InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "i repeat myself"

Buffy Summers (slayer_comma_b) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2013-07-10 02:19:00

Entry tags:

buffy summers

WHO: Buffy and Damon
WHAT: Buffy does something she will regret.
WHERE: Lawrence Kansas. A party. A street.
WHEN: Forward dated to this weekend.

Of course Buffy was gonna leave. She'd explained exactly why she had to, to Spike, and she already had everything she really needed in her little pack. She could leave any time she wanted. She just...hadn't yet.

She returned her volume of the Watcher's Diaries to the Magic Box. Returning what she borrowed, that was full of the virtue, right? And it took a while because she waited around, infinitely patient, until the shop was sufficiently busy so she could slip in without being noticed and leave the book on a random shelf where it looked out of place and was sure to be found. Not in a talky mood (never in a talky mood), so it was easier that way.

After that, there was nothing else she needed to do. She told herself she wanted to say goodbye to Dawn. But she really didn't think Dawn would appreciate it much...if she really tried, it was sure to go badly, so that wasn't really the reason.

She told herself she wanted to...no, actually, she really didn't even have any justifications. The simple truth was that as much as she hated Lawrence, she just didn't have enough hate to send her walking down the highway with her thumb out for a ride. It was easier to wander the places she'd got to know, listen to her favorite buskers downtown, rest in the shade during the heat of the day and pretend like she was saying an extended goodbye to this place that she hated. (Hate was such a strong word.) She'd leave...soon.

Because she had to leave. It was the only thing that might help. Maybe it wasn't very likely, maybe Spike was right and she would hate any place just as much. Maybe the problem was with her, and nothing would help. (The problem was with her.) But maybe Spike was wrong.

So she'd leave tomorrow. For sure.

* * *

Tomorrows came and went. The only victory she had in terms of doing what she wanted (if she really wanted anything) was that she didn't return to the complex. If she did, that would be it, and she knew it, so she stubbornly stayed away.

That was probably why she went to the party. She'd been at that club she went to sometimes, and listened to that band that she listened to, and the drummer (they'd met under unusual circumstances, like she ever met anyone under any other kind) invited her to the party, and she had nothing better to do. She hadn't really been sleeping much, so she still had hours of wakefulness ahead of her.

In the early hours of the morning, something different started the rounds. She had no idea what it was, she wasn't the sort of girl who knew much about drugs. And she definitely wasn't the sort of girl who did unknown drugs at random parties.

She was wrong about a lot of things lately.

* * *

Some amount of time later, Buffy left the party. She wandered in a blissful but uncoordinated haze, knowing it was wrong, what she was feeling was unnatural -- but not caring even one little bit. Everything was good. Even the things that weren't good were good. She'd thrown up, and that was good too. Good was everything.

But gradually, the bliss wore away, and all that was left was a feeling of nausea, a heaviness in her limbs, and the harsh world that seemed to be laughing at her.

This was hell, nor had she ever left it.

She sat down on the curb and buried her head in her hands.

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salvatorescrow
2013-07-10 05:27 am UTC (link)

Since Katherine’s abrupt departure, Damon found himself wandering the city most nights. It wouldn’t have been an exaggeration to say that he was lost. This was twice now that he’d fallen in love with the doppelganger and twice that he’d lost her, only this time it was worse. It was worse because he was fairly certain that she’d cared for him in return and she wasn’t simultaneously seducing his brother. What they’d had this most recent time was more precious and so it hurt more to lose it. He tried to mask what he felt. He was pretty good at it. Nights like this, though, when he was out wandering, it was hard to look like anything more than a lonely mess.

Damon was nearing a party. All of his senses told him so. He smirked a little, remembering days when he might have crashed it and had a good time, but he was beyond the point where a raging party would lift his spirits. When he spotted a crumpled figure on the curb, though, he slowed his pace to a halt to get a better look.

“Hey.” He called out to the blonde woman just a few feet away from him. “You alright?” It usually wasn’t like him to intervene in the business of strangers, but his loneliness made him a little more sympathetic to others. He craned his neck slightly to get a better look at her. There was something that seemed familiar, though he couldn’t really see the details of her face just then.

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slayer_comma_b
2013-07-10 04:55 pm UTC (link)

During her time in Lawrence, Buffy had built up a shell. Not the spiral kind with the roar of the ocean inside of it, Buffy's wasn't elegant or even entirely functional. it was more like some old discarded bit of shell that had been battered by the surf until it was smooth and thin and riddled with cracks and holes. She'd found it and pulled it close over her vulnerabilities, and she'd worked hard at patching up the holes.

And she'd nurtured that shell until she thought it was part of her. It was a work in progress, but someday she'd get it right, and be herself again, strong and flexible and able to let the world touch her without flinching. But even now, sometimes she felt comfortable enough to poke out and touch the actual world, sharp and violent as it was. Interacting, defending, attacking, even. Exposing herself, but always with a fallback position.

She didn't realize how much she depended on it until it was ripped away by an experience that she had no defenses against. She could shut out the bad, the things she hated, the things that made her miserable (everything made her miserable) but... Euphoria. Pleasure. The feeling that things were right, that the world wasn't out to get her, that no matter what happened it would be okay...

She wasn't sure how well she remembered the place she'd been while dead, the memory of perfection faded when exposed to this rough world, but it didn't matter if it was really the same, it was closer than anything else had been, so close it hurt, so close that she had no defense against the hurt and the longing and

She twitched, a voice intruding on her chaotic feelings. Was she alright?

The question hit her like everything in this hellish place, harsh and pointed and shockingly real. All knife edges. She wanted the soft euphoria, that fake impression of something even better...and it was gone, and it wasn't real because this was real. This was the world, and she knew that however it felt the question had been meant kindly. But there was only one answer she could give.

"No," she said, her voice muffled. Laboriously, she raised her head, revealing tear-stained cheeks. "No..." Heartbroken. Or just broken. She didn't look to see who had asked.

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salvatorescrow
2013-07-10 09:01 pm UTC (link)

Damon wrinkled his eyebrows when he caught sight of her face. Sure, she was a little rougher looking than what he’d seen in pictures, but this was Buffy. The same Buffy that seemed to loathe him or at least what he was. Part of him was inclined to scoff and walk away, leaving her in her current state and shrug it off as her deserving it. Truthfully, though, he wasn’t so sure she deserved it. He took a seat on the curb with her, a couple feet’s distance between the two of them for safety purposes.

“I’m guessing something other than coming down from a high is the root of all of this. I’m not usually one to offer, but if you need to talk I’ll listen.” For Dawn’s sake, he added silently. He and Buffy’s sister weren’t the closest of friends, but he liked her and wanted to keep her safe. If that meant he had to lend a sympathetic ear to Buffy, he’d do it.

He tilted his head slightly, taking it all in and wondering what exactly she was on other than the blinding grief she seemed to be feeling. Damon was aware that she might need more than a shoulder to cry on. In this state, she might very well have needed the attention only a doctor could provide. Then again, she was a slayer and they were notorious for their rapid healing. Only time would tell.

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slayer_comma_b
2013-07-10 10:53 pm UTC (link)

If you need to talk...

It was funny how often she'd heard that since she got to Lawrence. Funny how quickly those words could send her scrambling away from whoever said them. Need to talk meant not strong enough to handle her own problems, and even now, she flinched away from that, from those simple words that were such a strong reminder of the bleak reality of her life these last months.

But she had nowhere to retreat to. She was stuck between the memory of ecstasy and the pain of losing it, and for once, of all the choices, talking might be the least painful. Not something she forced herself to, like when she'd told Willow and Xander and Dawn, but a way to get away from what was in her mind. Words might let her force what she was feeling to arms length. Maybe even find that flippant place where she didn't take anything seriously, at least for as long as it took to say it.

She opened her mouth but all that came out was a croak. And that was funny too, that she might want to say something -- anything -- after all this time, and be unable to talk around the lump in her throat. Too much crying, or some after-effects of whatever she'd taken, she didn't know. She shook her head, swallowed, and croaked another random sound that wasn't a word at all.

She started laughing, the kind of laughter that's very close to tears, but only a little freer. It loosened her throat enough for her to say clearly, "I think...I would give anything...to be happy." Anything. She knew enough to know that was very dangerous.

She laughed again, bitterly, but not for long. As it faded, she glanced to the side for the first time and saw who she was talking to. Sensed, when she bothered to notice. Vampire. Her eyes widened, and the last tiny giggle choked off.

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salvatorescrow
2013-07-11 01:27 am UTC (link)

With every moment spent sitting with her, it was becoming clearer and clearer that she was in a bad way. Damon really was worried, a stark difference from his usual apathy for anyone outside of his circle of friends and family. It made him wish that his people skills went beyond the ability to casually flirt with others. He really felt kind of useless.

Her admission that she thought she’d do anything to be happy only reaffirmed what he’d originally thought. This wasn’t just some drastic comedown from some kind of high. It went deeper. There was real grief in her voice, raw pain that even the most oblivious person would have to notice. He thought that maybe a hand on her shoulder would bring some comfort, but she seemed to only think of him as a stranger and he didn’t want to put her off so he kept his hands to himself.

Then it happened. He saw the recognition in her expression. Her slayer sense was kicking in in spite of the melancholic haze she seemed to be in. Damon had to have been a fool to think he’d be able to sit so close, provide a little comfort without Buffy realizing what he was.

“Usually I’d take this as my cue to leave, but I’m not leaving you alone like this. Stubborn.” He said stubbornly. It felt like an obligation of sorts. He couldn’t leave her on the side of the road when he wasn’t certain she was safe.

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slayer_comma_b
2013-07-11 03:14 am UTC (link)

He knew who she was -- well, obviously. He wasn't the one having a total freakout followed by a complete meltdown on the side of the street. And the total meltdown also explained why he didn't see her as a threat.

Before she even realized what she was doing, she was evaluating him as a threat. Sitting, not standing, not too close... Could have done whatever he wanted before she even noticed him. So not really a threat. Plus she remembered him; she'd sort of enjoyed talking with him that time when she was threatening all the vampires. It had almost been like he was trying to help her make her point. No straying from the topic, no unintended consequences. Very straightforward. Model vampire. Not quite as good as the one who'd dis-invited her from some social thing, but right up there.

Besides, she'd given up being the Slayer. "It's a free sidewalk," she said, not exactly graciously. It felt like a weird thing to say, like how could she even get caught up in threat evaluation and sidewalks, or identity and being the Slayer or not -- how could this be something that even mattered...but it sorta did.

And it sort of didn't. She ought to be angry about being caught like this, but what difference did it really make, compared to everything else?

"You're not going to bother me," she said, half reflexive warning, half truth. "But you might be here a long time." All truth.

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