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

It was Leslie's idea, of course, to give yoga a try. As Buffy is with most things, she was skeptical. Yoga reminded her of the dainty women who wore pink, skin-tight pants and equally tight, busty "moisture wicking" tops. Their 'type' were everywhere in Sacrosanct, especially in the cookie-cutter neighborhoods on the edges of the city. While on her few assignments out here, Buffy would marvel at them from a distance at local coffee shops. Matching neon-colored Nikes and hair ties, somewhat neglected babies in sporty strollers. They had no idea what was happening in the world beyond their platinum blonde bubble. They had no idea that she, among the dozens of other dark hunters in Sacrosanct, worked late at night so they wouldn't become vamp bait, or worse.

They just had no idea.

But Buffy could appreciate what her younger sister was trying to do. It had been a rough couple of years with mom's death and then Leslie skipping town on a volleyball scholarship for school. Buffy just didn't really have anything to do anymore. She was so used to taking care of everyone. It felt a little like part of her died, too, when her family left her. This was merely Leslie's attempt to get her rough-around-the-edges older sister out of her shitty apartment, and to spend some quality time with real humans. Not just the supernatural ones she liked to stake after midnight.

So she'd bought a Groupon and went to a studio once. She stuck out like a sore thumb with her pasty, skinny legs and her over-sized Misfits T-shirt and ratty men's gym shorts. She couldn't touch her toes. She fell over when she had to balance on one foot. But she left the studio feeling surprisingly, rejuvenated. Buffy convinced herself it would be a waste of money if she stopped going. The Groupon was for a month of unlimited classes. But we're going on four months later now, and Buffy was still going. She also may or may not have bought herself a proper mat. And maybe even a pair or two of properly fitting yoga pants.

It isn't often that Buffy finds herself so far south of the city limits, but she caved and took advantage of a good deal she found online for a yoga studio on this side of town. The suburbs of Sacrosanct were still riddled with supernaturals, but they tended to be, well, more boring than the drudge types that dwelled within the confines of the skyscrapers and warehouses. Dupont Circle was about as suburban as Buffy gets. Which in itself, is a bit comical because for most of her adolescent life, she couldn't wait to get the hell out of that neighborhood. But here she is, a damned adult, and still living at the same address she grew up at. Even if she wasn't technically living in the same home. But nevertheless, she found herself drawn the suburbs today, and for a yoga class of all things. #Basic.

Once the afternoon class was over, Buffy made a bee-line out of the studio as she always did, avoiding any awkward small talk with the gaggle of soccer moms. She walked briskly down the well-manicured asphalt street, admiring the charming homes with their grand front porches until she reached a corner coffee house. There she made her way to counter and ordered a latte. She didn't linger in the java shop, and instead made her way back toward the subway station on the other side of town. Along the way she veered through the shady Hyde Park, watching other fitness aficionados make their rounds.

Usually Buffy would be in her own headspace by now, with music blarring through a pair of flimsy ear buds. But she forgoed the usual playlist to enjoy the natural sounds of the park this evening. Maybe there was more to this mind/body balance to yoga than she really realized. That's when Buffy heard the shriek, which stopped her dead in her tracks. She clutched at the plain cloth backpack dangling lazily over one shoulder, feeling for the blade she always kept there, and disappeared down a worn park trail in the direction of the call.

GIA BUFFY JONES