endoftheverse | Lucifer's Dreamwalking

Since arriving in Deerington, Willow's dreams seem to have moved away from nightmares about Glory, and Buffy's death, and the pressure of trying to help keep things in Sunnydale in order back more towards her mind's usual way of working things out.

Tonight, she's trying to find her way out of a hedge maze. The maze itself is brightly lit, the sky is blue, sun shining. The hedges themselves are tall, and green, and covered with thorns and a variety of flowers. Willow is following a bright blue butterfly that seems to be consistently getting distracted by the flowers.

"Ooh, look! A yellow one! I like the yellow ones!" The butterfly exclaims cheerfully as it lands for a drink.

She's trying to be patient, and she can't help but smile at the little creature's enthusiasm, but there's still an attempt to stay on task. "You're supposed to be helping me find a way out of here, remember? You just had a yellow one."

"We'll get there, we'll get there," the butterfly assures her. It drinks its fill from the flower, and takes off, heading back in the direction they just came from.

"Butterfly!" She's exasperated now, and gestures down the path in their original direction. "You said it was this way? You really don't know where you're going do you?"

The butterfly returns to her and lands on her shoulder, gently opening and closing its wings and settles in to clean its antennae. "Oops. I got a little turned around. I know where we're going now. We're going this way," it declares decidedly, pointing with one of its legs. There's a moment of hesitation. "I... just don't remember if that's where the exit is. Sorry, Willow."

Dreamwalking is... an interesting little venture. Sometimes he's looking for very specific minds to peer into. Sometimes it's just a matter of random chance, which is also a bit of a fun game on its own. Well, it is when you're essentially on lockdown... much like a prisoner allowed out onto the yard for a time. He's very, very cross with Sam Winchester. Very disappointed in his choices.

But anyway.

Dreamwalking.

"Looking for the exit?" he asks it from up high, sitting on top of the hedges with his feet dangling over the edge. He's got an easy, casual way about him, much like a big cat lounging in sun. "I'm not so sure listening to a distracted little bug would be the way to find it. No offense to it and its very lovely markings."

He loves butterflies. Much more aesthetically pleasing and useful than human beings. Much more reliable, much less wretched.

Willow's head jerks up in Lucifer's direction, with a bit of a start. As far as she knew, it was just her and the little butterfly she had been following. She's polite enough though to offer a small, friendly wave and a smile. "Oh, hey. I, uh, didn't see you there."

"She," the butterfly corrects him immediately. "And I'm trying my best, okay?"

"It's okay, I know you're trying," Willow assures the little creature on her shoulder. She looks to Lucifer. "Hey, can you see which way to go from up there?"

"Oh, hmm. Let me take a gander."

He looks around, a bit passive, like someone who is just trying to enjoy sunbathing. Whistling, he glances back down at Willow with all of the personality of an alley cat spying on passer-bys. "Goodness... Looks a little never-ending, sorry. But that's just how dreams tend to be, right? Feeling like they never stop, until you finally wake up."

He shrugs, lips thin. Is he telling the truth? Maybe. Maybe not.

"Is this a typical sight for you? Endless hedges?"

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

Willow waits patiently while he looks around, and makes a face when his answer is less than helpful. That's disappointing. "Well. It was worth a shot, anyway. I'll figure it out, or, you know, wake up."

"No, this isn't really typical," she answers with a shrug. "But then again, I'm sure a lot of people dream about different things each night."

The butterfly takes off suddenly, excitedly flying around between the two of them. "Willow! What about a spell?"

Oh, now that's interesting.

Anything less-than-normal for the average human is an instant interest, anyway.

"Spells? Wow, don't tell me — I'm speaking to a certificated witch?"

"A powerful witch!" The butterfly pipes up.

Willow's eyes widen, and she turns red. It's not that she's never gotten complimented on her power before, but somehow it's easier to remember the spells that went horribly, horribly wrong rather than the ones that went right. "No, I'm really not that powerful. I've only been practicing for a few years."

Lucifer's eyebrows shoot up.

"A powerful witch. Now why would these sweet little butterfly lie?" He swings his feet over the edge, but stays perched; better to be higher up, in control of the situation at hand. Bigger the better. There's a bit of amusement in his eyes. "What sorts of spells might you know, oh mighty practicing, powerful witch?"

"It's an exaggeration," Willow replies. "I'm not that powerful. Or-or, at least I don't feel like I am."

She doesn't like the turn this conversation is taking, and the butterfly, seemingly, finally, cluing in silently returns to her shoulder. "Why do you want to know what I can cast?"

He huffs a breath.

"Why wouldn't I be interested in what a witch can cast? It sounds fascinating."

But after a moment, he waves a hand.

"If you're worried about judgement, I've none to give. I'm a being with powers, too, you know; people could stand to learn a thing or two from a witch and their gift."

Not that he likes witches, particularly.

But at least they're interesting.

Humans are typically just... so boring.

Willow studies Lucifer for a long, silent moment, debating how best to answer the question.

"Spellbooks and ingredients seem to be kind of hard to come by around here, so really, not much," she admits. It's an honest, if incomplete answer. There are a few spells she can cast from memory, ones that don't require anything more than being able to focus and speak an incantation, like the one she knew the butterfly was thinking of to try to get them out of the maze.

"What sort of power do you have?" She's still not sure how much she wants to trust him, but there is curiosity behind the question.

"Well," he says tapping his chin. "I can walk through people's dreams... a bit lackluster, I know. I've oodles of different powers to choose from back home, but here... I'm afraid they've clipped my wings a little. Almost too literally for my liking."

He finally hops down, puts them both on the same level.

"I'm an angel, child. A very old, very bored angel."

"An angel? You mean, like, one of God's angels?" Part of her wants to be skeptical, but it's Deerington, and really, there's no reason that running into an angel should be that farfetched under the circumstances.

"Sorry, there's nothing I can do to unclip your wings, if that's what you were thinking when the butterfly said I was powerful." It feels like a good idea to get that out of the right off the bat. "Even if you had a spell, and the ingredients, there's no guarantee it would work here."

There's a pause, before she asks, "so, what's your name, anyway?"

"I've had many names, the last few millennia... but 'Nick' will do just fine, in this form."

He motions to himself, before looking up with a quirked brow.

"It's nice to meet you, Willow, but I'm not here to get my wings un-clipped; I'm here because I'm unfortunately trapped elsewhere, and walking dreams is how I pass the time."

And, you know. Maybe sometime he'll try to manipulate her.

Maybe.

But for now, he's being honest.

"Nice to meet you too, Nick," she's polite, even though she's still a bit nervous of him. It's reassuring though that he's not here expecting help getting his powers back, but just as a way to pass the time. She's not... entirely sure how she feels about the uninvited intrusion into her dream, though.

"Where are you trapped? I assume you don't just mean here in Deerington like the rest of us?" She gestures around vaguely. It's still the bright hedge maze, but in the dream she's able to recognize that it's her mind's way of trying to figure out how to get back home again.

He sighs, shaking his head sadly.

"Unfortunately not just in Deerington, no. I'm trapped in someone else's body; a bit of a prisoner at the moment, much to my dismay." What? It's the honest truth. He's being held captive; that meddling kid and his mangy mutts, not letting him win fair and square. His voice is soft and sad and older than the oldest of ruins.

"... I wouldn't trouble yourself too much; I have to fight my battles on my own, anyway. I'd much rather hear about all of this. What it means."

Willow's eyebrows raise. Trapped in a body, as a prisoner, not his own? Well, isn't that disturbing shades of Glory all over again. Still, despite being spooked by his behaviour when the butterfly revealed her as a witch, as far as she can tell, Nick seems to have little in common with the hell god. Maybe he's just not great with interacting with people.

She looks around, and shrugs. "Oh, this? It's a dream. It doesn't have to make sense, does it? How did you get stuck in someone else's body?"

The butterfly still quietly perched on Willow's shoulder pipes up, ever helpful. "I think it's Deerington."

"I'm seen as a threat. For what I am. Unfortunately, people aren't quite so comfortable around a being that is different from them," he offers the butterfly a little smile. "But the butterfly's not entirely wrong there. Unfortunately, I have only a shred of my power here; fighting back has become a... difficult task."

He waves a hand, dismissing it.

"It's nothing I can't handle; I'm sure I'll find a way out. And, well — the people who trapped me think they have good intentions."

Willow nods, mulling over his story. "Yeah, Deerington seems to have that affect on people's powers, I guess. Who, um. Who trapped you?"

It's disturbingly similar to the story of Ben and Glory. Except Glory was not an angel, but a fearsome hell god imprisoned in a mortal body in an attempt to contain her and her power. Glory who sapped away Tara's sanity, and almost killed all of them at one point or another. Glory, whose plan to tear down the barriers between dimensions was foiled by Buffy sacrificing herself to save the world, and Dawn. They're not exactly happy memories.

It's enough of a reminder that the scene shifts suddenly away from the brightly lit hedge maze with a flash and crack that sounds like thunder to a construction site with a large, albeit somewhat unstable looking tower at night.

The butterfly is still with them, still perched on Willow's shoulder, but the anxiety is clear in her small voice. "Willow, we don't want to be here..."

He sighs.

"Someone named Sam Winchester. He's unfortunately extremely unwell in the head, so... I can't entirely blame him for the hostage situation. Grew up in a violent family with a history of crime, convinced that supernatural beings are all evil and need to be destroyed... Best to just leave him be — and keep your distance. His type have had a history of hunting witches."

He glances to the tower, after his gaze flicks away from the butterfly. His fingers are pressed to his lips in a thoughtful manner, and he doesn't look much concerned; more just curious.

"Now what's this?"

Edited (grammar yeck) 2020-12-18 02:22 (UTC)

As much as Willow is unsure about how much she really wants to trust Nick, his warning about Sam doesn't fall entirely on deaf ears. Her own mother tried to burn her, another witch named Amy, and her friend Buffy at the stake when they were in high school; The whole town under the influence of a demon posing as two murdered children that led them to believe it was the work of witches.

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks. He intentionally trapped you, then? In his own mind?" That seems... ill-advised.

She glances at the tower as he asks the obvious question, clearly uncomfortable. "This? It's a memory. The butterfly's right, I don't want to be here. Let's talk about something else."

He nods, none too pleased.

"There aren't a lot of ways to trap an angel. He's creative, I can give him that." Goodness, though, he's so incredibly interested in the weird scenery laid out before them. No fair. Glancing at her, he raises his eyebrows. "Are you so sure you're not meant to face this place? Seems like your subconscious is throwing you some bones."

"I dunno. I mean, we have demons, and vampires and stuff back home - I've never met an angel before, though, so I don't have much to compare to. It just... sounds like a bad idea to intentionally trap a powerful being in your own mind." She smiles a little. "Kinda like having a roommate you can never get rid of, but you really, really don't get along with."

Willow shivers and wraps her arms around herself, frowning. "I've seen this plenty of times already. I don't need to see it again. My best friend died here."

"It's a terrible idea," Lucifer says, as a matter-of-factly.

Looking back up to the tall tower, he tuts at the explanation.

"Sounds like something you have a hard time scrubbing away. Well, if we're not facing some long-lasting trauma, which direction would be more suitable? Unless... this is the exit you've been looking for."

Willow follows his gaze to the tower, and quickly looks away, frowning. "I-I dunno. Usually it just plays out the way it really happened. A portal opens just under the tower... Buffy jumps into it to save her sister, and the world, and we find her, and I wake up."

"We couldn't save her," the butterfly adds sadly. "We tried, but we didn't see what was happening quick enough to stop the portal from being opened in the first place. There was a lot going on on the ground too."

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