Disclaimer: Don't own them. If I did there would be so much more sex in the series that it isn't funny.
Pairing: S/W and maybe a few others.
Spoilers: Dunno yet. I don't really have a plot yet.
Summary: Uhhh. Strange dreams haunt Willow, and they aren't the only thing.
Author's Notes: This may seem completely unrelated to anything. And to tell you the truth it was. I won 3rd place in my school's scary story contest with this, and have now decided to continue it into a full-blown fic.
Feedback: Please? I could really use some kind words right now. Life sucks.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
~Part: 1~
Darkness. The deep blanket of fog that rolled in as the sun set behind the London skyline has made everything perfectly dark. Even the stars have been hidden from view. The only light in this oppressive darkness comes from the full moon, whose silvery glow shines so brightly that you don't think that anything could block it, and the flickering street lamp at the end of the alleyway.
The cool night-time breeze wraps around you making you wish you had a heavier coat. Despite the chill, the breeze is slightly comforting. But why would you need comforting?
A feeling has been closing in on you all night. From the moment you stepped out of your small loft and into the busy East-End streets, it has been following you. You know you have no reason to be nervous. You've played in these streets since you were a child. No, despite the eerie setting, there is nothing to fear.
You blink up at the Whitechapel Church. You hadn't realized that you had walked that far. Then you notice something strange; the streets are deserted! Sure it's midnight, but it's normally a very busy time in this area.
Just an off night, you gather as you walk across the street. But there's that feeling again. Paranoia tightens in your chest, making you want to run back to your loft. You refuse to run though, because you know you're just being silly.
It can't hurt to just take a look around, can it? You turn quickly trying to be inconspicuous as you scan the area.
There is no one there. You laugh at yourself for being daft, but the laugh seems forced and nervous. Even with the knowledge that no one is there the feeling just won't go away. In fact, it's getting stronger and you don't understand why.
You can feel yourself begin to shake. The sound of your own breathing fills your ears. You can't seem to get any air into your lungs.
There's no one there. There's no one there. Then why are there footsteps other than your own? No, you're hearing things. There just isn't anyone there. The fact that you're alone has been well established! Yet the footsteps sound so real.
You stop. The worry has become too much for you. Your brain just refuses to be rational about all of this. You just stand there and listen. No more footsteps. No sounds at all except for the sound of the wind ripping through the narrow alleyways. You take a deep breath and once again curse your nerves. Bloody bothersome things.
Your destination is in sight, it's so close. You glance around before taking off at a hurried pace. It will only take you seconds to get ether if you just walk a little faster. Then maybe you can finally settle down and have a nice warm drink.
And then suddenly a certainty fills you. You are not alone. Your gut has been right this entire time. You should have known.
You spike quickly trying to get a glance of your stalker, but still there's nothing. You spin again, and again, knowing that he's right there behind you, but you can never get a glimpse!
"I know you're there!" you yell in a fury. It's impossible for any human to move so fast! "Come out!"
A flash of movement at the mouth of the nearest alley catches your attention. Ha! The stalker has finally shown himself! A grand mistake at that! You follow him determined to make the hunter the hunted. You run into the ally, stopping where you saw the movement. A crash! He's on the run now!
Further and further into the alley you go. Away from the safety of the main street, and it's lamps. So far back that the tall building block the light of the moon that you had admired earlier. It never even crosses your mind that the stalker is deliberately drawing you back.
Not until it's too late, that is. You struggle as his hand closes around your throat, but it's too late. There's no use in fighting him. You can't scream, no one would hear you anyway. And if perchance they did, they wouldn't come, valuing their own lives over yours. You were too stupid to heed the warnings they gave you, and now you are paying for it with your life. You should have listened when they told you a murderer was stalking the moonlit streets of the East-End.
You're just another body added to the count.
~Part: 2~
Willow awoke with a gasp. That dream had been intense! It had been so vivid she felt like she had been right there in the victims body being stalked through the streets of London. She wasn't sure what scared her more. The fact that she had died in the dream, or the fact that her mind had somehow come up with the dream in the first place. She must have eaten something really funky before going to bed.
She shook her head to clear the feelings of fear and dread that were left over from the dream before getting up. She walked into the bathroom to take her shower.
What she saw in the mirror scared her more than the dream ever could have. There were bruises around her throat, as if someone had been strangling her to death. Just like in her dream. How in the world had they gotten there? She could only stare at her reflection. It had just been one little dream!
There had to be an explaination for this, either logical or not. Giles was her best bet on finding something out, but what would she tell him? Somehow, even with all of the weird things that happened in Sunnydale, she didn't think he'd go for her dreams having repercussions in reality.
Maybe she could research it without really telling him what she was looking for. She thought she might be able to pull it off.
Willow left the bathroom, completely forgetting her shower. It was then she noticed something she had failed to notice when she woke up. It was still dark outside. She had only been asleep for two hours.
"Well that isn't fair," she pouted to herself. She definitely didn't want to go outside at night, even though she was sure she wouldn't be getting anymore sleep. Going outside was almost like suicide. Angelus was out there. Not to mention Drusilla and Spike and the rest of the vampire population of Sunnydale. She probably wouldn't even make it to the school.
Maybe she could find something on her computer. It was worth a shot. She sat down at the desk and tried to collect herself as the computer booted. "Okay so what do I know about this dream? I was being stocked through….Whitechapel. She had heard that district before.
It was seventh grade. They had learned about the Jack the Ripper murders because some woman had written a book claiming she had solved the mystery on who the real Jack the Ripper was. Even had it backed up with DNA testing. Of course Willow had disproved the theory, but still.
Okay that gave her a place to start. The Ripper murders. But why would she be dreaming about the Ripper murders? She hadn't thought about that in years. Vampires had been more on her mind lately than human murderers.
And that still didn't answer where the bruises on her throat had come from. Maybe she had acted out her dream in her sleep and given them to herself. Now there was a scary thought. If that was true she'd have to start tying herself up at night, and she definitely didn't want to do that. But she didn't want to hurt herself either.
She researched dreams and Jack the Ripper until about two am, when she started to get tired again. She knew she should go back to sleep, but she didn't want to. What if she dreamed again? What if she hurt herself again?
She pushed herself to stay awake another half an hour, but after then she couldn't take it anymore. She got back into bed and curled up with her blankets up to her chin, like they would protect her from the big bad that was currently in her head.
Funny how the nightmares in her mind scared her more than the ones that really existed.
But maybe she was right in being more afraid of what was in her head.
next | back