BtVS Ficlet: Someone To Lean On
Title: Someone To Lean On
Fandom: BtVS
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Buffy, Angel.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Forever.
Summary: The night after her mom’s funeral, when Buffy is at her lowest, Angel is there to provide comfort and support.
Word Count: 820
Written For: templefugate’s prompt ‘Any, any, a shoulder to cry on,’ at comment_fic.
Disclaimer: I don’t own BTVS, or the characters.
Being the Slayer, Buffy had always felt her friends automatically expected her to be the strong one, the one who could deal with anything that came her way. After all, if she could take on demons and vampires without so much as flinching, surely nothing could be too much for her. She wasn’t allowed to be weak or vulnerable, to falter or stumble; it was up to her to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, which meant pretty much everyone. The burden of her Slayer duties weighed heavy on her shoulders, as it had from the very start, but she couldn’t let it show. She didn’t have that luxury.
Now here she was, still not much more than a kid, her mom was dead, and everyone around her was falling apart. She needed to be strong for her friends, and for her sister, but who was there for her to lean on? Everyone was so busy coping with their own grief, they hardly seemed to notice hers.
No, that was unfair. They were trying, it just wasn’t enough. They couldn’t be strong for her when they were barely holding themselves together, and once again Buffy was left feeling that she needed to push her grief aside and pretend she was okay for their sakes.
Except that she wasn’t okay. Far from it.
With Giles’ guidance she made it through all the paperwork and stuff, became Dawn’s legal guardian, sorted out her mom’s affairs, which sounded so wrong, and arranged the funeral. It was lovely, in a depressing, heart-breaking sort of way, and she hoped it was what her mom would have wanted, but once it was over she was left adrift, rudderless, not knowing what to do next, or which way to turn.
The others left the cemetery afterwards, but Buffy couldn’t bring herself to leave her mom alone. It didn’t seem right to just go back to the warmth and familiarity of home; it would be as if she was abandoning the woman who’d been the cornerstone of her existence, kind of ‘Okay, you’re dead, but I’ve got places to be.’ Only she didn’t.
Maybe she should be home, caring for her sister, being the dutiful hostess to a houseful of funeral guests, but Giles would see to everybody. Buffy just needed time to catch her breath, get her bearings, clear her head… something like that anyway. She wasn’t sure what, just that she’d been strong for long enough, and she couldn’t do it anymore, but she couldn’t bear the thought of falling apart in front of everyone.
Night crept in without her even noticing. It didn’t matter; this was hardly the first time she’d been by herself in a cemetery at night, and it didn’t scare her, not the way the future did, stretching out before her, unknown and unknowable. Her mind was so numb she was barely aware of time passing, and yet somehow she wasn’t surprised when a familiar figure came to stand beside her. She didn’t answer when he spoke, just slipped her hand into Angel’s, and let him be there for her, tall, strong, silent. He didn’t expect anything from her, made no demands, he just… was.
Later, when her legs began to hurt from standing still for so long, they sat beneath a tree, Buffy curled against Angel’s side, head on his shoulder, and his arm around her, protective, comforting. Surrounded by his strength, at last she could let her weaknesses, her vulnerability, show. She could allow herself to grieve, knowing Angel wouldn’t judge her for it as her tears soaked into his coat. He simply held her, whispering words of comfort, pressing soft kisses against her hair, making her feel less alone.
He couldn’t stay, she knew that, as much as they both might wish he could. It would be too hard on both of them, and it would be a complication Buffy couldn’t afford. But he was here, right now, for this one night, and it was enough. She could draw strength from his solidity to shore up her crumbling defences, restore her failing courage. He was a bottomless well of compassion, listening to her pour out all her fears and shame, telling her it wasn’t her fault, that there’d been nothing she could have done to save her mom. He absolved her of the guilt she still felt, reminded her that whatever the future held, she had people around her who loved her; she wouldn’t be alone. He told her all the things she needed to hear, the things she might not have believed from anyone else.
She didn’t think she’d ever loved him more.
The future still loomed before her, scary and uncertain, but Angel had helped her through the long, bleak night, and she thought that maybe, by the time he left and the sun rose, she might just be strong enough to stand on her own again.
The End
Fandom: BtVS
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Buffy, Angel.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Forever.
Summary: The night after her mom’s funeral, when Buffy is at her lowest, Angel is there to provide comfort and support.
Word Count: 820
Written For: templefugate’s prompt ‘Any, any, a shoulder to cry on,’ at comment_fic.
Disclaimer: I don’t own BTVS, or the characters.
Being the Slayer, Buffy had always felt her friends automatically expected her to be the strong one, the one who could deal with anything that came her way. After all, if she could take on demons and vampires without so much as flinching, surely nothing could be too much for her. She wasn’t allowed to be weak or vulnerable, to falter or stumble; it was up to her to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, which meant pretty much everyone. The burden of her Slayer duties weighed heavy on her shoulders, as it had from the very start, but she couldn’t let it show. She didn’t have that luxury.
Now here she was, still not much more than a kid, her mom was dead, and everyone around her was falling apart. She needed to be strong for her friends, and for her sister, but who was there for her to lean on? Everyone was so busy coping with their own grief, they hardly seemed to notice hers.
No, that was unfair. They were trying, it just wasn’t enough. They couldn’t be strong for her when they were barely holding themselves together, and once again Buffy was left feeling that she needed to push her grief aside and pretend she was okay for their sakes.
Except that she wasn’t okay. Far from it.
With Giles’ guidance she made it through all the paperwork and stuff, became Dawn’s legal guardian, sorted out her mom’s affairs, which sounded so wrong, and arranged the funeral. It was lovely, in a depressing, heart-breaking sort of way, and she hoped it was what her mom would have wanted, but once it was over she was left adrift, rudderless, not knowing what to do next, or which way to turn.
The others left the cemetery afterwards, but Buffy couldn’t bring herself to leave her mom alone. It didn’t seem right to just go back to the warmth and familiarity of home; it would be as if she was abandoning the woman who’d been the cornerstone of her existence, kind of ‘Okay, you’re dead, but I’ve got places to be.’ Only she didn’t.
Maybe she should be home, caring for her sister, being the dutiful hostess to a houseful of funeral guests, but Giles would see to everybody. Buffy just needed time to catch her breath, get her bearings, clear her head… something like that anyway. She wasn’t sure what, just that she’d been strong for long enough, and she couldn’t do it anymore, but she couldn’t bear the thought of falling apart in front of everyone.
Night crept in without her even noticing. It didn’t matter; this was hardly the first time she’d been by herself in a cemetery at night, and it didn’t scare her, not the way the future did, stretching out before her, unknown and unknowable. Her mind was so numb she was barely aware of time passing, and yet somehow she wasn’t surprised when a familiar figure came to stand beside her. She didn’t answer when he spoke, just slipped her hand into Angel’s, and let him be there for her, tall, strong, silent. He didn’t expect anything from her, made no demands, he just… was.
Later, when her legs began to hurt from standing still for so long, they sat beneath a tree, Buffy curled against Angel’s side, head on his shoulder, and his arm around her, protective, comforting. Surrounded by his strength, at last she could let her weaknesses, her vulnerability, show. She could allow herself to grieve, knowing Angel wouldn’t judge her for it as her tears soaked into his coat. He simply held her, whispering words of comfort, pressing soft kisses against her hair, making her feel less alone.
He couldn’t stay, she knew that, as much as they both might wish he could. It would be too hard on both of them, and it would be a complication Buffy couldn’t afford. But he was here, right now, for this one night, and it was enough. She could draw strength from his solidity to shore up her crumbling defences, restore her failing courage. He was a bottomless well of compassion, listening to her pour out all her fears and shame, telling her it wasn’t her fault, that there’d been nothing she could have done to save her mom. He absolved her of the guilt she still felt, reminded her that whatever the future held, she had people around her who loved her; she wouldn’t be alone. He told her all the things she needed to hear, the things she might not have believed from anyone else.
She didn’t think she’d ever loved him more.
The future still loomed before her, scary and uncertain, but Angel had helped her through the long, bleak night, and she thought that maybe, by the time he left and the sun rose, she might just be strong enough to stand on her own again.
The End