(no subject)
Buffy realizes two weeks after the zombie apocalypse has started that Bobby Singer may be the smartest hunter she's ever met.
It's not a title she gives easy, not when everything in her tells her to distrust hunters on principle but she knows Sam and Dean - even if she thinks the latter is sometimes a total jackass.
Hell, she even likes Ellen a whole lot - she reminds her of her mother with a fierce, steely determination that seems to get her through knowing (though she'll never admit) that Jo, her own daughter and also a hunter, is probably dead.
Bobby, though, is on a whole 'nother level when it comes to the apocalypse because Bobby has a farmhouse and so far? It's managed to keep them relatively safe, given its status as smack in the middle of Ass-End-of-Nowhere.
It's been two weeks since Willow and Faith and the supply run that wasn't and though there's a hollow ache that never quite seems to not be there, they've tried to come back from it for the most part.
Sam, Dean, Bobby and Ellen have been teaching the girls to shoot and Buffy's not sure what year in the 70's Bobby started stockpiling ammo and stuff, but she's kinda grateful for his forward thinking.
The food thing is another matter altogether. Ten teenage slayers and the rest of their fighting team makes up for nineteen people living on top of each other in the farmhouse and though they try to ration what they have, it's starting to run out.
She suggests the supply run to both Sam and Giles that morning, observing their raised eyebrows with one of her own. "We need food," she points out, "and I'm going stir crazy cooped up in here." She needs a break, she decides, from researching. And something to pummel - something demon-like that isn't going to turn her into a slobbering, brain-eating zombie - if she can get it - she's not even all that sure that there's demons left in the world, not now.
The four of them head out late afternoon in the Impala, an unspoken promise to the others that they'll be careful and watch each others backs - Buffy and Sam, because Buffy's the Slayer and she figures she should be there. Sam because he's pretty much sniper-good with a gun and won't let Buffy go alone.
Dean for the same reason - the sniper-reason, not the Buffy-reason - and Anya because if she has to listen to Andrew wax lyrical about how Dean saved him from a zombie last week, she may just shoot him herself (she's pretty handy with a gun now, too) previous attempts at saving his life be damned.
Buffy's got better with a gun and the first zombie she sees when they round the corner in the large abandoned mall is rewarded with getting its head blown off, her lips quirking with a sort of grim satisfaction.
"Really most sincerely dead," she murmurs as the body drops to the floor.
It's not a title she gives easy, not when everything in her tells her to distrust hunters on principle but she knows Sam and Dean - even if she thinks the latter is sometimes a total jackass.
Hell, she even likes Ellen a whole lot - she reminds her of her mother with a fierce, steely determination that seems to get her through knowing (though she'll never admit) that Jo, her own daughter and also a hunter, is probably dead.
Bobby, though, is on a whole 'nother level when it comes to the apocalypse because Bobby has a farmhouse and so far? It's managed to keep them relatively safe, given its status as smack in the middle of Ass-End-of-Nowhere.
It's been two weeks since Willow and Faith and the supply run that wasn't and though there's a hollow ache that never quite seems to not be there, they've tried to come back from it for the most part.
Sam, Dean, Bobby and Ellen have been teaching the girls to shoot and Buffy's not sure what year in the 70's Bobby started stockpiling ammo and stuff, but she's kinda grateful for his forward thinking.
The food thing is another matter altogether. Ten teenage slayers and the rest of their fighting team makes up for nineteen people living on top of each other in the farmhouse and though they try to ration what they have, it's starting to run out.
She suggests the supply run to both Sam and Giles that morning, observing their raised eyebrows with one of her own. "We need food," she points out, "and I'm going stir crazy cooped up in here." She needs a break, she decides, from researching. And something to pummel - something demon-like that isn't going to turn her into a slobbering, brain-eating zombie - if she can get it - she's not even all that sure that there's demons left in the world, not now.
The four of them head out late afternoon in the Impala, an unspoken promise to the others that they'll be careful and watch each others backs - Buffy and Sam, because Buffy's the Slayer and she figures she should be there. Sam because he's pretty much sniper-good with a gun and won't let Buffy go alone.
Dean for the same reason - the sniper-reason, not the Buffy-reason - and Anya because if she has to listen to Andrew wax lyrical about how Dean saved him from a zombie last week, she may just shoot him herself (she's pretty handy with a gun now, too) previous attempts at saving his life be damned.
Buffy's got better with a gun and the first zombie she sees when they round the corner in the large abandoned mall is rewarded with getting its head blown off, her lips quirking with a sort of grim satisfaction.
"Really most sincerely dead," she murmurs as the body drops to the floor.