Sleep: Set in season 7, slightly AU. Joss Whedon sings the song of my heart. I, of course, own nothing.

And she rested her head upon his chest and he held her. Strong arms wrapped around tightly as if she might slip away without him as her anchor. Her face was tucked away, turned into his chest. Partially due to comfort, the rest with the sincere belief that if she buried herself deep enough it might all go away.

She slept to dream, or simply to find a quiet corner of her mind to seek sanctuary. In times that she slept peacefully, or not at all, she would revel in the calm. These instances were fleeting and dearly missed, as the battle crept closer. When unconscious thoughts were as stressful as her waking ones, she grew very frightened indeed. It had dawned on her that if she was as scared asleep as she was awake then there was no solace for her to seek. No happiness. No look of peace.

Death, indeed, would be her gift.

To lay her body down and rest, without thought or care or worry.

The last great escape.

But there were some things she couldn't escape from. Big and scary things like her power, her destiny, her sacred duty, the fate of all the other girls that were just like her in so many ways. Then there was less big, less scary, that didn't fill her with the desperate need to run and hide; like the smell of leather and cigarettes that found its way into the few items of clothing he owned. A muddled scent that was so unique to him. She'd take breaths as deep as she dared without him noticing. Though, of course, he noticed everything. The feeling of his arms around her, skin slightly cold to the touch. The way he said 'pet', 'sweetheart', 'love'. It was these simple things, less big and less scary, that brought her down to earth, kept her focused and kept her going.

And in the mean time, they would find other ways to delay what she was so sure was on the horizon; their reckoning, their final stand.

He would lay her body down and rest, without thought or care or worry.

And though she'd never tell, she knew.

He was another kind of great escape.