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thismazI find this a really challenging task - getting a prompt at the end of the day on Sunday, going to work all week and posting by my log-off time on Saturday is not easy - but it sure is fun.
Title: Lost and Found
Fandom: BtVS
Prompt: #10 - Castaway
Warnings: None
Rating: Pg
Summary: Xander and the gang go to fetch a sword. Well, that was the intention.
Lost and Found
"Okay, listen up! We're going to do this." Willow's voice cut through the argument and into the sudden quiet. "It's not difficult. It's a casting, to cast us a way to get this sword. Okay? Right! So go stand over there. And get this together people! This is important! We have to make this work!"
As inspirational speeches went, it was more of the strike-total-fear-into-the-hearts-of-all, than the rousing encouragement Xander felt they needed, but it at least got them moving, so that was something to be grateful for. Looking around the room, he saw an equal mix of fear and resolve in the other's faces and hoped that look was mirrored on his own, although he doubted it.
Glancing sidelong at each other, they shuffled across the room as an untidy group, to stand over the gaffer-taped cross Willow had marked in the centre of the floor. Xander attempted to catch Buffy's eye, but she was fully occupied checking the straps that fixed the dagger to her leg and the set of the scabbard at her belt. There were times he wished he had some sort of superpower, just to justify his place in the Scoobies. But there were times like these, when he was just glad that it was Buffy and Faith who had the whole destiny thing going. Giles looking at him, across the top of Buffy's head. His expression was both apprehensive and reassuring and Xander felt a sudden burst of affection for the man.
Willow stepped to the front of the little group, facing towards the doors of the library, holding the open spell book braced across her forearms. Her hands gripping the tops of the pages to hold it firm and open, although it looked as if she were also taking comfort from its solidity. The warm touch of a hand on his shoulder surprised him and he turned to see Faith's dark eyes, teasing and sparkling with the excitement he had more than once thought bordered on the suicidal. Willow began to read. After the first few lines of incomprehensible magic, it was as if the air thickened about them. The sound of Willow's voice became both muffled and echo-y and an underlying roar, just within the range of human hearing, filled the gaps between her words.
Unconsciously, they shuffled closer to each other, and to Willow, as existence at the edges of vision began to vibrate and swirl. Suddenly the very fabric of the air in front of them seemed to gather, dragging the doors, the file card cabinet and the check-out desk, inwards to a single point. Willow's voice ceased and the silence echoed around them as reality swirled, distorting and mixing matter into a vortex. The hole at its centre expanded outwards, until it occupied everything before them. Xander grabbed Buffy's hand, clutching it tight, just before a deadening, unearthly void seemed to flood through him. In that moment he saw Buffy's head turn towards him and her lips moved as though she were saying something, but sound had ceased to exist in this strange twilight place. The swirling hole expanded, surrounded him, engulfed him. Dizziness sent a roil of nausea from his stomach to the back of his throat and the air 'popped'. And Buffy's hand was no longer in his, although he didn't remember feeling it being torn away.
The sound of his shoe scraping against the stone floor was unnaturally loud. He swayed slightly reaching out his arm to find Buffy again, even as he opened his eyes. His hand encountered nothing. Slightly panicked he looked around, taking in the stone floor, walls and ceiling of the tunnel which were illuminated by a dull yellow glow that seemed to come from nowhere. He was alone.
For a moment he had a horrible image of the others somehow materialised inside the stone of the walls. He could see no joins to indicate they were anything other than solid, but in spite of that, he ran his hands over the surface searching in vain for any sign, as he called their names. Although if it were true, how a sign could help him, he really didn't know. Eventually his brain caught up with his panic and he ceased his useless searching and slumped against the walls, breathing deeply and attempted to calm down. The tunnel ahead of him disappeared into darkness, although there was a hint of something silver up there which occasionally caught some source of light. He turned around to see what lay behind, and froze.
It was like looking at a television screen, at the bottom of the pool of water. The library was there in all its reassuring familiarity, but more importantly and somehow not so reassuringly, so were all his friends. He stepped up to the portal to join them but it was as if he hit a sheet of nonexistent glass. He tried to hammer his fists against it, but there was nothing there to hit - he just couldn't get through. Willow still stood with the spell book clasped in her arms, her eyes wide and her mouth open in shock. Buffy, Faith and Giles stood behind her. Xander hammered at the empty air and shouted, "Get me out of here!"
Giles' lips moved but no sound penetrated to Xander's ears. He turned to Willow as if asking a question. She shook her head. Buffy grabbed Willow's shoulder, swinging her round, apparently also making demands. Xander could hear nothing.
****
It had been Faith, of all people, who eventually had the bright idea. Giles had gone into his office and returned with a notepad and a thick marker pen. So now he knew as much as they did. The portal appeared to be stable. There appeared to be no immediate way for them to get in, or for him to get out. Willow and Giles were sitting at the table, poring through books. Faith and Buffy were sitting cross-legged, just out of his reach, conducting a slow conversation where they wrote on the pad of paper, held it up for him to read and he did his best to reply. It was like playing a weird game of charades.
****
An hour later, according to the library clock, conversation had flagged and Xander was sitting slumped against the wall, when Giles dragged the whiteboard over so he could see it clearly and began to write.
"It would appear that the portal will not allow any magic user through." Now that was just stupid. It took magic to open the portal in the first place. So why the hell could nothing magical go through it? And anyway, Xander stood up and pointed indignantly at Buffy and Faith.
"Slayers = magical - by their nature." Giles wrote.
Xander pointed at himself and mimed raising a gun and swinging it around, sighting down the invisible barrel. Giles and the girls just looked puzzled. Xander pointed at himself again and this time crouched on all fours and started to laugh. The looks of puzzlement increased. Suddenly Willow threw her hands up in the air and started to bounce. She spoke excitedly to Giles, who smiled his understanding, probably grateful there was a rational explanation for Xander's strange behaviour. He turned back to the board and wrote again, "Possession doesn't count." Xander slumped in defeat.
****
Three hours later he was beginning to feel hungry. Faith had gone to patrol, with an apologetic smile and a shrug. Buffy was still attempting to keep him entertained, but he was having visions of his starved corpse lying unburied on full display in the centre of the library until there was nothing left but a skeleton. He wondered what the School Board would think of that.
Giles returned to the whiteboard and picked up the pen. "You have to go and get the sword," he wrote. "It's the only way you can get back. The sword will lead you through."
Xander stared at him in disbelief. How was he supposed to do that? It was supposed to take huge strength to lift the sword. He wasn't the one with the super strength. That was the whole reason for Buffy and Faith going. In fact, he wasn't really sure why he'd been there at all, now he thought about it. He turned and looked down the tunnel. Nothing had changed - the tunnel was still lit by the dull glow, which faded into darkness. He turned back to look at his friends. Willow and Buffy were standing as close as they could to the portal, making vague shooing motions, urging him away. He turned back towards the tunnel, braced himself and took a few hesitant steps. It was not as if there was anywhere for monsters to hide, but somehow it felt as if one more step would take him out of the reach of home, into some horrible place. Hesitantly he took that step.
Glancing back over his shoulders he saw his friends, still urging him onwards. He took another step. And another. Doubt blossomed into fear and he looked back again, hoping for some reassurance that it was going to be all right. And they were gone. There was nothing behind him but a stone wall.
The fear expanded, becoming terror. He took another step. Far ahead something silver gleamed in the dim light. Another step. He could feel horrors hovering at the edges of his mind, waiting to claw their way forward. He rubbed his hands against his trouser legs, both to get rid of the sweat and to stop the shaking. Another step. The walls appeared to be contracting. He stretched out his arms and could just touch both walls. They didn't appear to be moving, yet he could swear they were closing in on him. Another step. The light began to fade. Another step. Was that a rustling sound behind him? Another step. His hair rose on the back of his neck. Was that a movement in the air? Another step. What if there was a hole in front of him and he fell in? He slid his foot forward in another shuffling step. His arms were getting tired but he couldn't bear to drop them from the reassuring knowledge that the walls were still that far apart.
Another shuffling step. The sound of his feet sliding across the ground... was it drowning out the sound of something behind him? Another shuffling step. He knew that if he looked back he would be lost. If there was something there he couldn't stop it. If there wasn't, it would somehow be worse. Darkness engulfed him. He moved over to one side of the tunnel hugging the wall. Another shuffling step. Somehow the darkness was entering his brain, engulfing his mind. Another step. Was this the way it always had been? Another step. He lost his name. Another step.
He was the one who walked. Another step. This was existence. Another step. The darkness and terror were for always, and always had been. Another step.
He was the one who took the step, and then another step. His hands ran across the rough surface of the rock. He was on his hands and knees. The darkness pressed upon him, forcing him down - heavy weight upon his shoulders and his spirit. He reached one arm forward planting his hand against the floor, followed it with his knee. He was the one who crawled. This was what he did. This was what he had always done. He crawled.
The floor was hard against his knees. He crawled. The floor was dusty against his hands. It had always been. He crawled. The surface was rough but flat. He couldn't remember when it had been anything else. Somewhere, far, far away, deep in his mind, there was a hint of a promise of a dream of a quest for something... Something silver... Something warm... A word came to mind 'love'? What was that?
He crawled. Dimly... Faintly... An idea blossomed... 'Warm'... That was a word that had no place in this reality. And yet he knew it. Which seemed to suggest... That there was more. A laugh began to bubble up inside his chest. He swallowed it down, but it wouldn't be vanquished.
He crawled. The laughter rose. He crawled, even as the sound echoed around him. He couldn't stop laughing. He dared not stop crawling. He was the one who crawled and if he stopped what would he be? The laughter had a manic edge and disturbed the certainty of his existence. It conjured in him feelings of 'pack'... A thing called 'friendship'?
He crawled. The laughter faded, leaving him limp and exhausted. He crawled. But it had also left him with a warm feeling in what had been the empty pit of his soul. A thing called 'belonging'? A thing called 'Willow'? What was that?
He crawled. A flash of red hair, of light reflecting off silver blond, of glass flashing in the light of... the sun? before disappearing into the white cloth held in someone's? hand? A thing called 'Willow' Yes! Willow! That meant something... didn't it? Maybe he was not the one who crawled. Although that was what he did. That was all he did. But he was more... wasn't he? Had he always been this? There was a thing called 'Willow'. There was more... He was almost sure...
He crawled. A voice in the back of his head shouted... called him 'soldier'... told him to 'snap out of it'... to 'pull himself together'... A memory... A memory of... Buffy and Willow and Giles and the library and... Around him the darkness became somehow less impenetrable.
He crawled. The stone glowed dull orange in the faint light. Where was that coming from? He raised his eyes from the floor. Ahead of him he saw a pedestal. He crawled towards it.
His hands reached out and clenched around the base. Hand over hand he used it to pull himself up onto his knees. Above his head, his hands reached the top and found the lip of the shelf. Using all the strength of his arms, he dragged himself up onto his feet and looked down at the sword as it lay before him. Leaning heavily against the pedestal, he raised one weak and shaking arm, and clasped his hand around the hilt.
Power surged through him and he lifted the sword high above his head, saluting the empty air. Then he turned and strode back down the tunnel to the portal, which showed him the way home.
****
Xander stepped into the library and into Willow's welcoming arms and the portal snapped closed behind him. He hugged her and even managed to avoid hacking anyone in half with the sword he still held tight. So glad to feel solid Sunnydale ground beneath his feet. So ready to hand over the sword to Buffy or Faith.
Giles came forwards and laid a hand on his shoulder smiling down into his face. "Well done, Xander. Very well done." He took a step backwards and removed his glasses, as he pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket. "However, you do realise that this means you'll have to wield the sword in the battle to come, don't you?"
In spite of his exhaustion, Xander felt the stirring of something unfamiliar. He thought it might be pride. Turning to Buffy, he caught her eye and smiled. "There's always a catch."
Word count 2,574
Title: Lost and Found
Fandom: BtVS
Prompt: #10 - Castaway
Warnings: None
Rating: Pg
Summary: Xander and the gang go to fetch a sword. Well, that was the intention.
Lost and Found
"Okay, listen up! We're going to do this." Willow's voice cut through the argument and into the sudden quiet. "It's not difficult. It's a casting, to cast us a way to get this sword. Okay? Right! So go stand over there. And get this together people! This is important! We have to make this work!"
As inspirational speeches went, it was more of the strike-total-fear-into-the-hearts-of-all, than the rousing encouragement Xander felt they needed, but it at least got them moving, so that was something to be grateful for. Looking around the room, he saw an equal mix of fear and resolve in the other's faces and hoped that look was mirrored on his own, although he doubted it.
Glancing sidelong at each other, they shuffled across the room as an untidy group, to stand over the gaffer-taped cross Willow had marked in the centre of the floor. Xander attempted to catch Buffy's eye, but she was fully occupied checking the straps that fixed the dagger to her leg and the set of the scabbard at her belt. There were times he wished he had some sort of superpower, just to justify his place in the Scoobies. But there were times like these, when he was just glad that it was Buffy and Faith who had the whole destiny thing going. Giles looking at him, across the top of Buffy's head. His expression was both apprehensive and reassuring and Xander felt a sudden burst of affection for the man.
Willow stepped to the front of the little group, facing towards the doors of the library, holding the open spell book braced across her forearms. Her hands gripping the tops of the pages to hold it firm and open, although it looked as if she were also taking comfort from its solidity. The warm touch of a hand on his shoulder surprised him and he turned to see Faith's dark eyes, teasing and sparkling with the excitement he had more than once thought bordered on the suicidal. Willow began to read. After the first few lines of incomprehensible magic, it was as if the air thickened about them. The sound of Willow's voice became both muffled and echo-y and an underlying roar, just within the range of human hearing, filled the gaps between her words.
Unconsciously, they shuffled closer to each other, and to Willow, as existence at the edges of vision began to vibrate and swirl. Suddenly the very fabric of the air in front of them seemed to gather, dragging the doors, the file card cabinet and the check-out desk, inwards to a single point. Willow's voice ceased and the silence echoed around them as reality swirled, distorting and mixing matter into a vortex. The hole at its centre expanded outwards, until it occupied everything before them. Xander grabbed Buffy's hand, clutching it tight, just before a deadening, unearthly void seemed to flood through him. In that moment he saw Buffy's head turn towards him and her lips moved as though she were saying something, but sound had ceased to exist in this strange twilight place. The swirling hole expanded, surrounded him, engulfed him. Dizziness sent a roil of nausea from his stomach to the back of his throat and the air 'popped'. And Buffy's hand was no longer in his, although he didn't remember feeling it being torn away.
The sound of his shoe scraping against the stone floor was unnaturally loud. He swayed slightly reaching out his arm to find Buffy again, even as he opened his eyes. His hand encountered nothing. Slightly panicked he looked around, taking in the stone floor, walls and ceiling of the tunnel which were illuminated by a dull yellow glow that seemed to come from nowhere. He was alone.
For a moment he had a horrible image of the others somehow materialised inside the stone of the walls. He could see no joins to indicate they were anything other than solid, but in spite of that, he ran his hands over the surface searching in vain for any sign, as he called their names. Although if it were true, how a sign could help him, he really didn't know. Eventually his brain caught up with his panic and he ceased his useless searching and slumped against the walls, breathing deeply and attempted to calm down. The tunnel ahead of him disappeared into darkness, although there was a hint of something silver up there which occasionally caught some source of light. He turned around to see what lay behind, and froze.
It was like looking at a television screen, at the bottom of the pool of water. The library was there in all its reassuring familiarity, but more importantly and somehow not so reassuringly, so were all his friends. He stepped up to the portal to join them but it was as if he hit a sheet of nonexistent glass. He tried to hammer his fists against it, but there was nothing there to hit - he just couldn't get through. Willow still stood with the spell book clasped in her arms, her eyes wide and her mouth open in shock. Buffy, Faith and Giles stood behind her. Xander hammered at the empty air and shouted, "Get me out of here!"
Giles' lips moved but no sound penetrated to Xander's ears. He turned to Willow as if asking a question. She shook her head. Buffy grabbed Willow's shoulder, swinging her round, apparently also making demands. Xander could hear nothing.
****
It had been Faith, of all people, who eventually had the bright idea. Giles had gone into his office and returned with a notepad and a thick marker pen. So now he knew as much as they did. The portal appeared to be stable. There appeared to be no immediate way for them to get in, or for him to get out. Willow and Giles were sitting at the table, poring through books. Faith and Buffy were sitting cross-legged, just out of his reach, conducting a slow conversation where they wrote on the pad of paper, held it up for him to read and he did his best to reply. It was like playing a weird game of charades.
****
An hour later, according to the library clock, conversation had flagged and Xander was sitting slumped against the wall, when Giles dragged the whiteboard over so he could see it clearly and began to write.
"It would appear that the portal will not allow any magic user through." Now that was just stupid. It took magic to open the portal in the first place. So why the hell could nothing magical go through it? And anyway, Xander stood up and pointed indignantly at Buffy and Faith.
"Slayers = magical - by their nature." Giles wrote.
Xander pointed at himself and mimed raising a gun and swinging it around, sighting down the invisible barrel. Giles and the girls just looked puzzled. Xander pointed at himself again and this time crouched on all fours and started to laugh. The looks of puzzlement increased. Suddenly Willow threw her hands up in the air and started to bounce. She spoke excitedly to Giles, who smiled his understanding, probably grateful there was a rational explanation for Xander's strange behaviour. He turned back to the board and wrote again, "Possession doesn't count." Xander slumped in defeat.
****
Three hours later he was beginning to feel hungry. Faith had gone to patrol, with an apologetic smile and a shrug. Buffy was still attempting to keep him entertained, but he was having visions of his starved corpse lying unburied on full display in the centre of the library until there was nothing left but a skeleton. He wondered what the School Board would think of that.
Giles returned to the whiteboard and picked up the pen. "You have to go and get the sword," he wrote. "It's the only way you can get back. The sword will lead you through."
Xander stared at him in disbelief. How was he supposed to do that? It was supposed to take huge strength to lift the sword. He wasn't the one with the super strength. That was the whole reason for Buffy and Faith going. In fact, he wasn't really sure why he'd been there at all, now he thought about it. He turned and looked down the tunnel. Nothing had changed - the tunnel was still lit by the dull glow, which faded into darkness. He turned back to look at his friends. Willow and Buffy were standing as close as they could to the portal, making vague shooing motions, urging him away. He turned back towards the tunnel, braced himself and took a few hesitant steps. It was not as if there was anywhere for monsters to hide, but somehow it felt as if one more step would take him out of the reach of home, into some horrible place. Hesitantly he took that step.
Glancing back over his shoulders he saw his friends, still urging him onwards. He took another step. And another. Doubt blossomed into fear and he looked back again, hoping for some reassurance that it was going to be all right. And they were gone. There was nothing behind him but a stone wall.
The fear expanded, becoming terror. He took another step. Far ahead something silver gleamed in the dim light. Another step. He could feel horrors hovering at the edges of his mind, waiting to claw their way forward. He rubbed his hands against his trouser legs, both to get rid of the sweat and to stop the shaking. Another step. The walls appeared to be contracting. He stretched out his arms and could just touch both walls. They didn't appear to be moving, yet he could swear they were closing in on him. Another step. The light began to fade. Another step. Was that a rustling sound behind him? Another step. His hair rose on the back of his neck. Was that a movement in the air? Another step. What if there was a hole in front of him and he fell in? He slid his foot forward in another shuffling step. His arms were getting tired but he couldn't bear to drop them from the reassuring knowledge that the walls were still that far apart.
Another shuffling step. The sound of his feet sliding across the ground... was it drowning out the sound of something behind him? Another shuffling step. He knew that if he looked back he would be lost. If there was something there he couldn't stop it. If there wasn't, it would somehow be worse. Darkness engulfed him. He moved over to one side of the tunnel hugging the wall. Another shuffling step. Somehow the darkness was entering his brain, engulfing his mind. Another step. Was this the way it always had been? Another step. He lost his name. Another step.
He was the one who walked. Another step. This was existence. Another step. The darkness and terror were for always, and always had been. Another step.
He was the one who took the step, and then another step. His hands ran across the rough surface of the rock. He was on his hands and knees. The darkness pressed upon him, forcing him down - heavy weight upon his shoulders and his spirit. He reached one arm forward planting his hand against the floor, followed it with his knee. He was the one who crawled. This was what he did. This was what he had always done. He crawled.
The floor was hard against his knees. He crawled. The floor was dusty against his hands. It had always been. He crawled. The surface was rough but flat. He couldn't remember when it had been anything else. Somewhere, far, far away, deep in his mind, there was a hint of a promise of a dream of a quest for something... Something silver... Something warm... A word came to mind 'love'? What was that?
He crawled. Dimly... Faintly... An idea blossomed... 'Warm'... That was a word that had no place in this reality. And yet he knew it. Which seemed to suggest... That there was more. A laugh began to bubble up inside his chest. He swallowed it down, but it wouldn't be vanquished.
He crawled. The laughter rose. He crawled, even as the sound echoed around him. He couldn't stop laughing. He dared not stop crawling. He was the one who crawled and if he stopped what would he be? The laughter had a manic edge and disturbed the certainty of his existence. It conjured in him feelings of 'pack'... A thing called 'friendship'?
He crawled. The laughter faded, leaving him limp and exhausted. He crawled. But it had also left him with a warm feeling in what had been the empty pit of his soul. A thing called 'belonging'? A thing called 'Willow'? What was that?
He crawled. A flash of red hair, of light reflecting off silver blond, of glass flashing in the light of... the sun? before disappearing into the white cloth held in someone's? hand? A thing called 'Willow' Yes! Willow! That meant something... didn't it? Maybe he was not the one who crawled. Although that was what he did. That was all he did. But he was more... wasn't he? Had he always been this? There was a thing called 'Willow'. There was more... He was almost sure...
He crawled. A voice in the back of his head shouted... called him 'soldier'... told him to 'snap out of it'... to 'pull himself together'... A memory... A memory of... Buffy and Willow and Giles and the library and... Around him the darkness became somehow less impenetrable.
He crawled. The stone glowed dull orange in the faint light. Where was that coming from? He raised his eyes from the floor. Ahead of him he saw a pedestal. He crawled towards it.
His hands reached out and clenched around the base. Hand over hand he used it to pull himself up onto his knees. Above his head, his hands reached the top and found the lip of the shelf. Using all the strength of his arms, he dragged himself up onto his feet and looked down at the sword as it lay before him. Leaning heavily against the pedestal, he raised one weak and shaking arm, and clasped his hand around the hilt.
Power surged through him and he lifted the sword high above his head, saluting the empty air. Then he turned and strode back down the tunnel to the portal, which showed him the way home.
****
Xander stepped into the library and into Willow's welcoming arms and the portal snapped closed behind him. He hugged her and even managed to avoid hacking anyone in half with the sword he still held tight. So glad to feel solid Sunnydale ground beneath his feet. So ready to hand over the sword to Buffy or Faith.
Giles came forwards and laid a hand on his shoulder smiling down into his face. "Well done, Xander. Very well done." He took a step backwards and removed his glasses, as he pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket. "However, you do realise that this means you'll have to wield the sword in the battle to come, don't you?"
In spite of his exhaustion, Xander felt the stirring of something unfamiliar. He thought it might be pride. Turning to Buffy, he caught her eye and smiled. "There's always a catch."
Word count 2,574
