Damsel in Distress, My Ass

[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.”

[Leadership]

She’s sitting out on the balcony, one knee drawn to her chest. Her toes are digging into the concrete and it’s hot, retaining the heat from the day before. Her chin rests on top of her knee and she’s listening to the sound of her own breathing, measuring it out a little at a time. She tries to slow her heartbeat not because it’s rapid but because it gives her something to focus on. The world is falling apart, or at least New York City. There’s a heat wave, earthquakes and now a rain of blood. She can still smell the metallic in the air and it makes her nose wrinkle.

She can feel him, the weight of his presence standing in the door way but she keeps her eyes closed, heartbeat slowing and breathing measured. She waits for him to come to her because she’s never certain how far to push. After several minutes he settles behind her, one arm wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her back against his body. Sweat clings to him just as it clings to her skin and she exhales, her lips brushing his arm. She can taste salt on her lips.

“Sunshine, you oughta eat somethin’ tonight.”

Buffy shakes her head, pushing the words past her lips. “Not tonight. Later. I promise.”

Later after the battle was over. Later after everyone was alright. Later after casualties had been cataloged. Later when she could think and breathe and the weight of leadership didn’t crush her. Later could be days away and she knows that but Danny doesn’t. Not yet.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. Although the reason why she’s apologizing is more than a little unclear.

“Got nothin’ to apologize for, Summers.” He presses a kiss to the back of Buffy’s neck, exposed by her hair knotted up off her skin.

She tilts her head slightly and leans back against him. Her shoulders are stooped just a bit. She breathes out against his arm again and presses a kiss there. She scrapes her teeth against his skin, not a bite or a nip, just her teeth against his skin. She sits that way for a moment without any pressure on his arm but she can taste the sweat on his skin and the heat of it and somehow it comforts her. She raises her head a moment and turns it so that her cheek is lying on his arm.

“Tomorrow they’re all going to be looking at me like I’m some sort of infallible hero. They need me to be that girl and I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I can watch any more of my girls die and I don’t know if I can lead them into a battle like the one we’re facing.”

“I don’t know anything about what you’re gonna be against tomorrow or whenever, but I do know you. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, Sunshine. Physical strength and the fact that you can kick my ass. That aside, you can still do anything you want to do. Can do everything you need to do and more. You’re gonna be whatever it is you need to be when the time’s here and then you’ll come home to me and you can be whatever ever you wanna be here too. You got that? I love you, Summers.”

Refers to rp with stillacrime and still_brooding that can be found here

I knew him another way
I knew him another day
In some ways he’d forgotten me
In many ways he got to me

She can’t sleep and it’s no wonder. She didn’t expect to sleep at all so the hour or so she grabbed just after midnight were a surprise. She’d woken with a start and now she’s staring into the darkness. She’s curled up next to Danny, one leg thrown over his as her fingers trace patterns on his skin and her chin rests against his shoulder. Angel is in the other room lying on the couch and she knows he’s not sleeping. She’s pretty sure she can see the flicker of the television underneath the door. The only thing that keeps her from getting up to go sit with him is that if the situations were reversed, she’d be jealous, hurt and pretty insane. Insane in the way that she would break the ex-girlfriend in question, regardless of whom she was. Danny’s accepted all of this so much better than she would have. All of this being, of course, Angel.

Buffy watches Danny sleep a little while longer and then dips her head to press a kiss against his shoulder. She bites him lightly and moves one hand down to tickle his stomach. She presses her fingertips against his hipbone and then trails them up his side. Danny is notoriously hard to wake up. He mumbles something in his sleep and tries to pull her closer. She scoots out of the way, sitting up a little then moving so that she’s more hovering over him. She dips her head again and bites the curve of his neck, harder this time.

“Ahhh, Sunshine…time to wake up already?” he says with a yawn.

“No,” she pouts in preparation for being told to go back to sleep. Buffy’s a forward thinker, or she just likes to pout because she thinks the whole situation warrants like a week of pouting. “But I’m bored and I can’t sleep. I promise you can sleep on the plane tomorrow. Wake up and talk to me?”

“Talkin’? That’s what you got in mind?” Danny asks, a crooked grin curving his lips.

“I’ll take distraction in general. I can’t go in the living room and watch informercials and they’re not any fun to watch without you anyway. I always order things, speaking of which, we’ve got more knives on the way. Ginshu…or something…another brand I think because the Ginshu knives are crap. But I’m going to put them in the weapons chest because I think death by paring knife would be funny. Only not for me. For the baddies.”

“Summers, just kiss me.”

“Oh! I can do that,” Buffy grins and leans in to kiss him. “We have to be really quiet,” she whispers when the kiss breaks. He chuckles, shaking his head slightly as he pulls her back into a kiss. He may not have known her as long as some people in the apartment tonight but he’s figured out how to shut her up.

["All men have one refuge, a good friend, with whom you can weep and know that he does not smile." – Menander]

She curls in on herself, knees to her chest. One arm is wrapped around her knees while the other is bent alongside her so that her hand can cover the scar on her neck. It is an entirely defensive and protective position. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows that but she doesn’t let it affect the way she’s sitting. She doesn’t have to present a front to him and if she wants to be protective and defensive with him, it’s okay.

( It's as if they have a script and they follow it beautifully )

[Sorry]

In reference to this. Buffy is playing with Bee's permission

She’s taken the day off, called in sick and it wasn’t entirely a lie. The loss of a slayer always makes her nauseous. She can’t do it. She can’t face teenage boys and smile and laugh and teach them how to defend themselves, or make a joke about if zombie’s attack they’ll be prepared. She can’t do any of it when there’s a seventeen year old girl dead.

Jessica Friedman

The name repeats in her head as she looks down at the scrap of paper in her hand. It’s damp because her palms are sweaty and she rode the subway over here. Her skirt is too long, too tight and her jacket is too warm for the summer heat. Her hair is pulled back so severe it’s giving her a headache or maybe it’s just that she’s about to tell parents of a teenage girl that their daughter is dead. She knocks on the door and even that sounds like an apology but sorry is a lame, lame word when there’s a girl in a box behind it.

The woman who answers looks like an older verison of the pretty red head in the picture Buffy received and all she can think about is that if Jessica hadn’t been a slayer, this is what she would have looked like one day. Her smile feels inadequate and she knows it reeks of bad news by the look the woman gives her.

“Do I know you?” There’s defense in her words and Buffy can’t blame her at all.

She shakes her head apologetically and her smile fails. “I’m here about Jessica.” She can’t even say she knew Jessica because she’s never met the girl and yet her death lays upon her shoulders, stacked up alongside so many others. “My name is Buffy Summers. Can I come in?”

For a moment she thinks Mrs. Friedman is going to deny her access and for a moment she wishes she would. She wants to shove this off on Giles because he does it so much better and she knows that’s not fair. Finally the older woman nods and steps aside but Buffy hesitates as she goes over the threshold. This feels like a hostile invasion.

“Robert, there’s a woman here…about Jessica. Her name is Ms. Summers.” The woman’s voice trembles and Buffy knows in the pit of her stomach that she knows. The words are merely formalities.

Robert joins them as they’re walking into a living room that is so middle class America it makes Buffy want to weep. It feels like her Mom’s living room and she wishes she were home again. She wishes she could step back into a life where her greatest concern was whether she’d make it out alive. Robert introduces himself and his handshake trembles just a little. Buffy thinks maybe she squeezes too hard just trying to make it all stop because there’s a wince that crosses his face or maybe he knows as well and it’s a reaction to the message more than the messenger.

Her report is sketchy. She only knows what she learned from Baileigh and she doesn’t want to give too many details. It’s best left unsaid that a monster killed Jessica. It’s best left unsaid that there was blood and there are so many things best left unsaid and yet Buffy has to say some of them.

“I’m sorry.” It is the culmination of the whole event. The Friedmans hover on the edge of breakdown and Buffy wants to rewind it all. “Jessica was a good slayer and she was saving people. She’s going to be missed by everyone that knew her.”

“Did you know my daughter?” Mrs. Friedman asks, courage bolstered and staring straight into Buffy’s eyes.

She looks down and shakes her head. “No…I never got the chance-“

The sharp crack of a slap across her face stops her words. The slayer in her rails at being locked down as Buffy nods. She folds her hands into her lap and hesitates before she gets to her feet.

“Your wishes for her will be respected and the body is being sent here. You’ll have details by tomorrow.” She gets a card out of her bag and lays it on the end table. “Call if we can do anything.”
“You’ve done enough.” Mr. Friedman’s voice is cold and hard. She knows it’s just a reaction to the situation but it makes her flinch.

“No. I haven’t but I’ll show myself out.”

She is several blocks away before she leans against a building and takes a deep breath. She pulls her cell phone out and glances at the time on it. It’s past six and she thinks Danny should be almost finished at work. Maybe even on his way home. He picks up after a couple of rings.

“Hey, Summers.”

She feels things in her unwind and spots soften at his voice. Tears spring to her eyes as the pressure in her chest builds. She slips her shoes off to dig her toes against the concrete. She knows it’s filthy and she doesn’t care.

“Can you just talk to me?”

Somewhere in the shadows of your mind, you know you wanted me to be here.

It’s not uncommon for her to get up in the middle of the night and there’s no alarm going off or spidey sense going whack. She’s just thirsty and she wants a drink of water so she puts on her robe and pads into the kitchen barefoot. She can hear the neighbors next door and she thinks they’re fighting but the rest of the apartment is quiet. Outside on the street there’s the usual noises, a siren going past, horns honking and the ever present white noise of people. Even in the early hours of the morning, there are people awake in New York City. The wood floors are cold and slick under her feet. They remind her that she wanted to look at rugs next payday. The floor gives way to linoleum and it’s a little bit tacky because she mopped the day before and she thinks she used too much cleaner. She’ll have to mop it with water tomorrow, she thinks as she opens the fridge door. She grabs the orange juice out and drinks straight from the carton then stands there and shakes it trying to decide if there’s enough to put it back in the fridge or if she should just kill the carton now and buy more on the way back from work. She sighs and tilts her head, her mind just about made up to drink the rest. That’s when she feels his breath against the back of her neck and she knows from the way he feels hovering behind and the cool against her skin that it’s not Danny. Her throat closes and her heart hammers. Her lungs refuse to push air out of her body.

“You can’t be here,” she says, breath rushing out and leaving her empty.

“You leave your window open, Buff. You always have,” he tells her. His breath is almost cold and it shivers down her spine. His hand goes to her shoulder and drifts up to her neck, fingertips grazing over the curve and down to the place between her shoulder blades.

“And here I thought you’d take my lack of invitation for what it was. A keep out sign,” Buffy quips with a bravado she doesn’t feel and he knows it. That knowledge pools in the pit of her stomach and straightens her spine. His fingers drift over her back, hard and unyielding against the silk of her robe. She doesn’t move until his hand reaches the small of her back and then her elbow is shoved back into his ribs hard enough to crack one. She goes to grab his wrist and break his arm but he skitters out of her grasp with a smirk.

“You know you wanted me here, Buff. In some corner, some shadow of your mind you wanted me here.”

“No.” Her voice waivers and she wants to kick herself for it. When her eyes meet his her gaze is firm and she wishes she’d brought a stake in here with her. Her hand reaches back but all she feels is metal. He gets closer and her back presses against the counter. His hands are on either side of her and then she’s shoving the butcher knife into his gut and all she can think is that it was easier with Faith. The blade catches on bone and his blood is cool rushing over her hands and then it’s on the linoleum and she’s going to have to clean this up before Danny wakes up.

She can’t breathe. She can’t breathe. She can’t breathe but she’s sitting straight up in bed and gasping for air. She looks at her hands, white and small and smooth. They aren’t covered in blood at all. Danny is asleep next to her and the apartment is quiet. She slips out of bed and grabs one of his shirts from the hamper just so that something about this changes. She shuts the window first and she knows she won’t sleep with it open again for a long time. She gets a stake from her bag and goes into the kitchen. It’s empty. It’s empty and there’s no blood on the floor. There’s not a man in the kitchen that doesn’t belong and the OJ carton is full. It’s just a nightmare and he was wrong. She doesn’t want him here. Not in any corner or shadow of her mind.

Talk about a situation in your muse's life and their motivations for having done what they did that was in line with their personal beliefs. Even if the beliefs are controversial or out of the ordinary, or if the character had suspicions, guilt or regrets, talk about it. If they have no such inclinations toward such sentiments, explore those.

I took a scythe and with it I changed the whole world but more importantly I changed the lives of thousands of girls. I changed a prophecy and a line and the way good fights evil. I told a bunch of misogynistic old men where they could shove it and kicked the first slayers ass but I knew when I put that scythe in Willow’s hands and told her what I wanted to do with it that there would be consequences. I knew I was sentencing girls to lives that would never be normal and early deaths that would come too late. I knew and yet I couldn’t twist my mind around another way. I was working on little or no time and I had one goal in mind. Save the world. I could fix what I broke after that.

Turns out I couldn’t. Well…Willow probably could have but that wasn’t the point. You can’t give someone that kind of power and then take it away. I don’t know all the slayers and I’ll probably never get to meet all of them but Giles has a book (yes it’s a book, Willow keeps the computer database) with every slayer’s name in it. We don’t find out about every death. I wish we did but when we do, it feels a little like I’m dying all over again. I know that because of me, a girl is dead. I know that without me, she probably would have lived to be a little old woman. I feel guilty for every boyfriend that doesn’t stay and every ‘normal’ life event that doesn’t take place. It piles on my shoulders and they will never know how much it hurts. . I still support what I did and I’d do it all over again because it worked. Because hey look…world didn’t end.

Pick one defining moment in your muses life and show us where they would be now had things gone the opposite direction.

I tried to explain to her that this was a mun prompt but Buffy is nothing if not headstrong so this is done in character. Obviously this concerns the events of 'The Gift'and based upon the what if Dawn died concept

BUFFY: The spirit guide told me ... that death is my gift. Guess that means a Slayer really is just a killer after all.
GILES: I think you're wrong about that.
BUFFY: It doesn't matter. If Dawn dies, I'm done with it. I'm quitting.


Her instincts are still there, humming just beneath her skin. She sees them and feels them and she wishes she could make herself less aware. She keeps her promise though, partially out of loyalty to Dawn and partially out of sheer defiance. Buffy Summers can hold a grudge and grind an axe. She’s got a big one to grind now.

Seattle is as far from sunny California as she can get and the postage sized apartment is miles away from her mother’s house. She’s been there since Dawn died but there are boxes left unpacked and her furniture consists of a futon and wooden crates. This isn’t temporary. It’s not Angel and Anne and LA for a summer. She always planned to go back when Angel died, later when it didn’t hurt as much. Later when she could stand to see the cemeteries and later when she could walk past the mansion without falling apart. Later came three months after but this is Dawn and that was a line she was no longer willing to cross. This is for good and always and growing old in a rocker on her speck sized balcony. She will get wrinkles and gray hair but she won’t have children, she won’t find love and she won’t have happiness. It is self imposed punishment but if Dawn can’t have those things, she won’t either. Her life is normal now in every sense of the word but Dawn is still gone. She made a promise to Giles; a threat to the powers that be. If Dawn died, she quit.

Never, ever let it be said that Buffy doesn’t keep her promises.

Describe, in detail, your muse’s morning routine.

Honestly, I’m a lot more nocturnal than I am…whatever a morning person is called…dayturnal? No probably not. Anyway, with the job having, I have to get up in the mornings so the first thing I do is start the coffee maker then I stumble to the shower. Depending on whether it’s been a night full of bad dreams or not usually determines whether I leave the bathroom door open while I take a shower or not. Privacy what? I used to live with over two hundred girls. Now I just live with Danny. I kinda like being able to leave the shower door open. Also yes sometimes I get claustrophobic in the shower. I’m a freak that way.
Usually while I’m in the shower Danny wakes up and we do the two people one sink dance but it’s kinda fun. I’m always threatening to spit toothpaste on his head. You know how Jamie did that one time in that episode of Mad About You? Maybe I watch too much TV. And there’s this toothpaste, it’s vanilla mint and it’s really kind of yummy. If I were more short bus and less me, I’d be eating it. Anyway after I finish in the bathroom I do Tai Chi. It makes me all centered and focused and less BWAH so that I can deal with the day better. Oddly enough it helps with the claustrophobia too and when you’ve got it as badly as I do, help is good. I also drink my coffee while I’m doing the Tai Chi. I know I’m supposed to drink green tea or something more new age-y. I need the caffeine and I like my coffee. Once Tai Chi is over, I get dressed in actual clothes I can wear out of the house because I usually do Tai chi in a wife beater and my underwear then I’m all makeup and hair—and really with the job I have now, mostly it gets pulled back in a ponytail on all bunched up at the back of my neck--before I’m out of the house and on my way to work. I usually walk because subway=underground and taxis are expensive. When it gets cold, I’ll probably suck it up and get a subway pass and use it. For now I’m walking girl. I could get a bike. Like with pedals, not a motorcycle. If Buffy and cars are nonmixy things I’m pretty sure motorcycles (the driving of them because I ride on the back of them very well. I’m all Michelle Pfeiffer in Grease 2 sans the Pink Ladies jacket. Maybe I should get a Pink Ladies jacket) would be nonmixy things. I stop and get a latte or a mocha or a frappachino on my way, which is one good thing about the walking.

That’s my morning. It changes a little on weekends. Saturdays and Sundays are for sleeping in. Sometimes I’ll skip the Tai Chi ‘cause weekends are more laid back, less dealy. Sometimes I do the Tai Chi just because Danny likes to watch and then we have breakfast or sometimes we’ll just go out and get street dogs and walk around the park. I like to go to the Dog Park and play with other people’s dogs. All the fun none of the pressure.