Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
using
 paypal
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Is your email address still valid?

Past Life? Brilliant

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking
Story

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-CenteredDoctorsgirlFR1845,9893267,48714 Nov 0827 Nov 08No

Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who (darn it) or Buffy.
Author's Note- I'm really into Doctor Who at the moment, this is the product of that...

‘To Sleep perchance to dream’----Shakespeare, Hamlet

Prologue:

Her nights are endless journeys, she traverses the universe always ready to take in new sights, a constant smile masking her pain. She is old, so very old, and oh so alone...

She never stops running, running from enemies, from the pain she leaves behind, never saying goodbye to those who accompany her for however long. They never last long, their human lives like the flutter of a butterfly's wings in comparison to her own. Of course their is enjoyment and excitement which accompanies the thrill of discovery, but it all ends in ashes. Everything fades, and pain haunts her steps, death is her gift despite all good intentions.

She is eternal, time flows around her like an unending stream, welcoming her into its embrace. She feels the Earth's rotation beneath her feet; sees all that was, all that could be and all that must be. She feels the universe within her and she has never felt so alive.

The inferno burns within her, as the orange skies of her home burnt long ago. She is the Oncoming Storm, the bringer of death, but she is warm.

Then she wakes, no longer the endless one. She is frozen, empty. So very empty, ever since her unwilling removal from heaven's domain. She is no longer the Storm, she is the calm, the ebb. They ignore her pain, believing that they know what's best for her better than she does. She is the slayer, and death is her gift. Yet she longs for sleep, where she can once more travel to her hearts content, instead of being grounded in one place. She resents them increasingly, for their happiness and her loneliness.

That is the only similarity between her dreams and her reality: In both she is alone.

The only one in all the World.
Slayer.
Time lord.

Which is she?
Next Chapter
StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking