whattingawhat: ([BA] the space between)
[Discuss a place you go when you want to get away from it all]

Takes place in the middle of the storyline no no no at [livejournal.com profile] slayer_rehab

There is still dirt under her fingernails and a layer of grime across her skin but he doesn’t notice, doesn’t care doesn’tdoesn’tdoesn’t. They maintain a bubble of space don’tcrossdon’ttouchdon’tbreathe-don’tdon’tdon’t, circling like dancers in some elaborate ritual. He steps forward, she steps back, circling to the left while he follows circling to the right. They always come back to the same point, his eyes asking questions she’s never had answers to. The tension pops when he reaches out, fingers brushing her cheek and coming away smudged with dirt. She bites her bottom lip wanting to beg him no and then ask to stay.

“I’ve got some clean clothes you could-“

“My room is just down the hall, it’s not raining and I’m not cold. Besides, me in your clothes never works out that well for us.”

His nod is an apology—terse and slight as he shoves both hands back in his pockets. Excuses tremble on his lips but he doesn’t give voice to them. They wouldn’t matter—wouldn’t make sense; not for them. Now or ever. She forgets sometimes how well she knows him and wonders if she always has or this is something new. His brow furrows and she can see it written across his face. Why?. She shrugs in answer to the furrowed brow because she won’t tell him, can’t tell him and honestly, he already knows because he knew her so many years before she ever figured him out.

They stand that way, space maintained; his hands shoved in his pockets, her arms wrapped around her body as if she can hold the world together this way. She closes her eyes, listening as the building complains maybe mourning for the girls that won’t come home and maybe sighing because it’s less now—less noise, less responsibility, less and maybe closer to being done Iwasfinished. His fingertips are there against her cheek again and this time she doesn’t have the strength so she leans into the touch, letting the space fall like an executioner’s scythe. It all melts away and her arms are replaced with his, tension still there—the last defense against…against things she can’t even name anymore because they don’t matter, they don’t count and they didn’t then. They were just—

Itsjustfortonight.Itdoesn’tmean-

iknow

The only tears she’ll shed come in the form of melting against him—the cold of his chest, the silence that she can’t ever find inside herself and the way he holds on like he’ll never let go. It’s a lie but she’s more comfortable with lies than she was ten years ago. This is a respite and it will break her heart but he was going to anyway. She thinks it’s his destiny.

Tomorrow they’ll go back to awkward avoidance because that’s what they do best but right now, she’s not the General or the slayer or anything at all.

Stillmygirl?
Always
Howlongcanyoustay?
Forever.Howdoesforeverworkforyou
Itsjustfortonight.Itdoesn’tmean-


“Buffy-“

“Shhh-“ she silences him with a hand over his mouth then draws it away. “Just-“
kissme

“Let me stay for a little while. Don’t let go-“

“Shhh.”
whattingawhat: (vulnerable)
[Sleep is the twin of death."- Homer]

Related to this

Exhaustion is etched in her bones, seeping through her pores and curving her back with its weight. She’s been awake for over forty eight hours and she knows from experience she’s only good for about twenty four more and then she’ll sleep whether she wants to or not. She can push that limit but she can only push it so far. She’s a slayer, in fact if you ask some people she’s the slayer, but she’s human and she’s tired. She’s scared, her body aches and she’s hurting from something so much more than the bruises on her knuckles and cheek or the cut on her lip. She’s beginning to give up on finding Danny alive at this point but she won’t admit it to anyone, not even herself. She’s keeping the brave slayer face because it’s the only thing she knows how to do.

She stands outside Dawn’s building for a few moments then pushes away, slipping into the shadow of the alley. She pulls her cell phone out of her pocket and pushes a number on the speed dial. She knows Danny’s phone is off and expects it to take her straight to voicemail. She listens to his voice then hits the end button. She wants to cry, she wants to break down and her chest burns from it, instead she dials another number and waits until he picks up. She doesn’t say anything, just her breath in the phone as she listens to his voice.

“Buffy.”

“Talk to me. Please. Just talk.” She knows he can hear the threat of tears in her voice but she doesn’t care.

“Lucy is in Virginia right now. It worries me. She’s seeing this guy that works for the FBI. I did some research on him but someone is hiding most of his details pretty well. He works for who he says he does though. Behavioral Science. Jill is here though and she’s even quieter without Lucy around. She’s doing alright though. Scarlett makes sure she eats and they made me get this really big TV. It’s the size of movie screens in my day.”
“Angel, my TV is the size of movie screens in your day and it’s like thirty two inches,” she tries to joke.

“Yeah…well apparently I’m being dragged into this century whether I want to be or not.”

“It’s about time. I knew the girls would be good for you,” Buffy says. Her breath trembles across the phone and she stops to lean against a building. The deep, cool shadow of the alley falls across her and a shiver races across her skin. The weight of their silence stretches across the line.

“What’s going on, Buffy?”

“He’s been kidnapped.” Her whisper is small. “And it’s not vampires or demons or anything I can kill. They’re human, Angel. They’re evil and horrible and they’re going to kill him but I’m supposed to do nothing because they’re human.”

“I’ll be there in a few hours.” His response is automatic, more instinct than thought. She’s hurting and he needs to fix it.

“No.” Her answer is sharp, just as automatic. It’s a burst of breath fused with energy that she pulls from some place deep inside of her. “No. Before-we had a fight…a talk…something over you. He’s alright and he knows that we’re…” she swallowed hard. “When I find him, it’ll make things worse if you’re here. Tomorrow is his birthday.” The last is a little broken. She doesn’t want his birthday ruined the way hers is.

Angel sighs and she can almost hear the arguments that he doesn’t voice. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Tell me how to find him? Tell me where they’re holding him?” Her voice is pitched a little too high, wrung tight with exhaustion.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

She gives him the whole story, all the details as she knows them, which really isn’t a lot. She understands that Mac has to keep things confidential because Danny is an official case right now. She bites her bottom lip as she listens, waiting for him to tell her what to do.

“Ok, he’s still alive because they can’t get what they want if he’s dead so they’re going to be keeping him somewhere isolated or somewhere that no one will bother if he screams. Danny isn’t going to go down without a fight and they know that. I’ll check out some of the buildings that this Hirsch guy owns and let you know what I find out. You said there was a lot of blood in the photographs. I assume you’ve been working over the vamps around the city but you’re expending way too much energy and killing too many vamps. This isn’t a mission to save the world this time, Buffy. You’re going about it all wrong. Find one vamp that really likes being undead. He’ll find your blood faster than a police dog. Even if its days old. Humans don’t bleed that much and not clean it up. I’ll let you know what I find out about any real estate Hirsch might own that fits the bill.”

She pushes away from the wall with her back straighter and her chin lifts a little higher. I’ll let you know when I find him.”

“Be careful, Buffy. Don’t do anything you’ll regret and remember…they’re human.”

“Just barely,” Buffy says. “And Angel…thank you.”
whattingawhat: (Big Girl [Emo])
Part of Sam's War storyline. Angel is used with permission and is [livejournal.com profile] still_brooding

Occupation

It's not the way I'm meant to be
It's just the way the operation made me


There is something about a battle that she loves. Of course it’s the way her adrenaline pumps and her blood sings just like any thrill seeker does but it’s more than that. This is what Buffy was born for. It is instinct and breathing and something that goes even deeper than that. In some way, she is never more herself than she is when she’s fighting. In the middle of a fight, Buffy comes closer to feeling whole than she has since that vacation in Heaven.

A perky, possessed, brunette’s fist collided with Buffy’s cheekbone and her world felt like it exploded. The brunette packed a punch that sent Buffy to the ground but no one has ever been able to keep the girl down so she bounces back up like a rubber ball.

“Okay, you know maybe you got dumped last week but I have a boyfriend and I’m going to have to explain that bruise,” Buffy quips and she swings the scythe around in a graceful arch. It slices through the perky brunette’s neck like she’s made of mist and myth rather than flesh and bone. “Bitch,” Buffy mutters seconds before the head falls to the ground. She tries to shut off the part of her that recognizes the girl was just a girl before something black, oily and evil crawled inside of her. She only freezes for a moment, eyes fixed on the girl’s head but it’s just like a guy to take advantage of that moment. He charges her and the sharp of Angel’s sword grazes against her jeans when he shoves the sword between her and the demon in question. The demon ends up with a sword in his gut that Angel pulls up all the way to the guy’s chin. The body collapses and Angel looks back at Buffy. His eyebrows raise in question and she nods in answer.

“Thanks,” she says as she turns to another oncoming possessed man.

“No problem. I promised to keep you unscathed. That would have scathed,” Angel says as he turns the opposite way so that they are back to back. They’ve been fighting together so long that naturally fall into a rhythm. Time, tension and trips to Hell don’t even make a blip in that rhythm. The demons just keep coming and the wonder twins fall more than once. A hard kick to her ribs leaves Buffy gasping for air but she fares better than Angel who ends up with a knife embedded in between his shoulder blades when he intervenes in a scuffle that would have left Buffy with more bruises than she wanted to explain. The battle seems to last forever and the punches, kicks and slices all bleed together.

The battle ends abruptly and Buffy can’t watch Sam hold Dean’s body. Bile rises up in her throat and it’s not the blood or the killing that makes her throw up. It’s the idea that a few years ago if her scene had played out any differently, she could have been Sam. They leave even before Sam and Dean because the battle is clearly over. The bad guys are falling back, the good guys are wandering off and the weight of failure makes everyone’s shoulders droop. She feels like she should say something to Sam but she knows there is nothing at all to say.

Later in the motel room she sits in the shower until the water runs cold and her skin is bright red. By the time she pads out of the bathroom dressed in a pair of Danny’s sweatpants and one of his sweatshirts, Angel has already ordered room service for her. There’s a burger and fries sitting on the bed and he’s watching a hockey game and sipping from a mug that she knows isn’t filled with coffee. They don’t say anything to each other while they eat and Angel doesn’t ask if she’s okay. Right now she wants safe and normal so much that it hurts when she fishes her cell phone out of the nightstand drawer, Angel leaves the room. He can’t give her safe and normal, not even when she needs it the most, but he respects the person who can.
whattingawhat: (vulnerable)
We'd like to express
Our deep admiration
For your courage under fire
And your willingness to die


Part of the Sam's Army storyline. The Angel referred to is [livejournal.com profile] still_brooding the Danny is [livejournal.com profile] stillacrime Both are abused with permission

“So tomorrow when you’re watching my back, you think you could keep me from getting banged up too bad?” Buffy asked as she looked over at Angel. He was sitting on the hotel bed next to her running a polishing cloth over a broadsword that was already immaculant.

Angel quirked an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to give context to her request. Bruises, cuts, breaks and wounds came with the job, especially this kind of job. This was a battle; scrapes and bruises were inevitable, in fact they were the best case scenario.

Buffy shrugged, knowing what Angel was waiting on. She also knew he was patient enough to wait her out. “He doesn’t know. Okay? He’s everything you wanted me to have when you left Sunnydale which means…he thinks I’m a normal girl too. I go home bruised and I’m going to have to come up with explanations why.”

Angel’s brow furrowed and he laid the sword next to him on the bed. “So where does he think you are?”

“Here but he thinks I’m doing a teaching certification for Martial Arts,” Buffy answered. She reached over and picked up the takeout box on the nightstand. She poked at it with chopsticks, stalling for time. “He’s good to me and eventually I’m going to tell him. We’re just happy right now and I don’t want to mess that up.”

Angel nodded. Buffy could write a script for his silence but she was afraid to fill in all those words, emotions and thoughts. She’d rather slap the word taciturn on him and be done with it. “I’ll watch your back but you could stay another day. Anything minor would be healed by then.” The word major and its consequences hung in the air and they skirted around it much the way she and Danny ducked the punching bag hanging from the kitchen doorway.

Buffy shook her head and half smiled. “I want to go home.”

Angel nodded. He picked his sword up and started cleaning it again. “Are you ready for this? You know they’re going to look human.” It was a quick subject change but really it was something they’d been not saying all night.

Buffy toyed with the chopsticks as she bit her bottom lip and dragged it through her teeth. “I know. That’s part of why I want to go home.” She wanted normal and safe and far away from the blade of her scythe slicing through all too human skin. She wondered if it would feel like the knife going in Faith’s gut and she wondered if she would care. She looked up at Angel and attempted a smile that failed long before it made it out of the gate.

Angel sighed because he knew that look. He got up, walked over to Buffy and kissed the top of her head. “We’ll keep you safe tomorrow and get you home. Call him. I’m going to patrol.”

Buffy watched as Angel gathered up some stakes and walked out of the hotel room. She sat there for a moment, her back against the headboard, knees pulled up to her chest. She held her cell phone in one hand, staring at Danny’s number for a long while before she pushed the call button. She listened to it ring and the smile that curved her lips when he picked up was genuine. Tomorrow she would be ready. Tomorrow she would be the warrior, the girl that saves the world. Tonight she just wanted to be normal for a little while longer.
whattingawhat: (the one)
I think the idea of a soul mate is…

Soul mates are bad M’kay? Sorry, I was watching South Park last night. Do not judge me for my TV choices. I don’t sleep much.

So here’s the deal. I was sixteen when I met him and at first I wanted to hate him. He was smug and fanatical and smarmy. He was too good looking, too stalkery and too old for me. He just kept showing up at the most inopportune times spreading bad omens and gossip. So what if his gossip was usually reliable. No one likes a Gossip Gabby. He was always there and never, ever there. Push and shove, hot and cold. Contradictory much? We weren’t soul mates we were…anything but. The problem was, neither of us could deny there was something there between us. And that something wouldn’t go away no matter how much we beat it. He didn’t want it. I didn’t want it and we gave it stern talking to’s but you know kids these days, they just never listen.

And then…I went away for three months, came back and I was mean to him; he got jealous and that’s when whatever it was we had twisted.

I spent a lot of the next two years crying. Without meaning to, he became the reason I hate my birthday and I emo at Christmas. He is the reason I can’t stand Valentine’s Day or red roses. Prom is bitter sweet and that old song ‘I Only Have Eyes For You’ sucks. I was in love and I loved him but love is never ever easy. It’s not about smiles and flowers, fluffy puppies and Pantene commercial hair. It’s hard. It hurts. It takes work and did I mention it hurts? During those two years I also became unequivocally convinced that he is my soul mate. The thing is, you watch The Princess Bride (Unarguably the greatest movie ever) or Cinderella (it’s all about the shoes) or Ice Castles (it’s a great movie) and soul mates work. Sure they have some problems and he goes away or she goes away or whatever but then he buys her some shoes and they live happily ever after.

Guess what? It’s a lie. I mean…it’s a lie I like to buy into it as much as the next girl but it’s still a big fat lie right there along with the good guys always wear white, the bad guys wear black and good always wins. In fact, what they should do is tell you that soul mate=love=perfect happiness=pain=run away as fast as you can. So…then he left and there was more pain but at least there was an end to the pain, you know? And we still saw each other occasionally. LA and Sunnydale weren’t that far apart. If I needed help he’d show up. If I needed to chew his ass out for coming to my rescue without telling me, I’d show up. He was there for me when my Mom died. And when I got so lost we both agreed it was better that he not be there. He showed up to rescue me again and then went away to be my second front. Now he’s doing his thing and I’m doing mine. And I still know that if the world ends, he’ll show up or I will.

Somewhere along that screwed up way there was Riley and Spike. I cared about both of them. A lot. They weren’t my soul mates though. Xander tried to convince me Riley could be but Riley had too many issues with what I am and what I’m never going to be. I’m not the apple pie girl you take home to your Mom. And Spike and I…we’re better as great friends. I thought that soul mates were a one thing. You know? You get one and when that doesn’t work out, you just spend the rest of your life looking for someone that can live with the way your soul mate screwed you up. And then I met Danny and there was this instant connection (and wow that sounds so E-Harmony. Shut up. One of the girls signed me up against my will). It was one of those past lives things. You know what I mean? You know you’ve never met this person and yet you’re still convinced you know them? Yeah, anyway…is he my soul mate? God I hope not because I can’t handle another one. It will kill me and I’ll put a great big Do Not Resuscitate order on my corpse. What I’m hoping for is a little bit of normality. It’d be nice just to be in love and have it not be literally or figuratively a world ending situation. I mean sure we’ll fight but I don’t want it to be the end of the world. I don’t want him to go to Hell and back for me. Just down the street and around the corner would be great. Stalking me isn’t required but I have to admit a little bit of obsession is nice. Kissing him doesn’t make me want to die, but my knees do get a little jellified and that’s a good thing. Dying is bad and wanting to die is worse. I don’t want Danny to be my soul mate. I’ll settle for The Guy and he might be. I don’t know. It’s too soon to tell. The only thing I do know:

Soul mates are seriously overrated.

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Buffy Summers

August 2019

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