She stopped fumbling with the machine when a pair of hands kept her own from moving. She watched them remove the clasp, the machine flat-lining her pulse, but it was less annoying to her than the beeping that let her know that she was alive. Obviously, she was breathing. For a moment she kept her head down, her eyes flicking over to rest on her sleeping sister. She wasn't surprised to see her, she probably would have clawed the eyes out of anyone who tried to get her to move back upstairs.
Her eyes flicked back and forth, searching through her memories of the weekend from hell. When demons caught her in her world, it was mostly 'lets beat the crap out of the slayer before we kill her.' Very few of them went for the tie up and carve angle. Finally Buffy looked up to see Dean's face. He'd come back. He had been gone, on the road, but here he was.
She wasn't use to this crap. Demons? Yes? Getting captured? It happened. Complaints? Yes. But the shear amount of crap that had taken place lately. Killing Ben, the constant whining and bitching, and her not being able to just shut them up with a word. Armies she could do, civilians, not so much. And why was it that every time she tried to give Faith a chance, one way or another she almost died? She was done, she was just done with it.
"You're here." she said, stating the complete obvious, her voice breaking slightly, throat dry and she was just exhausted. Had he been there to pull her out? She couldn't remember, she just remembered movement, and then nothing.
The bruising on her body was already gone. Faint red lines on her wrists were starting to heal from where the chains had been locked. She couldn't tell the state of her wounds, but they were probably rapidly healing. Perks of being a slayer. "I dont..." she blinked it confusion, fear still plastered on her face "...remember getting here."
Buffy looked back to Dean, blinking away a few stray tears that then spilled over her cheeks. Her hands were still held still by his, she could pull them away, but she didn't. She let him keep a hold of her hands, but her shoulders slouched, head ducking as she shook slightly from the tears that were still coming. She couldn't do this. She couldn't play both warrior, political leader in a Democratic setting and hold hands. She wasn't capable of doing all this crap at once.