(no subject)
"I can shoot a crossbow," said Buffy, lining up yet another shot, "I can use a tranquilizer gun and have my intended, moving target on the floor in three seconds flat and this--" she gestured to the cans lined up on the fence, "--this, I suck at."
They'd left the diner an hour and a half earlier and after disposing of the zombie in Dean's trunk, they'd headed out to a field on the way to Bobby's bunker to indulge in a little target practice.
A little target practice that Buffy was never likely to forget in her natural life and not just because she sucked, either. "I don't get it," she huffed, watching a sort of smug-Dean line up three shots and hit the mark every single time, "I have supernatural strength, speed, agility... I'm supposed to be good at this. And I suck."
"You do." Anya nodded. She'd been surprisingly good at it but then after the sex in the bathroom at that diner and all the talk during practice of what she was going to do to Dean after, she felt pretty relaxed.
Buffy looked like steam was about to come out of her ears. "You never practiced this with Giles?"
"I was always pretty much anti-guns. Then I got shot by one and it sealed the deal forever," said Buffy, glancing over at Sam - probably the most patient guy on the planet where guns and Buffy were concerned - who'd spent the last ten minutes directing Giles to Bobby's bunker, earning her a small reprieve in the target practice.
"You wanna go again?" She asked, even though her trigger finger was itching to not be used again. Buffy knew, however, that this was pretty much one of the only weapons that put them in good stead against an army of zombies, hand-to-hand combat not being an option with something that wanted to eat your brains. "Color this Betty ready."
They'd left the diner an hour and a half earlier and after disposing of the zombie in Dean's trunk, they'd headed out to a field on the way to Bobby's bunker to indulge in a little target practice.
A little target practice that Buffy was never likely to forget in her natural life and not just because she sucked, either. "I don't get it," she huffed, watching a sort of smug-Dean line up three shots and hit the mark every single time, "I have supernatural strength, speed, agility... I'm supposed to be good at this. And I suck."
"You do." Anya nodded. She'd been surprisingly good at it but then after the sex in the bathroom at that diner and all the talk during practice of what she was going to do to Dean after, she felt pretty relaxed.
Buffy looked like steam was about to come out of her ears. "You never practiced this with Giles?"
"I was always pretty much anti-guns. Then I got shot by one and it sealed the deal forever," said Buffy, glancing over at Sam - probably the most patient guy on the planet where guns and Buffy were concerned - who'd spent the last ten minutes directing Giles to Bobby's bunker, earning her a small reprieve in the target practice.
"You wanna go again?" She asked, even though her trigger finger was itching to not be used again. Buffy knew, however, that this was pretty much one of the only weapons that put them in good stead against an army of zombies, hand-to-hand combat not being an option with something that wanted to eat your brains. "Color this Betty ready."