Underground
Title: Underground
Creator: TheFoxinator
Rating: T
Setting: Pre-season eight (sometime during the events of Angel season five, but not relevant to those at all)
Summary/Prompt: Smudge: Mine Your Own Business (AU)
Word Count: 290
Going into a mine is a little too close to being buried alive. The idea makes her all sorts of not-ready and ick. There’s not quite boot-shaking to be had but if she were the boot-shaking type of Slayer, she thinks now would be the time for it.
“It doesn’t have to be actually you,” says Xander. “We can send another decoy, like the one in Rome. Underground Buffy and Party Buffy, but I want the really real Buffy.”
But the monitor behind him is still playing the announcement of her fugitiveness, so she says, “I’m going down there.”
She went down into Sunnydale’s Hellmouth. She just has to think of it like that. Even when the way down is tight and she can’t breathe, she knows what’s at the bottom isn’t a grave. It’s not a grave. It’s not a grave and Xander can pull her back out if it starts to become one.
She went down into Sunnydale’s Hellmouth with Spike and Faith and the beginnings of her army and walked back out again. (Ran, but still.) Even if Spike didn’t, even if they left bodies of teenage girls in their path, she survived that.
She can survive this. She can, she can. She just has to sit down for a bit and remember how to breathe. But she can and she will and she has to because better down here in the dark and dank, where the earthy smell might make her sick than in jail. She might be terrified and her guts might twist into a knot that can’t be undone and her heart might destroy her chest trying to get out, but at least she can do some good. At least she can still fight.
Creator: TheFoxinator
Rating: T
Setting: Pre-season eight (sometime during the events of Angel season five, but not relevant to those at all)
Summary/Prompt: Smudge: Mine Your Own Business (AU)
Word Count: 290
Going into a mine is a little too close to being buried alive. The idea makes her all sorts of not-ready and ick. There’s not quite boot-shaking to be had but if she were the boot-shaking type of Slayer, she thinks now would be the time for it.
“It doesn’t have to be actually you,” says Xander. “We can send another decoy, like the one in Rome. Underground Buffy and Party Buffy, but I want the really real Buffy.”
But the monitor behind him is still playing the announcement of her fugitiveness, so she says, “I’m going down there.”
She went down into Sunnydale’s Hellmouth. She just has to think of it like that. Even when the way down is tight and she can’t breathe, she knows what’s at the bottom isn’t a grave. It’s not a grave. It’s not a grave and Xander can pull her back out if it starts to become one.
She went down into Sunnydale’s Hellmouth with Spike and Faith and the beginnings of her army and walked back out again. (Ran, but still.) Even if Spike didn’t, even if they left bodies of teenage girls in their path, she survived that.
She can survive this. She can, she can. She just has to sit down for a bit and remember how to breathe. But she can and she will and she has to because better down here in the dark and dank, where the earthy smell might make her sick than in jail. She might be terrified and her guts might twist into a knot that can’t be undone and her heart might destroy her chest trying to get out, but at least she can do some good. At least she can still fight.