Who: Ambrose and Buffy Where: Ambrose's home When: Late morning - Buffy slept longer than usual against her will Rating: TBD? Status Closed, In Progress
Buffy wasn't one to sleep in often. After being christened with the duty of Slayerdom, she'd been constantly on alert, not that it was too much of a change growing up in the rebel settlements. They'd been conditioned from a young age to be on the watch, ready to respond the second it seemed like a threat loomed over them. Then the dreams started coming. The crazy, bizarre, occasionally prophetic dreams that invaded the subconscious of all Slayers. Buffy had been fond of describing them as a bunch of nonsense that'll mean something later. With death. Usually lots of death.
She hated to feel like she didn't hate her time spent in slavery, but it was starting to feel like it wasn't really that with Ambrose. It was almost like they were dating. Or two people who were about to start dating but wouldn't admit it yet. She didn't know exactly. He was kind to her, gentle even, but she couldn't tell what it was he thought about her. Was she just a girl he'd felt pity for after hearing her story? Was he interested? There were a lot of questions that Buffy was surprised to find herself asking.
But she found herself smiling a lot more around him and meaning it, laughing and opening up a little bit to let him see her as opposed to the Slayer she'd felt had to be her mask for a while. The guilt was starting to become less intense, though she doubted it would go away entirely anymore than the reality of her destiny would just because she might be falling for a vampire.
The dream that night was straightforward, maybe brought on by the guilt. It was of that night, amidst all the fire and flames when she'd failed to kill the half-dragon bastard, instead offering herself for the safety of the people she loved. Only in the dream, Sephiroth had only smiled before agreeing, stabbing her as he leaned in close to whisper that this... all of it... it would end up the same.
"You cannot run from death."
Waking up Buffy felt like she'd been asleep for ages, her body aching like the wound to her abdomen had actually been real. Her mind was fuzzy and her vision hazy as she pulled herself out of bed, stumbling downstairs to find something to wet her dry mouth.
Apparently forgetting that she was wearing only a pair of boyshort panties and a tank top.