Everything Velma saw was green. Not like it was tinted green, but wherever her eyes darted, she saw the same thing, the same now unappealing shade of lime, and nothing else.
Slowly, it faded and she was able to make some sense of her surroundings. She was bound with heavy rope and staring down someone she didn't recognize.
The person in front of her couldn't have been older than 20. Long black hair fluttered in front of her face, obscuring her facial features from view.
Velma found she was able to reach out with a hand, despite being bound, and try to swipe the hair away from her face.
When she took a good look, she gasped. Her... His? face... was the face of a past enemy. It was Ben Ravencroft. The person chuckled, then laughed with his laugh as one hand extended, then shot a bolt of some kind of magic at her.
Velma shot awake and inhaled sharply. She propped herself up on her elbows and glared blearily at the window. It wasn't quite daybreak yet, but the color of the sky and the lack of stars signaled dawn was approaching. Well, not like she could make out any stars, but she knew there weren't any out either way.
She checked the clock by her bed. After a minute, she could make out the blurry numbers. It was 5:58. With a huff, she flopped back down on her pillow, unsure if she'd be able to sleep again.
Why had she had that dream? Why was it focused on an event that happened nearly a year ago? Was it because of the timing or sheer coincidence? And who was that girl, or, who had she been before she had his face?
Maybe I haven't seen her face before, Velma reasoned with herself, and my mind couldn't come up with one I've seen before that would fit better.
After all, no one can see faces in dreams if they haven't seen them in real life.
She sighed again, staring at the ceiling for a few minutes. Of course, when she thought she was over this, she dreamed about him again. Was it a dream or a nightmare? It wasn't intense but it had started her heart racing and she felt uncomfortable with it.
After a few more minutes of staring at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to find her, she resolved she just wasn't going to get anymore sleep that night.
Whatever, people get up at six in the morning.
Velma sat up and fumbled for her glasses, then set them on her face. Yawning, she stretched her legs before standing up and stretching her arms and back.
She forgot when the rest of them usually woke up in the morning, so she got on her laptop and started letting herself fall down a rabbit hole of internet browsing. She looked up articles about unsolved mysteries in their area anything they could go investigate. She found nothing.
That sucks, she mused to herself as she opened a blank tab and closed the rest. She sat, wondering what to do to pass the time, then closed her laptop. Nothing in particular seemed interesting to her.
She sat back and closed her eyes, thinking about the events that had unfolded nearly a year ago.
How he'd gotten close and used her to find his ancestor's spellbook in a greedy quest for power.
How he'd set her free but how she was returned quickly. How he'd died.
She could still hear his last scream in her ears.
It had taken her a while to process everything. She couldn't even acknowledge that he was dead, he was really actually dead, until a day later. The knowledge that he'd used her, lied to her, came a while after.
She'd blamed herself for a while. How could she have let that happen? She should have known better than to trust that quickly. Why didn't she try to do more when she could have?
She remembered how she stood there, screaming at him, when she could have tried to grab the book. She stood there as Sarah pulled him in, she could have at least tried to grab his hand and save him.
She could have done more.
Could I have? Velma asked herself, opening her eyes.
Tears threatened to start pooling in her eyes but she started blinking rapidly to keep them away. It was too early to get this emotional.
This is in the past, she reminded herself. I can't change what happened. There's no use in beating myself up over any of it.
She exhaled deeply and inhaled again. Let's try to have a better day, she thought to herself as she stood up and went to make coffee, to really wake up and do something with her day.
As she went to the counter to get the filters, a somewhat disturbing thought crossed her mind.
I won't have this dream again.. Will I?
Uh oh, catch me starting my third WIP as of now, and I can't really depend on the low visibility of the crossover tags now, haha. This story is definitely not over yet. Later the nightmares will become more graphic, so please be careful. I'm just trying to make sure I don't like... scare someone. There will be warnings at the top of each chapter but hopefully this story won't be too bad! (I'm always paranoid)
As always, Scooby Doo does not belong to me, nor do any of the characters except my own, just this once.