a new world hangs outside the window
beautiful and strange
it must be I've fallen awake
I must be

It had been seven days - seven full fucking days - since Gia had put a bottle to her lips. She'd managed to go a full week without a drop of alcohol. The sense of accomplishment was fleeting though, when you have no one to share it with. Her agonizing half-hearted quest to sobriety was something she lamented on alone. She didn't post a sefie on Instagram, nor some longwinded self-centered bullshit post on Facebook. Not even Leslie, her sister with whom she texted and emailed with daily, didn't know. Perhaps she did, being her sister and all, maybe she always knew Buffy had a problem. But Leslie didn't know that her dark hunter sister was trying to address the glaring crutch in her life - the succubus that seemed to be the start of nearly every single one of her problems - all on her own.

The dry week came after Buffy attempted to force herself to go to an AA meeting. But the lanky girl jumped at any opportunity to divert her attention from entering the building and sitting in a folding chair with a slew of losers for an hour. A pretty little blonde girl had provided just enough of a distraction to get Buffy to walk away... and head back to the bar. And so, the guilt wore heavily on her. Did she really not have any control over this? Was she truly addicted, or did she just enjoy it so much that she didn't want to stop? Buffy wasn't confident she knew the answer. And thus, the dry week.

It fucking sucked. But somehow, she survived. Yoga helped. So did a daily run through her southside neighborhood. And weed - we can't forget about the ganja.

Work, too, provided a channel for her misplaced energy. Buffy was busy over the last week, bagging vamp after vamp. She fought over competitive bounties with dark hunters much more experienced and well-known in town. But she was doing well - she researched, tracked and hunted expertly, logging one kill or containment and remained hungry for the next. Buffy hadn't worked this hard since, well, since she was just getting her sea legs back when she was first turned. Before Jason. Before mom's cancer. Before the fuckery of everything.

The night was winding down, as the hours transitioned from p.m. into a.m. Buffy had just set a new PR - three vampires dead in one night - and she was thirsty. This was reason enough to celebrate, right? To break her dry streak? She didn't need to convince herself further, and instead, pushed open the door to the very next bar down the block.

Buffy rarely spent time on the East side of town if she could avoid it. Ever since that near date rape encounter, she was wary of the crowds that hung here, especially at this ungodly hour. But as she passed through the dimly lit bar, she could feel the eyes on her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood in protest as her body registered them all - witch, vampire, witch, witch, fairy, witch.... but she'd clocked out for the night. Buffy slid her rail-thin body into a barstool next to a burly looking warlock but barely gave him the once over. Instead, she used her dirty palms to the smooth out the flyaways of her messy brown ponytail, only now deciding to inspect her black tank top and jeans for any signs of mud or worse, blood. But this was about as clean and tidy as Buffy got.

She watched out of the corner of her eye as the man next to her downed one drink and then another in quick succession. "Alrighty there." She scoffed mostly to herself - she was certainly the last one to judge. "I'll have what he's having." She blurted to the bartender, her mouth already salivating at the thought of the burn of the whiskey down her throat. "Why not one more for my friend here, too." She offered, in a rather rare moment of generosity. But Buffy was feeling good. Maybe she'd switch it up, and indulge with company tonight.

GIA BUFFY JONES