no subject

[whattingawhat]

Buffy was looking for a door home, or a door to a magic library, or a door to Giles alive and well. If asked to pick, she'd choose door number three, but at this point she just wants answers. She's willing to hunt for them if necessary, but it would be awfully nice of those answers to come wrapped in tweed and served with a cup of tea. So, she didn't technically even like tea. That was hardly the point right now.

The point was that she was worried. She was worried about Dawn, worried that Faith didn't remember her, worried that Faith hadn't simply incurred brain damage somewhere along the way. She was worried that somehow in destroying the seed of magic, she'd hurt Dawn.

There might be a frantic tone to the way she was flinging open doors, leaning in, fingers wrapped around the door frames then flinging herself back into the hallway and tugging the door shut behind her. There was certainly a methodical bent to it.

Honestly, she could use a break. Please distract her before she started punching doors.