whattingawhat: (fucking kill you)
Follows Part I, Part II, and Part III and Part VI

. "What the fuck have you done lately?"
| Wanted

Buffy was in the bath tub until the water went cold. She scrubbed her skin pink and clean then her hair until it smelled like vanilla instead of blood and ash. She submerged herself underneath the water one more time then slipped out of the bath. She wrapped her body in a white towel and stared at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look like herself, skin bruised and stretched too tight over her face. The vampire bite was still livid against her skin, barely healed. She hadn’t been alive long enough for her healing to kick in. She looked down at her left wrist to see the same sort of bite, neat and deep. Absently she wondered if it would scar. Not that it would matter. Her neck is already scarred and she can buy a bracelet to cover the bite on her wrist.

She combed through her hair, drying it with a hair dryer. She skipped makeup because she’d have to pile it on to cover the bruises of varying shades scattered across her face. There was a black eye and a dark one along her jaw. Once her hair was dry, she took the curling iron and meticulously did her hair in loose, bouncy curls.

The only thing left to do was get dressed. She put on a pair of black jeans and a soft, white, long-sleeved tee shirt along with a big, silver cross before padding into the living room. She smiled slightly at Danny then looked to Willow.

“That little bitch still has my scythe.”

And by killing her, she’s just made her stronger.
whattingawhat: ([Shipper]Danny As good as it gets)
7.7 - "So - you don't drink, you don't smoke, and you don't gamble. What do you do then? C'mon Michael, there must be something for you to confess! A little wank on the sofa during Baywatch isn't a mortal sin!" Cracker

OOC: Co-written with Danny ([livejournal.com profile] stillacrime) and Buffy ([livejournal.com profile] whattingawhat)





Danny’s phone rang as it often did, serving as an alarm to get up way before he wanted to get out of bed. A tug of one wrist clinked metal against wood and he rolled awkwardly onto his side to snag his phone off of the nightstand. “Summers.” He called out as he flipped through the messages on the phone to read a text from Stella.



419. Broadway & 5th. Meet you there. – Stel



Tossing his phone aside onto the mattress, he called out again. “Buffy!” He heard the door to their apartment open, close and lock and then saw Buffy appear in the doorway with two cups of coffee. “You got me coffee?”



“And sugary goodness.” Within seconds she noticed the look on Danny’s face and his cellphone on the mattress, wrinkling her nose at the obvious conclusion. She's been counting on a late morning. “Boo hiss, you have to go in early.” This statement was accompanied by a fierce pout.



“Yeah, sorry baby.” Danny answered, jiggling the hand cuffs that were holding one of his wrists to the headboard. “Where’s the key?”



"Uhm...it sorta got...I wasn't thinking about-" She stopped, doubling over in laughter. She couldn't continue the joke with the look on his face. She would have uncuffed him before she had left for coffee but he had been sleeping so peacefully she hadn't wanted to disturb him. “You know you're incredibly comfortable in handcuffs," she teased then ceased again. "I’m sorry, uhm…it's here somewhere. I swear.” She set everything down on the nightstand and began to shuffle around the sheets and pillows.



Danny smirked, his lips twisting into a crooked grin. “Stop foolin’ around, Sunshine. Where’s the key?”



“I’m looking! I’m looking!” She really was, and she knew she had had it last night when they had finally fallen asleep, a tangle of sheets and limbs. “Oh! Wait.” Getting to her knees, she plucked the key from the top of the wooden headboard. “Found it.”



“You gotta uncuff me so I can go to work, baby. Come on.” Danny reached to her with his free hand to tickle her.



She squirmed out of the way with a giggle. “I never should have uncuffed that one. There could be a hostage situation and Stockholm Syndrome.”


“Way I remember it, you liked this one uncuffed… a helluva lot, Summers.” He jiggled his wrist again, tugging at the handcuff. She leaned over him and obliged, slipping the key in to unsnap the cuffs. With no shame, Danny turned and pounced on her. He kissed her and then began to tickle her. He wasn’t sure how she did it, but it was nothing new for him to find himself flat on his back with Buffy having overpowered him. “Fine, you win. You win.”


"You're leaving. Definitely no winning here," Buffy said with a pout that was only half mock. Finally she sighed and leaned in to kiss him again. "Go. Tell Stella hi and there will be winning later when you get home. This time, I'm so losing the key."
whattingawhat: (Dawn born and bled for you to hold)
[Did you drink and dial? -Sideways]

[livejournal.com profile] little_msnobody and [livejournal.com profile] youmadea_bear used with permission

When her phone rings at three in the morning, her stomach sinks like a cannonball even before she answers it. Nothing good ever happens at three in the morning. The caller ID on the phone says it’s Dawn and she sits upright in bed, turning on the bedside light, despite Danny being asleep next to her.

“Dawnie, what’s wrong?” She’s just about to bolt out of bed when she hears the giggle. She sighs and flops back against the bed, switching off the light. “Dawnie…did you drink and dial?” She supposes it’s one of the downfalls of having a baby sister old enough to drink.

“Spike took me out dancing,” Dawn says amid a riot of giggles.

“Spike let you drink too much,” Buffy chastises, forever their mother with Dawn. “You need to take some aspirin and drink a lot of water. Go to bed.”

Dawn barely covers the mouth of the phone and Buffy can hear something, possibly Dawn’s head, hitting the floor. There’s a mumbled ow and the hand Dawn had covering the phone slips away. The phone hits the floor. The conversation is muted but clear enough.

“Come on, Pet, ought to get you to bed.”

“Only if you come with me.”

Buffy’s eyes go wide and she’s out of bed, pacing the floor. She almost speaks up but decides that she’ll learn more if she keeps her mouth shut.
“Pet, don’t think we oughta go there with you in this sorta condition.”

There are sounds of scuffling and some more thumps and bumps. There’s a loud skidding sound and an oops. There are more scrambling noises.

“Luv, let’s get you into bed. I’ll take care of the phone.”

“Noooooo ‘cause then I’ll fall asleep and I’ll forget I’m tryin’ to seduce you.”

More scuffling and scratching followed by a drunken, victorious cry of “Got it!”

“Buuuu-ffy,” Dawn annunciates each letter. “I gotta go ‘cause I’m tryin’ to get Spike to screw me.”

Buffy takes a deep breath, getting ready to unleash hell on Dawn and Spike when the blond vampire comes on the line.

“Before you start yelling, Slayer, m’not going to do anything but get her in bed. Guilty of a lot of things but taken advantage of Platelet innit one of ‘em.”

Spike’s words take most of her fire away and she sighs. “I would pull your entrails out , wear them as a necklace and then rip your head off to wear as a hat.”

“Nice imagery, Pet,” Spike smirks. “Oh bloody hell, she’s pukin’ and she’s wearin’ my coat.”
The phone gets dropped again and Buffy can hear Spike’s bellow loud and clear. She hangs up with a grin. The entire conversation was almost worth it.
whattingawhat: (Get Out of my face)
[“You're good, baby, I'll give you that... but me? I'm magic.”
| Daredevil]

: Each voice here is done by their respective muns. Buffy=[livejournal.com profile] whattingawhat, Danny=[livejournal.com profile] stillacrime and Mac=[livejournal.com profile] at_anycost. This goes with the quadruple murder storyline.


Danny has been missing for almost seventy-two hours. Buffy is working on instinct more than anything because she's beyond exhausted. She's only gone home to shower and change at semi regular intervals. She tried sleep a couple of times to no avail. The thought of food made her nauseous. At Angel's suggestion, she's got a vampire on a leash. He's old, pissed off and in pain because it took a lot of coercion to convince him to play bloodhound. Her belt is wound around the vampire's throat, his hands are tied behind his back with some sort of electrical wiring she ripped out of the wall and she's got her cross wrapped around her wrist, dangling close to his neck. He thinks he's going to go scott free when he finds Danny for her. Obviously, he's not that old. Angel called her earlier and gave her some likely areas to search in, she's on the third one when Red Rover perks up.

Read more... )
whattingawhat: (listen eyes closed)
["It's a woman thing. I sense it. I feel it. Plus, last week she said there was a void and something was missing."
| Tadpole]

There is heat on her skin and the sun in her eyes as she tilts her face up. The pure white light obliterates everything and makes her squeeze her eyes shut. In contrast the dirt is cool beneath her hands, black soil damp with retained moisture. She has a tray full of bulbs next to her, daffodils she thinks and she’s planting them in the ground one by one. A smile curves her lips as she watches a green shoot come through the soil, sprouting quickly and blooming bright yellow petals. Around her the city is moving but she’s not paying it any mind. She’s gardening, preparing her flowers for what’s to come so they can grow strong and thrive. She can see a hammock swinging out of the corner of her eye and she thinks when she’s done, she’ll take a nap.

“That’s quite good, Buffy. I had my doubts, you know but as usual you’ve proven them thoroughly without ground.”

She soaks up the compliment from Giles the way the flowers soak up the water she sprinkles on them. She’s still tending her garden when there’s a fat, wet drop on her shoulder. She looks up at the sky again but the sun is still high in the sky and the heat has turned blistering.

“Now you’ve gone and done it. Ruined your new dress.”

The voice belongs to Renee who is standing off to the side, her throat ripped open. The edges of her wound are drying in the sun, blood turning brown. Buffy looks down again amid a shower of fat, wet drops. Renee is right. The white, Donna Reed style dress is ruined but it’s not rain that’s pouring all over her. It’s blood.

“You’ve got to watch the flowers, Buffy!” Giles scolds and she looks down to find they’re all dead. They’ve bloomed, struggled and died. She shakes her head because this is wrong. This is all wrong and she’s scrabbling in the soil that’s gone warm and rancid. She feels it before she sees it, slick, wet, wrapping around her wrist and she thinks it’s just a root but she pulls and it pulls back.

“Giles! It’s got me!”

“Hmmm, I’ll have to consult my books, Buffy.”

“Renee?” she squeaks a bit as she’s pulled closer to the soil, threatening to go under.

But Renee is silent, her body sprawled across the corner of the garden and it’s still raining blood.

***


Buffy sits up with a start, breath caught in her throat. Her chest heaves and the sheet sticks to her body with cold sweat.

“Blood. It was raining blood and I was wearing white.”
whattingawhat: ([Shipper] Buffy/Danny sexy)
[ “Will, my love for you is like this scar, (points at elbow) ugly, but permanent."
| Will & Grace]

They are lying on the hardwood floor, a tangle of sheets and limbs. Her head is on his chest and the way it’s heaving makes her smile. He’s having a hard time catching his breath and his heart is hammering against her ear. Her fingers dance across his collarbone and his are tracing the scar on her back near her spine. She shifts a little so that she can look up at him, the point of her chin resting on his chest.

“I know you still worry sometimes that you’re going to say the wrong thing or react the wrong way and I’m going to leave.”

He starts to say something and she places her fingers over his lips, silencing him for the moment. She presses a kiss to his chest and his fingers on her scar go still. “We mess up. We say the wrong thing, we react in really wonky ways. And we get mad and we fight and life happens but I promise you one thing. I’m not going to stop loving you. It’s like that scar you’ve got your fingers on. Ugly, but permanent.”
whattingawhat: (Willow BFF)
[Half of writing history is hiding the truth.]

“Okay, so red flags mean rip it out, no questions ask then burn it. Blue means it’s to your discretion but keep in mind that people are going to read these,” Buffy says as she gestures to a pile of journals, their pages winged with a variety of colored markers.

Willow looked up from one of the journals, watching Buffy. “Right. Red means out, blue means it’s a judgment page but what’s purple?”

Buffy smiles brilliantly at Willow. “Purple is a great page. Purple is a page that should stay marked and that should be like…put in some kind of compendium…is that what they call them? You know the…compliation! It should be put in some kind of compiliation. You know all the best days of a slayer’s life? Something you read like bedtime stories when you’re having a green day.”

“Ooooh green eyed monster day?” Willow asks, eyebrows arching.

Buffy shrugs, her attention on the journal she’s flagging. “Sometimes. In general just bad day.”

Willows nods, sober for a moment as she skims over one of the entries. “Prom. Oz. And pretty dresses. Only not Oz in pretty dresses because…you know. Oz in pretty tuxes.” She looks up at Buffy and bites her lip. “And also hellhounds…and Angel…missage?”

Buffy shakes her head. “Nah, it was a good night for the most part. The hellhounds were incidental. The Angel missage was on hold and I got a shiny new toy.”

“Your umbrella!” Willow exclaims, her face lighting up.

“Yup. It’s in the bedroom on the dresser,” Buffy nods curtly. “See good memories.” She reaches over and puts a purple flag on the page. “We’ll just change the part about Angel leaving and save that for Graduation.”

Willow’s eyes grew wide. “But that’s like…rewriting history.”

Buffy shrugs in response. “To quote Malcolm Reynolds, half of history is hiding the truth.”

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