Chap 2: Dreaming of You
She was walking, noticing quickly that it was freezing. It was pitch black dark, but she was strangely able to notice every detail in the stone walls around her. She even could see water trickling down one of the bricks. What is going on? Where the hell am I?= Looking around, she surmised that she was probably in the basement of somewhere, and that there was a staircase to her right. Figuring that she had no other choice, she went and followed it. That=s when she looked down and became confused. She wasn=t wearing anything from this century. She regarded the plain white dress she was wearing. It bunched at the bust, as if there was a thread holding it together under the fabric. Right under her chest, the material flowed out, not dramatically, but just enough so that it swayed whenever she took a step. I would have preferred a light blue or something, but hey, it doesn=t look too bad from here...= Looking back up the stairs, she followed the winding staircase, with it=s stone walls, to the floor above her. He was standing in the hallway of a castle. Had he been here before? It sure as hell seemed like it. Searching his surroundings, he figured he was somewhere in southern France, according to the crest that was hanging from the ceiling above his head. When was the last time I was in southern France?= he asked himself. Thinking hard, he remembered a time when he had had a fight with Dru, Angel and Darla. He had decided to flee the country, and had boarded the first ship overseas that he could get onto. It just happened that he had gotten onto one that was headed for Provence. But that was during the 19th century. He hadn=t thought about that in decades, so why was he here now? Sighing, he again looked around, and picked up on something. Not just something, a scent, her scent. ANo.@ He said out loud. She couldn=t be here. She had not even been born yet. Hell, her ancestors hadn=t even been born yet. The current slayer for the beginning of the 19th century was in India. So why was she here? Following the aroma, he walked down the hall.
She had reached the top of the stairs and heard...footsteps. Shit.= Here she was, in an unfamiliar castle-thing, not knowing if she was even in the right country, and someone was here also. Quickly searching for a place to hide, she ducked into a doorway, and pushed the wooden door separating her from the room of her escape. Stepping into the room backwards, keeping an eye on the hallway, she quietly closed the door in front of her. Turning and leaning against it, she dropped her jaw as she saw what she had stepped into. Does Sleeping Beauty live here or something?= The room was bathed in moonlight. A wood pine canopy bed with white, gauzy silk was covering the bed from the ceiling high posts to the stone floor. Across from the bed was a chest of drawers, made from the finest oak she had ever seen. Xander, in all his days of woodcarving glory, hadn=t even been able to put out anything this fine. It seemed to ripple right under the white light, as if it was magically enhanced. Glancing straight forward, she saw a set of windows, 4 feet tall, 8 feet wide. Under them sat a long, cushioned bench as to which someone could sit and see the world outside. Using what common sense she could muster after the shock from the room itself, she deducted that this enchanted haven belonged to a woman, maybe someone even in her age area. Pulling herself together, she heard the footsteps growing louder. They seemed to walk right past her door, making Buffy hold her breath. As they continued, she slowly let it out, making the feminine gesture of putting her hand to her chest. However, she was quickly pulled out of her salvation as the door behind her pushed her forward, making her stumble and grab onto one of the wooden bed posts.
He knew she was somewhere close, her scent was stronger here. Retracing his steps, he noticed that he had walked past a door. It seemed to be the only explanation, so he grabbed the knob. Pushing the door, he realized that something was leaning into it. Putting more force into his shoulder, he forced the door to open, and there she stood, an angel holding onto the canopy bed. His undead heart squeezed itself hard.
No= she thought. It couldn=t be him. He was dead. And she usually didn=t dream of him at all. She didn=t allow herself. It hurt too much. And, boy, does seeing him right now hurt.= Her throat constricted instantly at the memory of seeing him last. Looking at her made his mouth water, his ears ring, and made him want to fall to his knees in forgiveness of leaving her, of never telling her how he thought about her every week of every day of every second of every moment. He slowly closed the door behind him, walking as best as he could remember how.
She was still tightly gripping the bedpost, as that was all that was holding her up. Nothing else in her body seemed to know what it needed to do. Her head was screaming that it wasn=t possible; her heart was trying to beat itself out of her; her mouth started to salivate at the sight of him; and her legs definitely didn=t want to hold her up, they wanted his arms to do it for her. He reached her, not sure of what he should do or say. He didn=t want to blurt out anything that might scare her or piss her off, so all that came out was a gurgled sound. Great, mate, you=re a fucking Grartny demon now.= Realizing his hand was moving, he watched as it paused above her cheek, as if it was afraid it might burn. She was losing it. Touch me! Touch me touch me touch me.= She moved her face closer to his hand, and they both sighed at the contact. ASpike.@ she sighed. Swallowing hard, he licked his lips. ABuffy, I...@ AAllez, allez! Je pense qu=ils sont en le chambre a la gauche.@ Shit= thought Spike. They obviously weren=t here alone. They seemed to be the intruders at this chateau and it sounded like someone had sent out the guards. His eyes met with Buffy=s. She looked confused. Of course she=s confused you idiot. She doesn=t understand french.= ABuffy, we need to move, there are people in this castle with us...@ Bam! The wooden door was thrown open, and there stood a french castle guard. Spike dropped his hand and stepped away, looking at the guard. AMadame, qui est cette person?@ Spike looked confused, this guard was talking to Buffy as if he knew her. ASpike, what=s he saying? What=s going on?@ Buffy looked confused, yet her stance was prepared for a fight. She didn=t know what was going on either. Spike cleared his throat. He wasn=t that great at french, hell the last time he had spoken it was over 100 years ago, but he needed to find out what was going on. ABonjour, je suis Anglais et un ami du....Madame. Je pardon pour....@ He wasn=t able to finish his sentence because suddenly the french solider grabbed his arm and swung him towards the door. ASpike!@ Buffy yelled. She had no idea what was going on, but if this french asshole was going to take Spike away from her, she was going to fight. ABuffy!@ Spike was struggling against his holder, pushing his feet against the floor and...waking up. What? What the hell was that?=
She woke screaming his name. The dream she had just experienced seemed anything but. It had a sharp clarity to it that scared her from the realness of it. She had been able to feel the coolness radiating off the stones from the walls. She had been able to feel the roughness of the wooden door as she rested against it and the smell of the fresh blooms from outside as a breeze had wafted through. But nothing was as vivid or as clear as the feel of his callused hand against her cheek. Suddenly her throat started to constrict, tighten. Her eyes burned to the point of pain. Her fists bunched up in her sheets fighting back what was about to happen. She gritted her teeth, prepared for what was going to come, and...cried.
She was walking, noticing quickly that it was freezing. It was pitch black dark, but she was strangely able to notice every detail in the stone walls around her. She even could see water trickling down one of the bricks. What is going on? Where the hell am I?= Looking around, she surmised that she was probably in the basement of somewhere, and that there was a staircase to her right. Figuring that she had no other choice, she went and followed it. That=s when she looked down and became confused. She wasn=t wearing anything from this century. She regarded the plain white dress she was wearing. It bunched at the bust, as if there was a thread holding it together under the fabric. Right under her chest, the material flowed out, not dramatically, but just enough so that it swayed whenever she took a step. I would have preferred a light blue or something, but hey, it doesn=t look too bad from here...= Looking back up the stairs, she followed the winding staircase, with it=s stone walls, to the floor above her. He was standing in the hallway of a castle. Had he been here before? It sure as hell seemed like it. Searching his surroundings, he figured he was somewhere in southern France, according to the crest that was hanging from the ceiling above his head. When was the last time I was in southern France?= he asked himself. Thinking hard, he remembered a time when he had had a fight with Dru, Angel and Darla. He had decided to flee the country, and had boarded the first ship overseas that he could get onto. It just happened that he had gotten onto one that was headed for Provence. But that was during the 19th century. He hadn=t thought about that in decades, so why was he here now? Sighing, he again looked around, and picked up on something. Not just something, a scent, her scent. ANo.@ He said out loud. She couldn=t be here. She had not even been born yet. Hell, her ancestors hadn=t even been born yet. The current slayer for the beginning of the 19th century was in India. So why was she here? Following the aroma, he walked down the hall.
She had reached the top of the stairs and heard...footsteps. Shit.= Here she was, in an unfamiliar castle-thing, not knowing if she was even in the right country, and someone was here also. Quickly searching for a place to hide, she ducked into a doorway, and pushed the wooden door separating her from the room of her escape. Stepping into the room backwards, keeping an eye on the hallway, she quietly closed the door in front of her. Turning and leaning against it, she dropped her jaw as she saw what she had stepped into. Does Sleeping Beauty live here or something?= The room was bathed in moonlight. A wood pine canopy bed with white, gauzy silk was covering the bed from the ceiling high posts to the stone floor. Across from the bed was a chest of drawers, made from the finest oak she had ever seen. Xander, in all his days of woodcarving glory, hadn=t even been able to put out anything this fine. It seemed to ripple right under the white light, as if it was magically enhanced. Glancing straight forward, she saw a set of windows, 4 feet tall, 8 feet wide. Under them sat a long, cushioned bench as to which someone could sit and see the world outside. Using what common sense she could muster after the shock from the room itself, she deducted that this enchanted haven belonged to a woman, maybe someone even in her age area. Pulling herself together, she heard the footsteps growing louder. They seemed to walk right past her door, making Buffy hold her breath. As they continued, she slowly let it out, making the feminine gesture of putting her hand to her chest. However, she was quickly pulled out of her salvation as the door behind her pushed her forward, making her stumble and grab onto one of the wooden bed posts.
He knew she was somewhere close, her scent was stronger here. Retracing his steps, he noticed that he had walked past a door. It seemed to be the only explanation, so he grabbed the knob. Pushing the door, he realized that something was leaning into it. Putting more force into his shoulder, he forced the door to open, and there she stood, an angel holding onto the canopy bed. His undead heart squeezed itself hard.
No= she thought. It couldn=t be him. He was dead. And she usually didn=t dream of him at all. She didn=t allow herself. It hurt too much. And, boy, does seeing him right now hurt.= Her throat constricted instantly at the memory of seeing him last. Looking at her made his mouth water, his ears ring, and made him want to fall to his knees in forgiveness of leaving her, of never telling her how he thought about her every week of every day of every second of every moment. He slowly closed the door behind him, walking as best as he could remember how.
She was still tightly gripping the bedpost, as that was all that was holding her up. Nothing else in her body seemed to know what it needed to do. Her head was screaming that it wasn=t possible; her heart was trying to beat itself out of her; her mouth started to salivate at the sight of him; and her legs definitely didn=t want to hold her up, they wanted his arms to do it for her. He reached her, not sure of what he should do or say. He didn=t want to blurt out anything that might scare her or piss her off, so all that came out was a gurgled sound. Great, mate, you=re a fucking Grartny demon now.= Realizing his hand was moving, he watched as it paused above her cheek, as if it was afraid it might burn. She was losing it. Touch me! Touch me touch me touch me.= She moved her face closer to his hand, and they both sighed at the contact. ASpike.@ she sighed. Swallowing hard, he licked his lips. ABuffy, I...@ AAllez, allez! Je pense qu=ils sont en le chambre a la gauche.@ Shit= thought Spike. They obviously weren=t here alone. They seemed to be the intruders at this chateau and it sounded like someone had sent out the guards. His eyes met with Buffy=s. She looked confused. Of course she=s confused you idiot. She doesn=t understand french.= ABuffy, we need to move, there are people in this castle with us...@ Bam! The wooden door was thrown open, and there stood a french castle guard. Spike dropped his hand and stepped away, looking at the guard. AMadame, qui est cette person?@ Spike looked confused, this guard was talking to Buffy as if he knew her. ASpike, what=s he saying? What=s going on?@ Buffy looked confused, yet her stance was prepared for a fight. She didn=t know what was going on either. Spike cleared his throat. He wasn=t that great at french, hell the last time he had spoken it was over 100 years ago, but he needed to find out what was going on. ABonjour, je suis Anglais et un ami du....Madame. Je pardon pour....@ He wasn=t able to finish his sentence because suddenly the french solider grabbed his arm and swung him towards the door. ASpike!@ Buffy yelled. She had no idea what was going on, but if this french asshole was going to take Spike away from her, she was going to fight. ABuffy!@ Spike was struggling against his holder, pushing his feet against the floor and...waking up. What? What the hell was that?=
She woke screaming his name. The dream she had just experienced seemed anything but. It had a sharp clarity to it that scared her from the realness of it. She had been able to feel the coolness radiating off the stones from the walls. She had been able to feel the roughness of the wooden door as she rested against it and the smell of the fresh blooms from outside as a breeze had wafted through. But nothing was as vivid or as clear as the feel of his callused hand against her cheek. Suddenly her throat started to constrict, tighten. Her eyes burned to the point of pain. Her fists bunched up in her sheets fighting back what was about to happen. She gritted her teeth, prepared for what was going to come, and...cried.