Walking to Nowhere
Title: Walking to Nowhere
Creator: Tennyo_elf
Rating: PG-13
Setting: Season 6, during Buffy and Spike’s relationship
Summary: Buffy dreams of a land where her fears and subconscious thoughts surround her.
Prompt: All I guess? Wonderland-ish, Looking Glasses, Tea Parties, other world, rabbit hole, etc.
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Walking was never something Buffy put much thought into; it was just foot in front of foot, legs in motion, going forward. She walked almost everywhere in Sunnydale, her patrol consisted of nothing else but walking around and scouting out vamps to dust or Big Bads to slay. In her dreams, in this other realty she found herself, all her thoughts were on her walking. How she moved her hips and how her feet would land on the ground beneath her were forefront in her mind. And Buffy didn’t know why.
Forcing herself to look around Buffy found herself in the most oddest of places. It looked like downtown Sunnydale at night, but deformed, with different, faded colors and lanterns hanging from every nook and hook. The trees were black but alive, a vibrant lushness made them move eerily in the wind. The fog was also an oddity. It was colorful, seeming to sap all the color from around it, making anything in the fog shine like a neon sign. And everyone was silent, still and watching her.
Buffy stopped and felt an urge to turn around. There behind her was a mirror, full length from heel to head, but instead of her own reflection, she was staring at Spike. She was surprised to find him looking back at her with eyes so full of life when he himself was dead. His expression as he looked back at Buffy told her that he thought she was an idiot and that made her anger rise to color her cheeks a bright red.
“Spike, why are you my reflection?” Her exasperation was so very clear.
“What are you Slayer?” He asked, ignoring her question.
“What…you know what I am Spike!”
“And what is that? You think you’re just a little itty bitty Slayer? Think again.”
She opened her mouth to answer but closed it again. Everyone around her held their gaze, staring at Buffy, waiting for her reply.
Buffy began to think, to feel, deep within her and found the answer. Her face was void of all emotion when she whispered, “The Dark.”
“Wrong Slayer, better luck next time.”
Unexpectedly Buffy was yanked by her elbow and dragged away from the mirror. Giles was pulling her around the corner, looking everywhere but at her.
“It’s tea time; we should have a tea party Buffy. It has been far too long since we had a little exuberance in life.”
“Giles, wait! I need to go back to the mirror. There was something there!”
“No, of course you will not go back. The Dark is back there.”
Buffy violently tore her arm away from Giles’ hand, stopping them both. She wore her normal determined face and was ready to fight with Giles so she could go back when she noticed a long table in the middle of the road. Xander and Willow sat at the table sipping tea. Each held a weapon in one hand and a cup in the other. When they spotted her, they both stood.
“Giles, why did you bring her here?! She’s evil! All with the evil, can’t you see?” Xander’s voice sounded like church bells, loud and piercing.
“She can’t be good because she’s not our Buffy. She came back wrong, with the dark around her and in her!” Willow almost sounded bored with her explanation, like it was obvious to everyone.
Buffy shook her head, confused and scared by what her friends were saying. She didn’t want to deny what might be possible. But she was the Slayer, wasn’t she? She looked up at Giles and she could see the disbelief in his furrowed brows. Not wanting to stick around she turned on her heel and ran.
No one had moved. But everyone had begun to blur, silently fading. The trees bleed black blood; the fog began to suck in more color. Her feet wouldn’t let her run far and as soon as she lost sight of her friends her feet demanded that she walk. As the lights began to dim, Buffy found herself in front of the mirror once again, and there she saw Spike, looking back at her expectantly.
“If I’m not The Dark, what am I?”
“Can’t figure it Goldilocks?”
“I wouldn’t be asking if I knew.” She folded her arms and waited for his reply.
Spike smirked and shook his head. When no reply came, Buffy reached to touch the glass of the mirror. As soon as her fingers found the cool surface, the mirror shattered. Buffy jumped back, not wanting to cut herself on the falling, piercing shards.
The black blood from the trees pooled at her feet, and she looked down to see her new shoes covered in the ugly life liquid.
“Ew! These are new shoes too.”
“Now now Slayer, you can always get another pair.”
Buffy was surprised to hear Spike’s voice and whirled around to face him yet again.
“Stop playing these games Spike! What am I and why are my shoes covered in black blood?”
“What do you think I am Slayer? Come on, take another guess. I bet you’ll be quicker on the up take this time around.”
Buffy knew almost immediately what he was, she hardly needed to think. “The Dark.”
“One for the lady!” He looked extremely pleased and took a step forward. He snaked his arm around her and kissed her, passionately but with unwanted force. Buffy pushed him away; her frustration and anger were quickly taking its hold on her body.
“Damnit Spike, answer my questions or I swear-”
“No need for violence Slayer, I’m getting to your answers.” He was grinning like a fool. “So, what are you? Shouldn’t be too hard, luv.”
Buffy gave him a sharp glare and was ready to walk away when the answer hit her and screamed at her, “I’m…I’m The Light?”
“And we have a winner!” He huffed with amused disbelief, “Took you long enough to suss that out.”
Buffy couldn’t believe it; she refused to accept that she could be The Light. She couldn’t feel, she hated life, she was in hell. She was The Dark, she was surrounded by it. Every day, her heart told her she was The Dark. Nothing was real or wonderful anymore, everything, everyone was hollow, blurs of nothing.
“You’re not our Buffy!” Willow’s bellow crashed all around Buffy. Turning once again she found her friends, lined shoulder to should, weapons ready, in front of her. They all stared at her like she was the vilest of creatures.
Her friends were slowly approaching, ready to kill her, to force her back six feet under.
Suddenly arms wrapped around her shoulders. Spike’s chilling breath blew her hair away from her ear as he spoke, “Buffy, luv, the blood won’t hurt you. The blood just wants to love you. Let The Dark love you.”
Buffy reached for his arms and closed her eyes. His voice was lulling her into a false sense of security, “Cast your light to form the shadow in which I walk, let me in and follow me Slayer; I won’t let them hurt you.”
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Buffy’s eyes flew open and she sat up quickly on the bed. She blinked a few times to get her bearings and knew she had fallen asleep in the bottom level of Spike’s crypt, something she rarely, if ever, did. Her nerves from the dream made her tremble but she soldiered along and stormed about the room, grabbing her clothes and putting them on. She didn’t see Spike anywhere and was grateful for that small miracle.
Once she was dressed she climbed the ladder and ran out the door, into the cold night. After a few minutes she began to walk and her dream began to fade from her mind. Buffy was going to go home. But really she was going nowhere, which was better than somewhere in which she had to smile and let love in.
Creator: Tennyo_elf
Rating: PG-13
Setting: Season 6, during Buffy and Spike’s relationship
Summary: Buffy dreams of a land where her fears and subconscious thoughts surround her.
Prompt: All I guess? Wonderland-ish, Looking Glasses, Tea Parties, other world, rabbit hole, etc.
-------------------------
Walking was never something Buffy put much thought into; it was just foot in front of foot, legs in motion, going forward. She walked almost everywhere in Sunnydale, her patrol consisted of nothing else but walking around and scouting out vamps to dust or Big Bads to slay. In her dreams, in this other realty she found herself, all her thoughts were on her walking. How she moved her hips and how her feet would land on the ground beneath her were forefront in her mind. And Buffy didn’t know why.
Forcing herself to look around Buffy found herself in the most oddest of places. It looked like downtown Sunnydale at night, but deformed, with different, faded colors and lanterns hanging from every nook and hook. The trees were black but alive, a vibrant lushness made them move eerily in the wind. The fog was also an oddity. It was colorful, seeming to sap all the color from around it, making anything in the fog shine like a neon sign. And everyone was silent, still and watching her.
Buffy stopped and felt an urge to turn around. There behind her was a mirror, full length from heel to head, but instead of her own reflection, she was staring at Spike. She was surprised to find him looking back at her with eyes so full of life when he himself was dead. His expression as he looked back at Buffy told her that he thought she was an idiot and that made her anger rise to color her cheeks a bright red.
“Spike, why are you my reflection?” Her exasperation was so very clear.
“What are you Slayer?” He asked, ignoring her question.
“What…you know what I am Spike!”
“And what is that? You think you’re just a little itty bitty Slayer? Think again.”
She opened her mouth to answer but closed it again. Everyone around her held their gaze, staring at Buffy, waiting for her reply.
Buffy began to think, to feel, deep within her and found the answer. Her face was void of all emotion when she whispered, “The Dark.”
“Wrong Slayer, better luck next time.”
Unexpectedly Buffy was yanked by her elbow and dragged away from the mirror. Giles was pulling her around the corner, looking everywhere but at her.
“It’s tea time; we should have a tea party Buffy. It has been far too long since we had a little exuberance in life.”
“Giles, wait! I need to go back to the mirror. There was something there!”
“No, of course you will not go back. The Dark is back there.”
Buffy violently tore her arm away from Giles’ hand, stopping them both. She wore her normal determined face and was ready to fight with Giles so she could go back when she noticed a long table in the middle of the road. Xander and Willow sat at the table sipping tea. Each held a weapon in one hand and a cup in the other. When they spotted her, they both stood.
“Giles, why did you bring her here?! She’s evil! All with the evil, can’t you see?” Xander’s voice sounded like church bells, loud and piercing.
“She can’t be good because she’s not our Buffy. She came back wrong, with the dark around her and in her!” Willow almost sounded bored with her explanation, like it was obvious to everyone.
Buffy shook her head, confused and scared by what her friends were saying. She didn’t want to deny what might be possible. But she was the Slayer, wasn’t she? She looked up at Giles and she could see the disbelief in his furrowed brows. Not wanting to stick around she turned on her heel and ran.
No one had moved. But everyone had begun to blur, silently fading. The trees bleed black blood; the fog began to suck in more color. Her feet wouldn’t let her run far and as soon as she lost sight of her friends her feet demanded that she walk. As the lights began to dim, Buffy found herself in front of the mirror once again, and there she saw Spike, looking back at her expectantly.
“If I’m not The Dark, what am I?”
“Can’t figure it Goldilocks?”
“I wouldn’t be asking if I knew.” She folded her arms and waited for his reply.
Spike smirked and shook his head. When no reply came, Buffy reached to touch the glass of the mirror. As soon as her fingers found the cool surface, the mirror shattered. Buffy jumped back, not wanting to cut herself on the falling, piercing shards.
The black blood from the trees pooled at her feet, and she looked down to see her new shoes covered in the ugly life liquid.
“Ew! These are new shoes too.”
“Now now Slayer, you can always get another pair.”
Buffy was surprised to hear Spike’s voice and whirled around to face him yet again.
“Stop playing these games Spike! What am I and why are my shoes covered in black blood?”
“What do you think I am Slayer? Come on, take another guess. I bet you’ll be quicker on the up take this time around.”
Buffy knew almost immediately what he was, she hardly needed to think. “The Dark.”
“One for the lady!” He looked extremely pleased and took a step forward. He snaked his arm around her and kissed her, passionately but with unwanted force. Buffy pushed him away; her frustration and anger were quickly taking its hold on her body.
“Damnit Spike, answer my questions or I swear-”
“No need for violence Slayer, I’m getting to your answers.” He was grinning like a fool. “So, what are you? Shouldn’t be too hard, luv.”
Buffy gave him a sharp glare and was ready to walk away when the answer hit her and screamed at her, “I’m…I’m The Light?”
“And we have a winner!” He huffed with amused disbelief, “Took you long enough to suss that out.”
Buffy couldn’t believe it; she refused to accept that she could be The Light. She couldn’t feel, she hated life, she was in hell. She was The Dark, she was surrounded by it. Every day, her heart told her she was The Dark. Nothing was real or wonderful anymore, everything, everyone was hollow, blurs of nothing.
“You’re not our Buffy!” Willow’s bellow crashed all around Buffy. Turning once again she found her friends, lined shoulder to should, weapons ready, in front of her. They all stared at her like she was the vilest of creatures.
Her friends were slowly approaching, ready to kill her, to force her back six feet under.
Suddenly arms wrapped around her shoulders. Spike’s chilling breath blew her hair away from her ear as he spoke, “Buffy, luv, the blood won’t hurt you. The blood just wants to love you. Let The Dark love you.”
Buffy reached for his arms and closed her eyes. His voice was lulling her into a false sense of security, “Cast your light to form the shadow in which I walk, let me in and follow me Slayer; I won’t let them hurt you.”
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Buffy’s eyes flew open and she sat up quickly on the bed. She blinked a few times to get her bearings and knew she had fallen asleep in the bottom level of Spike’s crypt, something she rarely, if ever, did. Her nerves from the dream made her tremble but she soldiered along and stormed about the room, grabbing her clothes and putting them on. She didn’t see Spike anywhere and was grateful for that small miracle.
Once she was dressed she climbed the ladder and ran out the door, into the cold night. After a few minutes she began to walk and her dream began to fade from her mind. Buffy was going to go home. But really she was going nowhere, which was better than somewhere in which she had to smile and let love in.