Into the Woods
Smiling, Kennedy watched the Slayer as she cut up a Ravd'f demon into surprisingly small pieces. Still keeping an eye on Buffy, she dodged one of the demons herself, swinging her own sword to knock it away from her. Strange how she still thought of Buffy as the Slayer, even now when Kennedy was just as much a Slayer as she was. Buffy was the original, the raw deal. Had more field experience than anyone, and could fight circles around even Kennedy, who had started her Slayer training at the age of six.
Kennedy killed one of the last Ravd'f demons even as Buffy rammed the final three through with her sword. Finally finished the battle, the two Slayers examined the scene of battle, littered with the decapitated bodies of dozens of the small demonic creatures.
"Yech," said Buffy. "I got the blood all over me." Ravd'f blood was highly corrosive, and Buffy had several holes in her clothes and her backpack due to its ability to eat right through fabric. Kennedy glanced down; her own clothing had been similarly destroyed.
"There's a river about thirty feet over. We can wash off there," Kennedy suggested, immediately making her way to the aforementioned river. Once there, she quickly stripped out of her half-eaten clothes and underwear and jumped in, immediately scrubbing the demon blood off her flesh.
Buffy stood on the bank, looking at Kennedy suspiciously. "Come on in," Kennedy called up. "The water's fine."
Buffy hesitated another moment, then began to strip herself. Kennedy watched appreciatively, noting with interest that the Slayer hadn't been wearing a brassiere. Not that Buffy needed one, not really, but Kennedy found it useful to have a bit of support when hacking small demons to bits. A sports bra was a necessary practicality. Buffy had looked fabulous, Kennedy wouldn't argue with that, but who was going to see in the middle of the wilderness? Then again, Buffy had always been for fashion above function, even when only Kennedy could see. Not that Kennedy minded seeing, mind you.
Buffy stripped out of her panties, a scanty red thong, and then tested the water tentatively with her foot. "It's cold," she complained.
"Just jump in," answered Kennedy. "Come on. I'll scrub your back."
After about ten or fifteen minutes of scrubbing, the two Slayers had finally gotten all the demon blood off of each other, and made their way up the bank.
Buffy's backpack had gotten the blood on it, and everything that had been in it was now ruined: her clothing, her sleeping bag, even her Vera Lyn dress she had insisted on packing just in case they ended up invited to a state dinner with no time to shop. Kennedy had no sympathy for her sister Slayer; it had been Buffy's idea to check out the demon nest, "just because I'm curious." Didn't Buffy know that just because something was small and cute didn't mean it wasn't dangerous?
Kennedy loaned the other Slayer some of her clothes, but everything looked ludicrously large on Buffy. The skirt kept on slipping off her nonexistent waist until, extremely frustrated, Buffy just took two of Kennedy's shirts and wrapped them around her waist to make a makeshift skirt—one that, Kennedy noticed with appreciation, unintentionally left a decent portion of Buffy's ass visible. Of course, the borrowed shirt of Kennedy's almost counted as a skirt in and of itself when worn by Buffy.
"It's been a couple of hours since sunrise," Kennedy noted, as she watched the sun poke out over the thick foliage of the forest. "We should set up camp if we want to be awake and on the move come sunset. You can share my sleeping bag if you want."
"Two of us in one sleeping bag?" Buffy scoffed. "Is there even enough room for that?"
"Come on, Buffy. We both know you don't take up any room." Kennedy's shirt, three sizes too large and constantly falling of Buffy's shoulder, was a testament to that.
"Well, I don't share sleeping bags with girls," Buffy said with finality. "So it doesn't matter."
"Not even Faith?" Kennedy's ability to read women was pretty darned good, and she knew that one could cut the sexual tension between the two original Slayers with the Slayer Scythe. Buffy hesitated at first, confirming what Kennedy already knew.
"You're not Faith," Buffy said at last, her features cold.
Yeah. Kennedy had noticed that, actually. "And you're not Willow," she replied. "I'm not Tara. People move on." Although she knows there are plenty of Scoobies who believe that Willow never really did move on, and that's why their relationship ended. In truth, it had more to do with Willow catching Kennedy instructing her Slayer charges in the Kama Sutra than Kennedy not being Tara. All the insistence that Tantric sex was a legitimate part of Slayer training seemed to fall on deaf ears.
"I'll sleep on the ground," Buffy insisted.
Kennedy doubtfully eyed the ground, covered with sticks and stones and various types of vegetation—some with thorns. "It doesn't look very comfortable." There wasn't even a patch of moss in sight.
"I'll make do," said Buffy, making a futile attempt to clear a spot.
"Whatever," Kennedy acquiesced, then slipped into her sleeping bag. Fifteen minutes later, Buffy slipped in with her.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its characters are the property of Mutant Enemy and affiliated companies. Joss Whedon is the mastermind behind it all.