Title: Just Existing
Author: bitmaxmouse
Rating: pg-13
Summary: Buffy loses her powers at 23 and tries to cope, Spike is sent to
Europe to investigate a case for Wolfram and Harte. B/S .post season 7.
(I'm terrible at summaries.)
A/N: Although I never gave any sort of attempts towards it, I think this story may have been in the back of my mind forever.
~~~~
Buffy lost her powers around the time she turned twenty-three. It wasn't exactly sudden; there were small hints: from her not being able to lift up a desk to retrieve a fallen pencil to strange light headed spells. She fully realized what was happening when she was nearly killed by a newborn vampire which should have been dusted in seconds.
She went to Willow about the problem and basically Willow surmised that Slayers weren't supposed to live that long, but if they did they eventually lost their powers. But none of the Slayers of the past had ever even reached their majority, so there was no clear evidence. But logically, it made sense...
At first Buffy would wake up each morning and try to pick up the small table next to her bed, since she was still in denial. Then she would weakly let go of the table that she never managed to pick up and stare at it dumbly until she realized she was late for work.
She had even gone as far as asking Giles whether he was poisoning her again. He wasn't. But she still did run a test just to see if there was anything out of norm in her bloodstream. She looked in books to see if she was under a curse or had some sort of slayer illness. It all led to a dead end.
She finally started to accept things as weeks passed and her powers refused to come back. But it still bothered her and although she kept telling everyone she was okay and that she could deal. Inside, she couldn't decide whether to be happy because she was finally normal or collapse in a heap of sobs and scream about the unfairness of it all. It wasn't the same as the last time she lost her powers. That time, she had been so concerned over whether Angel would love her if she wasn't the slayer anymore. But now, it wasn't like they'd ever get together.
So this time, she was more concerned over her responsibilities. How could she train the slayers if she wasn't one herself anymore? She could teach them technique, but not the motions. Buffy tried to ignore the nagging voice in her head that said she wasn't the 'only' slayer around. Although she and Faith had made up, she still felt a sick punch in her gut every time she was overshadowed by Faith.
Buffy never really took a break after she had lost her powers. She buried herself with work on locating the new Slayers and moving around Europe to 'help' train them, she kept her feelings all inside and worked ten times harder than before. But the bitterness and distraught caught up with her at night, so now she couldn't even sleep anymore. Then at work she would forget that she no longer had the endurance of a Slayer to work for eighteen hours straight. So when they found her asleep in the shower for the third time, they demanded that she take a vacation.
Which then led to her standing here: outside of a musty old cottage that was twice as big as her house.
She figured that the definition of cottage had changed a lot over the years.
It belonged to Giles; although he never visited it or made use of it. It was bit surprising, but it wasn't too farfetched to learn that Giles's family was rich, very rich actually and he inherited a lot of land up and down the British Isles, so this cottage located up in Scotland also came with what seemed to be an endless backyard.
Buffy contemplated the grey-white cottage at the gate. It looked worn and cold, with its pointed charcoal colored roof, the many long dirty windows around the house, and the overall aged feeling of the place. Buffy timidly undid the rusty latch on the gate and let herself into the front yard of the house, which was mostly covered in dead overgrown grass and flourishing weeds. As she gazed upon the wild vegetation, she contemplated on fixing the front yard during her stay.
While the house was quite big, the door seemed tiny in comparison; it was only a slight bit higher than Giles. And for a moment Buffy envisioned Giles running into the top of the door and falling over ungracefully while muttering British curses. The ex-slayer's lips quirked a bit at the thought, she'd keep in mind to ask Giles sometime during her vacation.
Buffy jiggled the rusty old bronze door handle a few times, and then took out a key to unlock the door. The door was a faded burgundy color; the deep brownish red stain on the wood was disappearing after years of rain and wear. The hinges gave a loud groan, which reminded Buffy of a few haunted houses and crypts she had entered back in her Slayer days. But the fact that knew she no longer had the means of protecting herself, gave her a small shiver of uncertainty.
She was lucky to have spotted the clean vase with fresh flowers inside, or else she may have stood outside for about ten minutes contemplating whether there were demons occupying the house. Buffy walked in without closing the door and set her luggage down on the wooden floor. A dull thud resounded through the house as she did so. Buffy tapped the wood under her feet and hoped that it would remain sturdy.
As the she made her way to the vase, she noticed a small plain white card on the table, under it. She picked the card up and opened it. It read:
Buffy
I had a housekeeper come in to clean out the place, uncover the furniture, and bring in a clean mattress and linen and dining ware, amongst other things. I hope you find it to your liking, it's kind of rickety. If the house needs some repairs, just call me and I know a few people in the area who would be glad to help you out. In the meantime, relax, sleep, recover and please don't try to do any rash. If there's trouble, call me or Andrew. Preferably me.
Your Watcher,
Rupert Giles
Buffy snorted at the part where Giles wrote "Preferably me.", he still really disliked Andrew and couldn't understand why Buffy would even consider hiring him to help out. But Andrew had proved his usefulness and besides, it wasn't difficult to scare him into shape. As much as Buffy hated to sound manipulative, she knew that she could get Andrew to do anything with a simple pointed glare. And it was entertaining to watch him as he tried to exude confidence when finding the other Slayers and new watchers, because in reality, he was still the same cowardly little geek who owed them for his past transgressions.
Buffy peered into the living room at the end of the hall way. There was a stone fireplace and another card on top of it. She walked over and looked at the card:
Had a gas fireplace installed since it's difficult to start a fire from scratch. The button to turn on the gas is behind the rack of pokers. The wood is out in back of the cottage in the shed. Watch out for spiders when you look for wood and don't forget to open the chimney before you start a fire so you won't send smoke into the house.
Buffy blinked at the messaged and nodded to herself. She'd keep this card here, just in case she forgot. Buffy uneasily placed the car back onto the top of the stone fireplace. Just great, Giles just had to mention spiders to put her off of starting a fire to warm the house. It was just another little mocking reminder of what she was now susceptible to.
Buffy turned and sat in the old high backed winged green chair and stared at the non-existent fire. This, being normal, was what she wanted all her life. But now that her powers were gone, she found herself regretting ever wanting to get rid of it.
Buffy let out a defeated sigh as she slumped down into the chair; she hated feeling helpless and useless. She never expected this, she was supposed to be happy and enjoy her newfound freedom instead of wallowing over no longer... being special.
'Gee...maudlin and petulant much?' Buffy's inner voice taunted her.
Buffy let out a frustrated exhalation and got out of the chair with a huff and went to go look around the rest of the house.
Although she had momentarily run away from the situation, she knew she couldn't outrun it forever. Trapped in this cold grey house, she knew it would all catch up with her.
A/N: Although I never gave any sort of attempts towards it, I think this story may have been in the back of my mind forever.
~~~~
Buffy lost her powers around the time she turned twenty-three. It wasn't exactly sudden; there were small hints: from her not being able to lift up a desk to retrieve a fallen pencil to strange light headed spells. She fully realized what was happening when she was nearly killed by a newborn vampire which should have been dusted in seconds.
She went to Willow about the problem and basically Willow surmised that Slayers weren't supposed to live that long, but if they did they eventually lost their powers. But none of the Slayers of the past had ever even reached their majority, so there was no clear evidence. But logically, it made sense...
At first Buffy would wake up each morning and try to pick up the small table next to her bed, since she was still in denial. Then she would weakly let go of the table that she never managed to pick up and stare at it dumbly until she realized she was late for work.
She had even gone as far as asking Giles whether he was poisoning her again. He wasn't. But she still did run a test just to see if there was anything out of norm in her bloodstream. She looked in books to see if she was under a curse or had some sort of slayer illness. It all led to a dead end.
She finally started to accept things as weeks passed and her powers refused to come back. But it still bothered her and although she kept telling everyone she was okay and that she could deal. Inside, she couldn't decide whether to be happy because she was finally normal or collapse in a heap of sobs and scream about the unfairness of it all. It wasn't the same as the last time she lost her powers. That time, she had been so concerned over whether Angel would love her if she wasn't the slayer anymore. But now, it wasn't like they'd ever get together.
So this time, she was more concerned over her responsibilities. How could she train the slayers if she wasn't one herself anymore? She could teach them technique, but not the motions. Buffy tried to ignore the nagging voice in her head that said she wasn't the 'only' slayer around. Although she and Faith had made up, she still felt a sick punch in her gut every time she was overshadowed by Faith.
Buffy never really took a break after she had lost her powers. She buried herself with work on locating the new Slayers and moving around Europe to 'help' train them, she kept her feelings all inside and worked ten times harder than before. But the bitterness and distraught caught up with her at night, so now she couldn't even sleep anymore. Then at work she would forget that she no longer had the endurance of a Slayer to work for eighteen hours straight. So when they found her asleep in the shower for the third time, they demanded that she take a vacation.
Which then led to her standing here: outside of a musty old cottage that was twice as big as her house.
She figured that the definition of cottage had changed a lot over the years.
It belonged to Giles; although he never visited it or made use of it. It was bit surprising, but it wasn't too farfetched to learn that Giles's family was rich, very rich actually and he inherited a lot of land up and down the British Isles, so this cottage located up in Scotland also came with what seemed to be an endless backyard.
Buffy contemplated the grey-white cottage at the gate. It looked worn and cold, with its pointed charcoal colored roof, the many long dirty windows around the house, and the overall aged feeling of the place. Buffy timidly undid the rusty latch on the gate and let herself into the front yard of the house, which was mostly covered in dead overgrown grass and flourishing weeds. As she gazed upon the wild vegetation, she contemplated on fixing the front yard during her stay.
While the house was quite big, the door seemed tiny in comparison; it was only a slight bit higher than Giles. And for a moment Buffy envisioned Giles running into the top of the door and falling over ungracefully while muttering British curses. The ex-slayer's lips quirked a bit at the thought, she'd keep in mind to ask Giles sometime during her vacation.
Buffy jiggled the rusty old bronze door handle a few times, and then took out a key to unlock the door. The door was a faded burgundy color; the deep brownish red stain on the wood was disappearing after years of rain and wear. The hinges gave a loud groan, which reminded Buffy of a few haunted houses and crypts she had entered back in her Slayer days. But the fact that knew she no longer had the means of protecting herself, gave her a small shiver of uncertainty.
She was lucky to have spotted the clean vase with fresh flowers inside, or else she may have stood outside for about ten minutes contemplating whether there were demons occupying the house. Buffy walked in without closing the door and set her luggage down on the wooden floor. A dull thud resounded through the house as she did so. Buffy tapped the wood under her feet and hoped that it would remain sturdy.
As the she made her way to the vase, she noticed a small plain white card on the table, under it. She picked the card up and opened it. It read:
Buffy
I had a housekeeper come in to clean out the place, uncover the furniture, and bring in a clean mattress and linen and dining ware, amongst other things. I hope you find it to your liking, it's kind of rickety. If the house needs some repairs, just call me and I know a few people in the area who would be glad to help you out. In the meantime, relax, sleep, recover and please don't try to do any rash. If there's trouble, call me or Andrew. Preferably me.
Your Watcher,
Rupert Giles
Buffy snorted at the part where Giles wrote "Preferably me.", he still really disliked Andrew and couldn't understand why Buffy would even consider hiring him to help out. But Andrew had proved his usefulness and besides, it wasn't difficult to scare him into shape. As much as Buffy hated to sound manipulative, she knew that she could get Andrew to do anything with a simple pointed glare. And it was entertaining to watch him as he tried to exude confidence when finding the other Slayers and new watchers, because in reality, he was still the same cowardly little geek who owed them for his past transgressions.
Buffy peered into the living room at the end of the hall way. There was a stone fireplace and another card on top of it. She walked over and looked at the card:
Had a gas fireplace installed since it's difficult to start a fire from scratch. The button to turn on the gas is behind the rack of pokers. The wood is out in back of the cottage in the shed. Watch out for spiders when you look for wood and don't forget to open the chimney before you start a fire so you won't send smoke into the house.
Buffy blinked at the messaged and nodded to herself. She'd keep this card here, just in case she forgot. Buffy uneasily placed the car back onto the top of the stone fireplace. Just great, Giles just had to mention spiders to put her off of starting a fire to warm the house. It was just another little mocking reminder of what she was now susceptible to.
Buffy turned and sat in the old high backed winged green chair and stared at the non-existent fire. This, being normal, was what she wanted all her life. But now that her powers were gone, she found herself regretting ever wanting to get rid of it.
Buffy let out a defeated sigh as she slumped down into the chair; she hated feeling helpless and useless. She never expected this, she was supposed to be happy and enjoy her newfound freedom instead of wallowing over no longer... being special.
'Gee...maudlin and petulant much?' Buffy's inner voice taunted her.
Buffy let out a frustrated exhalation and got out of the chair with a huff and went to go look around the rest of the house.
Although she had momentarily run away from the situation, she knew she couldn't outrun it forever. Trapped in this cold grey house, she knew it would all catch up with her.