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Past Life? Brilliant

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Summary: Ever since her return to the living Buffy's been having the strangest dreams of blue Police boxes and a strange vortex, but what if they're more than dreams?

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Dr. Who/Torchwood > Buffy-CenteredDoctorsgirlFR1845,9893297,65514 Nov 0827 Nov 08No


Disclaimer: I own nothing, song lyrics someone else’s.

Talking: “Blah”
Thoughts/Telepathy: ‘Blah’

"Oft expectation fails, and most oft there/ Where most it promises; and oft it hits
Where hope is coldest,/ and despair most fits."-- All’s Well that ends Well--- Shakespeare

Chapter 3

“Stupid singing demon-thingy” she scuffed her shoes irritably along the gravel path, hands pushed deep into her pockets, heading home. Having left her friends in the middle of a rousing encore…woot!

Not only had it been horrific, but she’d been subjected to her own singing, which had been proven as something as a big no-no way back when she, Xander and Willow were forced into the annual talent show by Snyder. Needless to say they’d instead chosen a dramatic piece.

‘Did I ever say how thankful both myself and countless generations of future SunnyD students are that he became snake-chow?’
She shook that thought from her head, tossing out her curls as she did so.

Stupid, lousy demon, that she hadn’t even gotten a chance to pummel! I mean sure some of the singing part was fun, Spike did a rather amusing punk rendition of ’You’ve got a friend in me’, Willow and Tara appeared to be at it like rabbits (something to do with the romantic level of singing to one another…), Dawn actually showed an interest in Maths (???) and Anya and Xander managed to work out issues. Unfortunately during the ’final scene’ as the demon named ’Sweet’ (a name that struck ’terror’ into all who opposed him, she was sure) put it, she’d spilled her secret in song, physically unable to stop. To top things off, it turned out that Xander had summoned the guy in an attempt to cheer everyone (read: her) up.

Her friends had been shocked, and who wouldn’t be. I mean singing aloud ‘I live in hell, ‘cos I’ve been expelled from Heaven’ probably wasn’t the best way to let them know they’d basically dragged her through a horribly traumatic experience.

She’d slipped out as the finale began along with Spike, who’d muttered something about a high stakes game of Kitten-poker with Clem and some others. She’d sent him a glare of disapproval and headed home.

She’d reached to door to her home, and stared at it, willing for her hand to stretch out and open it, something it appeared not to want to do.

That was when the backing music start up, and felt herself mentally groan.
‘No again damnit! I’m summoning that demon straight back to kick his ass so hard the only songs he’ll be singing anytime soon are the Bee Gees!’

“Look at me
You may think you see
Who I really am
But you'll never know me
Every day
It's as if I play a part
Now I see
If I wear a mask
I can fool the world
But I cannot fool my heart”

The lyrics to a song she couldn’t place slipped from lips she’d been determined not to say.
She reached out and opened the door, words flowing past her lips, barely aware as she kicked to door shut behind her and began to head upstairs. Watching as her face was reflected in the glass of her mom’s old photo frames that no-one had the heart to remove.

“Who is that girl I see
Staring straight back at me?
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?”

Her legs took her into her room, and she glanced sadly around, it was stuffed with memories: the cross Angel had given her lay on the nightstand, Mr Gordo on the bed, her class protector award (carefully fixed with generous amounts of duct tape) hung on the wall along with her diploma (that her mother had insisted upon) and her photos of a life long gone.

“I am now
In a world where I
Have to hide my heart
And what I believe
But somehow
I will show the world
What's inside my heart
And be loved for who I am”

She sat down in front of her mirror, attempting to fix the damage her mini-rave back at the Bronze had done, after all literally smoking probably wasn’t good for it.

“Who is that girl I see
Staring straight back at me?
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?
There's a heart that must be
Free to fly
That burns with a need to know
The reason why”

She really should have told them sooner, it was cruel for them to find out that way. But she’d not wanted to hurt them, and if she admitted it, on some level she’d taken joy in having a secret that they could not take away.

“Why must we all conceal
What we think, how we feel?
Must there be a secret me
I'm forced to hide?
I won't pretend that I'm
Someone else for all time
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?…”

The song had now faded to barely above a whisper as she stared into her own deep green eyes that held a ring of endless golden-brown. Wait, golden-brown? She’d never had gold in hr eyes…

“When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?”

A man stared back at her from the mirror as she gaped in shock, her song finishing abruptly. His hair was an utter mess, spiked in all directions and coloured a warm chocolate brown, it was his eyes that held that ring of gold, and they were as wide as she expected her own were. His face was rather good-looking, dusted with a few days worth of stubble, and so very expressive, mouth hanging in shock and making well-sculpted cheekbones even more pronounced. His expression a mockery of her own, and as she reached out to touch the glass he did the same.

He seemed to be wearing a slimming brown, pinstriped suit, and a tan coloured coat, that she just knew was the sort that would billow out behind him when he ran.

‘I like that coat, Janis Joplin gave me that coat’ huffed a British accented voice, and she started, swinging round to locate it and finding nothing.

She turned back to the mirror and froze, mysterious mirror guy was gone, however dangling off the corner of the mirror was something she’d never noticed before. She unhooked the chain and studied the key which hung from it. Said key looked utterly inconspicuous, but she knew differently. Her spidey-sense was on at maximum, and she could feel a sort of strange heat radiating from the key, that for all intents and purposes looked like it belonged to an ordinary Yale lock.

She frowned, forehead creasing in confusion, who was that guy? Had she brought another hitchhiker back with her? Somehow she doubted it, knew in her heart that it was more than that. And she was determined that the key held the answers.

‘But what’s it a key to…?’ she mentally groaned, looping the key around her neck on its chain, twice, as it was clearly made for a more masculine individual.

“Well, I’m not gonna get any answers tonight, I might as well get some sleep, the vamps have been too scared of dancing-induced immolation to hang around much lately” she sighed to her stuffed pig, which remained as still as ever “Oh don’t look at me like that Mr Gordo” she flopped back onto the bed and studied the plushy thoughtfully “after all, it’s not like I’m avoiding the others or anything” she muttered.

Fully aware that that was a complete and utter lie.

‘Back to the TARDIS. Same old life.’
‘On your own?’
‘I- .... I love you.’
‘Quite right too… And I suppose, if it's my last chance to say it: Rose Tyler…’

‘Know this, Time Lord: You are not alone.’

‘I lied to you, 'cos I liked it. I could pretend, just for a bit, I could imagine they were still alive underneath that burnt orange sky. I'm not just a Time Lord, I'm the last of the Time Lords. The Face of Boe was wrong; there's no one else.’

‘There have been too many deaths today; way too many people have died. Brand new creatures and wise old men and age-old enemies, and I tell you, I tell you right now, I am not having one more death!’

‘I don't know what stopped you talking but I can guess. They're coming. The Angels are coming for you, but listen -your life could depend on this- don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. They are fast, faster than you could believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and don't blink… Good luck.’

‘I'm asking you really, properly, just stop! Just think!’
‘Use my name.’
‘Master... I'm sorry.’

‘At zero, to mark this day, the child Martha Jones will die. [Grins] My first blood, ha. Any last words?.... No?.... such a disappointment this one. Days of old, Doctor, you had companions who could absorb the time vortex... This one's useless. [To Martha] Bow your head. And so it falls to me as Master of all, to establish from this day a new order of Time Lords. From this day forward…’
‘What... what's so funny?’
‘A gun.’
‘What about it?’
‘The gun in four parts.’
‘Yes?... And I destroyed it.’
‘A gun, in four parts scattered across the world, I mean... come on. Did you really believe that?!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘... As if I would ask her to kill…’

‘Faith and hope? Is that all?!’
‘No! Because I gave them an instruction. Just as the Doctor said…Use the countdown. I told them that if every one thinks of one word, at one specific time--’
‘Nothing will happen! Is that your weapon? Prayer?!’
‘Right across the world! One word, just one thought, at one moment! But with fifteen satellites!’
‘The Archangel Network.’
‘A telepathic field, binding the whole human race together. All of them, every single person on Earth, thinking the same thing at the same time! And that word, is Doctor!’
‘And I've had a whole year to tune myself into the psychic network and integrate with its matrices.’

“God this is just getting ridiculous…” Buffy snarled, attempting to stem a once more bleeding nose “You hear me!” she glared around “Whoever you are, this ends now!”

‘Find the blue box’ echoed a voice.

“No I will not find it, get it yourself, I’m not a con- a con-…a tool.” she growled to ‘the voice’, as she’d decided to name it.

‘The blue box has the answers…’ the voice insisted, and she noted that it was different from the one earlier.

“Oh great, I’m being haunted. Things keep getting better and better. Should I start putting up signs- ’lonely yet irritating ghosts- visit here’?”
‘The Box!’

“Alright, alright, I’ll find your goddamn box…” she huffed, finally crumbling to the power that was nagging. “…How?”

‘Use the key.’

“I knew it, you left that thing. It’s not human what ever it is. Is it” she narrowed her gaze when all she received was silence “Is it?”

“Uhh…Buffy…not that I’m saying your not having a thrilling conversation in there…with yourself…can you come down and you” Willow’s voice was nervous behind the door, a rarity in itself these days.

Buffy almost said she wasn’t having a conversation with herself, almost told Willow about the voices, but stopped. She’d overheard Tara’s song in the shop, and if what the shy Wicca sang was true, then Willow was erasing memories of others that she didn’t like. Deep inside Buffy knew she had to remember this, and clutching the key, which throbbed with comforting warmth against her palm, she yelled out:

“Sure, be out in a sec.”

Sending one last suspicious glance around the room for the sources of the mysterious ‘voices’ she headed out, but not before hissing out a quiet ‘You figments owe me big time!’

The End?

You have reached the end of "Past Life? Brilliant" – so far. This story is incomplete and the last chapter was posted on 27 Nov 08.

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