Carry You Home
Title: Carry You Home
Fandom: Buffy/Mercedes Thompson Series
Challenge: #116 - Home sweet home
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and all related characters; Patricia Briggs owns "The Mercedes Thompson Series" and all related characters; I own nothing.
Summary: Buffy drove throughout the night.
Series Master List
Buffy drove throughout the night, only stopping for gas when her fuel gauge ran dangerously low. She could feel exhaustion dancing along the edge of her consciousness, but she ruthlessly shoved it aside. It was only when her vision started darkening along the edges did she succumb and pass out in a seedy motel.
Her sleep was fitful, her mind replaying that last fight with Samuel over and over again. Their shouting. Him calling her a monster. The echo of the door slamming shut behind him. When she woke up, she felt no more refreshed than she had before falling asleep. She just felt achingly empty.
By the time she drove into Santa Barbara, night had fallen once again. Her body ached from sitting in a car for so long, but Buffy ignored it. She was almost there.
Her house was dark, thankfully currently between tenants. Buffy quietly unlocked the door, stepped inside, and took in the empty main room. She hadn’t been back in years, not since she felt Blackwell sniffing around a little too close for comfort.
“Home, sweet home,” Buffy muttered quietly as she walked to the bedroom. The words had never felt quite so hollow before.
Fandom: Buffy/Mercedes Thompson Series
Challenge: #116 - Home sweet home
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and all related characters; Patricia Briggs owns "The Mercedes Thompson Series" and all related characters; I own nothing.
Summary: Buffy drove throughout the night.
Series Master List
Buffy drove throughout the night, only stopping for gas when her fuel gauge ran dangerously low. She could feel exhaustion dancing along the edge of her consciousness, but she ruthlessly shoved it aside. It was only when her vision started darkening along the edges did she succumb and pass out in a seedy motel.
Her sleep was fitful, her mind replaying that last fight with Samuel over and over again. Their shouting. Him calling her a monster. The echo of the door slamming shut behind him. When she woke up, she felt no more refreshed than she had before falling asleep. She just felt achingly empty.
By the time she drove into Santa Barbara, night had fallen once again. Her body ached from sitting in a car for so long, but Buffy ignored it. She was almost there.
Her house was dark, thankfully currently between tenants. Buffy quietly unlocked the door, stepped inside, and took in the empty main room. She hadn’t been back in years, not since she felt Blackwell sniffing around a little too close for comfort.
“Home, sweet home,” Buffy muttered quietly as she walked to the bedroom. The words had never felt quite so hollow before.