vampires were never a shortage in New York City so she could indulge in the visceral feeling of bones cracking beneath her strength, bodies dusting in her wake. In some ways she even found comfort in the occasional blows she took. It was like they almost shocked some of the restlessness from her body. She didn't really have any concept of how late it was and while a tiny, instinctive ticker fueled by her internal competition kept track of her kills, she wasn't thinking about them. The funny thing about vampires was that they rarely knew when to run. The three that blocked the mouth of the alley were no exception. She bit her bottom lip to hide the feral smile the slayer in her pushed to the surface and took a step backwards. She liked throwing them off guard and letting them think they had the advantage as they swaggered toward her, attacking all once. She stopped trying to hide her smile and just enjoyed kicking their ass. Maybe it was cruel and unusual but it was also predatory and on the nights she couldn't sleep, the nights when the slayer was clawing to come out and play, she had no choice but to give over to the predator in her. If she were truthful with herself, she didn't want any other choice.

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Buffy Summers

August 2019

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