Work: the Sandman
Characters: Wanda, Death
A/N: My first Sandman fic. Based on events in A Game of You. Wanda's POV. Don't mind the many italicizations... I got a little carried away. ;) Plus, Wanda is a rather dramatic character, so I think it works. Drop me a review and let me know what you think!
I'm dead, I guess. Goddamn hurricane. George knew what was going to happen; he warned me about the storm. If I was smart, then I would have gotten out of there as soon as possible, and taken Barbie and crazy Maisie with me. I don't know how I could have done it, with an unconscious princess and an injured old woman in tow, but I would have found a way. I know it. I know who I am. I know what I can do. That was one weirdzo night, though – it must have been, if I'm thinking I should have taken advice from a dead man's face that was nailed to the wall.
So I'm dead. Maybe I should be upset. But I'm not, really. Barbie's okay, and that was why I stayed in the first place. Mission accomplished, Agent Wanda. And I'm not sad, or even angry about what happened. Yeah, my life was going pretty well until that night, but even so, I don't mind. I'm happy, the happiest I ever remember feeling. I feel different – I feel absolutely right about myself for the first time.
It's strange, this death thing, though. It's like I'm inside myself and outside myself at the same time, like one of those bizarre dreams. I'm wearing a gorgeous pink dress – I can feel the fabric against my skin, but I'm looking at myself in it too. It has a bow that cinches at the waist, and I can see that I've actually got curves. Everything about me is soft and feminine, and I feel so... liberated.
I twirl and admire myself, looking at my slender hands and delicate face. And I'm trying to figure out if this is Heaven (which my parents said I'd never reach if I kept up my sinful ways) or just some fantastic dream when I realize I'm not alone. A woman with very white skin and messy black hair is approaching me. She's goth, I guess, with a funky necklace on a long chain. When she reaches me, she stands tip-toe to whisper in my ear. Her voice is gentle and kind.
"You look beautiful, Wanda," she says. "So beautiful." I smile and blush. I feel beautiful. She returns the smile, as if she can hear what I'm thinking. I've figured it out now – she's Death. Then she points off into the distance. "Hey, isn't that your friend?"
I follow her gaze and see Barbie, dressed all in black, coming back from my funeral. I wave to her, and so does Death. I want to tell Barbie how much I appreciate everything she's ever done for me, and how damn much I want to give her a huge hug forbeing the only one of my friends to go to my funeral.She's always been such awonderful friend to me, standing by me no matter what. We girls have to stick together, you know?
Barbie sees me, and she looks like she's going to say something, or at least wave back, but then Death puts an arm around me. "It's time to go, Wanda," she says.
And so I go. Who could have known that death would be so beautiful?