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[Frak!]
Years ago Spike warned her about bad days. She hasn’t forgotten his lesson. In fact, it is currently first and foremost on her mind. Mostly because at the moment, she’s being beaten within an inch of her life. Her head strikes the concrete hard enough to send a crack ringing through her brain. She’s not certain if it’s her skull that cracked or the concrete but everything is black and swimmy so she’s not real sure it matters.
Coming too while sailing through the air? Not the best feeling in the world. Any and all lingering fogginess dissipates when she strikes a support beam, ribs cracking in protest. She hears the clatter of metal against concrete as she thumps to the floor. Her eyes crack open just in time to see the massive vampire scooping her scythe up from the floor. She pushes herself up and pain rips through her body, her arm gives out underneath her and witty puns—or not so witty as the case may be—are all that she’s got left.
“I’ll get you my pretty and your little dog too,” she rasps, lying prone on the concrete as she watches the vampire disappear with her scythe.
Her eyes are crusted with something dry. She thinks maybe its blood but she opens them anyway. The warehouse is pitch dark which means she’s been here for a while. Fantastic. Her body seems a little more willing to cooperate after a nice power nap. Her body screams as she forces herself to her feet and drags her way out of the building. Her left arm is broken along with a few ribs and she thinks maybe she cracked a hipbone. She cradles her arm to her chest and opts to take the subway home. She’s got to get it splint, let it heal a little bit and get her damn scythe back.
Years ago Spike warned her about bad days. She hasn’t forgotten his lesson. In fact, it is currently first and foremost on her mind. Mostly because at the moment, she’s being beaten within an inch of her life. Her head strikes the concrete hard enough to send a crack ringing through her brain. She’s not certain if it’s her skull that cracked or the concrete but everything is black and swimmy so she’s not real sure it matters.
Cats always land on their feet.
It’s a Willow-esque bit of trivia but Buffy isn’t sure she heard it from Willow. Wonder if that makes me a cat? she thinks as she lands lightly on her feet in a feline crouch. She moves fluidly to straighten up. The idea is not to disturb the pack of hopefully sleeping vampires. The hopefully sleeping vampires that are nowhere to be found in the previously confirmed vamp nest.
Her first thought is that Cady and Gabe have already been here but there’s no sign of a struggle to support that thought and she knows that this nest is a little ambitious for Cady and Gabe. She rests the sharpened tip of the scythe on the ground, fingers loosely curved around the shaft of the slayer scythe. She doesn’t take it on all her patrols, just on the ones when she needs that little extra bit.
“Hello?” she calls out, glancing around the empty, empty warehouse. “You know, it’s incredibly rude to keep a girl waiting.”
The warehouse is still incredibly empty when her stomach lurches and a wave of dizziness makes her sway.
Coming too while sailing through the air? Not the best feeling in the world. Any and all lingering fogginess dissipates when she strikes a support beam, ribs cracking in protest. She hears the clatter of metal against concrete as she thumps to the floor. Her eyes crack open just in time to see the massive vampire scooping her scythe up from the floor. She pushes herself up and pain rips through her body, her arm gives out underneath her and witty puns—or not so witty as the case may be—are all that she’s got left.
“I’ll get you my pretty and your little dog too,” she rasps, lying prone on the concrete as she watches the vampire disappear with her scythe.
”Really, Buffy…must I tell you everything?”
Giles’ voice sounds in her ears and she knows he’s not there but she listens anyway.
“Maybe?” she squeaks. The whisper sounds loud inside the warehouse but it doesn’t matter because Roid Vamp is gone, gone, gone. She giggles at her own joke then winces because it hurts to laugh. That’s when she realizes it hurts to breathe and moving is so very out of the question.
“You must get up, Buffy.”
“Mustn’t,” she mouths more than speaks the word.
“Buffy…”
“I know…dire torment, bad omens, death and apocalypse,” Buffy sighs which causes another wince. “Yay. My own personal Mickey.Kay…getting up.”
Her eyes are crusted with something dry. She thinks maybe its blood but she opens them anyway. The warehouse is pitch dark which means she’s been here for a while. Fantastic. Her body seems a little more willing to cooperate after a nice power nap. Her body screams as she forces herself to her feet and drags her way out of the building. Her left arm is broken along with a few ribs and she thinks maybe she cracked a hipbone. She cradles her arm to her chest and opts to take the subway home. She’s got to get it splint, let it heal a little bit and get her damn scythe back.
