Chapter 2: Out of Body, Leave a Message
Mar. 22nd, 2018 11:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerI'm already up to 700%, plus my anxiety levels are rising greatly as well. And I might have to do the same things next week. Hurrah.
~Dreamer~
Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Bleach (I Hope Tomorrow's a Better Day)
Chapter Summary: Xander's bad day is just getting worse.
Word Count: 1770
Rating: Gen
He’s in a cave. And across from him slumped over that altar thing, unless he’s very much mistaken, is his body. He isn’t used to seeing it like this, of course, isn’t used to seeing it at all from the outside like he’s in some kind of clichéd horror game, but that slumped body with…the sword’s hilt sticking out…of the back….
The dripping, now, looks like his blood, trickling down off the altar and into a groove on the floor. They’re surprisingly well prepared, given the usual quality of cultists they have to deal with in Sunnydale.
And he can see those chanting people now, in ornate robes that screamed chaos and evil at him. He’d have to bring up the possibility for an evil store chain that sold uniforms to evil people at the next Scooby meeting. If it existed, that’d probably be a really good lead in finding the next group of nasties before they did anything.
He quickly gets to his feet and then realizes that somehow he’s wearing different clothes now, too. His Hawaiian shirt over there which he’d recognize anywhere is all covered in blood. He’s ruining it, he thinks, detached. He’ll have to buy a new one. Meanwhile, conscious, alive him is in some sort of black robes and Japanese-style sandals and socks. And that weight at his side…
He glances down to see a sword sticking out of his sash. The same sword sticking out of him, over there on the floor. When he takes it out and examines it, it’s your average katana, just in all black.
“What the hell’s going on?” he wonders out loud. It’s hard to tell whether he should be more than a little hysterical about this or whether it was just the strangest dream ever.
And then he hears people approaching, bursting into the cavern. Willow gasps, staring at his body broken, while Riley, Buffy, and Giles begin fighting the cultists grimly.
“I'm okay, Wills! I'm over here!” Well, it’s true that he doesn’t really know how ‘okay’ he can be when he’s having some sort of weird out of body experience, but he’s awake and aware over here and that’s what matters, right? But there’s no reaction. She just stands there, trembling, watching his limp form like she’s in some sort of shock. That can be deadly in Sunnydale. Seriously, he’s in shock, too, but just standing there in the middle of a fighting zone isn’t a great idea. Particularly when another cultist with a crimson-dyed knife (not, as far as he can tell, from blood, just from some weird probably evil technique for making the thing) is sneaking up on her, and she’s just standing there, and the other combatants seem a little too distracted with their particular fights to notice.
“You’re not going to hurt her!” he bellows, even though nobody’s paying attention, and he charges. He’s across the room faster than he would’ve thought. He must’ve overestimated how far away she was, but then, given whatever was going on, that would make sense, right? He’s a little in shock himself.
Apparently, he can still run into people and knock them over, which is a great sign because it means he’s not dead. As far as he knows, ghosts can’t interact with the living world as well as that. Even poltergeists just throw around teapots, or something. Well, as far as he knows. He’ll look that up as soon as his friends figure out how to put him back in his body, which they can because they’re amazing and if anyone can figure out how, it’s Giles. He stands there grinning at the jerk before Riley pushes him out of the way without realizing he was there. "Hey!" Still no reaction.
They have this whole thing in hand, it looks like, and Riley’s even paying attention to Willow now. One of the cultists is running for the entrance where his friends all made their impressive entrance, which he guesses probably leads to the outside, and people and/or demons escaping has been a problem for them before, so he turns to follow and sprints after the fleeing figure.
The bad guy only reaches the next cavern before he brings it down by tackling the feet. When it finally turns over with scrabbling on both their parts, he finally sees the ugly blue face and some part of him says oni and some part of him just says it’s a demon and the next thing he knows the sword’s in his hand and the demon’s babbling something about reapers which doesn’t make any sense.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a British voice he unfortunately recognizes states quietly, like he doesn’t actually care one way or another, and for an instant he almost ignores the advice until it suddenly occurs to him that Spike of all people can actually see him, at which point he turns toward the vampire, eyes wide.
The master vampire stands from where he’d been sitting on the rock, hands held out in some sort of ‘but, you know, it’s your life, mate’ gesture, and begins prowling closer. Xander suddenly isn’t sure whether his priority is to defend himself from Spike or this cultist demon. “I mean, it’s up to you whether or not you want to use some sort of ancient and powerful sword, but I prefer,” he states smoothly, reaching down to twist off the demon’s head in one fluid movement, and dropping it unceremoniously, “…the old-fashioned ways. Besides, you never know where something like that’s been.”
“My body,” he answers instantly, and blushes a little because he’s said something dumb again. Spike cocks his head to the side a little, smirk firmly in place. You think you’d get used to words not cooperating eventually, but no. Babble more, that’ll certainly distract everyone from dumb things you have said. “Why are you not in there?” He points a thumb back at the cavern.
“What, and risk friendly fire from our neighborhood soldier boy?” the vampire drawls, eyes dark. He certainly seems to be enjoying this, but then, a Scooby in trouble? Why would he not get a kick from that? “Why are you speaking Japanese?”
“What? I’m not—” he starts to disagree, before he realizes that one of those words was nani which he only knows from watching a couple anime tapes he’d managed to get from the local video store man, and that’s definitely a Japanese word, not an English one. “I’m speaking Japanese?” he asks, definitely more subdued, and yeah. There’s something wrong. He’s thinking in English—at least, he thinks he’s thinking in English—and the sentences he’s about to say are English, as far as he knows, but when it comes time to actually say them something weird happens between his brain and his mouth. And he wouldn’t even realize he wasn’t speaking English if Spike hadn’t pointed it out.
“I’m speaking Japanese too, whelp,” the vampire says with a weird smile, and that’s when he realizes that the vampire’s still a little too close for comfort and backs up in a hurry. That definitely amuses Spike. “Something strong but delicate about their blood. Subtle-like,” he says, and licks his lips, and yeah, the vampire definitely hasn’t gotten his walkies if he’s getting this predatory and trying to rattle Xander when he’s still practically toothless.
“Maybe you should write a guidebook,” he suggests sarcastically, because it’s not like that’s the sort of information he’ll ever want to know, but someone out there might find it interesting. Like comparing a selection of wines. Of course, the only people interested would be demons or vampires, but…okay, yeah, he’s overthinking this.
“Well, I’d call it an improvement over your usual outfit, but—pet, you said something about an unpleasant encounter with that sword?”
It’s probably not the best idea to tell Spike, but he’s the only one who’s seen him so far. For the moment he’s being nice, though that’s probably just because he’s enjoying himself for now. “Well, you’ve seen I can hurt things which might include you if you use the fact that they can’t hear me against me or my friends.” The vampire widens his eyes innocently, but Xander just rolls his. “Oh, yeah, like you’re the Poster Boy of the Trustworthy club. I could always make sure you’re the next one having an unpleasant encounter with this sword.”
Spike shivers a little. “Would you say that again?” he asks flirtatiously.
Xander doesn’t rise to the bait—and he’s lucky he didn’t say that out loud, too. He’s already all out of surprise and shock today, maybe. “You need to get laid—and no, that’s not an offer.”
“Probably,” the blond agrees, not put out in the slightest. Just a little sad. Nostalgic, maybe. It’s the most human he’s sounded, as far as Xander knows. “So, the sword.”
“They stabbed it through my chest. Then, I woke up like this.” He thinks about it for a minute, before he adds, “I already said it, but the others can’t see me. Why you?”
“I’m dead, mate,” Spike offers, but Xander shakes his head.
“I’m not dead.” He lets his hand fall to his side. Spike can’t see his hands shake. He has to be firm on that point, because if he isn’t, he’s not sure what he’ll do.
“It’s the most likely explanation, but I’m no bloody Watcher, either.” He’s being gentle, which is honestly kind of freaky, but it’s probably the best way to mess with the Xander right now. He’s definitely bored. “Being dead ain’t the end of the world. It’s a lot more fun than being alive, in fact, particularly when you can still hurt others—and you can.” He doesn’t mention that he can, but then, they knew that.
“I’ll take your word for it, not being dead myself. Or, well, if I haven’t moved on, I’m probably good to just put back in my body. Somehow.” He’ll be okay. Right?
That dangerous smirk. That’s more normal. “Assumin’ you didn’t just get possessed by a cursed sword or summat, yeah. But it sounds like they’re finishin’ up in there, so we can find out soon enough, yeah?”
He grits his teeth, because thanks Spike, that’s exactly what he’d been trying not to think about, and gestures for the blond to go first. He does with a smirk.
~Dreamer~
Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Bleach (I Hope Tomorrow's a Better Day)
Chapter Summary: Xander's bad day is just getting worse.
Word Count: 1770
Rating: Gen
Xander’s surprised to wake up with only a bit of pain. He sits up rubbing his head. “Maaan, I gotta cut out on the late-night horror mov—” And then he stops still.
He’s in a cave. And across from him slumped over that altar thing, unless he’s very much mistaken, is his body. He isn’t used to seeing it like this, of course, isn’t used to seeing it at all from the outside like he’s in some kind of clichéd horror game, but that slumped body with…the sword’s hilt sticking out…of the back….
The dripping, now, looks like his blood, trickling down off the altar and into a groove on the floor. They’re surprisingly well prepared, given the usual quality of cultists they have to deal with in Sunnydale.
And he can see those chanting people now, in ornate robes that screamed chaos and evil at him. He’d have to bring up the possibility for an evil store chain that sold uniforms to evil people at the next Scooby meeting. If it existed, that’d probably be a really good lead in finding the next group of nasties before they did anything.
He quickly gets to his feet and then realizes that somehow he’s wearing different clothes now, too. His Hawaiian shirt over there which he’d recognize anywhere is all covered in blood. He’s ruining it, he thinks, detached. He’ll have to buy a new one. Meanwhile, conscious, alive him is in some sort of black robes and Japanese-style sandals and socks. And that weight at his side…
He glances down to see a sword sticking out of his sash. The same sword sticking out of him, over there on the floor. When he takes it out and examines it, it’s your average katana, just in all black.
“What the hell’s going on?” he wonders out loud. It’s hard to tell whether he should be more than a little hysterical about this or whether it was just the strangest dream ever.
And then he hears people approaching, bursting into the cavern. Willow gasps, staring at his body broken, while Riley, Buffy, and Giles begin fighting the cultists grimly.
“I'm okay, Wills! I'm over here!” Well, it’s true that he doesn’t really know how ‘okay’ he can be when he’s having some sort of weird out of body experience, but he’s awake and aware over here and that’s what matters, right? But there’s no reaction. She just stands there, trembling, watching his limp form like she’s in some sort of shock. That can be deadly in Sunnydale. Seriously, he’s in shock, too, but just standing there in the middle of a fighting zone isn’t a great idea. Particularly when another cultist with a crimson-dyed knife (not, as far as he can tell, from blood, just from some weird probably evil technique for making the thing) is sneaking up on her, and she’s just standing there, and the other combatants seem a little too distracted with their particular fights to notice.
“You’re not going to hurt her!” he bellows, even though nobody’s paying attention, and he charges. He’s across the room faster than he would’ve thought. He must’ve overestimated how far away she was, but then, given whatever was going on, that would make sense, right? He’s a little in shock himself.
Apparently, he can still run into people and knock them over, which is a great sign because it means he’s not dead. As far as he knows, ghosts can’t interact with the living world as well as that. Even poltergeists just throw around teapots, or something. Well, as far as he knows. He’ll look that up as soon as his friends figure out how to put him back in his body, which they can because they’re amazing and if anyone can figure out how, it’s Giles. He stands there grinning at the jerk before Riley pushes him out of the way without realizing he was there. "Hey!" Still no reaction.
They have this whole thing in hand, it looks like, and Riley’s even paying attention to Willow now. One of the cultists is running for the entrance where his friends all made their impressive entrance, which he guesses probably leads to the outside, and people and/or demons escaping has been a problem for them before, so he turns to follow and sprints after the fleeing figure.
The bad guy only reaches the next cavern before he brings it down by tackling the feet. When it finally turns over with scrabbling on both their parts, he finally sees the ugly blue face and some part of him says oni and some part of him just says it’s a demon and the next thing he knows the sword’s in his hand and the demon’s babbling something about reapers which doesn’t make any sense.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a British voice he unfortunately recognizes states quietly, like he doesn’t actually care one way or another, and for an instant he almost ignores the advice until it suddenly occurs to him that Spike of all people can actually see him, at which point he turns toward the vampire, eyes wide.
The master vampire stands from where he’d been sitting on the rock, hands held out in some sort of ‘but, you know, it’s your life, mate’ gesture, and begins prowling closer. Xander suddenly isn’t sure whether his priority is to defend himself from Spike or this cultist demon. “I mean, it’s up to you whether or not you want to use some sort of ancient and powerful sword, but I prefer,” he states smoothly, reaching down to twist off the demon’s head in one fluid movement, and dropping it unceremoniously, “…the old-fashioned ways. Besides, you never know where something like that’s been.”
“My body,” he answers instantly, and blushes a little because he’s said something dumb again. Spike cocks his head to the side a little, smirk firmly in place. You think you’d get used to words not cooperating eventually, but no. Babble more, that’ll certainly distract everyone from dumb things you have said. “Why are you not in there?” He points a thumb back at the cavern.
“What, and risk friendly fire from our neighborhood soldier boy?” the vampire drawls, eyes dark. He certainly seems to be enjoying this, but then, a Scooby in trouble? Why would he not get a kick from that? “Why are you speaking Japanese?”
“What? I’m not—” he starts to disagree, before he realizes that one of those words was nani which he only knows from watching a couple anime tapes he’d managed to get from the local video store man, and that’s definitely a Japanese word, not an English one. “I’m speaking Japanese?” he asks, definitely more subdued, and yeah. There’s something wrong. He’s thinking in English—at least, he thinks he’s thinking in English—and the sentences he’s about to say are English, as far as he knows, but when it comes time to actually say them something weird happens between his brain and his mouth. And he wouldn’t even realize he wasn’t speaking English if Spike hadn’t pointed it out.
“I’m speaking Japanese too, whelp,” the vampire says with a weird smile, and that’s when he realizes that the vampire’s still a little too close for comfort and backs up in a hurry. That definitely amuses Spike. “Something strong but delicate about their blood. Subtle-like,” he says, and licks his lips, and yeah, the vampire definitely hasn’t gotten his walkies if he’s getting this predatory and trying to rattle Xander when he’s still practically toothless.
“Maybe you should write a guidebook,” he suggests sarcastically, because it’s not like that’s the sort of information he’ll ever want to know, but someone out there might find it interesting. Like comparing a selection of wines. Of course, the only people interested would be demons or vampires, but…okay, yeah, he’s overthinking this.
“Well, I’d call it an improvement over your usual outfit, but—pet, you said something about an unpleasant encounter with that sword?”
It’s probably not the best idea to tell Spike, but he’s the only one who’s seen him so far. For the moment he’s being nice, though that’s probably just because he’s enjoying himself for now. “Well, you’ve seen I can hurt things which might include you if you use the fact that they can’t hear me against me or my friends.” The vampire widens his eyes innocently, but Xander just rolls his. “Oh, yeah, like you’re the Poster Boy of the Trustworthy club. I could always make sure you’re the next one having an unpleasant encounter with this sword.”
Spike shivers a little. “Would you say that again?” he asks flirtatiously.
Xander doesn’t rise to the bait—and he’s lucky he didn’t say that out loud, too. He’s already all out of surprise and shock today, maybe. “You need to get laid—and no, that’s not an offer.”
“Probably,” the blond agrees, not put out in the slightest. Just a little sad. Nostalgic, maybe. It’s the most human he’s sounded, as far as Xander knows. “So, the sword.”
“They stabbed it through my chest. Then, I woke up like this.” He thinks about it for a minute, before he adds, “I already said it, but the others can’t see me. Why you?”
“I’m dead, mate,” Spike offers, but Xander shakes his head.
“I’m not dead.” He lets his hand fall to his side. Spike can’t see his hands shake. He has to be firm on that point, because if he isn’t, he’s not sure what he’ll do.
“It’s the most likely explanation, but I’m no bloody Watcher, either.” He’s being gentle, which is honestly kind of freaky, but it’s probably the best way to mess with the Xander right now. He’s definitely bored. “Being dead ain’t the end of the world. It’s a lot more fun than being alive, in fact, particularly when you can still hurt others—and you can.” He doesn’t mention that he can, but then, they knew that.
“I’ll take your word for it, not being dead myself. Or, well, if I haven’t moved on, I’m probably good to just put back in my body. Somehow.” He’ll be okay. Right?
That dangerous smirk. That’s more normal. “Assumin’ you didn’t just get possessed by a cursed sword or summat, yeah. But it sounds like they’re finishin’ up in there, so we can find out soon enough, yeah?”
He grits his teeth, because thanks Spike, that’s exactly what he’d been trying not to think about, and gestures for the blond to go first. He does with a smirk.
