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taxonomites2009-10-14 10:40 pm
likeajoan.livejournal.com) wrote in taxonomites2009-10-14 10:40 pm
[location: summers house] & [very accidental visual] when it all falls down
Even though a while has elapsed since Buffy led the attack against Fangtasia, she's still impressively beat up. Walking is less of a problem at least, and the bruises have started taking on that yellowish fading hue. The cuts are healing, though the deeper ones still persist.
Secondary to these physical pains, however, is the mental and emotional drain of worrying about the possible retaliation of the vampires. Worrying that they might hurt someone she loves, because of her own actions. Not to mention the new headache in the form of Drusilla, which is a special issue all its own.
What she really needs right now is the comforting reassurances of her best friend. The ridiculous banter, the stupid jokes, the hugs, the mockery, the warmth, the smiles... Xander. Except when she heads down to the basement, he's not there. She didn't hear him leave. She calls for him, she tries the kitchen, the lounge-- she gets her tablet and scans the map, checking to see if he's at the Bronze. But the Bronze isn't there anymore, and nor is he. He's not anywhere. His name and his dot are nowhere to be seen, and she checks and re-checks and tries calling him, but gets the equivalent of an 'incorrect number' message in response.
Numb, and through a misty haze, she half-stumbles her way to the porch, sits down on the step, buries her face in her hands and sobs, disconsolately.
Secondary to these physical pains, however, is the mental and emotional drain of worrying about the possible retaliation of the vampires. Worrying that they might hurt someone she loves, because of her own actions. Not to mention the new headache in the form of Drusilla, which is a special issue all its own.
What she really needs right now is the comforting reassurances of her best friend. The ridiculous banter, the stupid jokes, the hugs, the mockery, the warmth, the smiles... Xander. Except when she heads down to the basement, he's not there. She didn't hear him leave. She calls for him, she tries the kitchen, the lounge-- she gets her tablet and scans the map, checking to see if he's at the Bronze. But the Bronze isn't there anymore, and nor is he. He's not anywhere. His name and his dot are nowhere to be seen, and she checks and re-checks and tries calling him, but gets the equivalent of an 'incorrect number' message in response.
Numb, and through a misty haze, she half-stumbles her way to the porch, sits down on the step, buries her face in her hands and sobs, disconsolately.