FIC: Somnium R 1/1

Title: Somnium

Author: Winter M.

Rating: R

Spoilers: vague season 5 of BtVS

Summary: The soul wanders and the mind dreams.

A/N: For 2005's Color, Sound, and Object Ficathon. Written for Werewindle who requested: R, Humor, leafy green, Indian flutes, purple stuffed frog, love bites, wearing each other's clothes, two things you don't want included: the boys DEAD dead – gore.

I'm terrible with ratings so I hope this fits, I apologize that it doesn't have more Spike/Xander action but plots tend to take control away from me no matter how hard I try to reign them in. All mistakes are my own because this is, unfortunately, only semi beta-d ;)

EDIT to add that this story is from 2005. Found it while I was going through all my files and I'm posting it now for purposes of complete crossposting.

Word Count: 2646

It's a crazy place, the land of dreams. Someplace in between reality and that which is beyond. So hard to access except when one is most vulnerable. They probably made it that way on purpose, the demons of old that were vanquished there; stripped of their greatest powers and left to play with only the dreams of mortals. It must have been horribly frustrating for them, this impotency. Cast aside until they became only shadows of what they had been—shadows with ravaging teeth and claws I sure wouldn't want to face from behind a twelve inch thick Plexiglas window and a straight jacket between us, that for sure. But shadows nevertheless.

So what do you do when your only world is insubstantial and mostly mocked by those creatures you had once ruled through terror? You can't harm them really, only toy. Play with their heads as it were because their minds are the only things you can touch any longer. So they do, in the form of nightmares, in the form of absurdity; picking apart fantasies and embarrassing one with their own inner, deep dark thoughts.

They must have a whole hell of a lot more fun then they let on...

The sky was…well, it wasn't quite blue really, more a yellowish, mixing in the pale watery blue until it appeared more green then…blue. If you want to be technical about it that is; because there were certainly bluish overtones. The heart of the color was your regular average, everyday blue and it was only this strange superficial crust that tinted everything in green. Like looking through a thin weave of grass just without all the lines and crisscrossing patterns looking through an actual weave would cause.

The sun itself was still mostly all yellow, perhaps a bit sick around the edges, more washed out and pale then blazing warmth. It was a bit disconcerting and he wondered idly where the green was coming from seeing as the earth's main source light wasn't itself really…green, just sort of tinged.

Maybe it was the trees; they certainly looked brighter then normal. He couldn't look too hard at them, each leaf seeming magnified and enhanced so that they shone brilliant leafy green, cutting through the yellowish light and warping it, painting little trails of color through the air like wisps of smoke, only green.

"They don't do tricks if you stare at them."

"Wha—" Xander spun around at the sound of Buffy's voice. She was seated Indian style on a fuzzy old blanket, worn and faded around the edges but he imagined it must be terribly soft form years of love and care. Dawn was seated behind the blonde, gaze intent where she was braiding the shiny locks of her older sister's hair into two neat rows.

The sun shone around them in that strange filtered sort of way and the almost invisible trails of iridescent green from the thick foliage snaked in twisting pattern around the two Summers girls.

"What?"

She smiled brightly and gestured at the trees, it was a forest, thick and bushy and sprouting new saplings when they weren't looking. He suddenly put two and two together—Beaker's Wood. "They only move when no ones watching. Like the tree that falls in the forest but no one hears it, therefore did it really fall?"

"Did it?"

Shrugging slender shoulders, "Yes, of course."

He frowned slightly, head feeling a little cramped by it all, "I'm confused—"

"The tree did it on purpose just for that reason," she patted the blanket next to her, "If you're quiet and patient she'll do yours next."

"Stop moving!" Dawn's disgruntled voice floated up from where she had weaved her hands into the strands of slayer hair. Over the top of Buffy's head he could see little elbows jerking against supernatural roots in an attempt to disentangle herself from them; soft grumbles accompany the sporadic jerks.

"Need help there Dawnie?"

"No, I've got everything under *jerk* control *rip*."

Buffy smiled serenely up at him, hand still in place indicating he should have a seat.

"Maybe some other time?" he suggested, glancing at the trees out of the corner of his eyes. He looked away quickly when they appeared as stumbling figures clutching at their heads and murmuring nonsense under their breaths as they shuffled into new positions.

"Sure, I suppose there is still time…time…time." turning to look behind her she jerked the last few strands loose from Dawn, "Is there still time?"

The younger girl squinted and studied the trees out of the corner of her eye for a moment, "I really wouldn't know; I'm just a kid." Looking harder and less at the same time she finished with, "They don't seem too restless yet. I think there's still plenty of time for a rain check. We might have to wait for the rain though. That is certainly taking its time."

As one they looked up to study the cloudless sky, searching for signs of rain.

He was tempted to look up as well but Dawn was already turning back to the process of braiding hair, leaving Buffy to stare at the passing swirls of green, a faint smile on her head as she traced empty air. It wasn't empty though, not really, and he could begin to hear a soft lilting tune as it traveled up from the forest floor and wove its hypnotizing way across the small clearing.

The slayer began to sway ever so slightly—despite Dawn's protests, her eyes retreating into her head as the sound reached out little fingers, giving strength to the smoke and body to the green.

A flautist was playing amongst the brambles, lulling the mighty cobra while she sat upon her own fuzzy picnic blanket.

Dawn looked up over Buffy's shoulder and squinted at him, well, maybe not at him, maybe she was squinting at the trees, he couldn't really tell. A few seconds passed and she cocked her head to the left, appearing almost as if she were listening to the music, finally speaking, "It's not going to rain today." She turned to him slowly, eyes focusing and sharp on his face. He was frozen by that color in her eyes, depthless green with stars shining out from where her pupils should have been. As he stared the yellow became white and everything began to melt…

The Magic Box was quiet for a Saturday afternoon. No cheery customers bustling in and out of the door, causing the little brass bell to practically rattle off its hook. Not even the sly ones who would slink their way like a ghost and a whisper, trying for inconspicuously cool and coming off more screaming obvious. Only the soft swish of a crinkling page being turned from somewhere above him and the soft tapping of Anya's manicured fingernails tap tap tapping across the keys of her calculator. And something that sounded a lot like petting.

Xander turned in his chair and met Tara's wide dark eyes staring sharply at him. She clutched some sort of stuffed animal to her chest, squishing the plush purple covered thing to her chest and methodically smoothing little tufts of its…hair back so that it ran smooth. Her legs were drawn up onto the seat of the wooden chair and she was curled into herself, like a child almost.

Keeping one eye on the blonde girl he called over his shoulder, "Hey An, where is—"

"She can't hear you."

He jumped slightly, Tara's dreamy voice startling him, "What?"

She looked away from him and studied the little plushy intently, loosening her grip and turning it in her hands; he could tell now that it was a fat little frog.

"She's already gone from here. Away. Flown." Looking up to meet his eyes, "She felt it were a gilded cage

And banged against the bars,

She tried to save you in a rage,

But fate…. What rhymes with 'bars'?"

"Cars?"

She frowned thoughtfully, head bobbing and he could practically hear her repeating the poem inside her head. "No, that wouldn't make sense, 'Fate sold all the cars?'" she laughed and hugged the frog to her again, "Silly, it's not shiny at all."

He blinked slowly and the light was doing funny things to the room, making it tilt and look too bright, shining in the back of his head, it was spinning or maybe that was just him. Standing, stumbling past the table, Tara still mumbled to herself.

"Bars…cars…lars…sars…mars…"

The till went bling blin bling, steady and rhythmic; he matched his footsteps to it as they seemed to float across the floor. Falling against the hard wood of the training room door, he felt like he was heading down a steep hill and his hand fumbled for the doorknob. It turned beneath his fingers easily, swinging open wildly and he slipped through the opening into the darkness beyond.

There was something there with him; he could sense the second presence just a stone's throw away though he couldn't see a thing. Why wasn't there light? It had been so bright just moments ago, his eyes still burned from it. A soft rustle of clothing, soft worn cotton against more cotton, he almost didn't catch the sound except that his ears were staining to compensate for his lack of vision.

"Who's there?"

A soft snick in the resounding silence, a light flared up from across the room, illuminating pale features for a moment before slender hands came up and cupped the little orange glow, bringing it up to light the cigarette he could dimly make out hanging from Spike's lips. The entire move was smooth, unconsciously measured, taking just enough time that it dawned on him buying time.

"Spike?"

The vampire puffed out a cloud of smoke or Xander imagined he did, sort of hard to tell with the whole lack of lighting thing that seemed to be going on. He took the cigarette out of his mouth, holding it loosely between his first and second finger and letting it dangle at his side, "Been thinking."

Xander frowned, "Okay… that's… great, really, great. Do you know where Buffy is? Something's—"

"Said been thinking." The hand came up in jerky movements so that Spike could take a long hard drag on the white stick, flicking ash and breathing smoke out through his mouth. He stomped across the room, getting into Xander's face and waving around just about the only thing in the entire room the human could clearly make out, too bad it had to be lighted and coming awfully close to his face, "Trying to figure out what it is you're all hangin' on for now."

Xander opened his mouth to fire back a retort, angry at the vampire's audacity but he never got the chance—

"Oh, s'right, your little bonding session," he snorted indignantly, "Like that did shite."

"Hey! What the hell do you—" the vampire, who had already been really too close in the first place stepped closer, filling up the empty space between, marginal though it had been it had nevertheless been there, and oh, look now it wasn't. He groaned as the vampire rubbed against him, chest to chest, hip to hip. Not good, no definitely not, "Hey! What are you—" oh look, now there were lips involved.

Soft, admittedly cool lips, but soft and firm and damn they were on his and consuming him, this whatever it was and tongue! It swiped a broad stroke across his bottom lip and Xander let it inside, reaching out tentatively with his own and stroking. Something in his brain chose that moment to sort of sizzle, crackle and…

Bang! Goodbye brain, nice knowing ya.

Strong cool vampire hands came into the equation next, nimble fingers dancing across his chest, stroking up his sides until he squirmed and thumbing his nipples through the soft, well worn cotton of his t-shirt. Spike pressed closer, trapping him against the wall of the training room as his mouth continued its … mostly precise assault on Xander's own. He gasped into the blonde's mouth, grabbing hold of the nearest Spike part he could reach, it just happened to be the other man's ass but he certainly didn't have the brain cells left to process that thought to its completion and mentally he shrugged, gripping tightly and relishing the groan it elicited.

Lithe narrow hips ground tighter against his own, a nimble leg working its way between his thighs and lodging itself there as Spike began a tightly coiled shimmy against his body, tongue never missing a beat. It was his turn then to groan loudly in the thundering silence of the training room. He jerked at that thought, momentarily putting up a faint protest but it was smothered by insistent teeth that latched onto his bottom lip and tugged.

Eyes fluttering again the sensation as it moved down across his jaw, finally settling on the delicate skin of his neck he gave in, hands reaching up to wind themselves in mussed hair. Tugging and massaging the slightly bumpy scull, his lips parted on their own as he drew deep breaths into his lungs.

The suction on his neck eased up for a moment as Spike spoke into his skin.

"Pet."

A barely contained rumble, he could feel it vibrating through both their chests, a desperate question, harsh, slithering and it demanded a reply. Those talented hips shifted, the smaller man shifting up onto the balls of his feet and grinding into him.

Xander moaned, letting his eyes close and his head fall back against the wall, fingers flexing in the crunchy strands of bleached hair, "God." Obviously it was enough of an answer…

"Why are you wearing Spike's clothes?"

He blinked several times as his eyes opened, trying to make the world come into focus. It wasn't really working, or maybe it was and the ceiling was supposed to be that color. His head was whirling but he could tell he was on his back, staring up as Dawn stared down at him.

"What?"

She smiled cheekily, long brown hair framing her girlish face, "It doesn't matter. Did you learn anything?"

There went the blinking again, random images and thoughts spiraling out of control, not so much trying to coalesce as simply exist in his head all at the same time, "Was I supposed to?"

The smile slipped slightly and she straightened, moving out of his field of vision. Carefully, Xander sat up, tight black tshirt stretching across his chest and he plucked at it, vaguely wondering at the odd way it seemed to stick—

Oh. Ok, that would be why. He could feel the blush suffusing his face at the young girl's grin returned full force, "Eh…"

"This is only the beginning you know."

"Please don't tell me…"

"Oh, more then just that," her eyes were swirling in her face, bright green and old, "but that's part of it, yeah." She stepped closer to him, the air brightening around them until it was almost painful to keep his eyes open against the glare. Slowly, childishly, she reached out and touched her fingertips to his forehead, "The beginning Xander. Remember."

The memory of dulled human teeth biting into the skin above his collarbone as a slick tight channel slid down over his cock took up residence in the front of his mind and stuck…

Xander woke up gasping, cock hard and erect under the blankets. He groaned and flopped back in the bed, trying desperately to ignore the other presence in the bed as the fingers of dream licked at his consciousness, digging in deep and clinging. Forcefully they were wrenched away from him as the darkness called them home. In the stillness and quiet of the apartment he watched shadows crawl across the ceiling and swore.

END