Recurring Nightmare
London 1859
He is four years old, clinging to his mother's hand as she helps him climb the wooden steps. Papa is already leaning over the railings, Isabelle on his shoulders, watching the outstretched pole with the bun skewered to its tip.
A brown blur lashes at the pole. The man holding it lurches sideways, catching at his father, toppling Isabelle. Hands reach desperately, impotently, towards the falling child.
His mother pulls him close, enveloping him in her skirts, covering his ears against the commotion, the ferocious growls. His screams echo with those of his sister at the bottom of the bear-pit.
New York 1949
She is four years old, cowering in the coal-bin while monsters rampage throughout the house.
Mommy had pushed her in, a bloodied finger placed to her lips, shushing her. "Stay there. Don't make a sound."
In the dark, she can hear the crashing and bashing. Then all is quiet.
"Mommy?"
Light floods in as the door is ripped from its hinges. A hand yanks at her arm. She screams and grips Teddy tighter. A snarl turns to a yelp. The pale young man holding her recoils at the sight of the blood-spattered toy.
Her adoptive parents don't own a coal-bin.
Sunnydale 1999
It's four years since the Slayer moved to this stinking Sunnyhell; three since he’d followed to kill her.
Now here he is; the Slayer of Slayers trussed up like a Thanksgiving Turkey, shot through with arrows by an irate ‘Native American', and not a bloody thing he can do about it.
Worse than that, he's at the mercy of the entirely pathetic Scoobie Gang: impotent, thanks to the soldier boys' little gadget.
It's a bad dream. But the worst is over right?
Wrong!
His oldest nightmare rises up before him.
"A bear! You made a bear! Undo it! Undo it!"
March 22nd 2007