A/N: I can't believe I'm doing this. I'm not a Buffy expert, nor am I a POTC expert. I know enough about POTC but Buffy, let's just say I missed a few episodes and so if anything is wrong, blame it on that. I'd buy the dvd's so I would have a better idea of what I'm doing, but I'm poor. The life of a struggling artist… Well, this story has been bouncing around in my head and it refused to slip through any holes and into someone elses head. And so, here I am. Enjoy!

Slayers and Curses

By: Embarr

Chapter 1: Is this heaven… or hell?

She had jumped.

She had done it to save the world… again, to save her friends, and to save her sister. The Key, her dear sister who she'd known practically her whole life. Except she hadn't. The memories were fake, but she still loved her. And so she jumped, saying a few words to Dawn and then running off the edge of the tower to free-fall towards the opening portal.

Buffy expected to be dead as soon as she hit the ground, and perhaps she was. Was this heaven… or hell, she asked herself through the haze. It must be hell though, she felt pain. It coursed through her like fire and she gritted her teeth to keep from screaming in anguish. She didn't scream but a sob escaped her throat and exploded into the silence about her. It seemed to be only the tip of the iceberg as she broke down, tears staining her cheeks as they poured from her eyes. It hurt and she had held back tears so many times that she didn't care who saw this time. Her friends and family weren't there for her to be brave in front of and so she cried. She was surprised to find as her tears left her, so did the heat and the pain that came with it. Her senses reached out around her – she still didn't wish to open her eyes – and she felt a breeze caress her body.

Her relief was short lived as the breeze suddenly sunk into her. Cold, damp air enveloped her body and penetrated the skin, down to her bones and soul. She shivered violently, almost wishing for the return of heat. She was confused. Wasn't hell supposed to be hot? Buffy forced her eyes open to a mere sliver of there normal size to peek at the world around her. It was dark. Her eyes opened further, shifting about in confusion. Light suddenly shifted into existence a few feet away from her, and she finally caught a glimpse of sandy ground. Buffy looked up to find the source of illumination, discovering it to be the moon. The moon? Clouds drifted over it again, hiding it along with the light it had cast on the ground before her. Another gust of wind reminded her of her persistent shivering and she was once again sent into a fit as her body tried to reject the cold. The edges of her vision began to darken as the fit settled down. Yes, this was hell. First it seared you from the inside out, and then when you thought you were getting mercy as the pain subsided, they froze you until you wanted to die again. At least she had one escape left to her and it was creeping up on her whether she wanted it or not. Unconsciousness.

With that she fell into a fitful slumber, not hearing the sound of barking or the soft creak of a lantern in an old fisherman's hand as he walked down the shore with his dog. She didn't even wake when the dog came to her side and enthusiastically sniffed at her clothes, or when the old man staggered slightly under her weight as he carried her to shelter.

"I found her by the shore. The lass had a few bad scrapes and bruises and was awfully cold when I found her, but she seems to be recovering quite nicely."

"The poor child, what happened to her, I wonder?"

"I am not sure. The girl's dressed strangely though."

"What will become of her? It's obvious she's been through something horrible. We can't just send her back to wherever she came from."

"I don't think we can make that decision for her, dear. If she wishes to stay, then I am sure she can find a decent living in Port Royal, perhaps as a maid."

"Let us pray that she does."

One year later…

Buffy Summers looked up from the spit she was slowly turning. That was one of the few things they allowed her to help with in the kitchen anymore. The cooks had soon found out that unless they wished disaster upon them, they would not allow her to actually do any cooking. Even now they kept an eye on her, making sure Buffy didn't turn the spit too fast or too slow.

Here they knew her as Anne, the same alias she used when in L.A. They didn't know she was from the future or even that she could burn a TV dinner with style. Of course, they didn't know what a TV dinner was either (though if they did they would probably keep her away from the fireplace too) but that wasn't the point. She'd been here a year to date. She'd celebrated the anniversary of her arrival that night, returning to the spot she had been found by the fisherman and his dog to stare up at the sky and curse the powers that be for her predicament. They never answered her silent cries of anger though, and she never expected one. The fisherman that had found her had been kind. He had carefully explained that she was in Port Royal, not hell. She took everything in stride and even when she discovered the year, she managed to keep calm until she was in private. Her panic attacks were few though, and she eventually accepted the reality of where and when she was.

The fisherman, now known to her as Mr. Thatch, and his wife nursed her back to full health which didn't take long with her slayer healing. Too soon for the old couple, she was recovered and although she was grateful for their kindness, she grew too restless to stay put. Mr. Thatch noticed this and after giving her some money (which she took only after his stubborn insistence) and a letter to be given to the local governor, set her off on her new life. His wife wasn't so willing to let her go and only after a promise she would visit them as much as possible, and a bundle that was a new dress for Buffy was thrust into her arms, did the kind old woman bid her a tearful farewell. Buffy had thanked the two for everything and then packed her things, both from her old and new life, and headed towards the main part of town to her new fate.

The letter had contained a lie, which Governor Swann ate up quickly. It had said she was a friend of the Thatch's, just come to Port Royal and was seeking a living as a maid. Governor Swann didn't ask any questions, all the fake details were included in the fake letter. He was a gentle man, almost reminding her of Giles at times when he slipped into an awkward stance when presented with an odd situation. Just like Giles, Buffy thought sadly. It made her feel guilty for the deceit that she was using to acquire this job, but she knew it was necessary. She had no money, save for the few coins Mr. Thatch had kindly given her, and it was not enough to make passage to somewhere where she may find help to get back home.

And so she was now a servant in the Governor's mansion. She would clean, which wasn't a hard task given her stamina and strength, and she would assist in any other jobs they gave her. She appeared to be like any normal woman, trying to make a living as a maid. Buffy wasn't normal though, and she knew that that fact hadn't escaped someone in the household. She was sure that most in the mansion were oblivious of her night habits but she was sure she had felt someone's eyes on her back as she snuck out one night for her patrolling. After that, she'd taken precautions when leaving for patrol, taking detours through thick foliage in order to avoid spying eyes from the windows. There were many windows on the mansion though, making this a hard task for her. It had become easier once she'd managed to nab some dark clothing from a clothesline in town and she no longer worried about someone noticing her.

The area was practically a dead zone for vampires (no pun intended) and those few that managed to slip to shore from a newly arrived ship hardly ever got a chance to have a welcome meal before she staked them. The local demons weren't too much of a bother either. She found this as a relief almost, but an itch was slowly rising to the surface. She wouldn't admit it but deep down inside she needed more… action. She needed to do what she was called for. It had been her calling for so many years, longer than any slayer. Now, she was a seasoned fighter picking off fledglings with Mr. Pointy and slicing through demons with a stolen kitchen knife.

The spare time had given her some new experiences though. Along with her new found knowledge of Colonial laundering, she took up sewing. Estrella, a handmaid in the mansion, had thought it strange that Buffy knew nothing of sewing past meager stitches and so took it upon herself to teach her. She was patient with Buffy and, to humor her, Buffy settled herself enough to learn. She had to admit after awhile that the task of sewing wasn't so bad as she thought, and Buffy took up the lessons she was taught quickly. Buffy grew decent at sewing and although her stitches weren't quite as skilled as Estrella's, she managed to tailor her stolen "night clothes" to fit her better for future patrolling.

A friendship had grown between the two of them, and Buffy found herself spending more of her spare time in front of the fire with Estrella, sewing and swapping tales. Estrella had lived practically all her life with the Swanns, serving as Miss Elizabeth's handmaid. She told her of hilarious mishaps and Miss Swanns' younger years when she was obsessed with pirates. When the conversation turned to Buffy and her past though, things got vague.

"Anne, I know you don't like to talk about your past," that was an understatement. Estrella knew by now that Buffy tried to avoid mentioning anything about herself before Port Royal. She'd always told lies if forced and telling Estrella her spun tales felt even worse than telling them to Governor Swann. "But you've hinted at a family. Don't you like to speak of them?"

Buffy did and it was the few real stories that anyone managed to get out of her from then on. She told Estrella of her mother and Dawn, Giles and the Scoobies. When things got too close to home though, she'd stop and Estrella would let her. The subject would quickly change and Buffy would look gratefully at her friend for letting her keep some things to herself.

She had been here a year and Estrella was the only one to have heard anything about her that wasn't lies or rumors thrown about the servants quarters.

"Anne, you may stop turning the spit. I will take up the task from here. You are requested in the Masters' office." Buffy looked at the cook who had resumed her previous duty. The governor was requesting her? Nervousness clenched at her as she wiped her hands on a towel and headed towards the office. What if he'd heard of her slipping out at night or someone had found the stolen knife hidden in her possessions? She arrived at the door of the office and knocked.

"Come in." She opened the door, not finding Governor Swann's voice threatening. He was busy scratching away at some document with his quill and only looked up for a moment to see who it was before continuing his task.

"You wanted to see me sir," she asked in an uneducated slur of an accent. She'd easily picked it up from the Thatch's during her stay and she thought it would be useful in keeping her alias up. If Giles could here her now, he'd be cringing at her butchering of the English language.

Governor Swann looked up once more, distractedly. Recognition seemed to dawn in his eyes and he picked up a letter.

"Yes, yes. I want you to deliver this message to the local Smith. The man who is ordinarily my messenger is currently on another task." So it wasn't because of something she had done. Relief nearly turned her to jelly but she found sense enough to raise her hand and take the letter. "Don't leave until you have received a reply for me, understand?" Buffy nodded and took the letter. Then, with a curtsy (something that would have Xander and Spike in mutual mirth) she left the room to complete her new task.

She'd seen the Blacksmith's building before, mostly at night during her patrols, but had never gone in it. It would have been easy to swipe a few tools or freshly made weapons from there, even the guarded armory for that matter, but she didn't want to risk it. A kitchen knife could go missing with few questions asked, but for a sword or two to disappear… no, too risky and so she never attempted it.

Now that she was in the building though, she had a hard time restraining herself at the sight of several swords lining the walls. She resisted drooling over the skillfully crafted blades but her hand twitched, itching to reach out and grab one. Buffy squashed the urge enough so that she merely brushed a finger lightly across one of the smooth blades nearest her, staring at it in admiration.

"Can I help you?" A tall man stood behind her. Buffy spun around in her embarrassment, realizing she'd been caught admiring the blades. She recognized the man before her from when she accompanied Estrella into town. Estrella would lean in conspiratorially as he past by them and she'd whisper the handsome man's name. William Turner. He was apprenticed to the Blacksmith, which would explain his presence in the forge at that moment, and it was rumored that he and Miss Swann had the hots for each other. Estrella didn't exactly put it in those terms, but Buffy got it just the same. Will was said to be too proper to try anything with the governor's daughter though, which left Miss Swann annoyed. The man who stood before Buffy seemed restrained but in no way timid as most had said he was. She saw spirit in his eyes and the soul of a fighter. Buffy decided she liked Will Turner.

"I have a message for the blacksmith Mr. Brown," Buffy replied with a curtsy. Curtsying was becoming a reflex, one she would be glad to be rid of if she ever got out of this place.

"Mr. Brown is currently… preoccupied. You may leave the message with me and I will get it to him as soon as I can." Will held out his hand for the letter but Buffy didn't give it to him.

"I was told to wait for a reply before I returned."

"Oh."

"Oh," Buffy mimicked, giving him an amused smile. She decided she'd have a little fun with him, if she were to wait. "Are you usually this eloquent with women?" She moved around the room, looking at the tools and weaponry. Will seemed flustered for the moment and so she let him collect himself before she turned around again to face him. His guard was up once more when she turned and she smile approvingly. He looked closely at her, seemingly trying to remember something.

"You are the new maid at the governor's mansion, are you not?"

"If new means I've been there for an entire year, then yes. I'm Anne Summers… my friends call me Buffy though." She didn't know why she'd added that last part. She hadn't even mentioned her real name to Estrella. It was good to hear it being said out loud to another human being though, and she didn't wish to take it back.

"Buffy?" Buffy shrugged, not wanting to explain her odd name. Her eyes had landed on a small rack near the corner at that moment. A glint of metal drew her closer and she, unthinking, picked up the object. It was a small dagger, well crafted, sharp and small enough to hide in a boot leg. Courtesy of a drunk one night, she had acquired such boots and used them to sneak around easier and conceal the kitchen knife in. She knew the pitiful knife wouldn't hold up to any serious fights and she looked longingly at the knife in her hand.

"Did you make this?" Will was watching her carefully as he answered.

"Yes, along with a few other things in this room." Buffy looked around at the many swords, arching an eyebrow as if to say, "a few?", but didn't say anything.

"I like this very much," she raised her hand holding the dagger. "Very pretty."

"And very dangerous as well," Will said as he came over to her and took the dagger from her hand.

"Which is what makes it pretty," Buffy thought but didn't dare say. She watched as he carefully placed the small weapon in its holder once more, keeping herself from pouting like he'd just taken her favorite toy away. The room was silent for a moment while Will seemed to examine the wall.

"Are you always this…"

"Strange? Yes." Will jolted, thinking he had insulted her. He quickly moved to apologize but she stopped him.

"Don't worry, you're not the first to think of me that way and you won't be the last." Will opened his mouth to reply but the clatter of a bottle hitting the ground and then rolling interrupted him. They both looked to see Mr. Brown, bleary eyed and obviously up from a drink induced slumber.

Beer bad, Buffy thought distractedly as she stared at the man before her. She'd never caught a glimpse of Mr. Brown before and now that she had she wished she hadn't. He looked like a short, stubby caveman and smelled like one too. He brought back images of her mishap with beer and how the guys who had had the interesting experience with her had looked after awhile.

"What's going on," he said in a slurred, gruff voice. "Who's the girl?" Will seemed to be restraining himself as he patiently explained Buffy's presence. Mr. Brown shuffled over to snatch the letter from her hand, and Buffy tried not to gag on his stench. He then haphazardly walked back to the room from which he had appeared from to read the letter.

"Is your boss usually "preoccupied" like that?" Will seemed apologetic as he nodded. Buffy looked sympathetically at Will as he tried to hide the contempt he felt for the man who was his superior. Buffy knew a thing or two about supposed superiors not keeping up appearances.

They remained silent for the remainder of the time it took for Mr. Brown to jot down a reply and slap it into Buffy's hand. Buffy then turned to leave, giving a nod and dipping slightly in a bow of farewell to Will. He nodded, bending at the waist.

"It was quite an experience speaking with you, Miss Summers." Buffy smiled.

"It was quite an experience talking to you too," she turned to leave once more but stopped in the doorway to call back to Will once more.

"Will?"

"Yes, Miss Summers?"

"Call me Buffy." With that, she left feeling a smirk curl on her lips, assured that she had just left Will standing in the same spot she'd left him, thoroughly confused.

A/N: There you go. I'll try to update monthly but seeing as I am starting school soon, I can't guarantee that. I'll be writing papers left and right and they won't have anything to do with fanfiction. Make sure to review 'cause I really like positive input and constructive criticism. If you're just planning to review to say that my story sucks, don't bother 'cause bad attitudes don't help anyone.