Damsel in Distress, My Ass

[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??? )

40.3 - Snow Day
OOC: Piece co-written by diminished9th and whattingawhat. Fits in with the TWENTY MOONS storyline.


The night was far too cold, causing Oz to pull his coat tighter around him and slip his hands into the pockets. Despite tonight being the seventh night of a full moon in New York City, he was out patrolling with Cady and Gabe. They had momentarily split up for awhile because Oz's wolf scratched and clawed at the cage his skin provided. It was moreso at night and around Gabe. And each full moon it was getting more difficult to control. He wouldn't be out here at all except that the chill of the fresh air seemed to give him something else to focus on. Cady had said that patrols had become increasingly crowded. The supernatural were flocking to the City for some reason that none of them knew yet. There was no mistaking that something big was coming though.

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His nostrils flared as he felt and sensed something close by. He knew that feeling. It was the same one he got around his daughter. The sounds of a scuffle could be heard near by and his initial thought was that he had somehow circled back around to Cady and Gabe. But he didn't feel Gabe.

It was hard to be stealthy with the layer of snow and ice that covered the ground. It crunched beneath his sketchers as he moved closer to the sounds through the park. Once he reached a clearing through the trees he relaxed. Buffy was there fighting one vamp. He didn't think to help. Buffy could take care of one vampire and she was more than capable of taking care of herself. He watched as she easily overtook the demon and then applauded from the brush as he stepped into the light of the lamp overhead.

"Hey." He shoved his hands back into the pockets of his coat. And then, in a straight face that only Oz could pull off, he tilted his head curiously. "Did you see that guy just disappear?"

"Trick of light," Buffy grinned as she tucked her stake at her back underneath her jacket. "How's things, Oz?" She knew how things were. Crazy. Insane. Really she was asking more personally how Oz was handling things.

And Oz was every bit as perceptive as he had always been. Saying so little at a time had its perks. He got that Buffy was asking about his well-being on a more personal scale rather than on the general state of things which they both knew was obviously not good. New York was going nuts after seven nights of a full moon and every Supernatural being within flocking distance was... well, flocking.

He shrugged, the mixture of snow and ice still crunching beneath his feet as he walked over to where Buffy stood. "Talk about your damaged calm." He answered and then studied Buffy looking as if he were completely unruffled despite his description of himself. In his eyes though, there was that bit of twitch that wasn't normally there, a feral spark that was uniquely the wolf's. "You?"

Buffy shrugged in answer. "Thinking about ways to bring the steamer trunks under the eyes into fashion. My boys at class have just accepted class time is like nap time." She noticed the slight bit of restlessness about Oz. "If calm needs a break, I can wolf sit sometime."

"If anyone can start a fashion trend, it's you." Oz had faith in Buffy. He always had. As they spoke, the words were visible on their breath that puffed out into the night air. It was freezing, so freezing that even the vampires and demons should be indoors, not that they had gotten that memo. No, they were partying through the nights and into the early hours of the mornings. Some of them even came out in the day. Boldness among the big bad's was never a good thing.

Oz shoved the toe of his sketchers in the ice on the ground and looked down. "Tonight was almost that night. I may take you up on that offer tomorrow. It's getting harder." But it was also harder than he would ever let on for him to give in to the beast. He had gone so long being the one in control that giving the beast an inch was terrifying to him, an inch felt too much like a mile. And it felt like he was letting go of a fight that he had fought daily for years.

"It always does," Buffy smiled sympathetically. "Darkest before Twilight...or Dawn or something and now in light of Dawnie that all sorta makes sense. Or something. I don't know. Anyway..." she trailed the ramble off. "How's Cady holding up?" She knew the answer, or some part of it. This was hard on everyone right now. The constant slaying and constant crazy and the city going wonky in general.

"She's out here somewhere." Even though he knew that she wasn't in the near vicinity, he looked around them. If Cady were near he would feel her just as he felt Buffy standing before him. "Tough gig. And I had to get away from Gabe. He doesn't mean to but he makes my wolf want to display how dominant he is. And he's been stuck for seven days. I think it's getting to both of them." Which was possibly the longest string of words he had said straight in some time. There should be a record book, he decided.

Buffy made a sympathetic face and pouted unconsciously. "Hopefully it won't last much longer. Giles and Will are being researchy. They'll have an answer for us soon. Gabe can go back to being a boy, Cady can be more teenagery and you'll be Zen Guy."

And she'd get to sleep for a week. Or six at this rate.

The expression Oz gave Buffy was a smirk, if she were to squint her eyes and look close enough to see it. Alright, so it wasn't much of an expression at all. The thought was there though. "I miss zen guy... and happy Buffy."

"Me too," Buffy half smiled at Oz. "Buffy is just tired. She needs like a week at the spa or maybe some quality coma time. Obviously because she is talking about herself in third person. You can come coma slash spa time with me if you want. You know after the moon is back to doing it's regular thing. We'll call it a moon retreat."

"You're on." Oz said, taking a step back and nodding. "Wolf sit tomorrow? See you a little before nightfall?"

"Wolf sitting, your place," Buffy affirmed. "I'll bring researchy type books along with Britney Spears and Miley Cyrus. Wolf will wish he'd never broken out," she teased him. Only it was just partial teasing because she intended to do exactly that.

He almost smirked again... almost. It was like old times, really. Old times in the library at Sunnydale High before he'd had control over the wolf. Between Buffy, Xander and Willow the wolf had had some interesting nights. He almost craved the nostalgia of it if the change had to happen at all.

He turned away, his shoes crunching through the snow again. "Night Buffy."

[Inspired by

[How much is too much?]
related to the whole Angelus storyline

The apartment was still a wreck. Willow was busy cleaning up all the rose petals when Buffy and Danny walked in.

“Oh, hey,” she waved, her brow furrowing at the sight of Danny. “Oh…I guess I should have been faster with the whole popping Angel’s soul back in.”

“You were great, Will. He’s probably not even awake yet. I hit him really hard.”

“Well…payback is a b-i-t-c-h,” Willow spelled the curse word out.

Buffy helped Danny get into the bedroom and eased him onto the bed, her eyes went up to the wall where the words Angelus had written were still dark against the white wall. Buffy looked behind her at Willow.

“I know I sort of chewed you out for abusing you magic once but…” she canted her head toward the wall.

“Okay dokey. No problem,” Willow said, snapping her fingers. The wall washed to white and Buffy smiled tiredly at her.

“Thanks.”

Willow took a step toward the bed. “How are you Danny?”

“M’okay,” Danny said, the words tight with pain. “Just wanna get some sleep.”

Willow nodded sagely and then her face brightened up again. “Oh! I have something that might make that easier. Call it a Christmas present from me. You know in addition to the Christmas presents I’m giving you.”

Buffy smiled at Willow. “What do you need?”

“Got it all,” Willow said, pointing to a candle she had burning on Buffy’s nightstand. She walked over and crawled on the bed carefully in an attempt not to jostle Danny anymore. She patted the space beside her. “Come sit.”

Buffy complied, moving gingerly because of the broken ribs and other minor injuries. Willow held both her palms up. Buffy immediately put her hand in Willow’s. Danny looked a bit more skeptically to her.

“I’m going to take some of Buffy’s healing and strength and transfer it to you. That way, you’ll wake up tomorrow feeling and looking a lot better,” Willow explained. “It won’t hurt. Promise.”

Danny quirked an eyebrow at Buffy. It was almost a question in and of itself.

“I’ve got plenty to spare. The only downside is I’ll probably never get sympathy from you again because you know Slayer Healing really is crack,” Buffy smiled at him. In truth it meant she’d hurt a little while longer than usual but if he could feel better and put some of this behind him, she’d heal at a regular old human speed.

Danny put his hand in Willow’s and watched everything curiously. Willow closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“Just relax,” she breathed out. It didn’t take long. Buffy could feel strength draining away from her. It passed through Willow and straight into Danny. He’d still scar and he’d still be a little sore in the morning but he’d be functional, bruising would be minimal and the burns littered across his body would be well on their way to healing. Maybe Christmas wouldn’t be a total wash after all.

[What do you do when you’re bored?]

The sharp smack of her fist against the punching bag is rhythmic. Broken only occasionally by the louder, thicker thump of a kick. The rhythm is accompanied by the rattle of chain and the whisper of wood groaning in protest. She pauses, swiping the back of one hand across her forehead. Buffy doesn’t need to work out. She’s got that gig down and she doesn’t need to lose the weight. Most of the time it takes her and Danny fighting to keep weight on her. She works out all day at work with the boys and slays at night. Punching the bag is just filler and a way to burn away boredom.

She could go shopping but her American Express protests a lot more than the doorway of their kitchen. She gives one last punch to the bag, sending it swinging it dangerously on its chain before she turns on the ball of her foot and heads to the bathroom. By the time she finishes with her shower, Danny should be home and he can take up the mantle of entertaining her.

[Rivalry]

“Seriously?” The vampire has her shoved up against a concrete wall, pinned there by one shoulder that she’s pretty sure is dislocated. “You’re not the first vampire who said he was going to take me down. You’re one of thousands.”

“Looks like I’m the one that’s gonna get the job done though,” he leers as he leans in closer, practically drooling on her neck. She slams the top of her head into his nose and blood gushes. Her knee meets his groin and now he’s in more pain than she is. Lesson number one: never get racked by a slayer. The tables have turned and now he’s the one against the wall.

“And you’re one of hundreds that’s done that. They always think they’re going to get the job done.” The stake plunges into his chest with minimal effort. “No one ever does,” she half murmurs as the body dissolves into ash and she steps back to avoid getting it all over her. She wasn’t quick enough pulling the stake out and it’s turned to dust with the vamp; her shoulder is agonizing and her head hurts. She just wants to go home and have some tea. Maybe a non fat yogurt to go with it. Giles always makes poo-pooing noises at the idea of her having yogurt and tea together. Danny doesn’t care. She braces herself against the concrete wall, using it to help pop her shoulder back in place and then her feet turn homeward.

Maybe a hot bath would be good.

It’s always her against the masses. There’s more evil and more vampires and more demons. She used to dream that one day evil would close up shop but now she knows that’s never going to happen. There’s black and white in the world and one can’t exist without the other. Maybe the only reason there is good is because there’s evil. There’s got to be that rivalry to keep some sort of energy up to keep the world rotating.
Or some kind of crap she tells herself on nights that require more Advil than usual.

[Elevator]

stillacrime used with permission

“I took the elevator today.”

Buffy is curled up against Danny, his arm around her shoulders and they’re watching the baseball playoffs. The statement comes from the middle of nowhere.

“Why?” The word is marked with surprise as his eyebrows shoot up, his forehead creasing.

“Because it’s ridiculous,” Buffy answers, her eyes never straying from the television. “I fight demons, vampires and hell goddesses. I save the world on a semi regular basis. It’s ridiculous that I can’t ride in an elevator without freaking out.”

“How was it?” Danny asks, a crooked smile creeping across his face. His eyes remained concerned despite the smile on his face.

Buffy rolls one shoulder in a shrug and leans her head back against Danny’s shoulder. “I went and got a manicure before the whole experiment thing. That way I wouldn’t want to mess up my nails by hitting the elevator.” She has half moon shaped cuts in her palms where she’d dug her nails into her skin. They are healing already and it isn’t something she wants to discuss or even admit are there.; Buffy hates being weak.

“Maybe later we could go get some cupcakes at the bakery down the street and just walk. It’s getting cold and pretty soon you won’t be able to pry me out of this apartment.” It’s an obvious subject change but Danny knows her well enough to just go with it. Obviously the elevator experiment hadn’t gone well.
“We could do that but the cold ain’t so bad,” he chuckles as he presses a kiss to her head.

“I’m a California girl. The cold’s that bad,” she teases back.

“Nah, gives you an excuse to cuddle,” Danny points out, squeezing his arm around her shoulders a little tighter.

“You never need an excuse with me, Messer,” Buffy says as she dips her head and brushes a kiss against his forearm.

“Boom.”

[Sound]

A stale breeze, reeking of sewage and garbage ruffles over her, setting errant stands of hair to dance against her skin. She has her eyes closed; the other senses are pushed outward, grasping at any information the night provides her with but it is her hearing that she uses more than the others. She is waiting for the tell tale of a foot scuffing against asphalt, the sharp intake of breath or a bump of a hip against a lazy stack of crates or a dumpster scooted just a bit too far out.

Her breath is measured, drawn in through her nose, exhaled through parted lips and her lashes flutter but don’t open. She is a homage to patience and eventually it pays off in the form of a clubbed foot grinding across a patch of gravel.

Expelled from the barrel of a gun, she launches off the balls of her feet; vengeance in physical form. Her fingers curl a bit tighter around the stake in her hand. She’s not chasing a vampire but as long she hits the heart, it doesn’t matter what she’s chasing.

Faith taught her that.

Hunter, hunter, girl’s gone away and so the demon cowering in the corner of a dead end alley with his hands over his head doesn’t phase her at all. She knows he’s been sucking marrow from little kid’s bones.

There’s a wet pop and then drag tempered with the whimpers of a dying demon. Nothing happens in an instant. It’s never really immediate and then the heel of her hand is flat against his chest while she presses the stake all the way in. She can feel the point pushing against the concrete wall behind the demon.

“It’s not me. Not me,” he says in a hoarse whisper. The light in his eyes fade to an ember and then stoke at his next words. “Just gives me the bones. She’s worse. Worse than you can imagine.” The ember is snuffed and he goes limp. Buffy’s brow furrows and she sighs as she pushes herself upright. There’s blood, yellow-green, smeared across her sweater. She adds a smudge of rust as she lifts the sewer cover with one hand, dragging the demon over to let him plop into the sewer below.

The city is remarkably silent as she makes the trek home, sweater coming off as soon as the door clicks behind her. She locks the door behind her, trashes the sweater and starts taking off her pants as she walks toward the bathroom. A hot shower is the first order of business on her docket but she’s derailed by Danny, still awake and obviously relieved she’s safe.

“You alright, Summers?”

She shakes her head; kids always get to her the worst. “I stink. Demon blood and garbage,” she tells him. She’s still focused on the shower and sleep when his arm curls around her and he presses a kiss to her bare shoulder. Showers and sleep don’t matter as much as she curls against him, her ear pressed to his chest. She feels her body unwind, muscles uncoil and loosen with each thump of his heart.

“I’m alright.”

14.2 - Curious

co-written with at_anycost and whattingawhat


Mac had taken his lunch break to visit Danny in the hospital. He had finally decided that Danny must really be in some kind of pain for the hospital to be able to keep him in here this long. And between all of the injuries the Doctor's had rattled off for him and the way Danny looked physically covered in bruising and scars, Mac had no doubt that that was the case. Mid-visit, weariness had taken Danny with the help of the pain medication being pumped into his system.

Sighing, he looked across the hospital bed to Buffy. For a few moments he didn't say a word, but once he'd gathered from the look on her face that they both knew what was being left unsaid, he decided to say it anyway. "Look, Buffy. I think we both know that your statement of what happened in that warehouse isn't fact. Please don't assume that I'm not grateful. I am. I have an entire lab and a few Detectives who are more than happy to have Danny alive. But I need to know what really happened there that afternoon."

Buffy pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to figure out exactly what to say. She obviously couldn't tell him the truth. They were in a hospital. He'd have her locked up. She ducked her head and reached over to lace her fingers with Danny's regardless of the fact that he was asleep. She shrugged, still stalling for time. "A guy in a bat costume helped me but he told me I couldn't tell anyone." Of course he wasn't going to buy that but that's what the stalling was for.

"Does it matter? Ask the bad guys what happened." It wasn't that she thought they were going to tell the truth.

"I've gotten eight different accounts from a dozen men. A few of them have the same one." Mac sat back in his seat, smoothing his tie down the front of his shirt. "So assuming that the version that's the most used is the closest to an accurate account as I'm going to get, I want to know how you did it. The best theory I have is that you had a very lucky day and caught them all off guard. Which would then make you extremely lucky to be alive."

Buffy gave Mac a bubblegum bright smile, cardboard and totally fake. It was her I'm a blonde cheerleader ask me how smile. "I'm a very lucky girl. I'm like Irish lucky but not Irish." The smile faltered and she sighed. "I'm a martial arts teacher. I work with teenage boys all day long and if I can't kick their asses they're going to pay attention to me for just long enough to check out my ass and that's it." She raked a hand through her hair and shook her head. "They're right. I caught them off guard and I had a lucky day. I'm not stupid but most people think I am. I walked in acting exactly like they thought I should. Asked where the rave was, checked out what was going on and distracted them by letting them think I thought the whole handcuffs thing was kinky gay sex."

Mac wasn't sure that he bought that either. It was closer to what he thought the truth might be in the back of his mind... a truth that still didn't quite make sense. In any case, he didn't like that fake smile. He saw it too often from criminals sitting across the table from him in interrogation room after interrogation room. And it was as well as speaking down to him and a complete lack of respect for his intelligence and position. He cleared his throat and leaned forward for a moment before standing up. "I understand the martial arts. With that kind of training you could take down a handful of the average mobsters in the City without blinking an eye if they were unarmed. The problem is that they're more apt to shoot first ask questions later. We've collected thirteen men who were in that warehouse or in the vicinity of it... not counting Fred Hirsch himself. You're telling me that none of them aimed their weapon at you while you were beating their buddies unconscious?"

"They aimed. I'm fast," Buffy responded. She'd gotten grazed but that healed days ago without any scar to show for it so she can't mention it. "I'm faster than most people." She looked up at Mac but she remained sitting. "It looks exactly like it is. I know you know they shot at me because you've found bullets so I can't tell you that they didn't. And I don't want to lie to you. Danny likes you. He respects you and from what he says, you've been really good to him. It's not my fault if you can't believe what you're seeing, what evidence tells you happened."

"The evidence says you beat down all those men and avoided a rain of gunfire. Your fingerprints are on the chains that linked Danny's cuffs to the wall, as if you fisted them and held tight, then smudged them when you pulled... the threads of the screws were ripped out of the wall. Your blood was there too." Mac answered, looking closely for a scratch on Buffy and not finding one. "I know what the evidence says. And like I said, I'm grateful despite the impossibility of it all. People never cease to amaze me. I can thank you for whatever the truth is and I think that's all I can do."

Buffy nodded, stared down at her hand linked with Danny's. "Trust your evidence and remember what's impossible varies from person to person. If you can't do that then...Clark Kent was there with me and the mob is strangely lacking in kryptonite." The smile she gave him was a real one, not mocking or overly bright. Just Buffy. "Maybe it was adrenaline. You know Mom's that lift cars off babies and things like that. They hurt him and they were going to kill him. I had to do something."

He reacted to the genuine smile by nodding slightly and lifting his shoulders to shrug lightly. "Some things just can't be explained. We all had to do something. Anyway, I need to get back to work. You're staying here with him?"

"Yeah," Buffy nodded. "They tried to get me to go home once. I'm pretty stubborn so I'll be here until he goes home. Thanks for stopping by. I know it means a lot to Danny."

Once again, he looked to Danny in the hospital bed. If he could, he would take all those bruises and scars from him. "Goodbye, Buffy."

[What are you doing?]
OOC: This piece was co-written with whattingawhat, still_brooding, stillacrime, i_willpout, sonata_adagio for the ongoing Apocalypse storyline with many many others.

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