Sam nodded as he settled beside her. "He and Bobby just stepped outside to talk." He frowned a bit. "Kinda felt like when parents step out of the room so the kids don't hear what they're talking about, actually."
He listened as Buffy tried to form her thoughts into coherent sentences, and he unfortunately remembered what that felt like. He'd felt that way when Jess had died, and it had taken a long time to recover from that. He slipped his hand into hers, being careful of her bruised knuckles as he gave her smaller hand a reassuring squeeze.
I should probably call her parents or something.
He shook his head a bit. "Giles said he was going to take care of it tonight." between him and Giles, they were gonna find any way to keep Buffy from having to be the one to delivr bad news tonight.
And then she asked the question he had been dreading.
She asked about Faith.
A good thirty minutes had passed since Faith had left, and he was sure by now, she was long gone, never to be found.
"She, uh, she left," he managed, knowing what was to come next.
Kinda felt like when parents step out of the room so the kids don't hear what they're talking about, actually.
Buffy nodded. Giles would be keeping himself busy right about now, a trait he'd passed off to Buffy in a crisis, though it wasn't exactly evident here. She glanced down as Sam slipped his hand into hers.
"I was thinking it might be better coming from Giles," said Buffy quietly. She couldn't honestly remember the last time she'd spoken to her parents. "But then I figure... I guess it doesn't matter who breaks the news. It's gonna kill them no matter what." 'Cause whether they agreed with Willow's lifestyle choices or not - and that was strictly in the Wiccan category - she was still their daughter.
"You seen Faith?"
It took him a moment to answer and Buffy only barely registered the way he stiffened when she asked. She turned slightly, meeting his gaze.
She, uh, she left.
Buffy blinked and straightened, not sure she'd heard him right at first. "What?" Faith had left? "What do you mean left? She was hurt."
But then I figure... I guess it doesn't matter who breaks the news.
"Giles will... I know there's no good way to break the news, but he'll-- he'll find a way, I'm sure. It's the accent, I think."
He was joking. Sorta.
He stiffened at the question about Faith, trying his best to seem casual as she turned to him. He had promised faith he'd walk in like nothing was wrong, but even Faith had to know he'd tell the others what really went down, especially Buffy. He'd made Faith promise not to go out feeling guilty, and he didn't want the others last memory of her being someone who abandoned the mission for no good reason. She deserved more than that.
"She couldn't stay, Buffy," he said, his hand still lingering in hers as he sat forward in his seat. "She knew the moment she stepped out of that truck. Things went bad fast, I think." He paused with a frown. "She tried her damndest to save the others, but... she got bit."
"Definitely the accent," Buffy nodded, giving a small smile. She hadn't wanted to be the one to do it anyway but she would've because it was Willow. Because they'd been friends for seven years through magic addictions and Buffy pushing them away and running away and everything in between.
She couldn't stay, Buffy, said Sam, sitting forwards a little on the air mattress.
"She couldn't stay?" Buffy echoed, frowning, "Is this a guilt thing? Because it would be just like her--"
She knew the moment she stepped out of that truck.
There was something in that, in the way Sam said that, that made Buffy stop dead in her tracks. Something in his face. He frowned and Buffy found herself searching his face, wondering what the hell would make Faith up and leave in the middle of a damn apocalypse.
She tried her damndest to save the others, but... she got bit.
"Bit?" She leaned forward, trying to catch Sam's gaze, to work out what, exactly, he was telling her. "Faith got--are you serious?" Of course he was serious. The look on his face told her everything and when Buffy thought back to Faith's last words, the way she'd stood in front of her, clutching that shotgun, saying what she had...
She'd been bit. And she'd walked back in here to-- To tell her about Willow. Thanks. For saying that. What you did I mean. It means a lot, y'know? Coming from you.
Buffy's hand went to her mouth and she shook her head. "What are you telling me? That... That she came here to say goodbye? That she--" Oh God. Buffy blinked. The shotgun. She'd been so damn pale and she'd thought it was just shock or maybe guilt or-- "No," Buffy shook her head, getting up off the bed and grabbing her jacket, "We have to find her. We have to get her before she does something Faith-like."
Something stupid. Something--Exactly like what she herself would do in this situation. Buffy turned back. Sam hadn't moved. "You're not moving," she said quietly.
Sam watched as Buffy quickly climbed out of the bed, grabbing her jacket from the floor as she rattled off a gameplan.
We have to find her. We have to get her before she does something Faith-like.
He continued to watch her, his frown deepening as she finally turned back to him. He could tell by the way she blinked at him that she expected him to be right there at her side, ready to find Faith. And the realization on her face just twisted the knife in his gut a little deeper.
You're not moving.
He slowly pushed himself from the mattress, going to her and gently taking her jacket from her hands. "Buffy...." he hesitated as he tried to find the words, and the way she was looking at him--almost pleadingly, broken-- didn't help. "She's not gonna be found. She doesn't want to be found."
He reached over and gently touched her face as he tried to explain. "I tried to talk her out of it, tried to reason with her that we could find a cure but.... She didn't want to take the chance that she'd turn on her friends."
She's not gonna be found. She doesn't want to be found.
He took her jacket. She was ready to get moving, to find Faith, to find a cure because damnit she knew Faith had tried and that was what she deserved too. Someone to try.
But Sam was saying-- Buffy shook her head. He wouldn't have given up on her, not Sam.
I tried to talk her out of it, tried to reason with her that we could find a cure but.... She didn't want to take the chance that she'd turn on her friends.
He hadn't. He'd tried. And Buffy knew exactly how stubborn Faith was because she was just that shade of stubborn herself.
"She knew what she was gonna do when she walked in here tonight," said Buffy quietly, "And when she left..." Count on it. "She knew she wasn't coming back." Her voice shook at that and Buffy took her jacket from him, just as gently as he had, and set it back on the desk.
It made sense now. The way she'd looked at her, what she'd said. It was exactly what she'd have done in the same situation; left nothing to chance, gone out on her terms and nobody else's and made sure that nobody got caught in the crossfire.
"She did everything I would've done," Buffy murmured, glancing back up at Sam, her heart twisting as she saw the look on his face. He'd been the one Faith had told, had confided in - he'd been the one who'd tried to stop her and she'd done exactly as she would've done. "So how come it all feels so wrong?"
She knew what she was gonna do when she walked in here tonight.
Sam watched as the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place for Buffy, and her voice cracked slightly as she finished off her thought.
"I think she knew long before she pulled in tonight," he admitted, hating the idea of Faith riding back to the farmhouse alone with only thoughts of the single bullet in the shotgun to keep her foot on the gas. "She wanted to at least tell you about the others. Say goodbye in her own way."
In faith's mind, it had been the least she could do.
She did everything I would've done.
Sam frowned at that. It'd been hard enough to hear Faith, a girl he'd associated with on an occassion or two, proclaim her need to go out on her own terms; but to hear those same words from Buffy was much worse. And Sam felt a spark of guilt light in his stomach as he thanked whoever was watching out for them that it hadn't been Buffy tonight.
So how come it all feels so wrong?
"Because no one wants to see a friend go out like that, no matter what the circumstances are." He reached out for her, pulling Buffy into his arms. He spoke into the top of her head as he held her close. "The good guys can never seem to catch a break, and damned if we don't need one right about now."
She wanted to at least tell you about the others. Say goodbye in her own way.
Buffy closed her eyes at that, wondering when Faith had made the conscious decision to come back, to face her knowing that her reaction would be exactly as it had been. Volatile, initially. Softened, maybe, after that.
"I hate this," Buffy whispered. Because they'd done apocalypses - pretty much held the title for longest-surviving-during... And now here they were, eleven slayers and one kick-ass Wicca down.
It helped, she guessed, to rationalize it as that. Because as soon as she started separating it, of thinking of them as Willow and Faith - constants in her life, friends, allies, both enemies at one point - she found herself beginning to unravel.
"She did everything I would've done. So how come it all feels so wrong?"
Because no one wants to see a friend go out like that, no matter what the circumstances are.
He got it. She knew he did and when he pulled her into his arms, Buffy went willingly, as she probably always would.
There was no break here. They'd lurched from one apocalypse into another - Sam from his death, into the end of the world and they had to deal. Move on. Fight.
And Buffy knew that. She knew that the time to grieve would be later, when the dust had settled, the apocalypse had been averted and the world started to make sense again.
"It's always gonna be like this, isn't it?" She asked quietly. "Burying someone. Making choices and sacrifices that no-one else ever has to." And all because of this fight. The same fight she'd fought for years; the same fight she'd found impossible to leave.
You're not the one and only Chosen anymore. Just gotta live like a person. How's that feel?
Faith hadn't caught a break. Or Willow. Instead they'd been zombie chow and now they were dead. Gone. That thing inside that she'd held onto unfurled quickly and Buffy buried her face into Sam's chest, her shoulders shaking as she cried.
Sam exhaled deeply as Buffy clung to him. Both of their lives had revolved around fighting the good fight, saving people from the things they didn't even realize existed. Their whole lives. And yet there was never a break for them. It was just one battle after another after another.
There never seemed to be time to catch their breath and take a break because as soon as they did.... Well, as soon as they did, people died. Good people. Family. Friends. Loved ones.
Sam had almost accepted hunting as a way of life, accepted that this would be the path he'd have to take, but seeing Buffy like this....
He could choose to not be a hunter. She couldn't choose not to be a Slayer. It was what she was born for, and he wished more than anything that he could change that fate that always seemed to hang over her head.
It's always gonna be like this, isn't it? Burying someone. Making choices and sacrifices that no-one else ever has to.
She buried her face deeper into his chest as she finally cried, the tears she had held in all night finally coming out full force, and he held her just a bit tighter as he rested his chin on the top of her head.
"I know I said earlier that I could still see myself always doing this but... But it's not always gonna be like this, Buffy. It's not. I promise you I will get you that normal life somehow where nights like tonight will not happen. You'll just be a normal girl, and I'll just be a normal guy." He pulled back enough to place her face in his hands, gently forcing her to look at him as he wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "We'll be boring and average and normal. I promise you that."
She'd accepted a long time ago the fact that she could never be normal. She could deal with that. She'd accepted, even, the fact that the fight, the hunt would always be part of her.
It was this that she couldn't accept. Burying friends, watching people make choices that affected the greater good in the long run, but in the short run--Her friends were dying, being picked off one by one in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.
He let her cry. Buffy knew she needed it - it'd been wound up tight inside of her since Faith had walked back in the farmhouse and nothing, not even smashing her fist through a wall, had let it out like that, and when he looked at her, Buffy was torn between survivors guilt on both their parts and missing Willow and Faith like she were missing a limb.
We'll be boring and average and normal. I promise you that.
Deep down, Buffy knew that she was never going to be normal. Deep down, she knew that that was why they fit - that they'd both strived for normal and both come out the other side, a little more cynical.
And Buffy also knew that right now? She kinda needed the lie. "Boring and average and normal," she repeated, smiling though it was watery, "with a white picket fence and 2.4 children and a crappy, nine-to-five job in an office, right?"
Sam returned Buffy's smile, glad to see some sort of joy on her face in a time like this. "Exactly," he replied with a small nod. "Boring jobs with cubiles and co-workers that steal your pens." He paused with a small tilt of his head. "You know, I've always wondered how you get point-four kids."
Sam silently wondered when exactly he had picked up Dean's coping mechanism of hiding pain behind jokes and smiles, but he'd take it tonight. Grief was tiring, and they'd all had a long week already.
You know, I've always wondered how you get point-four kids.
"It's probably a demon thing," Buffy rolled her eyes, "y'know, chopping up one of the offspring to make the number fit?"
She still didn't get how it fit in with humans, exactly, but--Hey, that was her theory, at least. She glanced at the clock on the wall of the study, stifling a yawn.
She felt kinda frazzled - understandable, really, though they still had stuff to do, like... Like tell the other's about Faith, formulate some sort of gameplan so they weren't sitting here treading water. "Wanna tell me more about that normal life?" Buffy asked, gesturing to the bed which looked oh-so-inviting.
She needed to not think for a while. To not think about Faith and Willow, about what she had and hadn't done, about what was coming next. She could do with a little escapism right now; figured Sam could too.
Sam let Buffy pull him over towards the bed, and in all honesty, he could use the break from reality for a minute. They'd barely been off the road twelve hours, and hell, he'd barely been back among the living for five days.
"I think I'd be a paralegal," Sam said as they got settled together on the bed, Buffy resting her head against his chest as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "You? I could see you as some sort of counselor for kids, runaways maybe. We'd live by the beach, and Dawn would come by every weekend from college to visit."
And even though it was a farout dream, Sam couldn't help to still want it deep down. Just to have some sense of normalcy. To not have to worry about living to see the next day. To have family and a single place to call home.
"We'd have a dog at first because we'd be freaked out by the idea of kids," he smirked.
I think I'd be a paralegal. You? I could see you as some sort of counselor for kids, runaways maybe. We'd live by the beach, and Dawn would come by every weekend from college to visit.
Buffy closed her eyes as she leaned against him, able to visualise what he was saying as easily as she could breathe. A normal life, a 9-to-5 job that didn't involve fighting and dying and losing friends.
A home. With Sam. And even though she'd long since given up on the idea, it was nice to hear it, nice to dream.
We'd have a dog at first because we'd be freaked out by the idea of kids, said Sam and Buffy glanced up, smiling a little at the look on his face.
"A big dog. Y'know, one of those that you're always telling to get off the furniture but it does anyway 'cause it doesn't listen to you at all?" Buffy grinned, slipping her good hand into his and squeezing gently. "And our kids--We'd have two kids. A boy and a girl. The boy would be bossy like Dean. But the girl--She'd be like you. And Dawn. Good at her studies. Kinda quiet. And she'll totally be able to kick her brother's ass 'cause, y'know, he's like Dean..."
"The dog would probably listen to you," he chuckled, imagining a big hairy dog splayed out on the couch, or the bed, glad to be taking up room where he shouldn't.
He smiled as she mentioned kids, pulling her closer. "They'd totally be troublemakers, even though they would look completely innocent all the time. We'd try to cook dinner everynight but neither of us can cook so we'd end up ordering out most nights."
"I'd learn to cook!" Buffy protested, even though she laughed, "Mom'd never forgive me if I raised my kids on take-out. Come to think of it? Neither would Giles."
He'd always said that Buffy's eating habits left a lot to be desired. Hell, after Mom'd died, he'd pretty much moved in to cook for Dawn every night. And once he'd left they'd lived on the treats of the Doublemeat Palace. Or pizza.
"He'd play Little League," Buffy smiled, almost able to picture it as she closed her eyes, "And she'd be the next Dorothy Hamill, just like her Mom. And every weekend? We'd do family stuff. Road-trips to, like, Disneyland or something."
Sam nodded as he settled beside her. "He and Bobby just stepped outside to talk." He frowned a bit. "Kinda felt like when parents step out of the room so the kids don't hear what they're talking about, actually."
He listened as Buffy tried to form her thoughts into coherent sentences, and he unfortunately remembered what that felt like. He'd felt that way when Jess had died, and it had taken a long time to recover from that. He slipped his hand into hers, being careful of her bruised knuckles as he gave her smaller hand a reassuring squeeze.
I should probably call her parents or something.
He shook his head a bit. "Giles said he was going to take care of it tonight." between him and Giles, they were gonna find any way to keep Buffy from having to be the one to delivr bad news tonight.
And then she asked the question he had been dreading.
She asked about Faith.
A good thirty minutes had passed since Faith had left, and he was sure by now, she was long gone, never to be found.
"She, uh, she left," he managed, knowing what was to come next.
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Buffy nodded. Giles would be keeping himself busy right about now, a trait he'd passed off to Buffy in a crisis, though it wasn't exactly evident here. She glanced down as Sam slipped his hand into hers.
"I was thinking it might be better coming from Giles," said Buffy quietly. She couldn't honestly remember the last time she'd spoken to her parents. "But then I figure... I guess it doesn't matter who breaks the news. It's gonna kill them no matter what." 'Cause whether they agreed with Willow's lifestyle choices or not - and that was strictly in the Wiccan category - she was still their daughter.
"You seen Faith?"
It took him a moment to answer and Buffy only barely registered the way he stiffened when she asked. She turned slightly, meeting his gaze.
She, uh, she left.
Buffy blinked and straightened, not sure she'd heard him right at first. "What?" Faith had left? "What do you mean left? She was hurt."
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"Giles will... I know there's no good way to break the news, but he'll-- he'll find a way, I'm sure. It's the accent, I think."
He was joking. Sorta.
He stiffened at the question about Faith, trying his best to seem casual as she turned to him. He had promised faith he'd walk in like nothing was wrong, but even Faith had to know he'd tell the others what really went down, especially Buffy. He'd made Faith promise not to go out feeling guilty, and he didn't want the others last memory of her being someone who abandoned the mission for no good reason. She deserved more than that.
"She couldn't stay, Buffy," he said, his hand still lingering in hers as he sat forward in his seat. "She knew the moment she stepped out of that truck. Things went bad fast, I think." He paused with a frown. "She tried her damndest to save the others, but... she got bit."
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She couldn't stay, Buffy, said Sam, sitting forwards a little on the air mattress.
"She couldn't stay?" Buffy echoed, frowning, "Is this a guilt thing? Because it would be just like her--"
She knew the moment she stepped out of that truck.
There was something in that, in the way Sam said that, that made Buffy stop dead in her tracks. Something in his face. He frowned and Buffy found herself searching his face, wondering what the hell would make Faith up and leave in the middle of a damn apocalypse.
She tried her damndest to save the others, but... she got bit.
"Bit?" She leaned forward, trying to catch Sam's gaze, to work out what, exactly, he was telling her. "Faith got--are you serious?" Of course he was serious. The look on his face told her everything and when Buffy thought back to Faith's last words, the way she'd stood in front of her, clutching that shotgun, saying what she had...
She'd been bit. And she'd walked back in here to-- To tell her about Willow. Thanks. For saying that. What you did I mean. It means a lot, y'know? Coming from you.
Buffy's hand went to her mouth and she shook her head. "What are you telling me? That... That she came here to say goodbye? That she--" Oh God. Buffy blinked. The shotgun. She'd been so damn pale and she'd thought it was just shock or maybe guilt or-- "No," Buffy shook her head, getting up off the bed and grabbing her jacket, "We have to find her. We have to get her before she does something Faith-like."
Something stupid. Something--Exactly like what she herself would do in this situation. Buffy turned back. Sam hadn't moved. "You're not moving," she said quietly.
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We have to find her. We have to get her before she does something Faith-like.
He continued to watch her, his frown deepening as she finally turned back to him. He could tell by the way she blinked at him that she expected him to be right there at her side, ready to find Faith. And the realization on her face just twisted the knife in his gut a little deeper.
You're not moving.
He slowly pushed himself from the mattress, going to her and gently taking her jacket from her hands. "Buffy...." he hesitated as he tried to find the words, and the way she was looking at him--almost pleadingly, broken-- didn't help. "She's not gonna be found. She doesn't want to be found."
He reached over and gently touched her face as he tried to explain. "I tried to talk her out of it, tried to reason with her that we could find a cure but.... She didn't want to take the chance that she'd turn on her friends."
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He took her jacket. She was ready to get moving, to find Faith, to find a cure because damnit she knew Faith had tried and that was what she deserved too. Someone to try.
But Sam was saying-- Buffy shook her head. He wouldn't have given up on her, not Sam.
I tried to talk her out of it, tried to reason with her that we could find a cure but.... She didn't want to take the chance that she'd turn on her friends.
He hadn't. He'd tried. And Buffy knew exactly how stubborn Faith was because she was just that shade of stubborn herself.
"She knew what she was gonna do when she walked in here tonight," said Buffy quietly, "And when she left..." Count on it. "She knew she wasn't coming back." Her voice shook at that and Buffy took her jacket from him, just as gently as he had, and set it back on the desk.
It made sense now. The way she'd looked at her, what she'd said. It was exactly what she'd have done in the same situation; left nothing to chance, gone out on her terms and nobody else's and made sure that nobody got caught in the crossfire.
"She did everything I would've done," Buffy murmured, glancing back up at Sam, her heart twisting as she saw the look on his face. He'd been the one Faith had told, had confided in - he'd been the one who'd tried to stop her and she'd done exactly as she would've done. "So how come it all feels so wrong?"
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Sam watched as the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place for Buffy, and her voice cracked slightly as she finished off her thought.
"I think she knew long before she pulled in tonight," he admitted, hating the idea of Faith riding back to the farmhouse alone with only thoughts of the single bullet in the shotgun to keep her foot on the gas. "She wanted to at least tell you about the others. Say goodbye in her own way."
In faith's mind, it had been the least she could do.
She did everything I would've done.
Sam frowned at that. It'd been hard enough to hear Faith, a girl he'd associated with on an occassion or two, proclaim her need to go out on her own terms; but to hear those same words from Buffy was much worse. And Sam felt a spark of guilt light in his stomach as he thanked whoever was watching out for them that it hadn't been Buffy tonight.
So how come it all feels so wrong?
"Because no one wants to see a friend go out like that, no matter what the circumstances are." He reached out for her, pulling Buffy into his arms. He spoke into the top of her head as he held her close. "The good guys can never seem to catch a break, and damned if we don't need one right about now."
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Buffy closed her eyes at that, wondering when Faith had made the conscious decision to come back, to face her knowing that her reaction would be exactly as it had been. Volatile, initially. Softened, maybe, after that.
"I hate this," Buffy whispered. Because they'd done apocalypses - pretty much held the title for longest-surviving-during... And now here they were, eleven slayers and one kick-ass Wicca down.
It helped, she guessed, to rationalize it as that. Because as soon as she started separating it, of thinking of them as Willow and Faith - constants in her life, friends, allies, both enemies at one point - she found herself beginning to unravel.
"She did everything I would've done. So how come it all feels so wrong?"
Because no one wants to see a friend go out like that, no matter what the circumstances are.
He got it. She knew he did and when he pulled her into his arms, Buffy went willingly, as she probably always would.
There was no break here. They'd lurched from one apocalypse into another - Sam from his death, into the end of the world and they had to deal. Move on. Fight.
And Buffy knew that. She knew that the time to grieve would be later, when the dust had settled, the apocalypse had been averted and the world started to make sense again.
"It's always gonna be like this, isn't it?" She asked quietly. "Burying someone. Making choices and sacrifices that no-one else ever has to." And all because of this fight. The same fight she'd fought for years; the same fight she'd found impossible to leave.
You're not the one and only Chosen anymore. Just gotta live like a person. How's that feel?
Faith hadn't caught a break. Or Willow. Instead they'd been zombie chow and now they were dead. Gone. That thing inside that she'd held onto unfurled quickly and Buffy buried her face into Sam's chest, her shoulders shaking as she cried.
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There never seemed to be time to catch their breath and take a break because as soon as they did.... Well, as soon as they did, people died. Good people. Family. Friends. Loved ones.
Sam had almost accepted hunting as a way of life, accepted that this would be the path he'd have to take, but seeing Buffy like this....
He could choose to not be a hunter. She couldn't choose not to be a Slayer. It was what she was born for, and he wished more than anything that he could change that fate that always seemed to hang over her head.
It's always gonna be like this, isn't it? Burying someone. Making choices and sacrifices that no-one else ever has to.
She buried her face deeper into his chest as she finally cried, the tears she had held in all night finally coming out full force, and he held her just a bit tighter as he rested his chin on the top of her head.
"I know I said earlier that I could still see myself always doing this but... But it's not always gonna be like this, Buffy. It's not. I promise you I will get you that normal life somehow where nights like tonight will not happen. You'll just be a normal girl, and I'll just be a normal guy." He pulled back enough to place her face in his hands, gently forcing her to look at him as he wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "We'll be boring and average and normal. I promise you that."
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It was this that she couldn't accept. Burying friends, watching people make choices that affected the greater good in the long run, but in the short run--Her friends were dying, being picked off one by one in the middle of a zombie apocalypse.
He let her cry. Buffy knew she needed it - it'd been wound up tight inside of her since Faith had walked back in the farmhouse and nothing, not even smashing her fist through a wall, had let it out like that, and when he looked at her, Buffy was torn between survivors guilt on both their parts and missing Willow and Faith like she were missing a limb.
We'll be boring and average and normal. I promise you that.
Deep down, Buffy knew that she was never going to be normal. Deep down, she knew that that was why they fit - that they'd both strived for normal and both come out the other side, a little more cynical.
And Buffy also knew that right now? She kinda needed the lie. "Boring and average and normal," she repeated, smiling though it was watery, "with a white picket fence and 2.4 children and a crappy, nine-to-five job in an office, right?"
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Sam silently wondered when exactly he had picked up Dean's coping mechanism of hiding pain behind jokes and smiles, but he'd take it tonight. Grief was tiring, and they'd all had a long week already.
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"It's probably a demon thing," Buffy rolled her eyes, "y'know, chopping up one of the offspring to make the number fit?"
She still didn't get how it fit in with humans, exactly, but--Hey, that was her theory, at least. She glanced at the clock on the wall of the study, stifling a yawn.
She felt kinda frazzled - understandable, really, though they still had stuff to do, like... Like tell the other's about Faith, formulate some sort of gameplan so they weren't sitting here treading water. "Wanna tell me more about that normal life?" Buffy asked, gesturing to the bed which looked oh-so-inviting.
She needed to not think for a while. To not think about Faith and Willow, about what she had and hadn't done, about what was coming next. She could do with a little escapism right now; figured Sam could too.
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Sam let Buffy pull him over towards the bed, and in all honesty, he could use the break from reality for a minute. They'd barely been off the road twelve hours, and hell, he'd barely been back among the living for five days.
"I think I'd be a paralegal," Sam said as they got settled together on the bed, Buffy resting her head against his chest as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "You? I could see you as some sort of counselor for kids, runaways maybe. We'd live by the beach, and Dawn would come by every weekend from college to visit."
And even though it was a farout dream, Sam couldn't help to still want it deep down. Just to have some sense of normalcy. To not have to worry about living to see the next day. To have family and a single place to call home.
"We'd have a dog at first because we'd be freaked out by the idea of kids," he smirked.
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Buffy closed her eyes as she leaned against him, able to visualise what he was saying as easily as she could breathe. A normal life, a 9-to-5 job that didn't involve fighting and dying and losing friends.
A home. With Sam. And even though she'd long since given up on the idea, it was nice to hear it, nice to dream.
We'd have a dog at first because we'd be freaked out by the idea of kids, said Sam and Buffy glanced up, smiling a little at the look on his face.
"A big dog. Y'know, one of those that you're always telling to get off the furniture but it does anyway 'cause it doesn't listen to you at all?" Buffy grinned, slipping her good hand into his and squeezing gently. "And our kids--We'd have two kids. A boy and a girl. The boy would be bossy like Dean. But the girl--She'd be like you. And Dawn. Good at her studies. Kinda quiet. And she'll totally be able to kick her brother's ass 'cause, y'know, he's like Dean..."
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He smiled as she mentioned kids, pulling her closer. "They'd totally be troublemakers, even though they would look completely innocent all the time. We'd try to cook dinner everynight but neither of us can cook so we'd end up ordering out most nights."
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He'd always said that Buffy's eating habits left a lot to be desired. Hell, after Mom'd died, he'd pretty much moved in to cook for Dawn every night. And once he'd left they'd lived on the treats of the Doublemeat Palace. Or pizza.
"He'd play Little League," Buffy smiled, almost able to picture it as she closed her eyes, "And she'd be the next Dorothy Hamill, just like her Mom. And every weekend? We'd do family stuff. Road-trips to, like, Disneyland or something."
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