[Written for ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
huntersdaughter! Set in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
takea_stepback. Everyone in this belongs to that verse. This is also the latest of late requests, but there you go.]
“Aunt Buffy.”
The last syllable of Buffy’s name was drawn out an incredibly dramatic amount as she forced herself back to consciousness again to face the tiny blond human who was rocking on her heels next to her bed. She was all dressed, even with her sneakers and jacket on, and she was looking at Buffy expectantly – the kind of look that usually made Buffy feel like she’s forgetting something. She sighs a bit as her eyes close again, wiggling under the covers as she tries to wake up.
“Yes, Banana.”
There’s a very put upon sigh from the small child. “My name isn’t Banana. It’s Hannah. Han. Nah.”
“Are you sure?” Buffy says with a bit of a smirk. “I’m pretty sure I heard you say it was ‘Banana.’”
Hannah sighs, her palm connecting with her forehead. “Aunt Buffy, we don’t have time for this. If we don’t go now, we’re going to miss it!”
“Alright, alright,” Buffy laughs, pushing up into a sitting position and trying to be a bit more serious. “What are we going to miss?”
“All the sales!” Hannah seems very adamant about the severity of the situation. “Then I won’t be able to get Mommy and Daddy a gift for Christmas, and everything will be ruined! I need you to take me!”
“Hannah, honey, the sales last all day.”
“That’s not what the TV said! It said that you have to get there early, or everything will be gone.”
( *** )
1,246 words
huntersdaughter! Set in takea_stepback. Everyone in this belongs to that verse. This is also the latest of late requests, but there you go.]“Aunt Buffy.”
The last syllable of Buffy’s name was drawn out an incredibly dramatic amount as she forced herself back to consciousness again to face the tiny blond human who was rocking on her heels next to her bed. She was all dressed, even with her sneakers and jacket on, and she was looking at Buffy expectantly – the kind of look that usually made Buffy feel like she’s forgetting something. She sighs a bit as her eyes close again, wiggling under the covers as she tries to wake up.
“Yes, Banana.”
There’s a very put upon sigh from the small child. “My name isn’t Banana. It’s Hannah. Han. Nah.”
“Are you sure?” Buffy says with a bit of a smirk. “I’m pretty sure I heard you say it was ‘Banana.’”
Hannah sighs, her palm connecting with her forehead. “Aunt Buffy, we don’t have time for this. If we don’t go now, we’re going to miss it!”
“Alright, alright,” Buffy laughs, pushing up into a sitting position and trying to be a bit more serious. “What are we going to miss?”
“All the sales!” Hannah seems very adamant about the severity of the situation. “Then I won’t be able to get Mommy and Daddy a gift for Christmas, and everything will be ruined! I need you to take me!”
“Hannah, honey, the sales last all day.”
“That’s not what the TV said! It said that you have to get there early, or everything will be gone.”
( *** )
1,246 words
teleios } { mad science love song
Apr. 25th, 2014 11:03 amThe metal filing cabinet opens with a crack! as Buffy tugs on it, possibly a little too hard.
It isn't anything personal to the file cabinet, they just don't really have a whole lot of time. Who knows how long it's going to be until Bailey comes back and once she does, Buffy's fairly certain she won't be pleased that Buffy and Giles were snooping around her stuff. Regardless of the fact that they had a good reason.
(A reason that is more than her and her robot boyfriend being creepier than usual lately. Seriously, who dates a robot? Or maybe that's just Buffy's own personal bias showing.)
Regardless the drawer falls to the ground as it's wretched from the tracks of the cabinet, papers spilling out onto the ground and hitting the stone floor in the basement of the temple with a CRASH!. She pauses, wincing as she glances back to Giles with an apologetic frown.
"So much for stealthy, huh?"
It isn't anything personal to the file cabinet, they just don't really have a whole lot of time. Who knows how long it's going to be until Bailey comes back and once she does, Buffy's fairly certain she won't be pleased that Buffy and Giles were snooping around her stuff. Regardless of the fact that they had a good reason.
(A reason that is more than her and her robot boyfriend being creepier than usual lately. Seriously, who dates a robot? Or maybe that's just Buffy's own personal bias showing.)
Regardless the drawer falls to the ground as it's wretched from the tracks of the cabinet, papers spilling out onto the ground and hitting the stone floor in the basement of the temple with a CRASH!. She pauses, wincing as she glances back to Giles with an apologetic frown.
"So much for stealthy, huh?"
It starts with a dead Slayer.
She had been off the reservation. Went AWOL on her squad, wandered into New Orleans and got in over her head. Maybe it was being unable to handle it, maybe she's looking for some kind of payback, but at the end of the day, a Slayer is dead and that is all that it takes to get Buffy's attention, whether she's welcome there or not. It isn't about trying to clean up the mess or getting revenge either. She just wants her Slayer back, so that her squad can say goodbye. It's the reason why she has to do it, because if those girls were to go into the Quarter as they were - upset, emotional and angry - then they'd just have an even bigger bloodbath on her hands. Buffy isn't in the mood to be the cause of a turf war either, which is why she goes in herself - especially after she hears that "the Originals" have resumed control of the city.
She's also supposed to leave once the deed is done, but for some reason, she can't quite bring herself to walk away yet.
She's not hiding. Any vampire who knows her face is going to notice her there - and a lot of them know her face, thanks a bunch, Harmony - and while she doesn't pick any fights or throw any fuel on the fire, she's definitely being watched. Where she goes, what she does, who she talks to, all of it being funneled back to a compound on the other side of town. She's gotten pretty good at tracing the flow of information and isn't surprised to find that the people watching her are vampires - not werewolves or witches. Vampire Slayer does tend to attract a specific kind of attention, especially if someone is worried about their relative peace being threatened.
She spends about a week minding her manners, not getting into any fights that weren't picked with her first, and generally being the picture of a perfect tourist. And when that week was up and her tails still hadn't gone away, she decides to attack the problem head-on. She's always been a confrontational kind of girl, anyway. She makes her way down to the Original compound, walks right through the front door into the courtyard, and pauses as she stands in the middle, letting out a low whistle as she does.
"What, I don't even get a welcoming committee?" She's speaking loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to be obnoxious. "Don't tell me you didn't see this coming. You've been following me all week."
She had been off the reservation. Went AWOL on her squad, wandered into New Orleans and got in over her head. Maybe it was being unable to handle it, maybe she's looking for some kind of payback, but at the end of the day, a Slayer is dead and that is all that it takes to get Buffy's attention, whether she's welcome there or not. It isn't about trying to clean up the mess or getting revenge either. She just wants her Slayer back, so that her squad can say goodbye. It's the reason why she has to do it, because if those girls were to go into the Quarter as they were - upset, emotional and angry - then they'd just have an even bigger bloodbath on her hands. Buffy isn't in the mood to be the cause of a turf war either, which is why she goes in herself - especially after she hears that "the Originals" have resumed control of the city.
She's also supposed to leave once the deed is done, but for some reason, she can't quite bring herself to walk away yet.
She's not hiding. Any vampire who knows her face is going to notice her there - and a lot of them know her face, thanks a bunch, Harmony - and while she doesn't pick any fights or throw any fuel on the fire, she's definitely being watched. Where she goes, what she does, who she talks to, all of it being funneled back to a compound on the other side of town. She's gotten pretty good at tracing the flow of information and isn't surprised to find that the people watching her are vampires - not werewolves or witches. Vampire Slayer does tend to attract a specific kind of attention, especially if someone is worried about their relative peace being threatened.
She spends about a week minding her manners, not getting into any fights that weren't picked with her first, and generally being the picture of a perfect tourist. And when that week was up and her tails still hadn't gone away, she decides to attack the problem head-on. She's always been a confrontational kind of girl, anyway. She makes her way down to the Original compound, walks right through the front door into the courtyard, and pauses as she stands in the middle, letting out a low whistle as she does.
"What, I don't even get a welcoming committee?" She's speaking loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to be obnoxious. "Don't tell me you didn't see this coming. You've been following me all week."
unnamed } { domo arigato mr. roboto
Sep. 7th, 2013 11:56 amAfter destroying magic as we know it and losing her father figure as well as her sense of purpose in life, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, savoir of the world and leader of the Slayers, retired to become a coffee shop waitress and live on her sister's couch.
Yes, that would be her little sister.
The one who is shacking up with one of Buffy's best friends who used to babysit for her.
She knows, you are all incredibly jealous and completely want her life. But! Aside from the caveats above, life isn't all that terrible. She has a job, she still patrols, and she is obsessively searching for an apartment of her very own. While it's not burdened with glorious purpose - or complete with a castle all her own - it's still a life. It's as close to normal as she's ever had since she was fifteen. It's pretty much all she's ever wanted - sans, of course, being happily married to Christian Slater, but all good things do come with time.
(So why does she feel like it's not enough?)
The situation she's currently in, however, is not her usual situation on patrol. Vampires, the occasional demon, sure. But strange silver-y looking robot people? So not usual fare for San Francisco. There aren't a lot of them, maybe two or three, but they seem to be hauling people off to be "upgraded," whatever that means. She's been following this particular batch to see where they're hauling people off to - one clever and witty rescue, coming up - but what she doesn't expect is one of the big clunky things to get the drop on her before she can get close enough to see what was going on. She is now surrounded on three sides.
"You physiology is compatible. You will be upgraded."
"Hate to break it to you, boys," she says, one hand forming into a fist in her glove, "but I already have been." With that, she swings to the one on her right, landing a hard left to what would be the jaw, which a) hurt and b) doesn't seem to phase him much. In fact, it only seems to make him mad.
"Upgrade or be deleted." As he speaks he raises what looks like some kind of arm canon in her direction. She quickly darts to the side before he can fire, ducking and rolling to get out of the way and watching as the trash can he does happen to hit gets disintegrated in a shower of blue-green light.
That is not good.
"Uh-oh."
Yes, that would be her little sister.
The one who is shacking up with one of Buffy's best friends who used to babysit for her.
She knows, you are all incredibly jealous and completely want her life. But! Aside from the caveats above, life isn't all that terrible. She has a job, she still patrols, and she is obsessively searching for an apartment of her very own. While it's not burdened with glorious purpose - or complete with a castle all her own - it's still a life. It's as close to normal as she's ever had since she was fifteen. It's pretty much all she's ever wanted - sans, of course, being happily married to Christian Slater, but all good things do come with time.
(So why does she feel like it's not enough?)
The situation she's currently in, however, is not her usual situation on patrol. Vampires, the occasional demon, sure. But strange silver-y looking robot people? So not usual fare for San Francisco. There aren't a lot of them, maybe two or three, but they seem to be hauling people off to be "upgraded," whatever that means. She's been following this particular batch to see where they're hauling people off to - one clever and witty rescue, coming up - but what she doesn't expect is one of the big clunky things to get the drop on her before she can get close enough to see what was going on. She is now surrounded on three sides.
"You physiology is compatible. You will be upgraded."
"Hate to break it to you, boys," she says, one hand forming into a fist in her glove, "but I already have been." With that, she swings to the one on her right, landing a hard left to what would be the jaw, which a) hurt and b) doesn't seem to phase him much. In fact, it only seems to make him mad.
"Upgrade or be deleted." As he speaks he raises what looks like some kind of arm canon in her direction. She quickly darts to the side before he can fire, ducking and rolling to get out of the way and watching as the trash can he does happen to hit gets disintegrated in a shower of blue-green light.
That is not good.
"Uh-oh."
✝ Ｎａｖｉｇａｔｉｏｎ ✝
May. 18th, 2013 03:01 pm
