Buffy drabbles
May. 23rd, 2012 09:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deird1Here are eight drabbles (and one double-drabble) about Buffy…
Deck The Halls
Buffy sat on the couch and sighed happily. “It all looks so nice.”
“It does a bit.” Spike passed her a wine glass, settling himself next to her.
“That tree’s pretty fancy. You sure we can afford it?”
“Absolutely. No tree too pricey for my girl.”
“And you–” She furrowed her brow and asked tentatively, “You did actually pay for it, right?”
“Course I did. What, you think I’d actually steal a Christmas tree?”
“Okay. Sorry. You’re right.” Buffy snuggled into him. “Look at us. All nice and Christmassy. With a decorated room. All paid for and everything.”
“Well… yes. All paid for.”
“Tree, baubles, tinsel…”
“Not the tinsel.”
“Huh?”
“Nicked the tinsel.”
“You stole tinsel?”
“Just a bit of tinsel. The place had loads of it.”
“Well… at least the rest is all paid for, right?”
Spike looked around the room at the star from a department store display, candles stolen from a local café, lights lifted from the porch of a gawdy house three blocks west, and the tree, genuinely bought and paid for, straight up, honest, on the level, from a bloke selling trees “fallen off the back of a truck” at one-tenth the price.
“Yeah. Definitely.”
Responsible Party
Little girl. So strong, and still so little.
So young.
(So you lost your temper. Let him have it. Kicked your mother’s boyfriend down the stairs.
So what?)
You really shouldn’t have done that. You’re young, yes, but you’ve got responsibilities. Serious responsibilities. You know that.
And yet…
You didn’t mean to, did you? It was all a mistake, a horrible mistake, and you’ll have to live with that forever.
(Plus, the guy was a total jerk.)
We’re so sorry. So very sorry.
Tomorrow you’ll find out that robots can look real.
But right now, we can’t really help you.
Marked
Contrary to popular mythology, blood stains are easy to shift.
In cold water overnight, and then two cycles through the machine – works every time. She’s practically an expert at that.
Memories, on the other hand, tend to stick around.
Causing death to dead things, you start to think it’s nothing.
But stick a knife through the gut of someone who gasps for breath as it kills them,
even someone who betrayed you
tortured you
tried to kill you
tried to kill your lover
you’ll discover you’re not as callous as you thought.
Death marks you.
And some stains don’t shift.
Final
The school explodes, a thousand pieces collapsing into burning splinters. It’s pretty.
(Snyder wanders past – or at least, he does in her head, the real one’s disappeared somewhere – sneering, “That’s right, everyone watch and cheer. An important building is being destroyed by hooligans. No need to get upset.”)
Her memories explode with it – all the late homework, fish monsters, detention, disbelieving teachers, bad dates, ambushes, expulsions, and history tests, shattered into pieces and going up in flames.
(Wesley wanders – or rolls – past, moaning.)
She should probably be remorseful. But she’s just blown up the school – and she can’t help grinning.
Keep Him Here
Life is full of hits and misses. Today it’s just the misses.
She missed the signs, missed her chance, and now she’s going to miss her final opportunity to give him what he needs.
She’ll never get there in time.
But she runs. Runs. Runs as fast as she knows how.
And she’s a Slayer, so that’s pretty fast.
She’s going to make it…
She arrives just in time to see the helicopter leave the ground. And he hasn’t even noticed her.
Her last chance at romance is flying away to the jungle, and all she can do is watch.
Building
Destruction.
What is destruction?
How much does it take to destroy a life?
A school-girl, popular and cute, is handed a destiny.
One life destroyed.
But she rebuilds. Uses the rubble of the old life to construct a new life.
So perhaps it wasn’t destruction after all.
Then some gypsies run into town, and steal a soul.
And the house comes crashing down.
She persists. Begins yet again, using the bricks from the old building.
Until some monks sneak in and change the schematics.
She constructs the perfect death.
And finally she can be happy.
Then the witch destroys her.
Remember
It had been kinda nice.
Being new, and innocent, and excited.
“I’m like a superhero or something!”
She’d staked, and fought, and led, and smiled – actually smiled! It’d felt so natural.
And even though she’d been a bit dumb (No, not dumb. Naïve.), she’d still managed to find a purpose.
“I kill your kind.”
Still managed to find an identity.
“I feel like a Joan.”
To find friends.
“Stay away from Randy!”
It had all seemed so clear.
Buffy sits, and wonders if it makes sense to be jealous of someone who never really existed.
Then she has another drink.
Haircut
Did you think it would change you?
Shining pieces falling to the floor.
Very pretty, but not enough.
The addict is still upstairs.
The bureaucracy is still at the door.
The little girl is still wounded and angry.
The vampire is still the only comfort.
Poor little Goldilocks, running from the big bad bears.
Did you really think you’d get away?
Shining golden pieces drop, one by one.
Did you think you’d be any different? Any better?
Sorry honey, but they lied. Image isn’t everything.
A change won’t change your world.
Did you think the scissors would set you free?
Ciao
“How was patrol?”
Buffy flopped down in the nearest chair, looking frustrated. “We live in a land of sexy accents,” she complained.
“And that’s a problem… how?”
“Spike was bad enough. But try staying properly fighty and scowly when you’ve got someone saying ‘Fai del tuo meglio, bella.’ I don’t even know what that means, and it still makes me go all mushy.” Buffy groaned, and put her hand over her eyes. “I can’t keep getting attracted to evil guys because they sound pretty, I just can’t…”
Dawn tried not to laugh. “Hey, at least he thought you looked good.”
Deck The Halls
Buffy sat on the couch and sighed happily. “It all looks so nice.”
“It does a bit.” Spike passed her a wine glass, settling himself next to her.
“That tree’s pretty fancy. You sure we can afford it?”
“Absolutely. No tree too pricey for my girl.”
“And you–” She furrowed her brow and asked tentatively, “You did actually pay for it, right?”
“Course I did. What, you think I’d actually steal a Christmas tree?”
“Okay. Sorry. You’re right.” Buffy snuggled into him. “Look at us. All nice and Christmassy. With a decorated room. All paid for and everything.”
“Well… yes. All paid for.”
“Tree, baubles, tinsel…”
“Not the tinsel.”
“Huh?”
“Nicked the tinsel.”
“You stole tinsel?”
“Just a bit of tinsel. The place had loads of it.”
“Well… at least the rest is all paid for, right?”
Spike looked around the room at the star from a department store display, candles stolen from a local café, lights lifted from the porch of a gawdy house three blocks west, and the tree, genuinely bought and paid for, straight up, honest, on the level, from a bloke selling trees “fallen off the back of a truck” at one-tenth the price.
“Yeah. Definitely.”
Responsible Party
Little girl. So strong, and still so little.
So young.
(So you lost your temper. Let him have it. Kicked your mother’s boyfriend down the stairs.
So what?)
You really shouldn’t have done that. You’re young, yes, but you’ve got responsibilities. Serious responsibilities. You know that.
And yet…
You didn’t mean to, did you? It was all a mistake, a horrible mistake, and you’ll have to live with that forever.
(Plus, the guy was a total jerk.)
We’re so sorry. So very sorry.
Tomorrow you’ll find out that robots can look real.
But right now, we can’t really help you.
Marked
Contrary to popular mythology, blood stains are easy to shift.
In cold water overnight, and then two cycles through the machine – works every time. She’s practically an expert at that.
Memories, on the other hand, tend to stick around.
Causing death to dead things, you start to think it’s nothing.
But stick a knife through the gut of someone who gasps for breath as it kills them,
even someone who betrayed you
tortured you
tried to kill you
tried to kill your lover
you’ll discover you’re not as callous as you thought.
Death marks you.
And some stains don’t shift.
Final
The school explodes, a thousand pieces collapsing into burning splinters. It’s pretty.
(Snyder wanders past – or at least, he does in her head, the real one’s disappeared somewhere – sneering, “That’s right, everyone watch and cheer. An important building is being destroyed by hooligans. No need to get upset.”)
Her memories explode with it – all the late homework, fish monsters, detention, disbelieving teachers, bad dates, ambushes, expulsions, and history tests, shattered into pieces and going up in flames.
(Wesley wanders – or rolls – past, moaning.)
She should probably be remorseful. But she’s just blown up the school – and she can’t help grinning.
Keep Him Here
Life is full of hits and misses. Today it’s just the misses.
She missed the signs, missed her chance, and now she’s going to miss her final opportunity to give him what he needs.
She’ll never get there in time.
But she runs. Runs. Runs as fast as she knows how.
And she’s a Slayer, so that’s pretty fast.
She’s going to make it…
She arrives just in time to see the helicopter leave the ground. And he hasn’t even noticed her.
Her last chance at romance is flying away to the jungle, and all she can do is watch.
Building
Destruction.
What is destruction?
How much does it take to destroy a life?
A school-girl, popular and cute, is handed a destiny.
One life destroyed.
But she rebuilds. Uses the rubble of the old life to construct a new life.
So perhaps it wasn’t destruction after all.
Then some gypsies run into town, and steal a soul.
And the house comes crashing down.
She persists. Begins yet again, using the bricks from the old building.
Until some monks sneak in and change the schematics.
She constructs the perfect death.
And finally she can be happy.
Then the witch destroys her.
Remember
It had been kinda nice.
Being new, and innocent, and excited.
“I’m like a superhero or something!”
She’d staked, and fought, and led, and smiled – actually smiled! It’d felt so natural.
And even though she’d been a bit dumb (No, not dumb. Naïve.), she’d still managed to find a purpose.
“I kill your kind.”
Still managed to find an identity.
“I feel like a Joan.”
To find friends.
“Stay away from Randy!”
It had all seemed so clear.
Buffy sits, and wonders if it makes sense to be jealous of someone who never really existed.
Then she has another drink.
Haircut
Did you think it would change you?
Shining pieces falling to the floor.
Very pretty, but not enough.
The addict is still upstairs.
The bureaucracy is still at the door.
The little girl is still wounded and angry.
The vampire is still the only comfort.
Poor little Goldilocks, running from the big bad bears.
Did you really think you’d get away?
Shining golden pieces drop, one by one.
Did you think you’d be any different? Any better?
Sorry honey, but they lied. Image isn’t everything.
A change won’t change your world.
Did you think the scissors would set you free?
Ciao
“How was patrol?”
Buffy flopped down in the nearest chair, looking frustrated. “We live in a land of sexy accents,” she complained.
“And that’s a problem… how?”
“Spike was bad enough. But try staying properly fighty and scowly when you’ve got someone saying ‘Fai del tuo meglio, bella.’ I don’t even know what that means, and it still makes me go all mushy.” Buffy groaned, and put her hand over her eyes. “I can’t keep getting attracted to evil guys because they sound pretty, I just can’t…”
Dawn tried not to laugh. “Hey, at least he thought you looked good.”
no subject
Date: 2012-05-23 12:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-23 12:24 am (UTC)(I tried to put the nice ones at the start and end; the others were all so depressing!)
no subject
Date: 2012-05-23 12:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-23 01:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-23 08:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-04-09 12:41 am (UTC)Now, stabbing Faith? That's completely different. Not Buffy's finest hour by a long shot.
no subject
Date: 2013-04-09 08:36 pm (UTC)