Damsel in Distress, My Ass

18.4 Lost

This wasn't how it was supposed to but her head hurt and the room swam so kicking the bitch's ass was a lot more difficult; not to mention the shackles.

[Acting Out]

Greg House is huge_ego_sry and is used with permission. Based on rp in slayer_rehab

“I’m guessing an ex boyfriend right before some major event. Graduation, prom, college. Maybe even right after something like your mommy’s death.” He tossed the ball up in the air as he talked. As if it were any other conversation. “Did he tell you it was him, not you and really, you’d be better off in the long run? And you wanted to believe him but something inside of you just couldn’t because you know it’s always you-“

The glare she gave him would make vampires run but he never missed a beat in tossing the ball. She watched as it landed in the palm of his hand with a soft thump. She had a vivid image of throwing the ball at his head hard enough to cave in his skull. To quell the urge, she curled her hands into fists. When she finally spoke, her voice was cold, hard and all General. “Fuck you.” She was gone before he could respond.

( Read more... )

[What the hell?]

Written for loveme_fearme for a storyline. She wanted to see the actual Hotch/Buffy interrogation. If Hotch sucks, I'm sorry

He was cute in an older guy sort of way and don’t even get her started on that. Or maybe it was just the thing to get her started on. She needed a distraction after all. Or he did. Something very distract-y.

“You know you’re cute. Not that I’m into older guys,” Buffy started. “Okay so who are we kidding? I’m so into older guys but honestly you’re way too young for me. And if you start purpling about my daddy issues, I’ll scream.”

She had been going to say she’d hit him in the face but she was pretty sure there was a law about threatening a federal agent. With three of them here, they were in enough trouble as it was. The FBI agent—Hotchner, she thought he’d said—was giving her the same perplexed look that was often permanently stuck on Giles’ face. Topic matter aside, this conversation was exactly where Buffy wanted it to be. He was trying to connect the pieces of the case with the ramble and make it all fit into some neat psychological puzzle…or at least that’s what she imagined he was trying to do. It was possible he was wondering how someone as dumb as Buffy appeared to be at the moment existed. He scribbled something in his notebook and then looked up at the blonde in question who was currently staring at the ceiling with her head tipped back. He was fairly certain he’d finally deduced something and there was a barely noticeable confidence in his expression.

( How could he even think that??? )

[All Bark and No Bite]

loveme_fearme is used with mostly permission and lots of love. If she's oc that's all my fault. Angel is still_brooding

“Since when is my closet community chest?” Buffy asks as she walks out into the lobby of the YMCA in a red and pink polka dotted bra and a pair of low slung jeans. She lives with a bunch of girls and a big red demon that doesn’t know what a shirt is.

No one told her they had guests.

Guests in the form of tall, dark and brooding.

Guests that bring her to a halting stop.

Okay so it’s just guest.

Her face flares red and inexplicably she gets angry. How dare he show up like this? She’s getting his life together, searching for her favorite blue blouse.

“Angel”

And now, she’s just pissed off more. His name always comes out a little surprised, like she’s his mere existence has taken her off guard.

“Buffy”
He’s not quite looking at her and that pisses her off too. It’s got to be a new record. They’ve been in the room together for less than five seconds and she already wants to hit him in his face. Then she remembers she’s wearing a bra and the not looking thing makes more sense.

“Oh.”

She crosses her arms up over her chest—as if that’s going to help—and tries to look casual.

“Uhm…”

This is going swimmingly.

“Was there-hold on.” This is ridiculous. As if she and Angel aren’t awkward enough without her half naked. She ducks back up the stairs and re-emerges wearing a purple top. It’s not the one she wanted but it’s not her bra either.

“So…world ending, bad omen, apocalypse now?” Buffy asks. There’s a reason Angel comes to visit and it’s never to bring cookies over.

“I just-“ he starts and scrubs a hand over his head, sending his hair standing on end more than usual. “Uhm-Lucy wanted-No.”

“No?” Buffy asks, eyebrows arching up and face muddling with confusion. Her arms wrap around her waist protectively. “You just stopped by to visit? The world really is ending.”
Angel rolls his eyes up toward the ceiling and sighs. He shoves his hands in his pockets. “It’s not. Lucy wanted to get out. She’s been talking to Jack online. She mentioned fortune telling and Cassie.”

“And you decided to come along because me and you and buckets of tension—always a fun combination?” Buffy quips. She takes a step toward him and then literally two back.

“Because there’s a hellmouth here and I haven’t been to check it out.”

Oh, well it sounds perfectly reasonable when he puts it like that. She wants to hit him in his face again. Hard. She bites her lip against asking ‘you didn’t come to see me?’ because she’s afraid the answer will be no and there’s not a point in her life when that will ever be an okay answer coming from Angel.

“Right,” she nods. “It’s…hellmouthy.”

The fact that her brain fails miserably and she becomes a sixteen year old girl in Angel’s presence makes her want to hit him again. Maybe in the kidneys this time.

“So I’ve heard.”

Brilliant conversation? Check.

“Not as bad as Sunnydale,” she qualifies.

“It never is,” Angel responds.

A slap couldn’t have hurt anymore. It makes her take a physical step backward and she turns her back so he doesn’t see the tears in her eyes. “You should get to that. Hellmouth spews early here.”

“Buffy, I’m-“

“Got the memo, Angel. Keep it tacked to the fridge in case I forget.” She stalks away, heels of her feet making an almost staccato click on the floor and up the stairs. There are things to kill and she can keep far away from Angel.

He starts to go after her and stops with an Eyeore worthy sigh as he watches Buffy go up the stairs. He hears a door slam and then another one opens behind him with a soft click.

“Hate to point out the obvious, Big Guy, but you sucked that one up,” Faith says as she comes to stand next to Angel, thumbs hooked in her back pockets, all her weight on her back foot. “I been living with the girl for a few weeks and even I coulda handled it better than that.”

“Welcome to the story of my life,” Angel mutters.