Primal Hiding - A Strangers Place
The slayer walked down the sidewalk. She was exhausted, to say the least. She’s been running none stop for three and a half hours now, and she was getting tired, but the pull was getting stronger, she knew she was close. She could feel it in her bones. She turned a street corner, and walked up the sidewalk, the sun beaming down on her, warming her skin. She felt so cold, so dirty, and the human part of her knew that she probably looked like hell itself. She hasn’t showered in two, almost three days, she still had cuts from her fall, the blue blood was still on her, her hair was a mess and she was tired so she assumed that she had large, dark bags under her eyes.
/You need to get to a mirror. I need to see how we look. We probably look like some lunatic walking down the street in dirty clothes and ratty hair. Wow, these houses are really nice. I wish we could live in something like this, cause I gotta say, that dorm room is not the nicest place in the world. The walls are way too thin. Will you just go back now. We’re...God only knows where, and I’m tired and hungry, and I want to go home and go to sleep. If we’re going to get over Willow turning us down then I need to go home and wallow in self-pity for a couple of days and then fill this empty hole with chocolate bars./ She was really getting annoying now. The constant ranting and babbling was enough for anyone to bullet in their head to try and make it stop.
*Shut up. Me in charge, me in control. You too scared to deal so you let me out. Me going to find thing that calls me, and me going to protect it.* she shot back. The human side started to protest but she just ignored it. She was getting better at doing that. She also knew that the longer she was out the harder it was going to be for human Buffy to take back control. She liked that thought, never having to be locked away in that little cage. Never having to play second fiddle to the human part of her.
She looked up at the large house and her skin started to tingle. This was it. Whatever was calling her was inside of that house. Now all she had to do was find it and make sure that it remained safe. She walked up the stairs, God there were so many stairs, to the porch. Her legs were heavy, her arms were weighing her down and she felt like she was going to fall down right there. She tried to kick the door down, only resulting in a loud thud, and it shook, but it didn’t open, it didn’t break, and she fell to the ground and passed out from exhaustion.
Buffy woke up in a strange bed, in a strange room and wearing somebody else’s pajamas. She knew that because she doesn’t like to wear silk pajamas, they just don’t keep you warm at night. She tried to sit up but her head hurt too badly. She wondered for a second what had happened. She remembers the slayer taking her to a strange neighborhood and then passing out at the entrance to somebody’s house, and then nothing. She sought out the slayer inside of her, but it wouldn’t respond. The slayer was still too exhausted, and was recuperating.
As a result Buffy had no slayer strength, no slayer healing, no slayer hearing, nothing that comes along with the slayer package. She was just the normal Buffy Summers, the girl that she wishes she still was because her life had once been simple. If she hadn’t been the slayer then she never would have met Willow and none of this would be happening. She wouldn’t be here, in this bed, hearing the muffled voices outside of the door but not understanding the words because she has normal human hearing now.
She looked around the room, and it was nice. Very lovely furniture, the bed was very comfortable, the smell of jasmine was everywhere, and it was very welcoming, she couldn’t help but feel safe. But that was only for about five seconds because then she remembered that she’s in a stranger’s bed, in a pair of a stranger’s pajamas and for all she knows they did stuff too her while she was passed out and naked (one of my greatest fears, what about you?).
She heard the voices getting louder and angrier, and she tried to concentrate. She tried to tap into her slayer strength but there was just none left. She started to panic and she tried to remain calm. If she didn’t have her slayer strength then she wouldn’t be able to defend herself if the people turned out to be some weird psychos. She tried to get, to tried to move to the window so that she could shimmy down and run away, but she fell back onto the bed, only one person in mind as she called out: “Willow, help me!” And then she was met with the blackness of unconsciousness.
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