Title Prophecy Girl
Rating PG- For a couple of naughty words
Prompt Through The Looking Glass
Setting Post Series
It was always the same place in the dreams. A deserted strip of sun drenched beach flanked by palm trees and calm crystalline waters, and he was always waiting when she arrived. Bare chested and staring out at the sea, wearing white linen trousers and making pithy remarks about looking like some ponce out of one of those glossy travel mags.
She’d be similarly dressed, an almost transparent gauzy white dress in lieu of trousers, with the slight breeze neither of them could feel gently whispering through her hair.
There were jokes about freckling to start with, then that obligatory two minutes of silent stillness. They’d just drink each other in, always with that strange sense of awe at seeing themselves in the sunlight when a gaudy trinket wasn’t involved.
Then the cruel and horrible pull would start to tug at their guts. Every night it would cleave them apart, before they’d even the chance to reach out to each other.
“See you on the other side,” he’d whisper sadly.
“No you won’t,” she’d respond, a small smile crossing her face as the sunlight consumed her. “But thanks for saying it.”
Spike always woke with a fierce pounding in his heart, and her name on his lips.
His deadly girl had gone down in a blaze of glory, saving the world with that soul she’d earned herself. The spark she’d gone out and got to be worthy of his love. Kicked himself a million times over for not telling her sooner that she had been.
Not that it would have made a jot of difference. She’d have done what she’d had to do, and he’d still be just as alone. Because despite Willows little spell, the Slayer was always Alone. Well, apart from the times when he wasn’t.
Dawn stood at the end of his bed, glaring down at him.
“Wow… brood much?”
Occasionally and quite illogically, he hated his sister almost as much as he loved her. Loved her because she was his, and hated her because she reminded him of Buffy.
The monks had been thorough with the detail, see, and she’d arrived in Sunnydale fully formed. She had memories of growing up in London and moving to California, and an accent that hovered somewhere between the two.
The summer he was… gone, Buffy had kept her promise to protect her. London had disappeared completely, and he’d come back to a Bitty Buffy in place of his sister. Once upon a time he’d made jokes about it, but now all it did was remind him of what he’d lost.
“Did you actually drink that stuff?” Dawn kicked an empty bottle of beer lying by his bed and scrunched up her nose. “Or did you just bathe in it?”
He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath, and she rolled her eyes. “You were dreaming about her again weren’t you?”
“Were so! You called me bit.” She pulled his blankets off the bed. “And you haven’t done that since…” Dawn stopped suddenly and sat down on the bed, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “Will… you have to get up. There’s something downstairs you need to deal with.”
It was lying in the back garden of their measly London digs, laid out like a beautiful dream. Hands behind its head, eyes closed, and mouth curled into a small contented smile as the sun played across its face.
Anything but this.
“Piss off,” he spat out angrily.
It opened its eyes and sat up, confusion crossing those all too familiar features.
“You’re not her,” he said firmly. “And you don’t get to wear her face. So how’s about you sod off like a good little vanquished evil, and leave us in peace.”
It laughed then, with a great big belly laugh that shook its borrowed shoulders. Standing slowly, it brushed grass from the back of its sundress and walked towards him. It stopped, met his eyes, and saw something it liked.
“You’re a dope!” It smiled, then kicked him on the shin. Hard.
“And a bonehead!”
“A bonehead?” He absentmindedly rubbed the point on his leg where that little foot had made contact. Wait… contact? He reached out an unsteady hand to her shoulder. “Buffy?”
“In the flesh.”
Jesus bloody Christ. He closed his eyes. “How?”
“Turns out there’s this Prophecy thing.” He felt the shrug of her shoulder beneath his hand, and squeezed gently. “It’s a whole vampire with a soul, role in the apocalypse, big shiny reward, kinda deal.”
She pulled his hand down from her shoulder, and pressed it firmly against her chest. He felt her heart beating steadily beneath his palm, and opened his eyes.
“Neat huh?” she smiled. “How do you like it?”
Silence. Absolute silence. How did he like it? Of all the stupid bloody questions!
“So I was thinking,” she rushed out nervously over the silence. “I’ve got this whole ‘brand new life’ thing ahead of me here, and do you think we could maybe go out sometime? Like on a date, or if you don’t want that then maybe we could just be friends, because…”
“Buffy,” he smiled over her babbling. “Shut up.”
“Are you sure it’s The First?”
“Pretty sure. It showed up here half an hour ago all Buffy like.” Dawn twisted the phone cord nervous around her fingers. “I kinda sent Will to deal with it.”
“Hang on, Buffy like?” There was a brief pause. “It’s not The First.” Andrew sounded… strange. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
As Andrew explained, Dawn risked a quick peek out the kitchen window, eeking loudly at the sight that greeted her. “Andrew?” she interrupted. “I have to go. There’s something I really need to do.”
Dawn filled a bucket with cold water in the laundry room, before steeling her nerves and walking out into the garden.
Sure, it was all kinds of romantic, and heart-warmingly beautiful and all, but sheesh.
Public indecency much?