FIC: Fable Environment (1/)

["C S Armitage" <soren_nyrond@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

Back again, and welcome to my version of the English countryside.

Anything you think you recognise, you perhaps do.

 

  
TITLE: A Fable Environment (1/ ) 
AUTHOR: Soren Nyrond
DISCLAIMER: Characters in this part belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. 
SUMMARY: It's got Buffy and Willow in it; there is some smut in it (somewhere), and there's a sort of a plot.
SPOILERS: None since it bears no resembance to aired
AUTHOR'S NOTES: All nice feedback welcome. Chocolate cookies also accepted. Have fun
 


A Fable Environment . - - Part 1
 

It felt like being dropped into a blender, and Buffy and Willow clung on toeach other as they "arrived".

What they found wasn't much better, from their point of view. Once more they were in a white-grey vastness, with no points of reference except that they were standing on "something".

Buffy's instinct called for a reconnaissance, but Willow held her Slayer back.

"We don't know where we are or when. And if you go wandering off and I lose sight of you . "

"Okay, Will - I'll be good: I'll - "

It was something - it looked to be a small rock, about a hand-span across, on the "ground" about two feet away. Buffy crouched and looked at it, in case it grew legs or fangs, or something. Then she noticed that the "rock" was simply a sketched black-grey shape, with a vague shadow but no real substance.

Then Willow was tapping her shoulder: "I think wherever this is has decidedwhere it is."

All around them things were appearing out of the air - grey-black outlines at first, which filled with shading and then with colour.

But it wasn't any natural landscape: this was a D*sney-effect world, with 2-D cut out trees, and clumps of grass.

Little by little their surroundings filled, and the objects took on solidity, until they were in a woodland copse, with short grass under foot, bushesdotted around them, and then trees in every direction. There was even birdsong, although they couldn't see the birds. But it all looked artificial.

 

"Which way do we go ?" Buffy asked. Willow took out her trusty rowan rod and made the necessary incantations, but all to no effect.  

"Wherever we need to go, it's like it was everywhere and nowhere."

"And no-one to ask for directions to Giles," Buffy commented. "Well, standing here isn't going to do much good - pick a direction."

"But what if I'm wrong ?" Willow asked. "We've no idea which way to go, we've no food . "

"We haven't starved yet," Buffy said, pragmatically. "How do you feel about raw woodchuck ?"

Willow made an "ick" noise, then realised, and punched Buffy gently on the shoulder.

"You . you . "

Further words became muffled as the two of them kissed, for companionship, for love, for affirmation, and because it was nice.

Then Willow looked wistfully up into Buffy's eyes: "Know what I miss ?"

"No - what, love ?" Buffy cocked her head, and concentrated, the better tohear her beloved witch's words.

"Moccachino !" Willow replied, dancing out of the Slayer's grasp. "Come on, let's find a coffee shop !"

 

 

It was with that in mind that they picked a direction at random, and started to walk out of the wood. Which took about three minutes, since the treeson the side they had chosen turned out to be a mere screen shielding off anarrow, rutted, trackway.

"Left or right ?" Buffy queried.

Willow knelt, to do the Scientific Detective bit. Finally she pointed. "That way," she said, her voice brimming with confidence. Buffy didn't ask how she knew, which was A Good Thing so far as Willow was concerned, as she had, again, gone with random.

As they walked, she checked over her magick bag, finding it still stocked up with the sorts of things she expected to need. Even so, seeing what looked like a clump of docken, she picked a couple of leaves: useful in counter-spells. And, later, when they passed an oak tree, she carefully took two small sprigs and a couple of acorn husks from the ground around it. Well, one never knew . 

The other Good Thing (so far, as well as the kisses and the bag being stillthere) was that they - Buffy and she - were back in comfortable clothes. >From wherever this multiverse did its shopping, they had been equipped withjeans, comfortable walking shoes, and little rain-slickers. The one thingWillow wasn't sure about where the wrap-round tops, the sorts of things she knew ballet dancers wore to practice in. Fine for Buffy - Action Girl, the Slyer, needing to be limber at a moment's notice, but Willow felt it left her . slightly exposed. A nice loose sweater would have offered her the illusion that her body wasn't being plattered up for public display but wassomething she could choose whether or not to expose . but the outfits matched, so if she lost Buff, in a crowd or something, she would only need to look at herself to know what to look for.

 

They'd been walking maybe thirty minutes when the track reached a slightly broader road, big enough perhaps for two horsecarts to pass. Buffy was wondering which way to turn (again) when Willow spotted something, about fiftyyards to the left, half-hidden by a bush.

It looked to be another 2-D cut out, but as she approached it, it matured into a weathered stone object -- a milestone: "Thorpe 10" - 10 of what it didn't say.

"If that's miles," Buffy said, a faint gloom transpiring in her voice, "it'll be tonight before we get there, wherever it is."

Willow wanted to say something, but wasn't sure what.

The apples made things better - the tree suddenly grew out of a hedge, overhanging the roadside ditch, and held little reddish-russet fruit, wrinkled and small, but exquisitely sweet when bitten into. Buffy was just on the point of mentioning the absence of liquid refreshment, when, with a cry of joy, Willow ran toward a field gate on the left of the road.

"Blackberries !" she said. "Blackberries and apples !"

There were huge swatches of blackberry bushes, defended of course by thorns, but with berries on the size of marbles . and big marbles: not tiddlers, but gob-stoppers. And they had obviously caught the sun as much as the apples, because they were full and ripe and juicy (and Buffy couldn't help comparing one or two to some nipples she knew - it was tempting, but how wouldthey get the stains off afterwards).

Willow was thoroughly maroon-stained by the time they'd finished, and

Buffy not much better. But there was a simple solution - 

"Blackberry is as much natural as oak or ash or rowan," Willow said. And acouple of minutes' research in her books provided a simple little charm which not only got the juice stains out of clothes and off skin, but also pulled the essence of the berries into a small glass phial.

 

Then they headed back to the road, paying no attention to the scarecrow, which watched them from the hedgerow.

 

Back on the road they pressed on, but with diminishing hope of getting anywhere. They had seen no more milestones and no signs of habitation, and apples and blackberries, whilst pleasant as a snack, lacked something in the square meal category. And Willow had to confess that her books didn't extend to spells for food out of thin air.

"So, we look like - "

Buffy broke off what she had been about to say. Willow, curious looked up,to see Buffy with a strange, intent, expression.

"What is it ?"

Buffy gestured Willow into silence.

"What is it ?" Willow repeated in a whisper.

"Possibly dinner and a hotel," Buffy said, softly.

Willow craned to see over the hedge. All that she could see was a haystack- or, more accurately, since the hay had yet to be properly baled, a crudepile of hay.

She said as much, quietly, to Buffy. But the Slayer was already scouting along the roadside, for the gate into the field. With a soft whirling noise, the head of an owl protruded from a hole in a tree-trunk and its eyes fixed onto the two, as they entered the hayfield.

 

Beside the pile of hay proved to be a knapsack - Buffy had observed its khaki colour from the road: 10 points to Slayer-vision, she thought, quietly proud. And knapsacks, she knew, tended to have food in them.

And lo, this one did. Not much for two healthy girls - a pork pie sliced in halves, a plastic bag with lettuce in it, two more apples (bigger, and rounder), and two bottles of ginger-beer (the ones with the marbles in the neck). Willow checked hers carefully - she read about a snail in a bottle ofginger beer once.

"Not much," Buffy said.

"But more, " Willow replied.

"Than we had five minutes ago," they both finished.

 

They finished the food and drink and then Willow looked round. Evening wasfalling fast, the light was failing and a chilly breeze had sprung up.

"So," she said, "that was dinner, of a sort. You didn't say anything abouta movie, but you did mention a hotel."

Buffy grinned, and indicated the hay-pile.

"Dig in there," she said, "and we'll be warm and snug."

"You are joking," Willow said, and then thought about it.

Ten minutes later, with their slickers to form a sort of sleeping bag, theywere laying together in the heart of the hay, and - if it wasn't warm, thebreeze was gone.

Ten minutes more, after shedding some clothes and sorting themselves out, it was starting to feel like a slightly unconventional sleep-over.

Ten more minutes, pretty well full of quality smoochage, and they were bothfeeling that this had not been a bad idea at all.

Then, since they weren't going to be going anywhere, it seemed only logicalto help each other out of their remaining clothes. They unwound their tops and then gently caressed each others' breasts, slowly building up the fires of passion. It was easier, in the confined space, for them to shed their shoes and jeans individually, but it didn't prevent the one not disrobingfrom softly stroking and kissing spare bits of her love's skin as they happened into range. Then they lay in each other's arms and went back to the smoochage, fencing with their tongues and caressing breasts, thighs, nipples and the like, as the mood took them.

Until finally they could wait no longer, and stripped each other of the last vestiges of clothing and gave themselves over to serious loving, and thento a little nap.

 

In the middle of the night, Willow woke, disoriented and adrift - the hay was not an ideal bed, and there was an elbow in her side. She wriggled round, remembering where she was, where they were. She heard Buffy murmur something and she spooned behind her Slayer, and then gently caressed her again.

To her joy Buffy responded, and they lovingly stimulated each other into a further, deeper sleep.

 

 

And the artificial owl watched all night. But had no idea of what was going on inside the hay-pile.

 

 

End of Bit 1