tampered | log, ongoing;

When; Thursday, late late night.
Rating; Uh. PG?
Characters; Peter Petrelli

totallyyourhero and Buffy Summers.
Summary; A shoulder to cry on.
Log;

Dawn was not going to see her cry, not ever.

Call her stubborn, but force of habit won out this time. She was always the one comforting a crying Dawn, holding her and trying to calm her down. She was always the one who had to be strong, had to look out for her- hell, for everyone. So when it was too much, Buffy would always turn to training. Kicking the hell out of a punching bag hurt, sure. And in retrospect it didn't make her feel any better. But for two seconds, she forgot everything- and Buffy was probably an instant gratification kind of girl.

But this time she didn't know what to do. So she ran.

Buffy hadn't even grabbed a jacket before running outside, still desperate to try and go somewhere where Dawn wouldn't see her. She'd contemplated a bar, but that was too obvious. Besides, she didn't even like alcohol.

The park. Perfect.

It was night, it was dark and it was cold and the park was empty- but Buffy was definitely not complaining. She settled down on the park bench, pulling her knees to her chin and wrapping her arms around them both.

It was only when nobody could see her that she really let it all out.

Feeling like a little kid as the fat tears rolled off her nose and splashed onto her jeans, Buffy tried to stop the random hiccoughing and convulsions that came with. Nothing like crying shown in the movies. It was gritty and painful and real- her chest hurt from lack of breathing, her throat hurt, her eyes burned. Random mixed emotions ran through her veins like blood, clenching her fists as she gulped for air.

Mom. The doctors. The tumors. Ben. Glory. Dying. Running.

Pain.

All of it, mixed in together, mashed into one incoherent thought. A cacophony of the worst emotions all playing out together. Mom.

Melodramatic, she was not- and Buffy was struggling to stop the tears, so she could wipe her eyes and go home to Dawn looking somewhat normal. And be the big sister she was supposed to be.

[OOC- SO uh. If this is confusing, just know that Dawn just told Buffy that their mom dies. Like, four episodes after from where she was taken. This is basically the reaction]

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Peter had been slowly flying over the City for some time now. Ever since it had become dark he had been slowly moving along in the cold night air and enjoying the calm quiet above the City and thinking. Like normal his thoughts ranged from the mundane to the bizarre and while he had a lot of questions he had very few answers.

So it was almost a welcome distracted when he saw the woman running through the buildings. It was easy too to see that she was upset. When he moved closer he could even see that she was crying, and that it was someone he knew. Or at least someone he had met.

Buffy Summers.

He wasn't sure if he should say anything or not; he didn't really know her that well and it might be awkward to be confronted with an almost stranger while you were crying. On the other hand, she might need someone to talk to.

In the end, as it always did, his comforting nature won out and he landed on the ground and headed after Buffy. Peter didn't become a hospice nurse for nothing, he was good at dealing with people who were upset about something. He liked to help.

"Buffy?" he said quietly as he came up on the girl. "It's me, Peter Petrelli. From the pie."

She wanted to hit something, punch something. Something drastic. Something dramatic, anything. It would at least take her mind off of the matter at hand. Which was the idea that her mom was never going to wake her up with breakfast in bed, or talk to her about the dates she went on, or brush her hair for her or-

Okay. Stop. This wasn't helping her calm down.

A voice startled her out of her thoughts and she hurriedly wiped her eyes, turning around to spot Peter, of all people, standing in front of her. "Hi, Peter." she turned her head away, not wanting to make it obvious that she'd been crying, even though it was probably futile anyways.

"What are you doing here so late at night?"

Chest heaving, Buffy shifted over on the bench.

"You can sit. I mean, if you'd like to." her voice was very, very small. A maybe just the tiniest bit hopeful.

"Just out flying," he said with a bit of a shrug. "Flying and thinking, mostly. Enjoying how quiet it is."

It was obvious that she had been crying and was trying to hide it. That didn't surprise him, Buffy came off as a bit independent. It was something that Peter was used to seeing though.

"Thanks," he said, sitting down next to her on the bench. She was dressed in a t-shirt and was probably freezing, or would be when she calmed down enough to notice. Shrugging off his coat he handed it to her.

"You want to talk about it?"

She forced a smile. "Yeah, that sounds great." Buffy didn't even know what she was agreeing to right now, but anything was better than an awkward silence, right?

Buffy looked down at the coat- seriously? This was the second time somebody had offered her a coat during her stay here. And of course, she knew from the first time that refusing was futile, so she took it from him and wrapped it around herself. He was warm, and the coat was still warm from him- it kind of helped her calm down and she should probably thank him for that.

"Thanks." Silence for a few more moments, until he spoke again. Awkwardness.

Did she want to talk about it? That would be a risky decision to make. Buffy, in her time, had made some wrong decisions, trusted the wrong people. Parker, Riley, Angel. And sure, it was all solved in the end- but trusting someone to see beyond her 'strong slayer' face was like giving a little bit of herself away. Not that there was much left to do so, anyways.

So Buffy searched his face, glanced upwards at his eyes and noticed how sincere they looked. Her face softened almost instantly. "Well my sister's from the...the future and-"

Probably should do this like ripping off a band-aid.

"She dies, Peter." and then slapped a hand over her mouth, terrified of what she just said. Saying it was like accepting that it happened, accepting that she couldn't change it. But she could. There were spells and and...demons and she didn't know but would find out anyways. Buffy's started crying again, and she doesn't even know it, doesn't realize the big fat drops of water dripping down the end of her nose.

"And the doctors- they told her she was alright and that she'd be fine and that they got the t-t-tumor-" the realization that she was bawling to a complete stranger was a little bit scary- the fact that she was gulping down air like a little kid was, as well. She'd be embarassed later, no doubt.

Peter knew instantly what she was talking about. Her mother who had the tumor. For all the experience he had with people grieving the loss of a loved one, there wasn't much he could do to comfort her. There wasn't much anyone could do.

"I'm sorry," he said, keeping his voice soft. "I wish there was something more I could say, but there's really not. It's hard to lose a parent."

"I know I just-" Buffy paused, wondering if this would sound stupid or whatever. "It's just...I know that when I go back- if I go back, I won't remember a thing. And I won't be able to stop it from happening." she took a deep breath, wiped her tears, tried to deal. Tried to calm down so she could talk like a normal person instead of blubbering like a ten-year-old.

"It's stupid, right? Trying to change to future." Buffy said resignedly, inadvertently leaning against him. She was too tired to do otherwise. He was warm, and smelled kind of nice. Like soap. Clean and wholesome. It was comforting in itself.

"No, it's not stupid," Peter said with a shake of his head and leaning back just a bit into her. "Isn't that what everyone does, try to change the future and make it better?"

Peter wasn't entirely sure he was being helpful. He had been back home and he knew you didn't remember everything, but did that mean it would for sure happen that way for everyone? And it couldn't hurt to try. Well, sometimes it did for Peter, but he doubted it was that way for everyone.

"Take it from someone who can time travel, trying to change the future isn't stupid," he added. "But even if you could, you have to deal with it sometime. And I know that doesn't make it easier or fair that she doesn't have more time. But just because everyone dies eventually doesn't mean you can't be upset about when it happens."

"I guess. I don't even know anymore. I think I'd sell my soul or something really, really drastic like that to bring her back. Dawn deserves a mom. Kind of like...a chance to be normal, you know? Give her what I never really got to have." The sleeves on the jacket were just a little too long for her and it was a distraction, at least. A stupid thing to be fixating on, but apparently that's what one did in a moment of grief. Psych 101 had come in handy after all.

He was helping. She needed someone to talk to, someone to pull her out of this chaos and insanity, someone to be the voice of reason and Peter was perfect for that. His voice was soft and a bit lulling, the kind of voice you'd want to read you a story or something before you went to bed. Metaphorically, of course. She was too old for stories now.

"It's not fair." Buffy said bluntly with a sigh. "It's not fair and it shouldn't be like this. I just- I want to be there for Dawn. I want to be able to go back there tonight and just be normal. Bringing this up with her again isn't fair either."

A beat. "And I'd rather really not go back there."

"I don't think selling your soul would be such a good idea," Peter said, frowning a bit. He didn't know if she was the type to really do that or not. "But I don't think any parent would want their daughter to do that for them."

Of course, Peter wasn't really one to talk. He did ridiculous, crazy things that turned out to be stupid all the time.

"I think taking the news about your mom's death like this is pretty normal," Peter suggested. "And I doubt running away from her for too long will help. But if you don't deal with this it'll only get worse."

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