by PaBurke

Distribution: The Nook, TtH

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended, no money made, no characters created.

Spoilers: BtVS

Summary: It's all in how you define the terms.

Word Count: 200

Buffy was a Slayer and blades were her weapons of choice. She knew blades of all shapes and sizes. She knew how they were made and maintained. She knew how they were sharpened.

She had seen men use a wheel to sharpen the less precise weapons. Like orcs in that movie with pretty elves. Xander was like that; his running commentary always throwing off sparks.

The American Indians used to chip off stone to form their arrowheads and knives before they were introduced to steel. That was Willow; when she so chose, she could remove huge portions of the things that held Buffy back. Willow had a way of making her reservations disappear.

Buffy personally preferred the whetstone. One drew the blade across it methodically, steadily, over and over. The carbon stone against the steel would create an edge, one that could quite literally slice a hair long ways. That, of course, was Giles. His training had given her precision.

They had each made her sharp in their own ways.

She was their Blade.

Which was why, as she walked out of the silent –stunned- conference room, she wondered why they were so surprised at how sharp she had become.