our common goal was waiting for the world to end
She can't breathe.
Buffy wakes up and she can't breathe and right away, she knows. It's for this reason that she can't open her eyes, not yet, but it doesn't matter, anyway. There's nothing to see but darkness, and she can do that just as well with her eyes closed. Still, that doesn't keep the first of a sure-to-be-steady stream of tears from spilling across her cheeks, creating a ragged, haphazard path down her face as she shakes with the force of her first punch. Nothing.
She throws a second, a third, fourth and fifth. Each immediately follows the last, and she pays no mind to how stifling it is inside or the fact that she's gasping now, sucking in more air than she can afford. She just keeps launching punch after punch until, finally, Buffy feels the wood splinter under her knuckles. It slices through the padding and sends a barrage of dirt flooding into her coffin. She dusts it off with one hand while the other resumes its' task of hitting its way through the roof of the casket, widening the hole through which she'll have to escape. And then, if she hasn't suffocated by that time, she can dig her way through six feet of earth to the surface.
Sounds like a plan.
Buffy wakes up and she can't breathe and right away, she knows. It's for this reason that she can't open her eyes, not yet, but it doesn't matter, anyway. There's nothing to see but darkness, and she can do that just as well with her eyes closed. Still, that doesn't keep the first of a sure-to-be-steady stream of tears from spilling across her cheeks, creating a ragged, haphazard path down her face as she shakes with the force of her first punch. Nothing.
She throws a second, a third, fourth and fifth. Each immediately follows the last, and she pays no mind to how stifling it is inside or the fact that she's gasping now, sucking in more air than she can afford. She just keeps launching punch after punch until, finally, Buffy feels the wood splinter under her knuckles. It slices through the padding and sends a barrage of dirt flooding into her coffin. She dusts it off with one hand while the other resumes its' task of hitting its way through the roof of the casket, widening the hole through which she'll have to escape. And then, if she hasn't suffocated by that time, she can dig her way through six feet of earth to the surface.
Sounds like a plan.