gen_storyteller

It’s Never Done
Summary: Sleep is elusive when you’re a Slayer.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Joss is someone that surely is not me.
Notes: Originally written for

open_on_sunday, prompt: insomnia.

The Primeval One

The night is for the hunters, so she sleeps during the day.

She dreams of cold, heavy chains and stone-faced men. They whisper in front of her as the demon claims her. She forces her eyes open before the pain starts.

She wakes alone, on top of warming dirt. No animals gather around her. No scavengers look to pick the meat off her dead bones. Her people have long since abandoned her. All alone.

She stays awake, no matter how little rest she has gotten. Sometimes, she refuses to lie down at all. She is not afraid. She cannot be.

Those In-between

There is a pattern among the Chosen. It happens to quite near every single one of them. It is of no matter if they had been raised by their Watchers, trained by them for years, or only recently found. It all begins in the same way. Their hands start to shake. They refuse to eat their meals. They clutch the crosses that adorn their necks. Most prevalent, however, are the dark, sunken circles under their skittish eyes. They do not sleep. They cannot sleep. Instead, they fear.

Present fears are less than horrible imaginings. No truer words have been spoken.

The Mother

She’d come home around dawn. She’d have time to fix herself a quick bite to eat and tend to whatever wounds she’d gotten. By then, Robin would be getting up. He’d have to get dressed and eat, and she’d make him his lunch and check if he’d done his homework. Then they’d walk to the bus stop together.

There was no sleep.

She’d run home and change for whatever job she was lucky enough to keep, and rush out the door to hail a taxi. She’d work a couple of shifts, then drag her feet home and slay the monsters.

The Valley Girl

She had a nice comfy bed. She had a nice quiet home, on a nice quiet street. She’d sleep fine most nights, nightmares aside. That was, until she slept with someone else. Things went belly up from there.

She’d stay awake through the morning hours, making sure that He didn’t show up at the door. Trusty cup of coffee by her side, she’d look for the slightest movement out on the street. She wouldn’t let Him attack her family. And she wouldn’t let herself lie awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling guilty and sorry. She had a job to do.

The Rebel

No regrets. That’s how she liked to live. It left her free to say what she wanted, do what she wanted, and act how she wanted. Other people’s feelings did not have to be taken into account. Whatever gave her that rush, whether it was the crunch of a battle, or the satisfaction of a verbal spar, she craved. It was a great way to live.

Faith sighed and rolled in her bunk. Things were quiet, save for some snoring inmates. It was going to be another sleepless night, she knew.

She didn’t have regrets, but prison sure wasn’t Disneyland.

The Second Generation

The room was bursting with hundreds of women of all ages. They were all standing in awe. There, up on the stage was The Last One, Buffy Summers. Star-struck, the Slayers hung on every word.

“This new life is difficult I know, but you’re not alone. Remember that. You are not alone. We are all here to help, your Watchers, those at the Council, your fellow Slayers. We’re here. I’m here. And I know what it’s like. How many of you have had trouble sleeping lately? Don’t be afraid . . .” She spoke through the afternoon, everyone listening intently.