Title: The Special Hell
Spoilers: S 4 of Buffy and all of Firefly
Disclaimer: Joss owns all - literally in this case.
Summary: What really happens to you when you die? Forrest is about to find out. 20 minutes with Forrest.
A/N: I finally got my DVD player working again (which means I got to watch Firefly again), and I had wanted to do a quick fic, and well - this idea popped in my head.
Forrest wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. He remembered following Buffy to the cave. He remembered yelling at her. Then he remembered feeling oddly cold. The rest was like a really bad dream he wasn’t positive he wanted to remember. He shuddered as he stared around the dull looking surroundings.
There was nothing at all that could be considered a defining characteristic. The walls were a smoky white, and the ground was a pasty, sickly looking dark gray. He wasn’t wearing his standard issue clothing. In fact, they were beige and well - not something he
was known for wearing ever
. He turned at the sound of a well-placed hmm
There, just behind him, in a place that had not been there before, was a man. He was a tall, white haired older man. His arms were behind him, and a slim white collar emerged from his light gray shirt. He reminded Forrest of a preacher he’d known when he was a child.
“Ah, glad to see you can hear me. Last person I had here, well, she couldn’t follow most of my logic.” He said sadly.
“Who are you?”
“Oh, well, I suspect that be mighty hard to explain.”
“Where am I?” Forrest demanded, clenching his fists.
“Well, that’s a mite easier to explain, son. Seems you’ve done some things that are not to be overlooked.”
“Like betraying your friends.” Gone was the sympathetic preacher.
It became haunting clear where he was. He must be in hell. He hadn’t even realized he said it.
“Well, that’s not exactly it. You see, you’re in the special
hell. The one they reserve for child molesters and people who talk in the theater.” The preacher said in a straight face, his arms still held tightly behind him. Then the oddest thing happened. A smile broke out onto the older man’s face. “No, you‘re not in hell. And no, I’m not here to condemn you son. I am you.”
“I am what you become, in the future.”
“But I’m dead.”
“Yes, but I’m just about to be born.” The preacher smiled. “And I will be a man of God in a future that believes in many gods.”
“So, I’m not going to the special hell?” Forrest asked nervously.
“No more than I am, son. No more than I.”
The preacher took him by the arm and led him through a bright corridor. Well, whatever this future had in store for him, it had to be better than Sunnydale.