The Glitter Jungle:
Fiction:
Gimme Shelter
I've been having these dreams. Giles/Ethan
No, not this dream again. This is getting ridiculous.
It's always the same. He's in a wedding dress, all white and pristine, feels utterly out of place like this. He runs for his life - a familiar state for him, really - in a forest, because this dream just wasn't bloody symbolic enough, bugger it all to hell and back, surrounded by thick fog and waving his arms about like a ponce.
There's a man in a hooded cloak chasing him, carrying a knife. Whenever he thinks about the knife, he touches his throat briefly and runs faster. But the dress is heavy, the forest's floor is covered in plants that he can't see for the fog and they block his escape, and sooner or later he falls to his knees. The man is right there, holds the knife to his throat. And slashes.
Ethan wants to scream but finds that his voice is gone. He reaches, again, to touch his throat, sure that his hand will come back covered in wet, red blood. It's not. It's clean, and he feels no pain. He can talk.
"Who are you?"
The man takes his hood off. Rupert. Who else.
Ethan wakes up.
Sequel:
"Go ahead," I taunt. "You can't kill me."
"Would you like to make a bet?" Ripper growls politely and squeezes harder. For a moment I wonder, maybe it was a miscalculation. Maybe I had it all wrong. But no, I'm sure of it.
"You know, I keep having these dreams," I croak, trying to sound conversational, ignoring the hand on my throat.
"Do tell." Rupert's voice is acidic.
"I'm wearing white in all these dreams," I vow to never tell him it's a wedding gown, "but I don't feel comfortable in it somehow." Feels not only like the outfit doesn't belong to me, but the body itself as well.
Rupert snorts. Some things are so easy to read. Purity. Goodness.
"You chase me with a knife." I don't even shudder when I say it. I'm very proud of that. "But you can't kill me. You can never kill me." I know my smirk infuriates him further, but I can't stop it from appearing. Well, to be honest, I don't try too hard.
Rupert doesn't let go. "And you came here because you thought dreams come true?"
"What do *you* think it means, Rupert?" Just that tone of voice, just that wicked look, just this specific, mocking grin. All the things that annoy Ripper, who's been standing here with his hand around my windpipe for the past ten minutes or so, but still hasn't delivered a killing blow. Still hasn't squeezed too far. "What do *you* think this dream is telling us?"
Rupert doesn't reply. But his hand eases up a bit as he thinks. Probably recalls his past, thinks of acceptance and his high standards. His fingers slip, just a bit.
It's enough for me. I know him better than anyone else who still walks this earth. That tiny bit of rope he gave me, that pause, the way he hesitated. The way we both know.
I push Rupert's hand aside daintily. I grin knowingly, and I walk away. Calling back to Rupert as he stays there glued to his spot...
"Be seeing you."
Info: