FIC: Insomnia (Buffy)
Jun. 5th, 2005 12:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ficwizeTitle: Insomnia
Fandom: Buffy
Ratings: PG-13
Warnings: Angst, Spoilers through the first part of season 6
A/N: Probably not what you had in mind, but the idea fit so well. Blame the plot bunny...
Request: for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kneazles, details here: http://www.livejournal.com/community/fic_on_demand/168778.html
Insomnia
Buffy filled her daily routine the best that she could. She got up, made breakfast, tried to remember to make Dawn eat breakfast, ran errands, patrolled, worked out… She showered, brushed her teeth, dressed in clothes that matched and were fashionable. She brushed her hair, put on jewelry, and usually even remembered to put on lotion.
She didn’t remember the simplicity of routine hurting so much before. On the outside, she was leaning to smile again. On the inside, she was praying for… not death, but just not life.
She prayed that she would wake up from this living nightmare. She prayed that she would find herself back where she had been before Willow resurrected her. She prayed that her friends would have found the strength to let her go, rather than forcing her to return.
She had done her best, fought the good fight, thought she had finally earned a respite, some peace. Then in one eternally short moment, she had been ripped away from the soft light and found herself in a cramped box that smelled of decay. It would be months before she realized that it had been the smell of her own decay.
With nothing but stale air to breath, Buffy had beat her way through the top of the coffin and dug her way through six feet of dirt to the fresh air above. Once she had cleared the dirt from her eyes, she had turned to find her own name on the gravestone.
Every day since, every hour since, she prayed to wake up from the nightmare that was living. But she never did.
When she was little, if she had a nightmare, she would crawl into her parent’s bed and sleep with them. Between the two of them, she would feel safe again. Back then, the monsters had all been dreams.
She knew better now. Monsters were real. Parents went away. She would never be safe. Not even in death. This was one nightmare she wouldn’t wake up from.
Fandom: Buffy
Ratings: PG-13
Warnings: Angst, Spoilers through the first part of season 6
A/N: Probably not what you had in mind, but the idea fit so well. Blame the plot bunny...
Request: for
kneazles, details here: http://www.livejournal.com/community/fic_on_demand/168778.htmlInsomnia
Buffy filled her daily routine the best that she could. She got up, made breakfast, tried to remember to make Dawn eat breakfast, ran errands, patrolled, worked out… She showered, brushed her teeth, dressed in clothes that matched and were fashionable. She brushed her hair, put on jewelry, and usually even remembered to put on lotion.
She didn’t remember the simplicity of routine hurting so much before. On the outside, she was leaning to smile again. On the inside, she was praying for… not death, but just not life.
She prayed that she would wake up from this living nightmare. She prayed that she would find herself back where she had been before Willow resurrected her. She prayed that her friends would have found the strength to let her go, rather than forcing her to return.
She had done her best, fought the good fight, thought she had finally earned a respite, some peace. Then in one eternally short moment, she had been ripped away from the soft light and found herself in a cramped box that smelled of decay. It would be months before she realized that it had been the smell of her own decay.
With nothing but stale air to breath, Buffy had beat her way through the top of the coffin and dug her way through six feet of dirt to the fresh air above. Once she had cleared the dirt from her eyes, she had turned to find her own name on the gravestone.
Every day since, every hour since, she prayed to wake up from the nightmare that was living. But she never did.
When she was little, if she had a nightmare, she would crawl into her parent’s bed and sleep with them. Between the two of them, she would feel safe again. Back then, the monsters had all been dreams.
She knew better now. Monsters were real. Parents went away. She would never be safe. Not even in death. This was one nightmare she wouldn’t wake up from.
