title -- Not A Dream [Pt.1 of Under A Blood Moon] (1/?)
author -- Devylish
disclaimer -- JW, Mutant Enemy, et al. own BTVS. I don't even own the computer I'm using.
feedback -- does anyone ever actually say "no" to this? You can send comments to devylish@hotmail.com
rating -- PG now, R? later
a/n -- The plot of this tale is based on the guidelines suggested by the Smashed Challenge issued on the Obsidian Moonlight site. This particular scene takes place after the prologue (see: http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=634524 to view the prologue). It occurs 2-3 nights after SMASHED, although there really isn't any identifiable spoiler for SMASHED. (See: http://www.obsidianmoonlight.com/writing/challenges.html for the detailed challenge rules).
summary -- Buffy has a dream, or a trance, or a prophecy, or... well, let's just say that her sleep is not particularly restful.
Not A Dream (Part 1 of Under A Blood Moon)
"No, you are not dreaming."
Buffy spun around and found two women standing in front of her. One of them, Buffy recognized as The First slayer -- dark, agile, feral. Tonight, she stood hand in hand with the second woman, a toned, toffee skinned female who, Buffy guessed, was also a slayer. Peace and power emanated from the two slayers in an almost tangible essence. It seemed to surround Buffy, encircling her in a thick, red mist.
"Yes, I was a slayer. I was known as Vija," the slender woman inclined her head courteously in Buffy's direction. "And as I was saying -- you are not dreaming -- not entirely. This is more of a trance, a diffusion and transmission of your soul. It has, for the time being, left your body and come to us; answering our call."
Buffy noted that, though she could hear Vija speaking, the woman's lips never moved. It was as if the slayer's thoughts were simply being placed in Buffy's mind. And then she realized, with a start, that Vija was apparently able to hear her thoughts as well.
Vija smiled at Buffy and nodded her head slightly. "Here, in the red, in this place between dreams and reality, between forever and death, the barriers are gone. We can share one another's feelings; one another's reflections. They are, in fact, all that we really have here -- as our bodies are not actually present." Elaborating slightly, she added: "What I see, and what you see before you, are simply likenesses of who we are, and who we were. They --" Vija suddenly paused. She and The First Slayer looked at one another, and then glanced over their shoulders to something behind them. Something that Buffy couldn't see, but vaguely sensed. Something familiar: warm, soft, embracing.
"I am sorry, but, we haven't much time; I must tell you why we called your soul. We called to you because we wanted to help you, and to warn you."
"Help me? Warn me? About what?"
"About the journey you are going to undertake."
"I'm going someplace?"
Vija smiled. "Your journey will be. . . a becoming. . ." The joined slayers looked behind themselves a second time, and Buffy once again felt the soothing tug of tranquility. The slayers turned back toward her and simultaneously stepped closer. "You must embrace what has begun."
"What's begun? And just what sort of embracing are we talking about?"
"Buffy, it is important that you accept all that you are. You are light and you are dark; fire and ice... You are love, and you are hate. You are: The Slayer."
"Yeah, yeah." Buffy's mind muttered "the chosen one. Been there, done that for like -- six years now."
The slayers locked eyes with her, and Vija slowly, carefully avowed: "You are *The. Chosen. One.*"
Buffy felt the emphasis that Vija and The First Slayer were placing upon her being *The Chosen One*, and despite the ever present warmth of the red cloud that surrounded them, Buffy felt a surreptitious chill snake down her back.
"It has begun. It is imperative that you remember that a slayer is made not only of hate and power, but of love and kindness. You must welcome the night as if it were the day, because you are now, more than ever, the protector of both." The united slayers did not look over their shoulders again, but Buffy was certain that they too, once more felt a presence in the red mist. A veil of serenity that pulled at them, this time with an intensity that was almost painful.
Quickly, almost desperately the slayer spirits reached for Buffy, joining their free hands with hers. A fire started in her fingers, prickling, and stabbing, and eating away at her. It rippled through Buffy in wave after wave, circling through her limbs and torso looking for a conduit out of the live vessel it had been forced into. Her very nerve ends fought to contain the surge of energy that threatened to engulf her, until finally she somehow managed to trap the heat in her center. The red haze that surrounded the three slayers began to slowly dissipate, leaving small cool patches of darkness before Buffy's eyes.
As the red began to fade away, so did The First Slayer and Vija.
Anxiously Vija delivered her warning to Buffy. "Remember that all roads lead in two directions. It is up to you to decide in which direction your journey will take you."
As their grasp on Buffy's hands loosened, the coolness around Buffy intensified. Vija vehemently whispered, "Hold close the one you love. He must be the first!" Vija's form seemed to melt before Buffy's eyes, but not before Vija reiterated: "He must be the first. . . or you will lose the issue to perpetual night. . . and then, not even The Chosen One will be able to change the course. He must be the first. . ."
And then they were gone . . .
The last traces of the wraith-like slayers, the red mist, and the peaceful warmth, withered into nothing, and Buffy found herself in a familiar state. Her body and soul were cold and empty.
* * *
Buffy woke with a shudder. Breath seeped from her lips in almost visible little gray-white clouds. . . Focusing her eyes in her darkened bedroom Buffy shivered in the chilly night air. Skating out of her bed she dashed to the window and slammed it shut; then she dove back into bed and snuggled herself into the blankets, attempting to ignore her stomach's uncharacteristic growl of midnight hunger.
Yawning, and turning over onto her side, Buffy tiredly groaned through chattering teeth, "Why do all of the ghosts that visit me have to talk in riddles?"
tbc