Living in Dreams (Lighter Version)
Living in DreamsAuthor:
BtVS/The Bishop: Special Crimes Unit SeriesCharacter(s) and/or Pairing(s):
Buffy Summers, Noah BishopGenre:
Dreaming of the mythical baddies trying to end the world was normal, routine; eight months ago she’d gotten one that had nothing to do with her normal.Challenge:
Thanks to Krystal & Demona for beta’ing, any mistakes are mine and mine alone.Spoilers/Warnings:
Rape, Violence, TortureDisclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
and all related characters are copyright of Joss Whedon & ME. No infringement intended. Kay Hooper’s Noah Bishop/Special Crimes Unit Series
and all related characters are copyright of Kay Hooper. No infringement intendedDistribution:
Not without permission from myself.AN:
Here’s a list of the books in order
and here’s the synopsis
. You don’t need to have read the series for this to make sense.
Dark purple, almost black polish covered petite fingers that were attached to delicate looking hands. The night before they had cleanly torn off a demon’s head with little effort and now they were shaking, violently.
Cursing under her breath Buffy tried to pry the lid off the Tylenol bottle. Annoyance caused her to twist the cap roughly, with a ‘crack’ the lid snapped off the white container. Her arm jerked uncontrollably, shook and accidentally spilt the pills down the sink.
Using what little strength she still possessed her hand shot out stopping a few pills that were careening towards the kitchen drain.
Before she was able to relish in her small victory the doorbell sounded, the noise pierced the precious silence she had been savoring. She winced. Her ears continued to ring after the bell quieted.
Buffy’s fingers wrapped around the oval pills protectively before raising her still shaking hand up to her mouth. Dry swallowing them she scrunched her brows together as the pills skidded down her throat. Mentally, she willed the drugs to work like the commercials always promised.
It had been a long time since she’d had one of these dreams, two months in fact. Of course three years after turning Sunnydale into Discovery Channel’s wet dream of endless documentaries the Powers had decided to mess with her life, again. Dreaming of the mythical baddies trying to end the world was normal, routine; eight months ago she’d gotten one that had nothing to do with her normal.
Shaneen Davis, 19 years old had been walking home from a friend’s house party. The high school team had just won and would be heading to states the week later. She’d tossed back a few less than the majority of the partygoers and had left just before the cops had arrived to break it up. The walk from Stacy Homer’s house to the bus stop was about a 15-minute walk but Shaneen never made it.
Buffy had only gotten snippets of what happened before she was taken. She wished the same could be said for after. Cold, clammy hands wrapped tightly around her forearm, spinning her around. Her feet stumbled under her and she reached out, grasping at the person to steady herself. A sharp pain shot up through her ankle as she teetered precariously on her Jimmy Choos.
“Shit!” Her fingers grabbed a handful of worn leather before she started to laugh. She knew those last few shots hadn’t been a good idea, but hell, who could resist those White Chinas. Besides it wasn’t often that Stacy’s dad, Joe, left her home alone for a weekend. In fact after the last year’s spring formal party she was surprised Joe let her out of his sights. Stacy was convinced that when her would be step-mom, Gwen batted those baby blues and slipped on her ‘fuck-me-pumps’ Joe was in no ‘position’ to deny the blonde much. Shaneen still couldn’t look Joe in the eyes after Stacy and she had stumbled across them in their hot tub.
Muffling her laughter she tried to wipe off the drunken smile from her glossy pink lips. “I’m sorry.” Releasing her grip she flipped her raven black hair over her shoulder. Taking a step backwards to steady herself, she looked at the man in front of her. Gorgeous was the first word that popped in her head after ‘yum’.
“Little late for a walk.”
The condescending tone in the man’s voice raised her hackles. Placing a freshly manicured hand on her jutted out hip she scowled. “Says who?”
Her throat tightened as the man leered at her, fingers twitched nervously as he licked his lips while his eyes trailed down her shapely tight jean covered legs. “I should…”
“Go?” The stranger smirked. “Not yet.”
During the whole nightmare Buffy had never been able to see the man’s face. He was a body without a head; the only description she could offer was his voice. It was a deep baritone and he hissed out his words except for when he was groaning inside of her. Her stomach twisted and lurched, as the memories surfaced, like a shark shooting from the depths towards its prey. “All the same.” He slid the knife down her exposed navel and delighted in feeling her shudder underneath him. So responsive was his new toy. So willing to play whatever games he was in the mood for. Replacing the knife with his hand he grabbed at the soft supple flesh before moving up. With a flick, his thumb skimmed over her nipple.
Shaneen bit her top lip and the taste of coopery blood invaded her mouth once more. The urge to fight him was strong but that only seemed to make him more eager.
Tilting his head to the side her grabbed her bound wrist and slammed it back down. Quickly he leaned forward and nuzzled her neck.
She felt his warmth breath against her neck and stiffened.
“You smell…” He shuddered against her before pushing back on his haunches and thrusting inside her. “Amazing!” With a swift motion he raised the knife and drove it into her open palm.
Her breath came out in shallow gasps and as her vision blurred Buffy bent over, putting her head between her legs. Seconds dragged on like hours before she dared straighten herself. Reaching for a cup from the cabinet she filled it with cold tap water.
Her green eyes squinted as the clouds parted and a stream of bright morning sun came through her kitchen window.
Buffy had discovered that morning that these dreams were different then the Slayer ones. While she felt everything that the victim did she’d also wake up with a few keepsakes, which was new and beyond creepy. Bruises, cuts, shakes and a few times a dislocated shoulder or cracked ribs. In a few days all traces would disappear except for the memories and those were always in Technicolor surround sound.
Going to the police had been her idea and she’d never passed the information on to Giles or Dawn. She didn’t want them to worry. When she walked into the bullpen it had been a frenzy of commotion. Officers were racing from office to office and the phones were ringing off the hook. She’d caught bits and pieces and what she heard chilled her. A local girl had gone missing, more specifically Shaneen Davis had gone missing.
The Sheriff’s department refused to believe her story and seemed to believe that perhaps she was another victim. They’d taken photographs of the bruising and questioned her relentlessly. Dekker, the Sheriff, had knocked on her door two days later. They’d found Shaneen in the coffin, just like Buffy had told them, just like how she lived through it in both real life and her dream.
The doorbell went off again, in a loud chorus of ear-splitting noise, interrupting her wandering mind and reminding her that there was still someone at her door.
Rubbing her hand over her face she pushed away the few loose strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail. With a tug she straightened her tee before she unlocked and yanked the door open.
Buffy took in the man; his face was tanned and serious. The jagged looking scar on his face managed to somehow make him look both mangled and striking. Dark brown, almost black hair had a streak of white running through it; she idly wondered what events had caused it. Standing casually his eyes locked onto her own and even without the faint tingle that began to thread its way through her back she knew that the man in front of her wasn’t Joe Normal.
“Ms. Buffy Summers?”
Before she had even decided if she wanted to offer up her name she’d nodded her head. She again cursed the freight train that was running a loop through her mind. If she’d been paying a bit more attention she would’ve noticed the way the man offered a hint of a smirk before schooling his features.
“Ms. Summers, I’m Noah Bishop, from the FBI.”~fin~
Completed: December 10, 2008