~ Jenn
Dreams of YouShe starts to drift and doze, and realizes that most of the others have given up and gone to bed. Those who remain are mostly the ones still trying to hear all about the battle they weren't present for, but she isn't much for storytelling right now. Someone suggests she go to bed herself, and she must have nodded, because all at once that someone is helping her up the stairs, murmuring about what room she'll be in and where the bathroom is and that he'll be right across the hall if she needs him. She must have replied, because he laughs at her, soft and deep, causing a sleepy smile to slip fleetingly across her face.
Seemingly suddenly she is being lain down across a bed that seems as soft as a cloud, and he is carefully taking off her shoes. He pulls the blankets up to her shoulders, brushing her hair away from her face as he sits beside her. She asks him if saving the world merits breakfast in bed, and he assures her that can be arranged. They speak of eggs and waffles and vampires going grocery shopping. He pretends not to hear when her voice breaks, and he doesn't say anything when he wipes away her tears. She says goodnight, and he kisses her forehead, leaving her in silence to dream.
She stands at the edge of the crater, listening to the wind. Then she throws herself forward, plunging into the abyss, arms spread as if to embrace emptiness. She is suddenly standing in front of her home, looking the way it had pre-potentials, the windows lit and inviting. He is sitting on the porch, smoking a cigarette and watching her. He doesn't seem surprised that she abruptly appeared in front of him. He smiles, tossing the cigarette down and stomping it out with the toe of his boot. She merely looks at him, shaking her head.
"You're dead." He snickers, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.
"Well, yeah. Are you just figuring this out now, luv?"
"No, you're really dead now. More dead than usual." His eyebrow rose to a spot of silent scoffing, a smirk on his lips. She glared at him. "Don't look at me like that. It's true."
"Didn't say it wasn't. Just a bit amused, that's all. S'that all right with you, slayer?" The sarcasm made her smile a little, but she knew it wasn't real. It was a dream, because this house was gone now, and this man was gone too. Everything was.
"Shouldn't think like that, luv. Get you down." She looked up sharply, startled. "What? You know this is a dream, so why shouldn't I know what you're thinking?"
"It's just not fair." She replied, and the words were suddenly too true, too real. It wasn't fair that he was dead. It wasn't fair that he was gone, and that she was left here, loving him and not able to do a damn thing about it. And she told him so. He agreed.
"But life isn't fair, Buffy. You know that better than anyone. At least you've got that great poof to keep company with, right?" She shook her head emphatically, unaware of the tears slipping silently down her face.
"I don't want him. I want you."
"But you do love him." He held up a hand to stave off her interruption, "and we both know it's true. Always has been, always will be. He'll take care of you, much as you'll let him. You should have that. God knows you deserve it."
"But I can't." She told him desperately, "I can't just be with him! I can't move on, and live a quasi-normal life, I don't know how! Everything I am, it's still here." She waved an arm in an all-encompassing gesture as she looked around the phantom town. He stood, closing the distance between them in a few long strides. He pulled her gently against his chest, stroking her hair.
"Hey now, none of that. You'll be alright, you know." His tone was so matter-of-fact that she had to question it.
"How can you be so sure?"
"I know you. And you're not the type to be so easily beaten."
"Easily? Hah." She laughed a little, pressed against her more-dead-than-usual lover. She really did lead a strange life. The world around her suddenly shimmered, and she held tighter to him, not ready to lose him again.
"Its time, luv." He told her softly, "It's time for you to go back. They need you. You need them."
"I'm not ready." She protested feebly, feeling the dream slipping away even as she spoke. She focused her gaze on the house, her home, as it disappeared.
"You've always been ready. You're just too damn stubborn to admit it." She felt the peace of sleep fade, then she was lying in an unfamiliar bed, feeling broken hearted and healed all at the same time.
"Sleep well?" She turns toward the voice, resigned that it will never again be the one she dreamt of. There's a man in at the foot of the bed, but not the one she wants to be there. She loves them both, and maybe, just maybe, that's okay.
"Yeah. Good dream." She tells him, sitting up. He walks slowly around the bed, settling down beside her and brushing a hand across her cheek. She is all at once aware of the tear tracks there, and gives him a slightly sheepish smile. He smiles back, knowing not to push it. She is grateful for that, and thinks that maybe she'll tell him someday. For now, she turns her mind resolutely to the simple things. "Hey. Didn't you promise me breakfast?" His smile turns to a full-fledged grin.
"Well, I didn't want it to get cold while I tried to wake you. You sleep like a log."
"Watch it, I can still kick your ass."
"We'll have to test that out later."
"You're on. Now go get me food. A hungry slayer is a cranky slayer."