Buffina of the Shire


Prologue: In Distant Dreams


Buffy's dreams had been fitful of late. Images of Spike being incinerated flashed before her on constant repeat. It had been two months since the destruction of Sunnydale and she was filled with more sorrow from the loss of Spike than she would admit to her friends. Sometimes it seemed like she was so full of wounds from the past that her heart could never heal. Angel. Spike. Her Mother. Tara. Riley. And countless other names and faces that faded from her memory with time. She should remember them, all that died or suffered at the hands of evil by her fault or not. She mostly remembered the most recent tragedies...the pote-the slayers and Spike. Spike who had loved her; she had loved him as well, but never in a way that would have worked. She was mortal and yet, never in a way that connected her with other people. She was wholly alone. Not a demon, but not truly a person either.

Maybe it was melodramatic to think that way. She could probably just retire now and find some nice guy, never tell him who she really was and live a normal happy life. That wouldn't change here alienation though. She was so weary of the world and its evils. The only people who could be kindred spirits were slayers long dead and gone. Faith didn't really count somehow, she wasn't how Buffy imagined a slayer should be, at least not the kind of slayer Buffy was. All at once she missed Kendra, whose personality and experience were different, yet whose spirit was of a similar kind. They both fought as if they were fighting through all their stolen choices of who they could have been, as if it was the only true therapy a slayer could have.

Buffy threw off the covers and walked to the window. Willow, Kennedy, Xander, Giles and Dawn were all sharing the house with her under the pretense of taking a break before picking up the pieces of their forever changed lives. She knew the truth. They sensed her emptiness. She could still be cheerful now and then and occasionally laugh, but her moments of joy were so brief, and tainted by her memories.

She could see only the other houses in the suburban neighborhood, well, apart from the night sky that is. Giles said that she was depressed and living away from Sunnydale would be good for her. How wrong he was. It was just another typical town in California with stores and restaurants and malls and everywhere the same stale scent of civilization. She used to love going shopping; she still kind of enjoyed the simple things like going to the movies and spending time with friends. She had a job now, at the mall in fact. She should be so happy, she had a normal life with jobs and clothes and good friends and a number that an attractive man had given her.

The truth was, she thought of offing herself sometimes. She would probably end up in heaven again. She couldn't really remember it now, but she knew without a doubt that she had been at peace and utterly content. Unfortunately her Slayer instincts, or maybe they were just her Buffy instincts, wouldn't allow her anything other than a strong will to live now.

She gazed at the stars; they were twinkling especially bright tonight. She knew there was some scientific reason why they appeared to twinkle, but she didn't really care. She preferred to pretend they were magical in some non-demony way. One star especially was glimmering brightly; it almost seemed to be becoming larger and brighter. Buffy stared at it a while longer and her brow furrowed. It didn't just seem that way, that star was getting bigger and at an amazing rate. She had a feeling there was something she should do, but as she looked into the white ethereal light that reached to encompass her, all she could manage was to stand there and hope that heaven was taking her for the last time. All at once she was surrounded by a swirling mist-like light and the brightness of it was nearly blinding.

"Nifty." The Slayer said glibly.

Then the room was empty and the stars appeared as normal stars once more, but they were no longer stars for Buffy Summers' musings.


Bilbo commenced washing up after a most awkward visit from a nosy aunt who saw it as her duty to introduce him to every respectable and unwed hobbit female in the shire. Bilbo didn't like any of them. Not to say that he wasn't attracted to hobbit women, it was just that he found them all dreadfully boring or annoying; prattling on with their women's gossip. He'd rather be a bachelor. He was still fairly young yet anyway; he was only 51, in the prime of his life! His aunt could stuff it. Not that Bilbo would ever say so out loud, as he was a very polite hobbit. Bungo and Belladonna had raised their son to be a gentleman after all. What did it matter if he got married anyway? He had plenty of relations who were squeezing out baby hobbits left and right. He had friends and relatives that he enjoyed entertaining and visiting, a great pub nearby, a wonderful home and a grand garden. He was wealthy and content, what did he need a meddling wife for? He knew how a few meddling blokes would answer that question and he had to admit, the thought was appealing if unseemly. He could take care of that well enough on his own. There were some girls that were rather nice he supposed...

The truth was he had to have everything a certain way and he just hadn't met a hobbit woman that was that certain way he imagined. He had kissed and fondled a few lasses in his youth, but always it had been kind of pleasant but pointless, and there was always something false in it.

Besides, he hid it well, but he felt there was something peculiar about himself. A strange restlessness that came over him now and then; he had an unsettling theory that it might be some of the crazy Took blood that ran through his veins, threatening to surface. Already, he had a faint interest in books to do with things outside the safety of the Shire. For now, he chose to deny the existence of this pesky Tookness; almost enough to fool himself...almost.

Drying off the last plate and putting it in the cupboard, he went off to change into his nightclothes. His bedroom had no windows, but did have beautiful tapestries and a few paintings that were pleasing to the eye. He climbed in with his soft feather pillow and remembered how awful the hobbit girl from earlier had been. Not a brain in her skull. If only there was a female hobbit who was intelligent, amusing, interesting and pretty, with a strong spirit. Then he could marry her and get his aunt Belba off his back about the whole business.

The hobbit bachelor soon drifted off to sleep. His dreams were strange. A strangely clad girl he dreamt of, who looked weary of life and sad. There was also a white light, a forest and many dark tunnels...


Author's Note: I couldn't get this idea out of my head. If you like it, let me know. Kindred spirits are swell.