There is peace to be found near a pre-dawn ocean, the time when
waves relax into swells, resting from the frenetic scatter of white
caps come day. The slight chill, damp to the skin, soft cries of
early morning sea birds, the tang of salt on the tongue. Sand cool
to bare feet, the soft hiss as the grains slide over each other
in the barest breeze. Almost dark, almost light, the time before
the world awakes.
Buffy
loved all those things about the sea as she sat watching the tide
roll in, the night roll out. She needed the peace these days, the
time away from the sheer overwhelming weight of being alive, making
it through the next moment without breaking out into screams. Here,
away from her friends, the press of needy loved ones, the panic
of those little things that make life so full and exciting, she
could just breathe and be. No slaying, no demons or monsters or
magic driving her to distraction. She could wiggle her toes in the
dunes, throw stones into the surf, and let the wind ruffle her hair.
Back
with the others, it was so hard to think, to feel out how to remake
her shattered life in the frantic comings and goings. She wanted
them to stop, to wait just a moment, to let her catch her breath,
but it was useless. They didn’t understand. So she muddled
on, brain fuzzy and reflexes dulled, trying to remember why it was
she was supposed to stay alive in the first place.
She’d
started coming down to the beach after patrols in high school, ostensibly
to check on the status of her now fishy classmates. They’d
swum off into the sunset as far as she knew, but it didn’t
matter. She could still come and sit and pretend to scan the horizon
for the genetically enhanced, man-eating swim team. They never showed
up, not one scaly hide. She didn’t come often, a few times
a month, but sometimes she needed it.
Like
this morning, though today she wasn’t playing in the surf,
throwing rocks, or laying back to watch the stars fade into nothingness
with first light.
No,
today she was staring in consternation out at the breakers where
she could almost swear someone was swimming. No one swam at this
beach, not so close to the cave system that connected through to
the Hellmouth. Even humans felt enough of the evil to stay away,
a tinge in the air like electricity grounded into your bones.
Perhaps
it was one of the fish men coming home after too many long years.
Maybe they missed the social scene. Rolling her eyes at the thought,
Buffy walked a bit closer to the foam, carefully keeping her feet
from the cold water. She was cold enough already on the inside.
Larger
than she first thought him to be, the swimmer crested out of a wave
with breathtaking grace, moving more as a sea-dwelling animal would,
with no wasted movement. He seemed to have long, dark hair in the
gloom, and Buffy squinted her eyes to get a better look. It streamed
out behind him, fluid like the water he swam in.
Soon
enough, the man’s feet must have touched bottom as he suddenly
stood, broad-chested and regal, long legs striding through the surf
heading straight for Buffy. Her mind must have been slower on the
uptake than she thought, because she didn’t reach for a stake
or the dagger in her boot. Thinking on it in the few seconds before
he reached her, she felt no slayer tinglies, only the faint embarrassment
of being caught alone on a beach before morning.
The
sun just began to crest the horizon over the mountains behind her
when he strode out the water. Light hit his hair, which was the
color of the seas in all their glory: turquoise, azure, deep midnight,
darkest ocean. He shook it back over his shoulders, the water running
in rivulets over his bare chest and shoulders.
He
surveyed the beach with a regal air, and for a moment the only thing
Buffy could think of was Glory. This man, whoever he was, behaved
like a god, or one who has been treated like one. Before she could
get her guard up, however, he smiled down at her from his impressive
height of almost seven feet.
“Good
morning, my lady. If you would be so kind as to tell me where I
am, I would greatly appreciate it.”
Whatever
Buffy had been expecting, it wasn’t this. Random men didn’t
just swim up on her beach asking for directions. She blinked once
or twice before responding, “Half Moon Beach, outside of Sunnydale,
California.”
The
man frowned, half turning to face back out to the sea. “That
is most strange.”
He
flicked his gaze back down towards the diminutive woman. Buffy said
nothing, looking back in turn. She noted the skin tight briefs the
swimmer wore, the same color as the darkest part of his hair, and
wondered why on earth he didn’t have hypothermia. No one in
their right mind went swimming in the Pacific at night in winter
without a wetsuit, or no one sane anyway.
“I
do not believe this is the same place I came from. It feels different
here, as if this were not my ocean.”
“You
have an ocean?” Buffy couldn’t help the question, as
inane as it sounded. Internally cursing her blondeness, she smiled
weakly.
“All
oceans are mine.” The blue man, as she was calling him in
her head, seemed vaguely amused.
“How
did you get here then?” Upon noticing that his eyes were a
bit unusual, Buffy looked closer at the rest of him. The vertical
black slits for pupils were nothing compared to the webbing between
his fingers. When he noticed her curious gaze, he clenched his hands
into fists.
“I
swam. There were unusual visitors to my ocean, and when I followed
them back the way they came, I found myself here.”
“Did
they, by any chance, look like The Creature from the Black Lagoon?”
Now
the man shook his head. “I am not familiar with any black
lagoons inhabited by fish men, but they were indeed strange, not…usual…for
my world.” He gestured with a long arm, sweeping it across
his field of vision. “I do not belong here. Perhaps I shall
swim back the way I came and I will find myself at home.”
He
gave a short bow, inclining his head. Startled, Buffy reached out
a hand, grasping his arm lightly, “Wait.”
Arching
a thin midnight eyebrow, he murmured, “Yes?”
Buffy
had to ask, even though she knew it sounded ridiculous, “You’re
not, I mean, you can’t be him, are you? Poseidon? Cause dealing
with two gods in a year would be a bit much.”
He
laughed then, a deep rumble like surf crashing on rocks. Buffy couldn’t
help but shiver as he said, “No, little one, I am not. You
may call me Barinthus.”
The
slayer removed her hand with a nod. “Barinthus then. Nice
to meet you. I’m Buffy.”
He
smiled. “Well met, Buffy.” He took a few steps back
until he was knee deep in the chilly water. “And whatever
you were searching for, staring out at the sea, I do hope you find
it. Everyone deserves their peace in the world.”
With
that, he leapt forward into a graceful dive, skimming the water
for a heartbeat before diving deep. Buffy watched him swim away,
water sparkling in the new morning light, and raised a hand in farewell.
She kept looking as she sat on a low rock, elbows on her knees,
as the dull roar of the ocean filled her ears, drowning out the
world, giving her a moment of space. She hoped he was right and
that she would find her peace. She could only hope for so much.
~Fin~
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