All I want is an easier way to get out of our little heads...
Written for _chibidragon_, for the prompt "jump".
Sometimes Buffy dreams, on this side of the Rift. They're not quite the same as her usual Slayer dreams - they never come true. Sometimes she's screaming (while another part of her mind protests that she does not scream like that). Sometimes it's all gold, and there are birds. Sometimes it's just vampires and dust and home.
Other nights, she dreams of the way things used to be, should be. The wa she can't help but wish they still were. Her and Xander and Willow in the library, Giles somewhere off in the stacks muttering to himself. Leaning against Angel, eyes closed, and feeling so much calmer and steadier just because of his presence. Even arguing with Cordelia, and who would have thought she'd miss that enough to dream about it?
And then there are the nights she dreams about this side of the Rift. It always starts the same: someone arrives, and she finds them. Sometimes it's Giles, and she can't stop grinning. Sometimes it's Xander, and she can't run to hug him fast enough, or Willow, which gets an incredibly embarrassing squeal out of her. Once or twice, it's Angel, and those dreams quickly slide into territory she's not about to discuss with anyone, under any circumstances.
Most nights, when her dreams wake her, she just sighs and rolls over, stares into the dark until she's tired enough to sleep again, but the nights she has those dreams, the dreams of Chicago and not Sunnydale, she can't jump out of bed quickly enough. She flips on a light, crosses the hall, and knocks on Tay's door, and when Tay opens it, bleary-eyed and glaring, Buffy asks, "You wanna come over and have some cocoa?"
She doesn't know what she'd do if Tay ever said no.
Muse: Buffy Summers
Word Count: 297
Sometimes Buffy dreams, on this side of the Rift. They're not quite the same as her usual Slayer dreams - they never come true. Sometimes she's screaming (while another part of her mind protests that she does not scream like that). Sometimes it's all gold, and there are birds. Sometimes it's just vampires and dust and home.
Other nights, she dreams of the way things used to be, should be. The wa she can't help but wish they still were. Her and Xander and Willow in the library, Giles somewhere off in the stacks muttering to himself. Leaning against Angel, eyes closed, and feeling so much calmer and steadier just because of his presence. Even arguing with Cordelia, and who would have thought she'd miss that enough to dream about it?
And then there are the nights she dreams about this side of the Rift. It always starts the same: someone arrives, and she finds them. Sometimes it's Giles, and she can't stop grinning. Sometimes it's Xander, and she can't run to hug him fast enough, or Willow, which gets an incredibly embarrassing squeal out of her. Once or twice, it's Angel, and those dreams quickly slide into territory she's not about to discuss with anyone, under any circumstances.
Most nights, when her dreams wake her, she just sighs and rolls over, stares into the dark until she's tired enough to sleep again, but the nights she has those dreams, the dreams of Chicago and not Sunnydale, she can't jump out of bed quickly enough. She flips on a light, crosses the hall, and knocks on Tay's door, and when Tay opens it, bleary-eyed and glaring, Buffy asks, "You wanna come over and have some cocoa?"
She doesn't know what she'd do if Tay ever said no.
Muse: Buffy Summers
Word Count: 297