Hidden Treasures

Okay, people, this picture is MINE. I made it from pictures that I have NO IDEA where I got them. But they belong to David Boreanaz, Alyson Hannigan, Joss Whedon, and the WB.

I knew he was there. He couldn't hide very well in my yard, and I could feel him watching me from the shadows. He’d come to watch over me every night. He didn't know I was aware of his presence, and I chose to let him have his fun. It made me feel safe; loved. Kind of like a fairy tale. I liked that. I like that romantic illusion, that maybe there’s some reason he wants to protect me. I don’t know what he thinks he’s protecting me from, though: the evils of humanity, maybe. Or perhaps my frequent nightmares. The hellmouth causes people to pray harder; it also seems to influence my dreams. Ever since he started watching over me, the nightmares have been going away, though. So, I kinda like him around. He isn’t all that bad, if you see him the right way. My friend, my dream catcher. My guardian Angel.

I stood there, protecting her. I don’t know why I do it; it’s like I’m called to her. Maybe some spiritual bond. I know that she used to have horrific nightmares; it seems that they've been diminishing since I've begun watching her. I'd like to think it's me, but it probably isn't. She even smiles in her sleep sometimes now. I want to get inside her head, see what she’s thinking, see what makes her tick, but I know I could never do that. She’s so delicate looking, yet, in many ways, she’s the strongest of us all. Despite everything, she always seems cheerful, and that helps the others. Everyone turns to her for advice and support. But what they don’t know, is that when she comes home from the library, she usually breaks down in tears. Her friends never seem to see the true her. I just hope I’m not missing her too. My friend, my light in the dark. My weeping Willow.

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