December 13th, 2004

tank girl


ScourDawn and Andrew had spent the evening plotting increasingly violent methods of murdering Buffy. Hours of scrubbing the floors with industrial cleaners had done little to endear the Slayer to either of them.

"Who brings a Drethh demon into the house?" Dawn pulled off neon pink rubber gloves and headed outside for fresh air.

Andrew was still wearing a welding apron. "I can't get the brains out of the rug."

"I thought that was bile."

Spike looked up from his seat on the step. "It's not bile."

Andrew turned very pale. "I vote we just burn the house down instead."

open_on_sundaychallenge #90: liquids