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Summary: Alternate resolution to "The Gift". Death was Buffy's Gift, but even Death may have a gift for Buffy. Crossover with Neil Gaiman's "Sandman"

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
DC Universe > SandmanKirayoshiFR151134,3531510,1318 Dec 038 Dec 03Yes

Places of Origin(by Mad Hamlet)

Places of Origin
By Mad-Hamlet

When she lifted her head up she found she way lying on grass.

"Ooh nooo." She moaned. "Grass stains! They’ll never come out!"

With a sigh Glory pulled herself to a seating position. She began brushing off what dirt and grime she could but wasn’t having a lot of luck.

"Super strength, speed, toughness…sure but can I get dirt out? Feh, not a chance." She kept brushing ineffectively at the mud and grass. "This outfit is a total loss." She moaned. "But hey! That means I can get another. Yeah, that’s cool."

" soon as I find a mall." She looked around, only then realizing she was not alone.
Surrounding her stood three ...people. Sort of.

The one to her left looked like a scarecrow. In fact he was a scarecrow. Dressed in banged up overalls, a flannel shirt and heavy boots. His hands were sticks tied together with unraveling twine, and his head...his head was a pumpkin. He was also smoking a cigar and leering at her. How a pumpkin would leer remains a mystery but it was a leer. From a pumpkin. Smoking a cigar.

The one to her right looked far more normal. Other than the white hair, pale skin, and sunglasses. A black t-shirt was stretched over a well muscled, but slim, frame. His blue jeans were spotless ending just above the ankle, revealing the bottoms of black, steel tipped cowboy boots.

His white hair was pulled into a ponytail that hung down to the small of his back while the sunglasses completely concealed his eyes. He wasn’t looking at her though, just scuffling the toe of one boot into the earth, smoking a cigarette.

But it was the one between these two others that commanded her attention.
He was dressed similar to the white haired one. Gray t-shirt, gray jeans. Clean, if a little rumbled. However that was where any semblance of normalcy ended. He had white skin and jet black hair. Jet black, spiky hair that went every direction. That was fair enough though, it was his eyes that separated him from the rest, the wheat from the chaff. Old, black eyes stared down into hers. Perfect obsidian in every way except at their very center where a small speck of light did shine.

He also possessed a sense of majesty, of time immeasurable about him. Yes, this was definitely the leader.

‘Suits me.’ Glory thought. ‘Saves me the trouble of tracking this gomer down before I kill him and take over.’

"Welcome...Glorificus." The black-eyed man spoke quietly.

"Great, you know my name." Glory said standing up, she brushed her knees off, examining a run in her left stocking.

"Yes. We do. We did, after all, create you."

"Come again?" Glory cocked an eyebrow. "News-flash bud, I’m a God. A Hellgod to be precise. Y’know…God. Immortal, undying, eternal. No beginning no ending. Hello? Any of this mean anything to you bright eyes? And I mean that in the literal sense."

A small smile graced his lips. "Yes. Yes these are all true as you say, but I did create you."

"Yeah…sure, whatever. Look, can we get to the killing now? Cause if I’m gonna take over…y’know...schedules etc. C’mon, chop chop." She tapped her wrist where most people wore a watch.

The smile vanished. "Killing? Me? You really do not remember?"

"Remember what?" Glory sneered. "Lets see. I recall…that I’m a Hellgod. I like to kill, torture, punish, burn and…Oh yes, chew with my mouth open."

The pumpkin spoke. He had a gravelly coarse voice. "Sure we got the right one boss?" He spit the end of his cigar out.

The black haired man referred to as ’boss’ put a finger to him temple. "Yes...yes I’m sure, Merv. Still..." He turned his gaze back to Glory.

"You misunderstand." He said calmly. "This is the land of Dreams. The Dreaming. I am its Lord. This is the place where Gods are born." He paused. "And where they come to die."

"Die?" Glory’s eyes bulged. "Gods can’t die. It’s part of the job description. Though I like the part about killing and maiming more."

"Perhaps and perhaps not." Dream replied. "But this is where you are. You have forgotten your place Glory. I will explain. I created you. Long ago, you were a Nightmare; then the humans began to believe in you. This gave you power and I stepped aside allowing you to have your place and time. It is done now, and you can take back your original calling."

"Huh? What?" Glory looked up from examining her nails. "Do any of you guys got a press-on kit?"

The white haired man shook his head slightly but said nothing.

"You must remember your duties Glorificus." Dream man said. "You will need to be retrained. My...assistant here…" And he gestured to the white haired man. "...Shall instruct you."

"Great!" Glory chuckled. "I’ll kill him first, then you, take over and have a little fun till I can get back to that SlayBitch!"

So saying she flung herself, hands outstretched at the white haired man, intent on shoving her fingers into his temples and feasting on his mind.

Her scream of agony surprised no one there and was swallowed up by the mists surrounding the small party. Sinking to her knees, Glory pulled the mangled ruin of her left hand to her breast. Red blood streamed down over the stubs of two fingers that had been severed, along her forearm to pool in the dark grass, staining a small, but growing circle, to that of a bright crimson.

"My...fingers." She sobbed. "He...he bit off my fingers with his eyes!"

The white haired man bent down and retrieved his sunglasses that had been knocked off in the impromptu scuffle. He smiled at her while brushing them off, almost white lips pulling back over even whiter teeth. Then he smiled at her with his eyes. Not like others, he did it literally for he had no actual eyeballs, but where they were supposed to be, he had teeth.
He slipped the sunglasses back on and carefully whipped a bloodstain off his cheek with the back of one hand.

"Yes." Dream said in a neutral tone. "The Corinthian, he is one of my more...fervent creations." He turned his gaze from the sobbing woman to the Corinthian. "Train her well, prepare for her duties but do not kill or cripple her. She is to again be a nightmare, not destroyed. Do you understand?"

The Corinthian gave a flourished bow. "Oh yes, lord of the Dreaming." Everyone ignored his growled "Ponce." They’d heard it before.

The Corinthian knelt down next to Glory. "Let me see that toots. C’mon, I won’t hurt you…yet." He pulled the injured limb so he could get a closer ’look’ at it. "Aww…thass nothing babe. You’ll be fine in a jiffy. Still, I’ll kiss it and make it all better."

Before Glory could react he had smeared his lips bloody with the stumps.

"Couldn’t help myself." He grinned. "Yer just so tasty!" He licked the stumps one last time before standing back up.

"But...but I’m a God!" Glory whimpered.

"You were toots." The pumpkin smiled poking in her direction with his stogie. "Now yer a nightmare, a dream, again. Relax, it’ll be fun, you’ll get into it."

The Corinthian nudged her with the toe of his right boot. "After yer... ‘trainin’ of course."
He was still smiling.

He stood back up. "Now missy, I like you. You got attitude. You got...gumption…you got...chutzpah."

The pumpkin grinned around his cigar. "Chutzpah?"

The Corinthian ignored him. "So…cause I like ya, and you did give me a feedin’, I’ll give you ...a ten second head start."

Hiding his face in his hands the Corinthian began to count; "One Mississippi, two Mississippi..."

Choking down another sob, Glory lurched to her feet, kicked off her high heels and made a break for the cover of the nearby woods that had not been there a second ago.

"Corinthian." Dream said quietly, the white haired man didn’t stop counting. "Make sure she does not, nor you, enter Fiddler’s Green. He does not like others walking, or running, upon him."

Without interrupting his count the Corinthian nodded.

"...Ten Mississippi! Ready or not here I come!" With a whoop and a leap he disappeared into the tree line.

Dream watched all this, saying nothing, though Merv had a running commentary with a stray daydream that had wandered by.

"...give you ten to one odds she doesn’t last five minutes." Dream overheard.

He wouldn’t take that bet.

The End

You have reached the end of "Return". This story is complete.

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