A/N: A 15-minute ficlet, word: Impression
Buffy looked back down at the plot of dirt. There was a sizable hole in it, which she lended to the body crawling out of it.
People thought she must be crazy, wanting to keep such a token. But here she was, standing beside her own grave with a shovel. It would take a long time with only herself. But she wanted to see the casket again. After all, she'd spent 3 months in it. She might not have been conscious but she still had a sense of belonging near it.
She put the tip of the shovel in the dirt and jumped on that back. It sank in easily and she started off on the all-night task.
When she finally had the casket completely uncovered she fingered the carvings in the wood, lightly. It was warm from having been underground for so long. She opened it slowly and looked down at the, still pronounced, impression of the soft pillows. There was dirt staining the perfect white now, from the hole through the top.
The wood was splintered and sticking in the dirt all around the hole. When Buffy finally realized that she couldn't possibly lift it out on her own, she climbed up out of the hole, much the same way she had the first time, and went home for help with it.
Dawn would hate this idea; she thought to herself and smiled.
Buffy looked back down at the plot of dirt. There was a sizable hole in it, which she lended to the body crawling out of it.
People thought she must be crazy, wanting to keep such a token. But here she was, standing beside her own grave with a shovel. It would take a long time with only herself. But she wanted to see the casket again. After all, she'd spent 3 months in it. She might not have been conscious but she still had a sense of belonging near it.
She put the tip of the shovel in the dirt and jumped on that back. It sank in easily and she started off on the all-night task.
When she finally had the casket completely uncovered she fingered the carvings in the wood, lightly. It was warm from having been underground for so long. She opened it slowly and looked down at the, still pronounced, impression of the soft pillows. There was dirt staining the perfect white now, from the hole through the top.
The wood was splintered and sticking in the dirt all around the hole. When Buffy finally realized that she couldn't possibly lift it out on her own, she climbed up out of the hole, much the same way she had the first time, and went home for help with it.
Dawn would hate this idea; she thought to herself and smiled.