AUTHOR: Saph
DISCLAIMER: Oh honestly, if anyone affiliated with ME is even close to reading this, they should get themselves off the Internet, take Buffy out of syndication, and produce Season 8, wherein W/T are happy and together without question or threat. ‘Nuff said.
NOTES: W/T and the general extent of the Buffyverse are constantly playing on a movie inside my head. I've tried to put this storyline down. It might suck. I haven't written in a good long while.
FEEDBACK: Yes. I don't mean the good kind. Please tell me how to make things clearer, how to get inside the heads of the characters, because Kittens are always on the up-and-up of what Tara, Willow, Buffy, Xander etc would probably say and do. The nice flattery kind is welcome too.
SUMMARY: This takes place three years after Tabula Rasa. Tara moved to L.A. after she left Willow (okay yes, I know this is bordering on heresy. But I promise she will come back and all will be well). None of the events in Season Seven happened. Willow is teaching computer science at SHS, where Buffy is a guidance counselor. They are still living in the Summers residence. Dawn is now a senior in high school.
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It was raining. Buffy was startled by the dark clouds and the downpour, yet she kept walking down the middle of Sunnydale’s main street. All around her, the townspeople went about their business – drinking coffee, waiting for the bus, buying clothes – as if the rain wasn’t there. She watched them, listened to them. They laughed, talked, waited in the rain as if it was a regular sunny Sunnydale day.
Suddenly, an open black umbrella appeared in front of Buffy. The umbrella came up, and Dawn rested it over her shoulder. She was drenched, and her eyes were red.
“It’s been raining for three years,” she said, and although she looked sad her voice was dull. “Don’t you think she’d make it stop?”
Buffy stared at her. “Who?”
Faith appeared as well. She stood in the rain, just next to Dawn’s umbrella. She was soaked, and wearing black leather. She looked at Dawn, puzzled. “I don’t remember you.”
“I wasn’t there then,” said Dawn.
“Right,” answered Faith, as if this was a completely understandable statement. She and Dawn nodded at each other, as if they were old friends.
Buffy stared at both of them. “I don’t understand,” she said, and her voice was growing in urgency. “Dawn, what’s going on?” She almost grabbed her sister, but she let her hand drop uselessly.
Faith turned and looked down the road. Not looking at Buffy, she answered, “You have to open your eyes, B.”
Dawn turned and looked down the street as well. Buffy peered between them. Fifty feet away, Willow was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the road, wearing jeans and a black shirt. She was surrounded by destroyed computers, and she was ripping the cords and pieces out of the laptop in her lap. It sparked.
Buffy stood over her. “Will?”
“Don’t worry Buff,” said Willow. She raised her head, and her wide witchy-black eyes stared up at Buffy in a maniac way. “They can’t hurt me anymore.”
Buffy started awake. She gasped, opened her eyes. Then she glanced around, confused. She was in her bedroom, in her own bed. The sunlight streamed in across the carpet, catching glints of gold on the dresser.
“Buffy!” Dawn yelled from outside her door. “Are you gonna get up or not?”
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Yes? No? I don't want any of this "Very nice" gunk. Give me something to eat, people. If it's boring, I need to know
"I got my axe, I got my honey...
I'd say all I need is a quiet room and some body lotion and I've got me a party!"
- Faith, in Torturing TouchEdited by: Warduke at: 5/12/04 7:09 am
Hi.
Y’all rock.