「 @hellswire 」 : LIKED FOR A RANDOM STARTER .
hell’s kitchen hums the way graveyards never do : alive and rotting at the same time . buffy’s still not sure if that’s better or worse . she’s been here three nights , which is about three more than she planned . the kind of trip where she tells herself it’s just patrol , and then suddenly there’s a guy on a rooftop doing the same thing she is , but with better branding and catholic guilt for seasoning . she hasn’t met him yet , not really . just the shadow version : the one that moves like a secret and bleeds like a man . right now , she’s crouched on a water tower , one hand curled around a stake that’s already splintering at the edge . below , a handful of vamps are trying real hard to look like small–time thugs , but the stink of undead is something she could spot blindfolded . ‘ city that never sleeps , ’ she murmurs , voice dry , ‘ guess that includes the bloodsuckers . ’
she doesn’t turn when she feels it . that pulse of something else . not vamp , not human . her mouth twitches , almost a smile . ‘ didn’t think this neighborhood came with its own nightlight , ’ buffy says , still watching the street . ‘ but if you’re gonna brood up there , at least tell me you’re house–trained . ’
