She steps into the room where her baby sister sleeps, and carefully eases the door
closed. She's not really her baby sister; she's a teenager now, as old as she was when she
started saving the world. Innocence doesn't last long when you live on a Hellmouth. But
in sleep, there is peace. She kneels beside the bed, watching her sister breathe. Her face is
so young, so sweet. She remembers sitting by the crib when she was younger, but of
course that never happened. Funny. She can't imagine life without her sister. The room is
somehow Potential-free for once, and she is glad. She couldn't sleep in her own room,
couldn't stand to be around any of the others right now. All she wants to do is curl up
with her little sister and whisper secrets and sing lullabies like they used to do when their
parents were fighting all the time- but that never happened either. Stupid monks.
Little sisters have a knack for knowing things they aren't supposed to. That's part
of the reason she knows that her older sister sneaks into her room at night and watches
her sleep. The other reason is that sometimes she hums the lullabies they used to sing, or
talks to her, very softly so as not to wake her. And sometimes she cries. Through it all,
she remains very still, letting her believe she still sleeps. Somehow she knows her sister
isn't looking for someone to hug her and tell her it'll all be okay. She just needs a safe
place. Some quiet moment where she can tell the truth without looking anyone in the eye.
Where she can admit that she's afraid. Sometimes being a little sister is harder than
researching ancient evil and learning funky languages.
Being a Slayer has gotten her used to loneliness. She fights alone, no matter how
many are by her side. That is probably why she is drawn to vampires, those creatures who
share the precious night with her. Their power connects them to her, and she feels less
empty. But when things are normal, she's at a loss. Eating breakfast, gossiping, shopping
even. All make her feel like an outsider. But not with her sister. Someone so blissfully
normal, yet incredibly special. Someone made from her. Someone she would give her life
for, and has. She is young, though she's survived long for her profession, but she believes
that very few can ever love anything with the depth that she loves her sister. She is the
clearest, most important part of her life, and she prays she can somehow save her from
the end one more time. Sometimes being a big sister is harder than saving the world and
burying innocent girls.
Through the night, two sisters slept, trusting only in their love for each other, and
hoping only that they will both live to see one another again in the morning. It is a
blessing they don't take for granted, every day they meet in the hall or the kitchen. They
greet each other simply, and little is said to disclose the fear and relief they both feel. But
they understand, without words. They look at each other for a moment, and silent
reassurances are sent. They are both alive, and that is enough for them. They know better
than to ask for more. They spend their days fighting a war, but they always find
moments, just brief, bittersweet moments to just be sisters. Because that is what they're
fighting for. Each other.
closed. She's not really her baby sister; she's a teenager now, as old as she was when she
started saving the world. Innocence doesn't last long when you live on a Hellmouth. But
in sleep, there is peace. She kneels beside the bed, watching her sister breathe. Her face is
so young, so sweet. She remembers sitting by the crib when she was younger, but of
course that never happened. Funny. She can't imagine life without her sister. The room is
somehow Potential-free for once, and she is glad. She couldn't sleep in her own room,
couldn't stand to be around any of the others right now. All she wants to do is curl up
with her little sister and whisper secrets and sing lullabies like they used to do when their
parents were fighting all the time- but that never happened either. Stupid monks.
Little sisters have a knack for knowing things they aren't supposed to. That's part
of the reason she knows that her older sister sneaks into her room at night and watches
her sleep. The other reason is that sometimes she hums the lullabies they used to sing, or
talks to her, very softly so as not to wake her. And sometimes she cries. Through it all,
she remains very still, letting her believe she still sleeps. Somehow she knows her sister
isn't looking for someone to hug her and tell her it'll all be okay. She just needs a safe
place. Some quiet moment where she can tell the truth without looking anyone in the eye.
Where she can admit that she's afraid. Sometimes being a little sister is harder than
researching ancient evil and learning funky languages.
Being a Slayer has gotten her used to loneliness. She fights alone, no matter how
many are by her side. That is probably why she is drawn to vampires, those creatures who
share the precious night with her. Their power connects them to her, and she feels less
empty. But when things are normal, she's at a loss. Eating breakfast, gossiping, shopping
even. All make her feel like an outsider. But not with her sister. Someone so blissfully
normal, yet incredibly special. Someone made from her. Someone she would give her life
for, and has. She is young, though she's survived long for her profession, but she believes
that very few can ever love anything with the depth that she loves her sister. She is the
clearest, most important part of her life, and she prays she can somehow save her from
the end one more time. Sometimes being a big sister is harder than saving the world and
burying innocent girls.
Through the night, two sisters slept, trusting only in their love for each other, and
hoping only that they will both live to see one another again in the morning. It is a
blessing they don't take for granted, every day they meet in the hall or the kitchen. They
greet each other simply, and little is said to disclose the fear and relief they both feel. But
they understand, without words. They look at each other for a moment, and silent
reassurances are sent. They are both alive, and that is enough for them. They know better
than to ask for more. They spend their days fighting a war, but they always find
moments, just brief, bittersweet moments to just be sisters. Because that is what they're
fighting for. Each other.