Restless dream
"I think it’s strange," Willow says. She’s typing on her label maker, printing out ribbon after ribbon of words that she doesn’t bother to read.
"What?" Peter asks. He's lounging on her bed, bare-chested and shaggy haired.
"Things don't have names yet," Willow says. She looks at Peter. "Things need to be named."
Peter shrugs. "I am not the one who names things."
"I can do it," Willow tells him. She stands up and looks around the room. Some things have white labels on them and others have dark circles that make her eyes hurt. "I could help."
"You would be a namer?" Peter asks.
"I'm not a namer," Willow says. She looks down at her hands. The green buttons of the label maker glow, overwhelming the blue of the machine's plastic. "I'm a very thin tablecloth."
Peter sits up. "I wouldn't have imagined you for service."
"Service is all I've ever thought I could do," Willow replies. The label maker flashes at her: No ribbon. Message forgotten.
"It's a large sink," Peter says.
"Would you stop drinking?" Willow asks him.
Peter is standing. The room goes black-white-black as Peter appears in and out of his robes and crown. Willow thinks she sees four thrones behind him but the images are gone and she forgets how to count. "That's not mine to answer."
Another flash. There are shadows behind the thrones that are of thrones and not of thrones and the sight of them makes Willow cold and scared.
"I'm out of tape." She clutches the label maker to her chest.
Peter stands in front of her. His blue eyes look into hers. "You'll get more."
"I don't think you understand how important tape is to me," Willow says. "All office supplies, actually."
Peter puts his hand behind her right ear and produces a cyan coloured highlighter. "I can learn."
"You hate school," Willow says. "Also I did not fail to notice that you have added U's to my things."
"Is that a problem?" Peter asks.
"Only if you ignore how 60% of me is made of warm snow," Willow replies.
"There is more to life than lessons." Peter goes back to the bed and slips on a long t-shirt which he belts like his tunic.
Willow bites her lower lip. "That can't be true."
"Now who's ignoring the sand?" Peter slips his sword and scabbard on over his chest. The sword quivers and sounds like tiny horses running down a rainstick.
"If you want a trip to the beach just say so," Willow tells him.
Peter nods. "Later. I have a white train to catch."
"No!" Willow shouts and goes to follow him but the hallway changes as she steps through the door and she can't see Peter or remember what he was wearing.
"Willow!" Marie grabs Willow's wrist with a gloved hand. "I'm so glad you're here! The year's halfway over and I forgot my crayons."
Willow looks behind her and sees a hallway of nothing. "I think I left my supplies in my locker."
"No time now," Marie says. She drags Willow along with her. Underneath their feet is a people mover which moves in the opposite direction, keeping them from advancing a single step even though Jamie after Jamie passes by outside of the railing, each one carrying things like potted plants and water coolers to make it seem as though the scene is changing. "They expect you in class or you'll never get your condoms."
"I thought I handed in all the forms," Willow says. She sees a gremlin pass by, wearing a sticker which reads Hello, My Name is: Jamie (except when it's not). "I told them I'd be taking months off. Peter's expecting me at the station only I can't remember the gate and my ticket is black but maybe they'll let me exchange it?"
They get off the people mover. They're in an airport now, passing by gift shops filled with pets and magazines, food courts that are closed, and squirrels making announcements from behind microphones.
California flight now arriving at Gate 7. Paris, Gate 8. Gate 9 is arriving at Gate 11. Remember that unattended packages will be eaten.
"How do they manage to do that without their lips moving?" Willow asks. She's so busy watching a squirrel that she almost doesn't notice the bald, besuited man who's now standing in her way.
He gets her attention when he holds up a slice of cheese. "Only 64 shopping days until Cheesemas."
Willow frowns. Her hand is grabbed by Marie again.
"Come on!" Marie says. They start to run, the solid wall of the airport vanishes as they go towards the tarmac. A large silver plane is there, thick and round like something out of a black and white movie. Its propellers were already spinning. "We're late for class!"
Willow gets in line behind her classmates as they start up the stairs. "Didn't I take this one already?"
"You have to do the lab," Marie tells her. She tugs on Willow's hand so that they're facing each other. "Sit near the middle, don't trip the stewardess, and don't kiss me because then everyone will die."
"I thought it was your skin that - " Willow starts to say, but she's in her seat now and buckling up along with everyone else. She looks around and sees Anders reading a magazine that he's holding upside down, and Seely listening to a walkman while playing a rocking air triangle.
"Okay kids," Hades says. He's at the front of the plane, making elaborate miming gestures to go along with his words. "We have to taxi five hundred miles before takeoff. The in-flight movie is that new one with that actor Willow really likes playing the role of the gay lover of that other actor Willow really likes, only whenever Willow tries to look at the monitor located in the back of the seat right next to her she's not going to be able to see it. Which is a shame because the movie has a lot of boykissy."
Willow tries to turn her head. A swath of black appears over anything she attempts to focus on.
"Don't hit your head on the chandeliers when you stand," Hades adds. "The mall will not be open until 4pm, and remember that the one thing worse than finding a worm in your apple is the Holocaust."
Announcements concluded, Hades puts on a pilot hat that has the top cut out so that his flaming hair can shine through. He enters the cockpit to steer the plane, the inside of which is now ten times larger than before and decorated with rich golds and reds, like something out of a mansion, or an old-fashioned luxury liner.
As the plane taxis Willow gets out of her seat. She looks through the small airplane window and watches the scenery go by - Sunnydale, Fandom, grassy field, desert wasteland, dark hairy shape that's ready to -
Willow jerks back from the window. She moves quickly, running up a thickly carpeted staircase and then making a sharp turn so that she can go past the stainless steel kitchens where hundreds of people prepare the airplane's food, and then past the bathrooms that all say "Mens," and then past the dark arcades where the pinball machines don't work.
A wooden staircase that's rough and filled with splinters leads her into a hallway that's pitch black. Willow turns and can't find the way that she came.
"This is very confusing," Peter says. He's wearing his Narnia clothes and is carrying a flaming torch for light.
"No kidding!" Willow reaches out to clutch his hand. "Nobody ever told me that I was in flight school! And how the heck is a girl supposed to refill her label maker when the stores only open after dark?"
"Shopping's over and done with now," Peter says. "You missed the boat."
"Okay, I realize that we're from different times and all but from now on? We pick a form of transportation and stick to it." Willow says in her firmest voice. "I don't even want to ask where our luggage ended up."
"I've already traveled," Peter said. "I can't help you with that."
Willow remembers the flash outside of the window. She whispers, "Is something following me?"
Peter looks sad. "I can't help you with that either."
"Let's just leave," Willow says. She starts to pat down the walls to find a door. "We'll go. It'll be fine if we just - "
Willow looks over her shoulder. The light is gone. So is Peter. She has no time to think about this as two hands come through the wall, grabbing hers and yanking her in the direction of white rags and a ghostly face.
Willow screams. She pulls back and falls to the floor. She tries to move but her body is heavy and her eyes won't open.
Suddenly there is a doorway. "Will!"
She's grabbed again, this time by Buffy who drags her into a sunlit classroom then slams the door shut behind her.
"Buffy!" Willow says, joyfully. She hugs her friend tight. She realizes that this is her Buffy, with a kerchief tied in her hair and a shirt with a back made only of ribbons.
Buffy's hug is Slayer-strong and painful. She lets go, looking at Willow with eyes that are bright and earnest. "Willow! Are you okay? Everybody here's been so not worried about you!"
The friendly tone overlaps and conceals the negative. "I know, I know," Willow says, chagrined. "But I've been busy with so many things. Things that would make Sunnydale seem normal by comparison, though I know we always thought that'd never be possible."
"Your parents haven't been calling day and night," Buffy tells her. She's smiling now, as though this is good news. "And nobody's noticed that we don't have to pretend to ignore you anymore!"
"I…" Willow tries to find the clues that indicate Buffy's joking. "I know I haven't been so great with the emailing myself these days, but - "
There's a pounding on the door. Buffy crouches down and indicates that Willow should follow her. "Did you see what it was?"
"Not really," Willow admits.
Buffy nods as though this was expected. "It already knows about you. No wonder it wants you dead."
Willow gasps. "Buffy!"
Buffy gives her a dry look. "C'mon, Will. Everybody knows the truth."
"What truth?" Willow swallows, her hand reflexively going to her long hair. "Okay, granted, new hairstyle in a way that is remarkably similar to my old one, but - "
"About you," Buffy says. She stands up, bringing Willow with her. They're still in a classroom now but it isn't one of Fandom or even Sunnydale High. Buffy reaches out and tears Willow's clothes off of her, revealing shorter hair and the tighter, brighter shirts and skirts that she wore -
"Any year now, Ms. Rosenberg," Professor Walsh says from the front of the lecture hall.
- when she was in college.
"I…" Willow fumbles, clutching tightly to papers that she knows she wrote on yet appear to be blank. "I, um, did a report, which is very good and well thought out, even though it might seem as though the subject matter did not start out on a university level."
Buffy sighs. "I knew she didn't exist any more."
"I'm right here!" Willow says. She looks around the room and sees Xander with two eyes, and Phoebe, and Nadia, and Oz and Peter.
"Such a shame," Phoebe says. "She might've been interesting if she wasn't an only child."
"Or if she had an accent," Nadia adds.
"Personally I feel she could do more with her spellwork," Xander says, quickly adding, "Not that there's anything wrong with witchcraft."
"No, I have thoughts!" Willow insists. She clutches the paper so hard that it crinkles under her hands even though it makes no noise. "I wrote this report about lions and witches and things which I know are not called closets but wardrobes."
"Told you she was going to try this," Oz says to Peter.
"These are important things," Willow says. She turns her papers over, looking for the notes that she knows she wrote down. "Ideas and concepts that have to be listened to. I put them in a pretty binder and used the most even font so that no one would be offended when they read my graphs."
In the classroom no one listens to her. Peter busies himself nuzzling Oz's ear.
Willow's shaking now. "I - "
The thing attacks. Willow is knocked to the floor. She screams and screams. Her papers fall out of her hands, unnoticed by anyone. She tries to fight but the creature is much too strong.
Finally the being bends down. If anyone watched her they would see Willow's eyes widen, then go cloudy. They would see her skin wrinkle and her body go limp.
They don't, though. As Willow is attacked nobody moves or seems to notice or to care.
And in the real world Willow shakes and struggles to get air into her lungs.
***
Restless Table of Contents
Where it all begins
Willow's Dream
Xander's Dream
Bridge's Dream
River's Dream
Izzy's Dream
Nadia's Dream
Alec's Dream
Dawn's Dream
Sam's Dream
Mel's Dream
Buffy's Dream
Where it all ends
"What?" Peter asks. He's lounging on her bed, bare-chested and shaggy haired.
"Things don't have names yet," Willow says. She looks at Peter. "Things need to be named."
Peter shrugs. "I am not the one who names things."
"I can do it," Willow tells him. She stands up and looks around the room. Some things have white labels on them and others have dark circles that make her eyes hurt. "I could help."
"You would be a namer?" Peter asks.
"I'm not a namer," Willow says. She looks down at her hands. The green buttons of the label maker glow, overwhelming the blue of the machine's plastic. "I'm a very thin tablecloth."
Peter sits up. "I wouldn't have imagined you for service."
"Service is all I've ever thought I could do," Willow replies. The label maker flashes at her: No ribbon. Message forgotten.
"It's a large sink," Peter says.
"Would you stop drinking?" Willow asks him.
Peter is standing. The room goes black-white-black as Peter appears in and out of his robes and crown. Willow thinks she sees four thrones behind him but the images are gone and she forgets how to count. "That's not mine to answer."
Another flash. There are shadows behind the thrones that are of thrones and not of thrones and the sight of them makes Willow cold and scared.
"I'm out of tape." She clutches the label maker to her chest.
Peter stands in front of her. His blue eyes look into hers. "You'll get more."
"I don't think you understand how important tape is to me," Willow says. "All office supplies, actually."
Peter puts his hand behind her right ear and produces a cyan coloured highlighter. "I can learn."
"You hate school," Willow says. "Also I did not fail to notice that you have added U's to my things."
"Is that a problem?" Peter asks.
"Only if you ignore how 60% of me is made of warm snow," Willow replies.
"There is more to life than lessons." Peter goes back to the bed and slips on a long t-shirt which he belts like his tunic.
Willow bites her lower lip. "That can't be true."
"Now who's ignoring the sand?" Peter slips his sword and scabbard on over his chest. The sword quivers and sounds like tiny horses running down a rainstick.
"If you want a trip to the beach just say so," Willow tells him.
Peter nods. "Later. I have a white train to catch."
"No!" Willow shouts and goes to follow him but the hallway changes as she steps through the door and she can't see Peter or remember what he was wearing.
"Willow!" Marie grabs Willow's wrist with a gloved hand. "I'm so glad you're here! The year's halfway over and I forgot my crayons."
Willow looks behind her and sees a hallway of nothing. "I think I left my supplies in my locker."
"No time now," Marie says. She drags Willow along with her. Underneath their feet is a people mover which moves in the opposite direction, keeping them from advancing a single step even though Jamie after Jamie passes by outside of the railing, each one carrying things like potted plants and water coolers to make it seem as though the scene is changing. "They expect you in class or you'll never get your condoms."
"I thought I handed in all the forms," Willow says. She sees a gremlin pass by, wearing a sticker which reads Hello, My Name is: Jamie (except when it's not). "I told them I'd be taking months off. Peter's expecting me at the station only I can't remember the gate and my ticket is black but maybe they'll let me exchange it?"
They get off the people mover. They're in an airport now, passing by gift shops filled with pets and magazines, food courts that are closed, and squirrels making announcements from behind microphones.
California flight now arriving at Gate 7. Paris, Gate 8. Gate 9 is arriving at Gate 11. Remember that unattended packages will be eaten.
"How do they manage to do that without their lips moving?" Willow asks. She's so busy watching a squirrel that she almost doesn't notice the bald, besuited man who's now standing in her way.
He gets her attention when he holds up a slice of cheese. "Only 64 shopping days until Cheesemas."
Willow frowns. Her hand is grabbed by Marie again.
"Come on!" Marie says. They start to run, the solid wall of the airport vanishes as they go towards the tarmac. A large silver plane is there, thick and round like something out of a black and white movie. Its propellers were already spinning. "We're late for class!"
Willow gets in line behind her classmates as they start up the stairs. "Didn't I take this one already?"
"You have to do the lab," Marie tells her. She tugs on Willow's hand so that they're facing each other. "Sit near the middle, don't trip the stewardess, and don't kiss me because then everyone will die."
"I thought it was your skin that - " Willow starts to say, but she's in her seat now and buckling up along with everyone else. She looks around and sees Anders reading a magazine that he's holding upside down, and Seely listening to a walkman while playing a rocking air triangle.
"Okay kids," Hades says. He's at the front of the plane, making elaborate miming gestures to go along with his words. "We have to taxi five hundred miles before takeoff. The in-flight movie is that new one with that actor Willow really likes playing the role of the gay lover of that other actor Willow really likes, only whenever Willow tries to look at the monitor located in the back of the seat right next to her she's not going to be able to see it. Which is a shame because the movie has a lot of boykissy."
Willow tries to turn her head. A swath of black appears over anything she attempts to focus on.
"Don't hit your head on the chandeliers when you stand," Hades adds. "The mall will not be open until 4pm, and remember that the one thing worse than finding a worm in your apple is the Holocaust."
Announcements concluded, Hades puts on a pilot hat that has the top cut out so that his flaming hair can shine through. He enters the cockpit to steer the plane, the inside of which is now ten times larger than before and decorated with rich golds and reds, like something out of a mansion, or an old-fashioned luxury liner.
As the plane taxis Willow gets out of her seat. She looks through the small airplane window and watches the scenery go by - Sunnydale, Fandom, grassy field, desert wasteland, dark hairy shape that's ready to -
Willow jerks back from the window. She moves quickly, running up a thickly carpeted staircase and then making a sharp turn so that she can go past the stainless steel kitchens where hundreds of people prepare the airplane's food, and then past the bathrooms that all say "Mens," and then past the dark arcades where the pinball machines don't work.
A wooden staircase that's rough and filled with splinters leads her into a hallway that's pitch black. Willow turns and can't find the way that she came.
"This is very confusing," Peter says. He's wearing his Narnia clothes and is carrying a flaming torch for light.
"No kidding!" Willow reaches out to clutch his hand. "Nobody ever told me that I was in flight school! And how the heck is a girl supposed to refill her label maker when the stores only open after dark?"
"Shopping's over and done with now," Peter says. "You missed the boat."
"Okay, I realize that we're from different times and all but from now on? We pick a form of transportation and stick to it." Willow says in her firmest voice. "I don't even want to ask where our luggage ended up."
"I've already traveled," Peter said. "I can't help you with that."
Willow remembers the flash outside of the window. She whispers, "Is something following me?"
Peter looks sad. "I can't help you with that either."
"Let's just leave," Willow says. She starts to pat down the walls to find a door. "We'll go. It'll be fine if we just - "
Willow looks over her shoulder. The light is gone. So is Peter. She has no time to think about this as two hands come through the wall, grabbing hers and yanking her in the direction of white rags and a ghostly face.
Willow screams. She pulls back and falls to the floor. She tries to move but her body is heavy and her eyes won't open.
Suddenly there is a doorway. "Will!"
She's grabbed again, this time by Buffy who drags her into a sunlit classroom then slams the door shut behind her.
"Buffy!" Willow says, joyfully. She hugs her friend tight. She realizes that this is her Buffy, with a kerchief tied in her hair and a shirt with a back made only of ribbons.
Buffy's hug is Slayer-strong and painful. She lets go, looking at Willow with eyes that are bright and earnest. "Willow! Are you okay? Everybody here's been so not worried about you!"
The friendly tone overlaps and conceals the negative. "I know, I know," Willow says, chagrined. "But I've been busy with so many things. Things that would make Sunnydale seem normal by comparison, though I know we always thought that'd never be possible."
"Your parents haven't been calling day and night," Buffy tells her. She's smiling now, as though this is good news. "And nobody's noticed that we don't have to pretend to ignore you anymore!"
"I…" Willow tries to find the clues that indicate Buffy's joking. "I know I haven't been so great with the emailing myself these days, but - "
There's a pounding on the door. Buffy crouches down and indicates that Willow should follow her. "Did you see what it was?"
"Not really," Willow admits.
Buffy nods as though this was expected. "It already knows about you. No wonder it wants you dead."
Willow gasps. "Buffy!"
Buffy gives her a dry look. "C'mon, Will. Everybody knows the truth."
"What truth?" Willow swallows, her hand reflexively going to her long hair. "Okay, granted, new hairstyle in a way that is remarkably similar to my old one, but - "
"About you," Buffy says. She stands up, bringing Willow with her. They're still in a classroom now but it isn't one of Fandom or even Sunnydale High. Buffy reaches out and tears Willow's clothes off of her, revealing shorter hair and the tighter, brighter shirts and skirts that she wore -
"Any year now, Ms. Rosenberg," Professor Walsh says from the front of the lecture hall.
- when she was in college.
"I…" Willow fumbles, clutching tightly to papers that she knows she wrote on yet appear to be blank. "I, um, did a report, which is very good and well thought out, even though it might seem as though the subject matter did not start out on a university level."
Buffy sighs. "I knew she didn't exist any more."
"I'm right here!" Willow says. She looks around the room and sees Xander with two eyes, and Phoebe, and Nadia, and Oz and Peter.
"Such a shame," Phoebe says. "She might've been interesting if she wasn't an only child."
"Or if she had an accent," Nadia adds.
"Personally I feel she could do more with her spellwork," Xander says, quickly adding, "Not that there's anything wrong with witchcraft."
"No, I have thoughts!" Willow insists. She clutches the paper so hard that it crinkles under her hands even though it makes no noise. "I wrote this report about lions and witches and things which I know are not called closets but wardrobes."
"Told you she was going to try this," Oz says to Peter.
"These are important things," Willow says. She turns her papers over, looking for the notes that she knows she wrote down. "Ideas and concepts that have to be listened to. I put them in a pretty binder and used the most even font so that no one would be offended when they read my graphs."
In the classroom no one listens to her. Peter busies himself nuzzling Oz's ear.
Willow's shaking now. "I - "
The thing attacks. Willow is knocked to the floor. She screams and screams. Her papers fall out of her hands, unnoticed by anyone. She tries to fight but the creature is much too strong.
Finally the being bends down. If anyone watched her they would see Willow's eyes widen, then go cloudy. They would see her skin wrinkle and her body go limp.
They don't, though. As Willow is attacked nobody moves or seems to notice or to care.
And in the real world Willow shakes and struggles to get air into her lungs.
***
Restless Table of Contents
Where it all begins
Willow's Dream
Xander's Dream
Bridge's Dream
River's Dream
Izzy's Dream
Nadia's Dream
Alec's Dream
Dawn's Dream
Sam's Dream
Mel's Dream
Buffy's Dream
Where it all ends