"Where am I?"
Buffy jumped a bit at the sound of her own voice. You hear the phrase silent as the grave, but having spent a lot of time in graveyards she felt that they weren't any quieter than anywhere else. People noises like talking were usually kept low, but there was traffic noise and birds and wind and stuff. This place felt … dead. There was no sound, no movement that Buffy didn't make. She was in a long dimly lit corridor with walls of pale stone. The walls were decorated with oddly stylized pictures and squiggly little writing that looked vaguely familiar to her. Egyptian, maybe? Giles would know. She idly wondered where he was.
It seemed to be somewhat lighter ahead of her, so she walked that way. It occurred to her that she had no idea how she had gotten here. Wherever here was. That should probably worry her, she thought, but strangely she wasn't all that upset, or worried or anything really. The only thing she felt was numb. There was however a nagging suspicion tugging at her mind that she was forgetting something. Something important. She considered going back but somehow she knew she couldn't.
When she was eleven she had gotten caught in a rip current while swimming at Cabrillo Beach. No matter how hard she swam she just kept getting farther and farther away from shore. Eventually a lifeguard rescued her. Trying to turn around felt like trying to fight that rip current. No matter how hard she tried, her next step took her further down the corridor. Only this time there was no friendly lifeguard to save her.
As an eerie coincidence, she was disturbed to note that she was passing a painting on the wall that seemed to depict a young girl being saved from drowning. In fact as she moved farther down the corridor she began to recognize many of the images depicted as events in her life. Here was an image of a skating meet she had won, there was cheerleading camp. She saw an image of Merrick, her first watcher, throwing a knife at her. And one of him dying. Buffy stopped looking at the images and walked on.
Eventually she came to a short flight of stairs. At the top was a black door with a great green ankh embossed on it. There was an image next to the door of he helpless in the arms of a vampire. Dying. Buffy mounted the steps and reached for the handle. As she grasped it and began to open the door, a hand took her wrist.
"Not yet, Slayer. That door is not for you. Not today."
Slayer, Buffy thought, I'm the Slayer. She had almost forgotten. That name struck her as very right. Like a part of herself she had forgotten. The hand belonged to a tall and muscular man with warm golden eyes and the darkest skin Buffy had ever seen on a human. He pulled her away from the door and led her to a corridor off to one side that she hadn't noticed before.
"My Lord wishes to speak to you."
She hesitated. "I... I was doing something. I need to get back..."
The large man gave her a crooked grin. "All in good time, Miss."
He led her to a large open room decorated in white and gold with black accents. Oil lamps and lots of green plants gave the space a warm feeling. One entire wall opened onto a wide terrace. Outside it was night. A river wide enough that she could barely see the opposite bank stretched out long and black into the distance. Buffy walked out into the warm night air and stood at the rail. A soft breeze and the water from the river lapping gently against the terrace was a welcome change from the eerie stillness of the tunnel.
"It's beautiful,"she said, gazing at the night shrouded river bank.
"It is."
A man was standing beside her, staring at her intently. He appeared to be middle eastern, neatly dressed in a white linen suit. He was clean shaven except for a patch of hair running from his lip to below his chin. Buffy recalled someone calling that style a goat patch. He smiled warmly and extended his hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Summers. I have desired to speak to you for some time now." Buffy took his hand and instead of the expected handshake he raised it briefly to his lips.
"Um...Hi?" Buffy blushed at the kiss. "Why did you want to talk to me? And um,who exactly are you?"
"You're an interesting girl," he replied with a grin, "What man wouldn't want to talk to you ?"
Buffy blushed.
The man turned his gaze back to the night shrouded river. "I'd like to tell you a story."
"A story?"
He nodded. "We haven't much time and this is a story you need to hear. It takes place long ago, before the legions of Rome or the scholars of Greece, before Egypt raised the pyramids, before man clawed his way out of the mud. Men were not the first rulers of your world. Demons walked the earth and all things trembled under their yolk."
"This sounds familiar," Buffy said with a wry smirk.
"Indeed," he said, "And did your Watcher tell you that the demons bred men like humans breed cattle, and for more or less the same reasons?"
"Um...no. He didn't mention that."
"The humans were naturally less than pleased by their servitude but were powerless to oppose their masters. So they sought aid from other beings, similar in power to the demons but open to more equitable terms of service. These beings agreed to help free mankind from their inhuman masters and to protect them ever after. For a price. The humans agreed and the demons were driven from the world. The humans lived up to their bargain and made sacrifice their new allies, and worshiped them as gods."
"Were they?" Buffy asked.
"Gods?" the man shrugged. "What is a god? They demanded worship and sacrifice, but they protected their faithful and guided them. One act in particular is of interest to you."
"They created the Slayer,"
The man nodded. He raised his chin and spoke as though reciting. "And the last demon on earth fed from the blood of a man, and shared it's essence with him. What was once a man rose from the grave and began to hunt and thus the first vampire was born. It learned to share it's essence with it's victims as the demon had shared it's essence with him, and they rose and hunted men as well, and thus the vampires became a plague. Their numbers swelled as they fed without limit. Men saw their families taken and killed and then rise again with hunger and murder in their eyes and they were afraid and they begged the gods for their aid.
"The gods heard the cries of their worshipers and looked at what their ancient enemy had done. Ra, King of the Gods and Bearer of the Sun saw the beasts prey upon the faithful and was offended. He cursed them such that whenever the Eye of Ra fell upon them they burned and died. Osiris, Lord of Silence and King of the Dead, saw the beasts share their essence with their victims, and saw those victims rise. Dead they were but not dead, kept from their heavenly fate and doomed to a twisted half life of eternal murder. He was offended and he cursed them such that in his symbol they would know fear, and if it touched them they would burn. Together they came to Sekhmet, goddess of the hunt known as She Who Mauls and showed her the monsters who preyed upon men and made the monsters her prey.
"Sekhmet came among the vampires and brought with her the wrath of the gods. The vampires knew fear then. She slew them in great numbers and the army of the undead was broken. But in her rage she slew all who came before her and men and monster alike died at her hand, and the Nile turned red with blood. When she saw what she had done, Sekhmet was ashamed. She threw down her sword and wept and vowed never to draw a sword against man again. And she cursed the vampires such that the waters of the Nile would be anathema to them, and that any water blessed in her name would burn them and they would remember her rage. Ra had pity on her and raised her up and said that she was Sekhmet no more. He named her Hathor, and he decreed from then on that she would be the goddess of joy and fertility, and that her name would bring forth life not death."
"But the Slayer..." Buffy stopped to cough.
"Patience young one," the man said, "I'm getting to that. The army of the undead was broken but the vampires remained. They feared the Eye of Ra, so they hunted at night. They feared the cross of the risen god, so they avoided holy places. They feared the wrath of Sekhmet and they never again rose in numbers. They hunted by stealth. But hunt they did, and man was still afraid. But they saw the Nile red with the blood of men and they were afraid of what the gods would do as well. So the priests of men offered a sacrifice, but not to the gods. In their fear they prayed to the monsters that they had once begged the gods to drive from them. A young girl, fair of face and pure of body, was taken into the temple. She was anointed and told she was chosen to save her people. She was laid upon with spells to make her eager to embrace her fate and to make the hunters of the night desire her and grow sated on her blood. And then she was led the night and offered to the vampires. Take her, they said, let her blood sate you, and leave us be. And they left her to die. And when she died another was chosen and anointed led out into the night."
"No!," Buffy cried, shaking in anger. "That's not right! The Slayer is a warrior, a ... a protector, not a victim!"
"The Slayer is a girl. She is young, usually early teens, always attractive, and always a virgin."
"You mean if I had let Tyler Ames …" Buffy blushed. "do that to me in the ninth grade I'd never have been called?"
The man shrugged. "Once sullied you would have been removed from the line of succession. An entirely different girl would be lying in a pool of water drowning right now."
The man's words felt like a rock in the pit of her stomach. She had figured out a while ago that she was dead, and she had a pretty good idea who her host was, but to hear it like that was still disconcerting.
"But this girl was not yet the Slayer," he continued. "Osiris saw what the men had done and was enraged at their betrayal. But he knew their fear and was loathe to visit his wrath on them. He was vexed and knew not what to do, so.."
"So he did what every smart man does when suitably vexed and consulted his wife."
Buffy turned at the unexpected voice. The couch behind her had been empty when she had arrived, Buffy was sure. Now, a woman was seated on a couch behind them sipping a glass of wine. She was beautiful and elegant in a way that Buffy could only hope she would grow into someday. If she weren't dead. Which she was. The woman rose and went to the man that Buffy was pretty sure was Osiris and graced him with a lingering kiss. The man chucked and nodded.
"Indeed he did. His wife was Isis the goddess of magic and she listened to her husband's problem. She went to the Nile and in it's waters she found the sword that Sekhmet had cast down, stained red with the blood it had spilled. When next the priests took the chosen one into the temple, Isis came to the girl in secret. She told her what was going to happen to her and held her as she cried bitter tears. But the girl refused to shirk her duty. 'If I must die that my village be saved then so be it,' she said. And so Isis took her hand and said..."
"If you're set on dying," the woman interjected with a vicious smirk, "why not take them with you?"
Buffy couldn't help but grin. She rubbed her chest. She couldn't recall eating anything since she had been here, but she had wicked heartburn.
"Not as poetic as I was going for, but accurate," the man said mildly. His wife smirked impudently but kissed his cheek in apology. The man elevated one eyebrow but continued. "and so this maiden, whose name was Sineya, agreed. And Isis anointed her with water from the Nile and asked her if she would give her life to protect the people. Sineya agreed. Isis blessed her with the holy Ankh, symbol of death and rebirth, and asked her if she would die to save the souls of the people. Sineya agreed. Isis held the sword to the maiden's breast and asked her if she would kill to avenge the slain. Sineya agreed."
"And Isis looked into Sineya's eyes." The woman had taken up the story and stepped very close to Buffy. She reached out and put her hands between Buffy's breasts. "and she sasked, 'Are you ready to be strong?' And Sineya agreed. And Isis thrust the sword into Sineya's breast, but she did not die. And the priests came and took her into the night and bade the vampires drink and be sated. And the vampires came to claim their tribute. They found waiting the Slayer. And they became the hunted."
"And when Sineya fell," Osiris continued, "the sword of Sekhmet passed to another girl, and another until finally it passed to you. Buffy Anne Summers, the Slayer, the Sword of Sekhmet. And then you died at the hands of the vampire Heinrich Joseph Nest, known as the Master, and the sword has now past to the next, Kendra Young."
"I'm not the Slayer anymore? How..." Buffy doubled over, clutching her chest and coughing. "Ya know, I didn't think being dead would hurt this much."
Isis chuckled. "That would be your friend Alexander."
"Xander," Buffy moaned, "What is he doing there?"
"Saving your life," the goddess replied, "You do him a disservice, you know. There is more to him that you realize. He just needs the proper … encouragement."
Osiris knelt and pulled Buffy up to him. "Our time runs short. The gods are bound by ancient agreements from interfering directly in the mortal world. We must act through champions. The Slayer is one such champion. A council of the Powers was appointed to oversee this world and use these champions to defend your world."
"Some freaking job they're doing," Buffy wheezed.
"Indeed. Not all of us are pleased at how they have handled things. The Slayer serves the Powers until she dies. You died and I am the Lord of the Dead. That makes you mine. That creates ... possibilities. "
Buffy tried to draw a breath, but couldn't. It felt like an iron band was crushing her chest preventing her from inhaling and she began to grow dizzy from lack of air.
"Out of time I'm afraid. Thanks to the intervention of your friend Alexander you have done something only a handful of Slayers have done, survived the passing of the Sword. You are no longer the Slayer but you have been changed by the fragment of divinity that has resided within you. We will speak again soon, Miss Summers. But for now..." The Lord of the Dead leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers and blew. Her lungs filled to near bursting with sweet oxygen, which she promptly expelled in a violent coughing fit that emptied her lungs of air and water. She looked up from the hard stone floor she was lying on into the face of her savior.
"Xander."
"Welcome back," he said giving her his trademarked lopsided grin. She grinned back. Funny, he didn't look like someone who had defied the gods for her.
"The Master?" Buffy asked.
"He's gone up," Angel said, materializing from the shadows behind Xander. Buffy looked at the dead man for a long moment. That's what he was, a dead man. Trapped in a life of death and pain long beyond his good by date. She shook her head and struggled to her feet.
"Take it easy," Xander said, "you're still weak."
Buffy shook her head. She should be weak. She's been beaten, strangled and drowned, then had Xander pound on her chest for a while. She should feel horrible. "I feel …. strong." She said. Her mouth twisted into a vicious smirk. "Now let's go kill some vampires." She strode out of the cave with an air of confidence she hadn't felt in days.
Angel and Xander shared a look. The younger man shrugged and went after her. Angel frowned and followed.