If anyone notices, yes some of this was in Beginnings. This actually is Beginnings, but started differently.
Scene 3
Freud claimed that dreams were a way to express wish fulfillment and sexual desire. Buffy was an expert in dreams. She kept a journal next to her bed. She taught herself how to remember each dream vividly. In Sunnydale, her dreams had a common theme of entrapment. When she moved to Rome they turned to more usual ones. For example, just two weeks ago she dreamed she was back in high school. Three weeks before that she dreamed she was driving naked without a license. Everyone had those once in awhile. As of late, Buffy discovered something unusual. A man liked to pop up in almost all of her dreams. Sometimes he had a starring role, and other times he stood by in the sidelines.
Old Sigmund might have had something going with that sexual desire theory. Buffy was pretty intimate with this man. Why didn’t she ever dream about The Immortal? He had a very pleasing physique. He was the most talented individual she’d ever been with, always bringing her to a new peek of desire. Not that she had much to compare to, but still . . . Why was her mind creating some stranger, as if she wasn’t satisfied? Because she was!
In her conversation with Dawn, Buffy declared that no one was as sweet as The Immortal. But Dawn was correct in there being a fantasy someone. Although he wasn’t on television, he was in Buffy’s dreams.
He had the sexiest body imaginable. Those cheekbones could make you melt. His baby-blue eyes poured warmth. His chest and arms were rich with muscles. White hair would have been over the top on anyone else, but on him it was perfect. Everything about him was flawless.
In the dreams focused on him, she didn’t have to settle for almost happy. She was completely happy . . . perfectly happy.
Maybe this sounds like a trashy romance novel, but their coupling wasn’t physical, it was spiritual. They merged into one, filling the other’s aching holes.
There was more than sex. The man whispered things to her. Phrases like, “You’re the one, Buffy”, “I’m drowning in you”, “I’ll never leave you”, and of course, “I love you.” She knew deep down that he meant them. They weren’t devices to get her back into bed.
Every waking moment was a burden. She tried to slip back into the enchantment but it never worked. One morning she thought something crazy. ‘Maybe he’s an angel visiting me from heaven. Sent by my mother, possibly, or someone I met before being brought back to earth.’ They were silly really, but that was how she came up with his name. Her bleached angel, he was thought of.
She was ashamed to admit this to herself, but when she was with The Immortal, sometimes she envisioned it was her angel instead. His massive exterior shifted to her ideal match. She was getting better at keeping the dissociation up. As long as he kept quiet she could sustain the delusion.
Tonight, Buffy woke up after only three hours. Images of her bleached angel swam over her. She tossed and turned for what seemed like forever, yet still couldn’t get back to sleep. Frustrated, Buffy slipped her hand under the covers, finding the bottom of her silk nightgown. She found her folds wet with need. She rode her hand in frenzy. Afterward she slumped back against the pillow.
Tears spilled. She felt tremendously guilty and partly lost.
Scene 4
“You look like crap,” Dawn said.
Buffy glared. “Why thanks, sis, you are so kind.”
“Didn’t you sleep at all last night?”
Buffy filled the coffeepot with water. “A bit. Thank God for Folgers, otherwise I’d never make it through the day.”
Buffy poured the coffee into a travel mug. She hugged her sister goodbye and hurried off to work. Dawn stared at the closed door for a long while. What was happening to everyone? They were all falling to pieces, just like Sunnydale had. It felt as if their lives would turn into a giant hole of nothingness.
Buffy might claim to be all right, but Dawn couldn’t accept it. She shouldn’t have to settle for adequate, with all she had gone through she deserved extraordinary. Dawn glanced up at the ceiling.
“It isn’t fair! You, bastards!” she screamed. Tears ran down her cheeks. It felt good to let them out. It was so hard to keep it together in front of Buffy.
Almost a year had passed since the battle with The First, but it seemed like a decade. Dawn hugged herself. She was so alone. Dawn hated everything about Rome. She tried to like it at first, really she did. But no matter what, it didn’t feel like home. She had always been an outsider, even in California, but there the scoobies banded together and created a little world of their own. It wasn’t ‘where’ she was exactly, but the lack of ‘who’ she was with. Buffy wasn’t really Buffy anymore. She was hidden somewhere, deep inside the ‘Buffy-shaped’ shell. Dawn had a theory that Spike made Buffy who she was, and when he left he took part of her along with him.
All day at school Dawn couldn’t concentrate. Who cared about class anyway, she couldn’t understand half of it. Finally it ended. She got home to an empty apartment as usual. Buffy was still at work and Andrew was probably out with one of his new girlfriends.
She couldn’t take her life. Something had to be done.
She snatched up the phone. She knew the council’s number by heart. She rolled her eyes when a recorded voice came over the line. “Hello, welcome to The Watchers Institute for Young Girls. Please press one if you have questions about admission. Press two if you are a parent of a girl in our care. Press three if you would like to be transferred to a live representative”. Dawn pressed four. Only those actually aware of the Council’s true purpose knew to punch in the code. A secretary soon came over the line. Dawn requested to speak with Willow. She was put on hold, complete with piped in music.
“Hello, Willow Rosenburg speaking. How can I help you?”
“Willow?” Dawn twirled the phone cord.
“Hey, Dawnie!” Willow’s voice was refreshing. Dawn abruptly knew how much she missed the red-headed witch.
“Something is wrong with Buffy,” Dawn said.
“What is it? Is she hurt? Taken over by a demon? Is the world ending?”
“Has she written or called you lately? Did she tell you about The Immortal?”
“Ramon? Yeah, he sounds like a great guy.”
Dawn gritted her teeth. “He’s anything but a great guy. Willow, I think the spell went wrong.”
There was a pause. “Dawn, just because Ramon is not Spike-“
“That’s not it!”
“The spell can’t be undone, Dawn. You knew that when we did it. I’m sorry you don’t like your sister’s new boyfriend. But think about the alternative.”
Dawn shut her eyes. She took in a deep breath. “I know,” she whispered.
“At least Buffy’s happy now.” There was a loud explosion from Willow’s end. “Oh, Dawn, I gotta go! Some girl just made a potion go kablooey.”
“Oh . . . Okay. Bye.”
Dawn hung up the phone. She leaned her head against the wall. “That’s just it, Buffy’s not happy. She’s only pretending, Willow.”
Scene 5
The Immortal lived on a yacht. Well, he owned a yacht; he mostly lived in luxurious hotel rooms. Buffy’d been there a few times, but she preferred going out better. He was a wonderful dancer, so she insisted on taking him to the techno club downtown to show him off. For some reason, The Immortal was set on spending a quiet evening on the boat. She knew what his definition of ‘quiet’ consisted of, and she cringed at the prospect. She was so tired from her shift at the restaurant.
It was the perfect romantic atmosphere. He loved to bring Buffy down below to sip champagne . . . amongst other things. It was very cozy. He had a white loveseat with red heart shaped pillows on it. There was also a coffee table. He even had one of those electric fireplaces.
Buffy didn’t recognize the brand of champagne he poured. She was sure it had to be first-class. He handed it to her and she took the glass gingerly, bringing it to her lips. The liquid tasted sweet on her tongue. She drained it quickly. It went straight to her head and she became a little light-headed. She set the glass down.
The Immortal watched this all intently from across the room. He stood, sipping his own champagne at a leisurely pace.
“I’ve been thinking,” Ramon said.
Buffy set her glass down on the coffee table. She braced herself for what was to come. She expected a break-up. She knew from the beginning this thing they had wouldn’t last.
“Have I ever told you why they call me The Immortal?” he went on, surprising her.
“Is your real name Duncan?” Buffy quipped.
The Immortal stared, not getting the joke. He was too classy to waste time on action movies.
“Sorry,” Buffy whispered.
“An Immortal is chosen by another. Our initiation is somewhat like a vampire’s, dealing with blood exchange. The chosen is put to sleep while their molecular structure is altered. They awaken changed, with new eyes. They can see every path open to the future, while humans are blinded.”
Buffy tried to seem attentive. “That’s interesting.”
The Immortal slowly came over to stand before the sofa. He got down on one knee and took her hands. Oh God, her mind cried, he’s not . . . No way!
“Buffy . . .? You are a fascinating woman. You are like no other I’ve been with. You never bore me.”
“Good to know,” she got out.
“I see all my options spanning in front of me. One of them involves spending eternity with you.”
Buffy held her breath.
“You will make a perfect Queen.”
Queen? She blinked. Okay, not a marriage proposal. Or, it was sort of. Queen must be the equivalent to mate.
“Uh . . .” Okay, Buffy-brain work.
“Say you will be mine? Forever.”
Buffy pulled her hands out of his grip. “That’s very flattering, Ramon, really. But, you see, I died twice. I was brought back obviously, but was gone the second time long enough to see what lies ahead. I’m kinda fond of heaven and want to go back someday.”
“I assure you,” The Immortal said, “Heaven will not compare to what I can give you.”
“Yet again, flattering. But, Ramon . . . I can’t.” She swallowed. “I don’t love you.”
There, she confessed it. A weight lifted from her chest.
He laughed. Okay, not the reaction she anticipated. “That works out splendid. I do not love you either.”
“Huh? What is this then? Didn’t you just ask me to spend eternity at your side?”
“Yes.”
“But you don’t love me?”
“No. I have never experienced the emotion of the amore, you speak of. I have been with countless women, but none can compare to you. You excite me. You would keep me occupied for years to come.”
“Maybe,” Buffy muttered. “But what if there was someone better out there? Someone who would make you happier? Someone perfect?”
“I cannot envision what you speak of.”
“Sorry, Ramon, my answer is no.”
He smiled sadly. He took up her hand once more and pressed a tender kiss to it. She leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the lips- a final kiss. Then she got to her feet and headed for the door.
“Buffy,” The Immortal called in his rich accent.
She glanced back.
“I hope you find what you seek.”
So did she.
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