A Little Light
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › FemmeSlash - Female/Female › Buffy/Faith
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
8
Views:
3,371
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › FemmeSlash - Female/Female › Buffy/Faith
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
8
Views:
3,371
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Prologue
Written for the "Faith Finds Out" challenge at Oralfxatns.
!!!! CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR SEASON 8 ISSUE 12 !!!!
Any way to face the silence,
Any way to face the pain that kills you.
Your smile, shine a little light, alright?
Don't hide, shine a little light,
Give up on your pride.
- Syntax, "Pride"
~*~
Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean
March 17, 2008
21:43
It's St. Patrick's day, which is like fucking Christmas in Beantown. I should be at The Beehive. Or rocking out to Dropkick Murphys. Or really, and more likely, sitting in my apartment getting drunk off green beer. Some Corona with food coloring in it, and a lime, maybe. No, definitely a lime. Corona tastes like ass without lime.
Instead, I'm on a plane. Which means I'm already pissed off. No "Mile High Club" fantasies for this chick, nuh-uh. If I make it out of this iron tube alive, I'll have myself a real good orgasm once I'm back on solid ground. So the big bad Slayer's afraid of flying. Big deal. How smart is it really, to put yourself inside thousands of pounds of heavy metal (and I'm not talking Iron Maiden here), thousands of feet in the air, with thousands of pounds worth of other people, and a pilot who's probably been drinking since sunrise? If Red was speaking to me, I could have just asked for a teleport. Either way I end up tired, disoriented, and puking for awhile.
So why am I on a plane on Saint Patrick's Day, instead of getting drunk and pulling my top off 'cause I'm so trashed I think it's Mardi Gras? Because Giles is a son of a bitch, that's why.
It's gotten to the point where when he talks to me, he sounds kinda like the adults in those Charlie Brown cartoons. Waah-waah. In other words, I completely tune him out until he says something that interests me. This time it was something about.. a coven? A demon? Possibly a butcher, a baker, or a candlestick-maker?
So I'm being sent somewhere to do something, but it's pretty hard to concentrate when I'm worried about plunging out of the sky at a billion miles an hour. And there's an old fat guy with really, really bad breath drooling all over himself right next to me.
The pilot announces that if we look out our windows, below we can see some igneous rock formations. I don't know what those are, but it sounds like something that planes crash into, exploding and killing everyone inside.
I check my watch. Only three more hours until landing. I wonder if there's a limit on how many barf bags you're entitled to.
!!!! CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR SEASON 8 ISSUE 12 !!!!
Any way to face the silence,
Any way to face the pain that kills you.
Your smile, shine a little light, alright?
Don't hide, shine a little light,
Give up on your pride.
- Syntax, "Pride"
~*~
Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean
March 17, 2008
21:43
It's St. Patrick's day, which is like fucking Christmas in Beantown. I should be at The Beehive. Or rocking out to Dropkick Murphys. Or really, and more likely, sitting in my apartment getting drunk off green beer. Some Corona with food coloring in it, and a lime, maybe. No, definitely a lime. Corona tastes like ass without lime.
Instead, I'm on a plane. Which means I'm already pissed off. No "Mile High Club" fantasies for this chick, nuh-uh. If I make it out of this iron tube alive, I'll have myself a real good orgasm once I'm back on solid ground. So the big bad Slayer's afraid of flying. Big deal. How smart is it really, to put yourself inside thousands of pounds of heavy metal (and I'm not talking Iron Maiden here), thousands of feet in the air, with thousands of pounds worth of other people, and a pilot who's probably been drinking since sunrise? If Red was speaking to me, I could have just asked for a teleport. Either way I end up tired, disoriented, and puking for awhile.
So why am I on a plane on Saint Patrick's Day, instead of getting drunk and pulling my top off 'cause I'm so trashed I think it's Mardi Gras? Because Giles is a son of a bitch, that's why.
It's gotten to the point where when he talks to me, he sounds kinda like the adults in those Charlie Brown cartoons. Waah-waah. In other words, I completely tune him out until he says something that interests me. This time it was something about.. a coven? A demon? Possibly a butcher, a baker, or a candlestick-maker?
So I'm being sent somewhere to do something, but it's pretty hard to concentrate when I'm worried about plunging out of the sky at a billion miles an hour. And there's an old fat guy with really, really bad breath drooling all over himself right next to me.
The pilot announces that if we look out our windows, below we can see some igneous rock formations. I don't know what those are, but it sounds like something that planes crash into, exploding and killing everyone inside.
I check my watch. Only three more hours until landing. I wonder if there's a limit on how many barf bags you're entitled to.