OPEN ♔ I HAD BEEN DRESSED IN A COAT OF ARMOR.

[slays]

♬ Horse and I ; Bats for Lashes

WHO || Buffy Summers and YOU. (open)
WHAT || Insomnia strikes.
WHERE || Knight's HQ, the Kitchen
WHEN || Saturday night, around 1 am.
HOW || Actionspam or prose, multiple threads

Buffy stirred as she slept, her tiny body stretching to encompass the entirety of her bed as she steadily shifted about, propelled into unconscious action by the vividness of her dreams. They gripped her in a way reality had yet to since she ... well, since she couldn't remember when. She gave a quiet grumble of protest at the sudden aching pain that flooded her senses as she relived a four hundred-year-old memory.

White Doe you are, white doe you shall become!

The burn of fresh, present pain creaked through her bones as they snapped and altered. Her teeth gritted, but she did not scream. The Slayer did not scream, did not submit to the wills of men, did not allow them to be satisfied by controlling her. But, the agony was unbearable. She fell to the ground, fingers digging into the dirt, grabbing fistfuls of earth.

Her vision blurred, her mind edged dark, and for a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, the world around her was only blurred swatches of whites, blacks and greys. They slowly gained shape, but the colors had bled out and didn't return.

Flailing, she tried to scramble to her feet, but the attempt caused her to collapse, because her legs were not those of a human. They weren't intended to hold her upright on two. No, below her were the knobby, furred legs of a doe, unsteady and collapsing beneath her.

She tried to run. Across water, which cooled her hooves (hooves? Really?), but it warred against her. Rushing up from the waves, blue figures surrounded her, assaulted her, crushed her beneath the weight of them. It was all she could do not to drown as it filled her tiny doe lungs and she was forced back ashore on the beach of the island.

The monsters weren't going to allow her to leave. She was trapped. Trapped on this rock.

She wasn't sure how much time passed. Weeks. Months. It was all a blur of long runs through wooded areas. They were peaceful, but confining. The trees felt more like prison bars after so long. She was alone, locked away on a part of the earth that no man would visit. Until he did.

Seal of the Ocean. She saw him from where she hesitated on a rock, and her eyes widened, her body growing still and unmoving. He drew his bow, but he was too far off for her to see. She couldn't budge, too shocked that it was really him.

Too shocked to realize that her body was changing again, and when she could finally move, when she finally outstretched her arms to greet him, smiling wide and bright, she felt pain blossoming in her breast. Looking down, she saw the arrow planted deep in her rib cage. Blood flooded her heart, her lungs, and she gasped for a breath that wouldn't come, falling once more to the rocks below.

Seal of the Ocean made his way to her side, holding her, calling for help, though she could scarcely say she understood what came out of his mouth.

"Too late," she informed him. "I must speak ..." He held her in his arms, and she told him. "I was the Slayer. I let anger and hurt and pride betray me, and now I pay the price. Do not mourn. I die loved." Her vision blacked as her breaths grew more shallow, more gasped, more impossible.

And the inability to catch her breath, even as she gasped for it, jerked Buffy from her slumber. She shot straight up in bed, panting, wheezing, gulping down oxygen like it was a fire sale.

Different dream. Same end. Death. They always died. She didn't know who White Doe was, who Seal of the Ocean was, or what it had to do with her, but she could safely say that it could be added to the tiny collection of memories she'd managed to regain, none of which were hers, all of which were different gruesome deaths wrought on by demons and magic that she didn't understand.

She was sweating. She pushed the covers back, finally catching her breath, and reached up to wipe the moisture from her brow, pulling herself out of the bed. Hell. It felt like every time she shut her eyes, she was trapped in some ... some perpetual Hell. Somebody else's Hell, even. She took a moment to re-orient herself to the unfamiliar room, then shuffled her feet into slippers and ducked out of it entirely, leaving the door cracked behind her to remember which one was hers.

Making her way down the hall, she hung a left and found her way back to the kitchen. It was harder to find in the darkness, but at least she could say she'd been there before. Made it easier to find than Jack's office had been. She grabbed a piece of fruit off the counter and a paring knife, leaning over it and slowly cutting into the pulp of the fruit, biting her lip as every squish of its flesh reminded her of the sickening noise of the arrow in White Doe's chest.

One decent night's sleep. That's all she wanted. Why was it so much to ask? If her life was going to haunt her, couldn't it haunt her with the rest of her memories and not these ... Slayers?

Comments

[bigbad]

[Spike has been getting the hang of the whole vampire thing slowly but surely. He'd found the best way to deal with it was to eat late t night when no one else was awake. It was harder to sleep at night than during the day, he'd noticed.

Of course, his brilliant plan would have worked a lot better if the kitchen had been deserted like he'd hoped. But no. He walked in and saw Buffy eating some fruit. He stopped, sort of tempted to just bolt out of there and wait until she'd gone, but that would just be awkward. Plus, she might think he was afraid of her. Spike couldn't have that.

So instead he gave her a little nod and a smile.] Buffy. Wasn't expecting anyone else to be here.

[slays]

[ She didn't hear the creaking of the door as he entered, too lost in her own thoughts, but she did hear his footsteps before she heard his words. The fruit got set down and her grip on the knife adjusted automatically. She straightened, bristling, bringing it up in a defensive, ready-to-fight gesture and --

Oh. Spike. Her demeanor loosened, but not entirely. She still couldn't quell the instinctive icky feeling he inspired, or disregard the fact that his presence just naturally brought out a fight response, but she had no reason for it. She lowered the knife back to the counter, awkward, finding her words. ]

Wasn't expecting to be here. [ It's a vague non-answer, but there you go. ]

[bigbad]

[He tilts his head, taking a moment to study her a bit more closely. He'd apparently startled her, or else she was just really used to people attacking her in the kitchen.]

What's wrong?

[slays]

It's one in the morning. [ Her tone is a little harsh and defensive. ] I wasn't exactly prepped for company. [ She at least assumes he just means the jumpiness. She rolls her shoulders a little. ]

[bigbad]

No, I meant-- [She barely knows him. She probably doesn't want to confide in him. He shakes his head.] Never mind. I was just getting... [Blood. He can't say blood. He just gestures at the fridge. He can find... something. Do vampires even eat human food? He hopes they do.]

[slays]

Right. Well, don't let me stop you. [ She gets out of the way of the fridge to lean against a countertop, carving another chunk out of her fruit and eating it off the knife. ]

[bigbad]

[He walked past her and opened the freezer. He grabbed a red popsicle and unwrapped it, then turned back to face her.]

So. Trouble sleeping? Or do you just keep late hours?

[slay]

What is that, the one a.m. kitchen version of "you come here often?" [ She's deflecting. ]

[bigbad]

[He shrugs, looking amused.] Maybe. Should I offer to buy you a warm glass of milk?

[vantol]

[Sven couldn't be bothered to do things like leave his bed to get his credit card, guns, and gadgetry, but he sure could wander into the kitchen in the middle of the night. He got hungry sometimes, okay. Since dragonblooded humans have darkvision, he was just rifling through the pantries in the dark, looking for something to stuff his face with. Maybe Triscuits. Mmmmm.

It took him a minute to realize someone else was in the kitchen. And a few seconds to watch her and realize she wasn't looking so hot. ... Emotionally. So he strides over.]

Munchies? [He is very articulate.]

[slays]

[ She looked up from where she leaned on the counter, glancing at him like his face was offensive with a crinkling of her nose. ] What? [ Her mind processed the question. ] No. No, I just -- [ She looked back down at her fruit and knife and cleaved off another chunk of it, raising the knife so she could eat the chunk off of it, thoughtful. Finally, decisively, she spoke as she lowered the knife back down, stabbing the fruit more definitively. ] Couldn't sleep.

[vantol]

I get that. [She's not the only one with a hard life, okay. He turns away to go back into the pantry and retrieve his own snack -- the previously mentioned Triscuits. And chews on a couple before speaking again.] So what, is it like ... nightmares? Anxiety? Weird ... backpain? I don't know, feel free to stop me.

[slays]

[ She knows he's just trying to be helpful, but knowing that logically and allowing her brain to process it before she makes a bitchy comeback are two separate things. Her gaze is narrow, lips pursed. ]

It's actually this really grating guy who likes to ask annoyingly personal questions. [ She sighs, dropping the fruit to the counter and straightening up. ] I'm sorry, I just -- Weird backpain. I'm chalking it up to the clunky armor. So beyond not built for a girl my size.

[thebetrayer]

[He shrugs and waits until she's done to offer her his box of Triscuits.] They probably have massage therapists somewhere around here. They have everything else.

[slays]

[ She will take those triscuits thank you very much. Except she'll really just reach into the box and let him keep holding it. ]

You think?

[thebetrayer]

[He is not particularly bothered by this and keeps holding it out to her.] I do. And I think I saw them, so there's that. Did you see the movie theater?

[slays]

Haven't been inside yet. [ She pulls the triscuits out and stuffs one into her mouth, looking thoughtful. ] Think it's open right now?

/tags into things late, no 1 curr

[wildmind]

[As Nessa sweeps into the kitchen, all long flowing skirts and ruffled middle-of-the-night hair, she doesn't seem surprised to see anyone there.]

Is there room for one more? [She smiles a bit as she moves to the fridge]

no such thing as late

[slay]

Would you believe it, you're the first person to actually ask. [ She makes sure to get out of Nessa's way, giving a smile. ]

<3

[wildmind]

You had the look about you of someone with a lot on their mind. [She gives a small, knowing smile, drawing the door open when Buffy's out of the way]

<333

[slays]

Beats being somebody making with the creepy kitchen lurking at this time of night without the something on my mind excuse, right? [ Shrug. She's trying to deflect. Poorly. ]

[wildmind]

I hope you weren't implying anything about me. [It's said playfully over her shoulder as she reaches for a bottle of milk]

[slay]

[ innocent look. ] Not intentionally?

[wildmind]

I suppose I'll take it. [She sets to pouring herself a glass] So you must be new.

[slays]

God, it's like I'm wearing a sign on my back or something. Is it really that obvious?