A Normal Progression
Story Notes: Buffy a bit post-series. A small piece in which nothing really happens.
A/N: My little trip down meta way gave me the idea for this. Apologies for any grammatical errors or just plain wrongness. Completely unbeta-ed. Feedback is always appreciated.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never gonna be mine. Not making a profit here.
Rating: G
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Buffy was sitting on Giles’ couch absently counting the threads in the fabric and listening to the whirring of the wall clock. Giles was supposed to be back from his meeting with the new and improved Council of Watchers any time now. The wait was maddening- she’d already made one hundred sixty-seven laps around the small, crowded living room- but this time he would have the answers to what was happening to her.
She should’ve known. How many people get run through with swords and then get back up to not only kick ass but run fast enough to catch a speeding bus while leaping from rooftop to rooftop? No one who was in any way normal, even for a Slayer.
The sound of a car rumbling slowly up the drive made her break off her musings and stand up expectantly. This could be it. Finally, she would get some answers.
“Buffy. How-how are you feeling?” Giles asked when he opened the door and saw her standing expectantly by his couch.
The comforting smells of tweed and whatever cologne Giles always wore eased a little of her anxiety, even if they did seem a little cloying.
“I’m fine. Well, not really but I’ll feel better once I know what’s going on. What’s happening to me Giles?” She knew she was one hair shy of pleading. “What am I turning into?”
Giles closed the door and walked slowly over to her as he took his glasses off. It was never a good sign when he tried to stall by cleaning his glasses. Sure enough, he took a handkerchief out of his front pocket and started vigorously wiping the lenses.
“You don’t seem to be turning into anything.”
“So they know what it is?” She couldn’t stop herself from taking a step towards him in her excitement.
“N-not exactly.” He stuffed the piece of linen back into his pocket and shoved a hand through his hair. “There doesn’t seem to be anything physically or mystically wrong with you,” he said apologetically.
“They’re wrong. They missed something. Giles, they have to check again.”
Giles took her hands and led Buffy back to the couch, pulling her down with him. “Buffy, you’ve been an active Slayer longer than any other in Council records, or what’s left of them. The Council seems to think, and the coven agrees, that this is a normal progression of events.”
Buffy snatched her hands back and tucked them under her arms. She seemed to be cold all the time now. Ever since it had started. “There is nothing normal about this, Giles. On last night’s patrol I smelled that vamp before I saw him, before I felt him.” Her eyes were burning and Buffy looked down at her knees. “And I’m seeing things- things in the dark, like it was an overcast day. And the thing, the thing that happened last month with that garlic demon.”
“The Gar’lash,” he corrected gently.
“Yeah, that. He clawed my stomach open, Giles.” Buffy pressed a hand to her abdomen. “I saw…I was holding in… And it hurt but it didn’t kill me, barely slowed me down. It healed before I got home and there’s hardly even a scar.” Tears dripped off her chin and splashed onto her slacks. She only cried harder when she realized she could hear each drop hit. “Why didn’t I die? What’s happening to me? What am I becoming?”