Author: Jennifer
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Spoilers: Season 6
Summary: Buffy's POV on nothing things.
Author's Notes: Incredibly short. Pointless. But, hey, it's a prologue.
[prologue]
LATELY, BLURRY AT FOUR 'O CLOCK
***
And I know it aches
And your heart, it breaks
You can only take so much
***
Lately, she tires easily. When
the itchy-ness starts behind her eyes and her vision becomes unfocused. That's
when she knows she should go to bed - her nice, warm, soft bed.
Her hands are dry these days. She can't afford the fancy moisturizing hand
lotion that actually works anymore. The skin at the center of her palms, hard
and rough. Years of gripping onto wooden stakes tend to do have that effect.
Slayer. Slay-er. Sl-ay-er. S-uh-l-ae-err.
Buffy. Bu-ffy. B-uhh-fee.
The tiles are cold against her feet. Oh. Bathroom. That's where she is. She
barely acknowledges herself turning on the faucet. Water runs through her
hands, her nerves reacting the extreme chill. Splashing her face, she looks
into the mirror.
She blinks. This woman in front of her… This woman with tired eyes and oily
skin… Lord, she's beyond pathetic now. She looks at her with blank look. Poor
sad girl with the broken soul and shattered spirit. Who had done this?
Oh, right.
She did it.
Eyes are itching now, until the urge to close them finally takes over. She
blinks rapidly, not able to shake the incoming sleep off. So she resorts to the
only thing left to do. Sleep. Sheep come out and she begins the counting. She
hates it when she's tired but she can't get herself to a slumber.
It's three fifty-six in the morning now. Darkness still looms outside.
And, lately, her bed isn't so nice, warm, soft.
***
Leave it behind…
***