Someone to Turn to, Ensemble
Someone To Turn To
Summary: Somewhat connected series of drabbles focused on the repercussions of NFA.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Owned by more talented folk.
Notes: Originally posted in open_on_sunday for the "Lean on Me" challenge.
i.
Of all the things the dragon hit, it had to be his eyes. Angel bumped into the chair yet again.
“Coupla hundred more years, an’ you’ll be able to use echolocation.”
He pushed the chair out of the way, and crept toward the counter. “I don’t plan on being bat-faced, Spike. And I doubt it works that way.” He bumped into the refrigerator. “Dammit.”
He felt Spike lead him to the sink. “M’not your walkin’ stick, mate. Got me own stuff to do.”
“Then go.”
They both knew Spike would guide him over to the sofa when he was done.
ii.
Faith stood underneath the hotel’s awning, reluctant to step out into the downpour. It felt strange. It was only a little rain, maybe some thunder and lightning. She was a Slayer! She shouldn’t have been afraid! But she knew the statistics. Fifty of her girls had died in this weather, in this town. Fifty young women.
“Hey,” a soft voice called to her. Buffy was coming out of the hotel with an umbrella. A bright yellow umbrella. Great. Fashion before function. She tried to smile. "Thought we might need this."
She nodded. “Thanks, B.”
“Let’s go kick some demon butt.”
iii.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to find them. It’s gonna take some powerful stuff to take them down, too.” She kept telling the Council. She kept explaining that these Senior Partners just weren’t accessible on this plane, and that they were the epitome of power. They were dark magic, very dark, but they all said she could do it.
“You’re the last hope.” Xander sat next to her on the jet, “if these girls keep dying.”
She nodded, knowing what he meant.
When they arrived at the airport, he handed her a yellow crayon. “I believe in you, Willow.”
iv.
He eyed his glasses with disdain. He was sick to death of cleaning them. Why did he keep leading them into traps? Why couldn’t he win for once?
He ignored the presence next to him. He had maps to look at, reports to read, the Immortal to call. He had lots of things to do, and with each minute those Three Beasts were slaughtering his girls. Damn Angel to hell, for whatever it was that he did.
“You couldn’t have known, sir.” Andrew set a hesitant hand on his shoulder, and Giles couldn’t find the energy to shrug it off.
v.
Connor sat in the coffee shop, stake in pocket, and knife in belt, slowly sipping his drink. His father had refused to see him. That blond vampire, Spike, wouldn’t let him past the lobby of the hotel. They said it was for his protection, but anyone in Los Angeles knew that the entire city was off limits for those who were concerned about safety. He only wanted to help. Was that too much to ask?
“He is healing, but slowly.” She sat down across from him, not bothering to disguise her blue body. “We shall kill things tonight?”
Connor nodded.
Summary: Somewhat connected series of drabbles focused on the repercussions of NFA.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Owned by more talented folk.
Notes: Originally posted in open_on_sunday for the "Lean on Me" challenge.
i.
Of all the things the dragon hit, it had to be his eyes. Angel bumped into the chair yet again.
“Coupla hundred more years, an’ you’ll be able to use echolocation.”
He pushed the chair out of the way, and crept toward the counter. “I don’t plan on being bat-faced, Spike. And I doubt it works that way.” He bumped into the refrigerator. “Dammit.”
He felt Spike lead him to the sink. “M’not your walkin’ stick, mate. Got me own stuff to do.”
“Then go.”
They both knew Spike would guide him over to the sofa when he was done.
ii.
Faith stood underneath the hotel’s awning, reluctant to step out into the downpour. It felt strange. It was only a little rain, maybe some thunder and lightning. She was a Slayer! She shouldn’t have been afraid! But she knew the statistics. Fifty of her girls had died in this weather, in this town. Fifty young women.
“Hey,” a soft voice called to her. Buffy was coming out of the hotel with an umbrella. A bright yellow umbrella. Great. Fashion before function. She tried to smile. "Thought we might need this."
She nodded. “Thanks, B.”
“Let’s go kick some demon butt.”
iii.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to find them. It’s gonna take some powerful stuff to take them down, too.” She kept telling the Council. She kept explaining that these Senior Partners just weren’t accessible on this plane, and that they were the epitome of power. They were dark magic, very dark, but they all said she could do it.
“You’re the last hope.” Xander sat next to her on the jet, “if these girls keep dying.”
She nodded, knowing what he meant.
When they arrived at the airport, he handed her a yellow crayon. “I believe in you, Willow.”
iv.
He eyed his glasses with disdain. He was sick to death of cleaning them. Why did he keep leading them into traps? Why couldn’t he win for once?
He ignored the presence next to him. He had maps to look at, reports to read, the Immortal to call. He had lots of things to do, and with each minute those Three Beasts were slaughtering his girls. Damn Angel to hell, for whatever it was that he did.
“You couldn’t have known, sir.” Andrew set a hesitant hand on his shoulder, and Giles couldn’t find the energy to shrug it off.
v.
Connor sat in the coffee shop, stake in pocket, and knife in belt, slowly sipping his drink. His father had refused to see him. That blond vampire, Spike, wouldn’t let him past the lobby of the hotel. They said it was for his protection, but anyone in Los Angeles knew that the entire city was off limits for those who were concerned about safety. He only wanted to help. Was that too much to ask?
“He is healing, but slowly.” She sat down across from him, not bothering to disguise her blue body. “We shall kill things tonight?”
Connor nodded.