August 31 - Her Gift is Death Adjacent
Title: Her Gift is Death Adjacent
Author: Twisted_Slinky
Rating: Teen
Crossover: BtVS/Teen Wolf
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Teen Wolf, and I'm making no money off this fanwork.
Summary: Lydia drops into Buffy's dreamscape.
Warnings: nope.
Timeline/Setting: Post series for both fandoms. I'm going to say this is a very loose sequel to my one-shot "Awkward", assuming things worked out very well at the conclusion of that story ;)
Author's notes(if any): Yeah, that's right, I'm just going to drop in on the last day like I was here the whole time. Bahaha.
The desert swept out before her, unrolling like a carpet across the horizon of white light. The sun was somewhere, lost in is own glare above. Lydia could feel its heat, so intense, which she knew was impossible, since there was no real sky, no real sand. And those women who came and went like mirages? They weren't real either.
Or so Lydia told herself. This was the third time she'd dreamed of the desert, and it was beginning to worry her. Always this scene was the same; she'd see two figures, far away on the rippling dunes, those feminine shapes made a shimming oasis by the brightness of it all. She couldn't tell who they were, only that one was pale in a short pink dress and one was dark skinned with an odd affinity for crouching low and circling her companion. Like a predator.
The other two times she'd come here, she'd tried calling out to the other women, tried running toward them. It never worked. They hadn't so much as looked her way, and she never appeared to get any closer to their location.
This time, though, she felt it, that building of something deep inside her. That urgency nervousness that warned her that she'd be screaming soon. Only, the urge to release it wasn't quiet there. It was almost as if her natural talents could sense doom nearby, but the outcome itself wasn't fixed.
That should be a good thing, she thought, that she wasn't actually predicting a death right at the moment, but the strangeness of it all left her feeling concerned. It didn't help, either, that when she saw that crouching woman far away, she thought of where her friends had last seen Kira, a few years ago, and the company the kitsune now kept.
"Should I even bother?" Lydia asked, aloud, frustrated by the idea of calling out again and again. She sighed. "Maybe if someone would mind pointing me in the direction of a dead body? Then we could get this thing moving along."
"Did you say something?"
Lydia wouldn't admit to jumping. She stiffened, turning to see the woman in pink behind her, looking as confused as she felt. The other woman was older than Lydia, but there was a girlishness in her small pointed face and her tight smirk. Her blond hair spilled loose over shoulders that were rosy with a fresh tan. She didn't look dead. So why could staring at her make Lydia want to scream?
"Who are you?" Lydia asked, collecting herself.
The woman blinked. "Buffy," the woman answered, slowly. "Though, it seems odd to be answering that question in your own dream."
"This is my dream," Lydia assured her, but she already doubted the statement. There was something territorial here, something almost holy, and she felt like she didn't quite belong.
"Ok then. I'll bite. This is your dream. Shared dream territory." Buffy sighed. "So considering I'm kind of a big deal in some circles, I guess you're not sent by the PTB or you'd already know my name."
"I'm…" Lydia hesitated a moment, considering. Something about this no longer felt like an actual dream. More like a memory. She couldn't figure out why, but it was oddly unsettling. "Lydia Martin," she finally finished. "And for some bizarre reason, you've been plaguing my dreams for the last three nights."
Buffy blinked, looking like she'd realized something important, but the expression slipped from her face quickly.
"Is it night?" Buffy asked. She squinted up at the daylight. "Pretty sure it's not."
Lydia shook her head, frustrated. "I need you to stop haunting me," she snapped. "You and your friend need to find peace. I'm not going to be a mouthpiece for the dead. Finding corpses is bad enough, thank you."
Buffy's mouth dropped open. "Uh, what who now?"
As if she'd been summoned, a shadow appeared past Buffy's shoulder. Lydia's throat tightened when she got a better look at the darker skinned woman. There was something about her, aside from her thick cords of hair and the white paint on her face, the wild light in her eyes, that told Lydia that this figure didn't belong here, in this time. But maybe in this place.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh, Sineya. Not a friend. More like a distant relative," she assured. "Ignore her. She's super cryptic."
"Her gift is death," a voice whispered.
Sineya. Lydia swallowed hard, but composed herself, trying to hide her fear. "Actually, it's more death adjacent," she corrected. "I don't kill. I might be near death and thinking about death, screaming and dreaming about death, but I'm not the cause of it. Usually."
Buffy's eyes narrowed in thought. "She's talking about me," the blonde clarified. "And you don't have to take a life for death to be your gift. What do you mean you're near death?"
"Banshee." Lydia wasn't sure if answering correctly was a good idea, but she couldn't see what damage it could do. These women could already enter her dreams. "Death omen, or close enough."
Buffy chuckled to herself, looking off at the sand dunes. "I don't think the research books do you justice," she muttered. When she glanced back, there was a sadness in her eyes. "I think this is my fault," she explained. "I've kind of died before? It's probably throwing off your, omen spidey sense."
"That…" Lydia cleared her throat. "That actually seems likely. But you're not dead now then?"
"No. Does seeing you mean I will be soon?"
Lydia cocked her head in thought. "No, actually. I don't think so."
Buffy's smile was slow to appear. "Well, then, cheers to that, I guess. I'll buy you a drink when you wake up. Also, you should probably roll over soon. You're getting pink."
"What?"
"Lydia, you're going to burn."
She blinked to awareness, somewhat disoriented by the shades over her face, keeping the sun out. When she realized that the heat was coming from the real sun above her and not her dream desert, she pushed herself up and pulled her sunglasses up onto her braided crown of red hair.
Malia gave her a side glance from the other lounge chair, the werecoyote frowning slightly, either in concern or out of boredom. Her perch on the edge of the seat and soaking wet hair seemed to indicate she wasn't planning to relax any time soon.
A splash in the pool sent a fine spray into the air, tickling their bare legs.
"Someone as white as you shouldn't fall asleep in the sun," Malia noted.
Lydia shot her a pointed look before glancing down. Sure enough, the curves of her thighs beneath her vintage, polka-dotted swimsuit were beginning to form a rosy hue. She huffed. "Where's Stiles when I need him?" she commented.
"Well I'm not rubbing you down in his place." Malia smirked. "Though, he's made at least two comments about how he wouldn't be entirely against that visual."
"My charming boy," Lydia muttered.
"And," Malia finished, "he's currently in the same place Scott is, attempting to talk to that local pack about joining us for the bonfire tonight."
"Because we're here for pack business," Lydia assured, a touch of sarcasm in her voice. "And we just happen to be staying at a luxury resort hotel. On our vacation time. With the puppies left back in Beacon Hills."
Malia shrugged her shoulder. "Was Derek's idea," she reminded.
The look on her face said she was as equally confused by the idea of Derek wanting to go somewhere bright and sunny and touristy. Lydia bit down a grin, amused that she'd guessed early on that this whole trip was some sort of excuse for Derek to arrange a meeting between his new lady friend and his Alpha. He hadn't come out and said as much, obviously, being typical Derek, but the fact that even Cora was arriving tonight, on behalf of her own South American pack, was enough supporting evidence. Lydia wondered how long it would take Scott to figure out this very important business he was to attend.
Malia mentioned something about being hungry before wandering off toward the tiki-hut looking grill outside the pool area. Lydia barely made the effort to shoo her away, eyes locked on a pretty pink swimdress across the pool. It looked familiar.
Smiling green eyes met hers. Buffy cocked her head down at the two hollow coconuts in her hands, their tiny paper umbrellas bouncing in whatever concoction was inside, and then she grinned back up at Lydia. Lydia hopped out of her chair so quickly, she nearly twisted her wedge sandal off. She walked around the pool toward a line of airy white massage room canopies, following the blond woman inside the first.
"So, death adjacent, that's kind of an interesting way to describe your calling," Buffy noted.
Lydia raised a brow, grabbing a drink from the woman and settling down on the closest chair. It probably wasn't a good idea to actually drink from something a stranger had given her, but she couldn't help but enjoy the tropical scent of whatever was inside. Buffy settled in next to her, crossing her legs and easing back a long draw off her own drink.
"Invite people into your dreams often?" Lydia asked.
"You figured out that was my dreamscape and not yours. Which means you're probably the right girl to talk to," Buffy concluded. She smiled faintly. "Derek said you were smart."
Lydia tried to hide her surprise with a sweeping look at the woman. Her eye caught something interesting right away, on the hand holding the coconut. A rather quaint but expensive looking engagement ring.
"And Derek said you were anything but average," Lydia finally replied. "I see you said yes. He thinks he's good at keeping secrets from us, but I actually suggested that diamond cut."
Buffy's grin widened into something more genuine. "I'm a sucker for pretty jewelry."
"You're not just marrying him, you know," Lydia pointed out. "If you stay with Derek Hale, you're signing up to be part of our pack. Assuming the pack wants you. But I have a feeling you know as much, or you wouldn't have called me over here."
"We called it a Scooby Gang back in my day, but pack sounds more official," Buffy mused. "But, yes, we made with the serious talk. That's why you're here. Because now he needs to tell the people who are an important part of his life what they're getting into if they become part of my family. Two way street and all that. See, I'm not exactly a loner. My "pack," it's a bit larger than yours. No banshees though, so you have one up on us, for sure. There's a witch," she offered.
"This is an engagement party," Lydia interrupted. She sat up a bit straighter. "Your people meeting ours, which means your friends are all aware of who and what we are. Which means Derek must trust all of you quite a bit." She frowned suddenly. "Does he know you died once?"
"More than once actually, which is, in fact, a funny story if you leave our the terrifying parts," Buffy noted. "But yes. He knows. Most of it. He gets a bit growly halfway through some of my stories, so I have to cut them short. And I know about him. What happened to his family. The hunters." Her face tightened slightly. "Which, I'm thinking is the reason he's been a bit hush-hush about telling his pack more about me."
Lydia's eyes widened. "You're a hunter."
"Not like a freelancer," Buffy assured. "But let's just say my job falls in the same category. Hence the meeting outside your territory with all the mixed drinks and the happy-fun-times music playing … Derek knows things could go sideways when he tries to explain who I am, what I am. Especially since his luck with dating is about equal to my luck with means you guys are going to naturally assume I'm some evil hag trying to seduce and murder you all. So, I was hoping maybe you could spill the beans early."
"Huh?"
"Derek isn't great with sharing. So, let's get ahead of him. Tell them, the pack, about me. Get all the feels and the conspiracy theories out of the way early, so we can enjoy our party tonight." Buffy sat her drink aside. "I hired caterers. There might be giftbags with personalized swag. I want a total lack of bloodshed at this shindig, get me?"
Lydia bit down her smirk. "No promises," she said, slowly. "So, telling them, it's going to require more information. Stiles will want to do research. I don't even know your last name."
Buffy smiled. "Summers. But all you really need to do is look up two words: Slayer-comma-The."
Author: Twisted_Slinky
Rating: Teen
Crossover: BtVS/Teen Wolf
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Teen Wolf, and I'm making no money off this fanwork.
Summary: Lydia drops into Buffy's dreamscape.
Warnings: nope.
Timeline/Setting: Post series for both fandoms. I'm going to say this is a very loose sequel to my one-shot "Awkward", assuming things worked out very well at the conclusion of that story ;)
Author's notes(if any): Yeah, that's right, I'm just going to drop in on the last day like I was here the whole time. Bahaha.
The desert swept out before her, unrolling like a carpet across the horizon of white light. The sun was somewhere, lost in is own glare above. Lydia could feel its heat, so intense, which she knew was impossible, since there was no real sky, no real sand. And those women who came and went like mirages? They weren't real either.
Or so Lydia told herself. This was the third time she'd dreamed of the desert, and it was beginning to worry her. Always this scene was the same; she'd see two figures, far away on the rippling dunes, those feminine shapes made a shimming oasis by the brightness of it all. She couldn't tell who they were, only that one was pale in a short pink dress and one was dark skinned with an odd affinity for crouching low and circling her companion. Like a predator.
The other two times she'd come here, she'd tried calling out to the other women, tried running toward them. It never worked. They hadn't so much as looked her way, and she never appeared to get any closer to their location.
This time, though, she felt it, that building of something deep inside her. That urgency nervousness that warned her that she'd be screaming soon. Only, the urge to release it wasn't quiet there. It was almost as if her natural talents could sense doom nearby, but the outcome itself wasn't fixed.
That should be a good thing, she thought, that she wasn't actually predicting a death right at the moment, but the strangeness of it all left her feeling concerned. It didn't help, either, that when she saw that crouching woman far away, she thought of where her friends had last seen Kira, a few years ago, and the company the kitsune now kept.
"Should I even bother?" Lydia asked, aloud, frustrated by the idea of calling out again and again. She sighed. "Maybe if someone would mind pointing me in the direction of a dead body? Then we could get this thing moving along."
"Did you say something?"
Lydia wouldn't admit to jumping. She stiffened, turning to see the woman in pink behind her, looking as confused as she felt. The other woman was older than Lydia, but there was a girlishness in her small pointed face and her tight smirk. Her blond hair spilled loose over shoulders that were rosy with a fresh tan. She didn't look dead. So why could staring at her make Lydia want to scream?
"Who are you?" Lydia asked, collecting herself.
The woman blinked. "Buffy," the woman answered, slowly. "Though, it seems odd to be answering that question in your own dream."
"This is my dream," Lydia assured her, but she already doubted the statement. There was something territorial here, something almost holy, and she felt like she didn't quite belong.
"Ok then. I'll bite. This is your dream. Shared dream territory." Buffy sighed. "So considering I'm kind of a big deal in some circles, I guess you're not sent by the PTB or you'd already know my name."
"I'm…" Lydia hesitated a moment, considering. Something about this no longer felt like an actual dream. More like a memory. She couldn't figure out why, but it was oddly unsettling. "Lydia Martin," she finally finished. "And for some bizarre reason, you've been plaguing my dreams for the last three nights."
Buffy blinked, looking like she'd realized something important, but the expression slipped from her face quickly.
"Is it night?" Buffy asked. She squinted up at the daylight. "Pretty sure it's not."
Lydia shook her head, frustrated. "I need you to stop haunting me," she snapped. "You and your friend need to find peace. I'm not going to be a mouthpiece for the dead. Finding corpses is bad enough, thank you."
Buffy's mouth dropped open. "Uh, what who now?"
As if she'd been summoned, a shadow appeared past Buffy's shoulder. Lydia's throat tightened when she got a better look at the darker skinned woman. There was something about her, aside from her thick cords of hair and the white paint on her face, the wild light in her eyes, that told Lydia that this figure didn't belong here, in this time. But maybe in this place.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh, Sineya. Not a friend. More like a distant relative," she assured. "Ignore her. She's super cryptic."
"Her gift is death," a voice whispered.
Sineya. Lydia swallowed hard, but composed herself, trying to hide her fear. "Actually, it's more death adjacent," she corrected. "I don't kill. I might be near death and thinking about death, screaming and dreaming about death, but I'm not the cause of it. Usually."
Buffy's eyes narrowed in thought. "She's talking about me," the blonde clarified. "And you don't have to take a life for death to be your gift. What do you mean you're near death?"
"Banshee." Lydia wasn't sure if answering correctly was a good idea, but she couldn't see what damage it could do. These women could already enter her dreams. "Death omen, or close enough."
Buffy chuckled to herself, looking off at the sand dunes. "I don't think the research books do you justice," she muttered. When she glanced back, there was a sadness in her eyes. "I think this is my fault," she explained. "I've kind of died before? It's probably throwing off your, omen spidey sense."
"That…" Lydia cleared her throat. "That actually seems likely. But you're not dead now then?"
"No. Does seeing you mean I will be soon?"
Lydia cocked her head in thought. "No, actually. I don't think so."
Buffy's smile was slow to appear. "Well, then, cheers to that, I guess. I'll buy you a drink when you wake up. Also, you should probably roll over soon. You're getting pink."
"What?"
"Lydia, you're going to burn."
She blinked to awareness, somewhat disoriented by the shades over her face, keeping the sun out. When she realized that the heat was coming from the real sun above her and not her dream desert, she pushed herself up and pulled her sunglasses up onto her braided crown of red hair.
Malia gave her a side glance from the other lounge chair, the werecoyote frowning slightly, either in concern or out of boredom. Her perch on the edge of the seat and soaking wet hair seemed to indicate she wasn't planning to relax any time soon.
A splash in the pool sent a fine spray into the air, tickling their bare legs.
"Someone as white as you shouldn't fall asleep in the sun," Malia noted.
Lydia shot her a pointed look before glancing down. Sure enough, the curves of her thighs beneath her vintage, polka-dotted swimsuit were beginning to form a rosy hue. She huffed. "Where's Stiles when I need him?" she commented.
"Well I'm not rubbing you down in his place." Malia smirked. "Though, he's made at least two comments about how he wouldn't be entirely against that visual."
"My charming boy," Lydia muttered.
"And," Malia finished, "he's currently in the same place Scott is, attempting to talk to that local pack about joining us for the bonfire tonight."
"Because we're here for pack business," Lydia assured, a touch of sarcasm in her voice. "And we just happen to be staying at a luxury resort hotel. On our vacation time. With the puppies left back in Beacon Hills."
Malia shrugged her shoulder. "Was Derek's idea," she reminded.
The look on her face said she was as equally confused by the idea of Derek wanting to go somewhere bright and sunny and touristy. Lydia bit down a grin, amused that she'd guessed early on that this whole trip was some sort of excuse for Derek to arrange a meeting between his new lady friend and his Alpha. He hadn't come out and said as much, obviously, being typical Derek, but the fact that even Cora was arriving tonight, on behalf of her own South American pack, was enough supporting evidence. Lydia wondered how long it would take Scott to figure out this very important business he was to attend.
Malia mentioned something about being hungry before wandering off toward the tiki-hut looking grill outside the pool area. Lydia barely made the effort to shoo her away, eyes locked on a pretty pink swimdress across the pool. It looked familiar.
Smiling green eyes met hers. Buffy cocked her head down at the two hollow coconuts in her hands, their tiny paper umbrellas bouncing in whatever concoction was inside, and then she grinned back up at Lydia. Lydia hopped out of her chair so quickly, she nearly twisted her wedge sandal off. She walked around the pool toward a line of airy white massage room canopies, following the blond woman inside the first.
"So, death adjacent, that's kind of an interesting way to describe your calling," Buffy noted.
Lydia raised a brow, grabbing a drink from the woman and settling down on the closest chair. It probably wasn't a good idea to actually drink from something a stranger had given her, but she couldn't help but enjoy the tropical scent of whatever was inside. Buffy settled in next to her, crossing her legs and easing back a long draw off her own drink.
"Invite people into your dreams often?" Lydia asked.
"You figured out that was my dreamscape and not yours. Which means you're probably the right girl to talk to," Buffy concluded. She smiled faintly. "Derek said you were smart."
Lydia tried to hide her surprise with a sweeping look at the woman. Her eye caught something interesting right away, on the hand holding the coconut. A rather quaint but expensive looking engagement ring.
"And Derek said you were anything but average," Lydia finally replied. "I see you said yes. He thinks he's good at keeping secrets from us, but I actually suggested that diamond cut."
Buffy's grin widened into something more genuine. "I'm a sucker for pretty jewelry."
"You're not just marrying him, you know," Lydia pointed out. "If you stay with Derek Hale, you're signing up to be part of our pack. Assuming the pack wants you. But I have a feeling you know as much, or you wouldn't have called me over here."
"We called it a Scooby Gang back in my day, but pack sounds more official," Buffy mused. "But, yes, we made with the serious talk. That's why you're here. Because now he needs to tell the people who are an important part of his life what they're getting into if they become part of my family. Two way street and all that. See, I'm not exactly a loner. My "pack," it's a bit larger than yours. No banshees though, so you have one up on us, for sure. There's a witch," she offered.
"This is an engagement party," Lydia interrupted. She sat up a bit straighter. "Your people meeting ours, which means your friends are all aware of who and what we are. Which means Derek must trust all of you quite a bit." She frowned suddenly. "Does he know you died once?"
"More than once actually, which is, in fact, a funny story if you leave our the terrifying parts," Buffy noted. "But yes. He knows. Most of it. He gets a bit growly halfway through some of my stories, so I have to cut them short. And I know about him. What happened to his family. The hunters." Her face tightened slightly. "Which, I'm thinking is the reason he's been a bit hush-hush about telling his pack more about me."
Lydia's eyes widened. "You're a hunter."
"Not like a freelancer," Buffy assured. "But let's just say my job falls in the same category. Hence the meeting outside your territory with all the mixed drinks and the happy-fun-times music playing … Derek knows things could go sideways when he tries to explain who I am, what I am. Especially since his luck with dating is about equal to my luck with means you guys are going to naturally assume I'm some evil hag trying to seduce and murder you all. So, I was hoping maybe you could spill the beans early."
"Huh?"
"Derek isn't great with sharing. So, let's get ahead of him. Tell them, the pack, about me. Get all the feels and the conspiracy theories out of the way early, so we can enjoy our party tonight." Buffy sat her drink aside. "I hired caterers. There might be giftbags with personalized swag. I want a total lack of bloodshed at this shindig, get me?"
Lydia bit down her smirk. "No promises," she said, slowly. "So, telling them, it's going to require more information. Stiles will want to do research. I don't even know your last name."
Buffy smiled. "Summers. But all you really need to do is look up two words: Slayer-comma-The."