Fated Time

by Pilla Jeffrey

As a demonic realm opens, a new force must be found to stop it. But before that force is found, the Scoobies must deal with the future, as well as the past.

1. Heaven and Hell

TITLE:  Fated Time
AUTHOR: Pilla Jeffrey
EMAIL: mah219@yahoo.com
CATEGORY: Missing Scene/Epilogue, Romance, Action/Adventure
PAIRING: Willow/Xander
SPOILERS: Two To Go; Grave; Hell's Bells; Becoming, Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered; Lover's Walk; The Wish; More
SEASON / SEQUEL: 6
RATING: PG-13
CONTENT WARNINGS: language, violence
SUMMARY: Post Grave.  As a demonic realm opens, a new force must be found to stop it.  But before that force is found, the Scoobies must deal with the future, as well as the past.
STATUS: Work In Progress
ARCHIVE: Fanfiction.net, anywhere else, ask.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  All original characters and ideas are mine, though, so don't archive without my permission!
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks to Season One and Two DVDs, I've become a total Buffy addict.  Follow this trip through my deranged mind and enjoy the ride!  This is dedicated to my ultimate Buffy pals, Arianrhod and Ali.  Special dedication to my friend Mary Chasez-Timberlake because, yes, there is Britney in Buffy!

Chapter One: Heaven and Hell

            She'd laid dormant for a long time, not wanting to express her. . . . uniqueness.  It was hard to pretend to be normal, like she was the average teenager, but somehow she managed.  She managed to live with lies.  She managed to scare away any friends, any possible boyfriends.  She managed to different and special and she hated it.  She didn't want to embrace her new life, but the farther she ran away, the closer it came.  Someday, she'd have to accept it, but that day wasn't today.  And until that day arrived, she'd live the façade that existed for those who knew her, while hiding the demons that ruled her real life.  She was dependent on that perfect fantasy and with it, she knew she could avoid destiny's call just one more time.

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            The room was hot, but summer was usually that way.  The familiar chant of concentration and heavy breathing, along with the thud of foot meeting cushion calmed her somehow.  It was like finding the old security of what was done didn't matter because someone was always there to pick up the pieces and keep confidence going strong.  Somehow the training was not a bore, but a worthwhile experience.  Losing what you had only proved it to be more dear.

            Morning training was done and Buffy Summers wiped the sweat off her face and neck with a towel.  She discarded the towel and approached the steady Watcher.  "Giles, I'm really glad you've decided to stay, even for a little while."  She handed him a glass of water once he put down the kicking cushion.  "I've missed you so much."

            "I've missed you, too, Buffy."  He smiled, and the deep brown eyes glowed with their old sincerity.  "You definitely haven't lost any of your skill since I last saw you."

            She cocked her head with youthful spunk.  "Hey, I'm the slayer, I'm always in great shape."  Buffy bit her lip.  "But that doesn't mean I don't need you, Giles.  We all need you.  Life has been more hellish than usual on the Hellmouth and we've all fallen apart.  You're the glue that binds, Giles.  You're the one who knows best, makes everything right.  Everything isn't right when you're not here."

            "I wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon, Buffy.  But in this last year, you've grown up and matured much faster than I've seen you do before.  You've had to call the shots, make the decisions, and done a damn good job at it.  I'm proud of you, Buffy."

            A deep crimson flushed in her cheeks.  "Aw, shucks, and I don't have any video evidence."  She had to keep herself from crying as Giles pulled her into a hug.  For a spilt second, they were no longer Watcher and Slayer, they were long-lost friends.  And, truthfully, that's the way it had always been and forever would be.

            As she pulled out of the hug, Buffy hurriedly flicked away the threatening tears forming in her eyes.  "So, how's Will?"

            Giles frowned.  "I've been working with her so she can learn to control her magic, but it hasn't been working that well.  She still is in shock, which isn't surprising considering what's happened to her.  Xander's been trying to get through to her, but hasn't had much success."

            "You think it would be alright if I saw her?  I think I might be able to help."  Buffy smiled earnestly.  Willow was her best friend and had always gotten her out of any of the scrapes a vampire slayer could get themselves into, whether it be beating demons or passing history, and Buffy was eager to return the favor and help her through this troubled time.

            "Of course, Buffy."  He nodded.

            "Thanks, Giles."  She gave him a slight smile and left.

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            It had been breached.  In the thousands of years he'd live, it'd never been breached, and now. . . His hand curled, claws scrapping lightly together.

            It had been easy.  The idiot had hungered for power, and as he feed her, the breach grew larger.  Even after she collapsed, the dimensional rift had almost become big enough for him to get through.  He just needed to widen it a bit further and it would be soon that he could take over the mortal plane and satiate his thirst for flesh.

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            He didn't know how long he'd held her, only that he wouldn't let go for a long time.  Even still, he wasn't sure he'd actually let go, except for the fact that he was alone in his bedroom watching a lame episode of Days of Our Lives and the jasmine scent of her hair no longer clogged his nostrils.  And still, he could feel her in his arms while he stroked her hair as she cried desolately.

            Giles had relieved him of watching her late last night and he'd stayed awake by the door of Giles' rented apartment, listening to her tortured screams of anguish.  He hadn't even known he'd fallen asleep until Giles woke him several hours later and sent him home for some proper sleep.  The thing was, he couldn't sleep, not with his best friend hurting like that.  They'd known each other so long that, in some crazy way, they were linked; when she was in pain, he was.  He needed to help her to help himself.

            A brief knock sounded on his door.  "Xander? Can I come in?"  Anya's sweet, naïve voice had a softer edge to it then what he was used to recently.

            "Yeah."  He clicked off the television as the blonde vengeance demon came into his room hesitantly.  She looked around, as if trying to decide what to say.

            She decided.  "Are you okay?"

            Xander sighed.  "I've been better."

Anya blinked, then sat down on Xander's bed, enveloping him in a hug as she wept softly.  She hit him angrily with her shaky fists, causing Xander's wounds from the Willow's attack to sting.  "Why do you always have to be so brave?"

            "What?!"  Xander pulled away from her quickly, giving her a questioning gaze.

            She sniffled.  "I heard what happened.  You stopped evil, rampaging Willow from destroying the world.  You could have gotten yourself killed!"

            "It's not like you'd care.  You've been wishing I'd be dead for a while now," Xander snapped.  He instantly regretted it when she looked away, ashamed.  "Anya, I'm sorry.  It's just that, you know, with Willow—"

            "—no, you don't have to apologize.  I've been a real bitch to you."  Her bottom lip quivered as she continued, meekly, "I care about you, Xander.  Now, I can't forgive for leaving me at the altar"—she half-smiled sincerely—"but I want to start over.  With you."  Her grin widened.  "How do you feel about Mexican?"

            "Love it."  Xander watched her eyes dance with glee.  Anya hugged him again, and he held her in his embrace.  This is what he had wanted for so long, but somehow it felt empty, incomplete.  He pushed those notions out of his head and pulled Anya closer, kissing her forehead.  They were meant to be and this time they were going to make it.  He wasn't going to mess up again.

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            The door creaked.  A strangled crying echoed softly in the darkness.  Buffy stopped in the doorway, frozen.  The powerful sobs overwhelmed her.  Willow never cried this violently, this passionately sorrowful.  The slayer's voice caught in her throat, her eyes tearing up again.  She had never known Willow to be in so much pain.  Taking a deep breath, she closed the door, letting the blackness overwhelm her.

            "Who is it?"  Willow's voice was weak.

            Buffy took a hesitant step, guiding herself around the furniture by the small, flickering light emanating from a short candle.  "Will, it's me."

            "Buffy?"  Willow got up from the floor, wiping her tears fervently from her dark eyes.  Her face was shadowed, so Buffy took another step closer to her friend.

            "Oh my god," the blonde gasped.  The candle flickered over the redhead's face eerily, revealing tear-stained cheeks and red, puffy eyes framed by limp, ragged hair.  Willow broke down again and collapsed on her bed, her weeping growing stronger and all-consuming.  Buffy choked again.  She didn't know what to do, what to say.  She was utterly and completely useless.  Then again, sometimes the most useless had a purpose.  Buffy sat down on the bed, arms outstretched.  "Will, come here."

            And suddenly the two friends were in a desperate hug, both falling apart, but keeping each other together.  Their faces and shirts wet with hot tears, Willow buried her head in Buffy's shoulder.  "I miss her."  The witch sniffled.  "I miss how everything used to be.  I wish I could take it all back and everything would be good again."

            Buffy nodded, licking her salty lips.  "So do I," she murmured. "So do I."

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            Sunshine.  Such a glorious thing.  The hot  rays beating down on his flesh, burning it, the heat sizzling on his skin.  He'd been burned harshly over the years and now, peace.  Warmth, not flaming.  Light, not blinding.  And it felt wickedly good.

            Walking slowly down the street, his lips fell into their usual sardonic smirk.  "Hello, Sunnydale," he taunted in his English drawl.  "Didya miss me?"

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            "So, how's it been?  Are you okay?"  Buffy sat across from Willow at the foot of the bed.  The normalcy was forced, but comforting.

            Willow nodded, inhaling slowly.  "Yeah, I've been fine.  It's been hard, getting over Tara and, God, hurting you all.  I'm so sorry for what I did.  I almost killed Giles and I-I killed. . . . I killed—"

            "Shh, Will, it's alright," Buffy patted her arm lightly.  "What have you been doing?"

            "Giles is trying to teach me to control my magic, but it hasn't been working. I'm a hopeless addict.  I can still feel the power rushing trough my veins," Willow breathed, closing her eyes in remembrance.  "I was drunk on this insane amount of power that I couldn't control, but I didn't care.  I just wanted to get away from here, from all my troubles.  And-and Buffy, I know what I did was wrong, but there's still a lot of that dark power in me.  I've killed and I can do it again.  If Giles hadn't given me that dose of pure magic, I would have killed Xander.  The funny thing is, I don't feel any guilt.  That's what scares me.  The fact that I've become so heartless.  Xander is my best friend and I almost killed him.  He kept saying he loved me over and over and I almost killed him."

            Buffy gave her a sad smile.  "We all love you, Willow.  And, no matter what, we always will.  I hope you know that."

            "I-I do."  Willow stumbled on the words, as if she was trying to convince herself of their friendship.  "But everything is so terrible.  I've lost Tara and I don't want to lose you guys too.  I don't think I'd be able to keep this up if you weren't with me."

             "We'll always be here for you." Buffy's smile strengthened, broadly spreading across her face.  "Always and forever."

            Willow looked down, letting the silence envelop her.  "I know," she finally whispered.  She looked up, holding Buffy's gaze.  "And thank you, for everything."

            "It wasn't me, Will.  You had the strength to fight inside you and you won on your own.  We just helped the process along."

            Willow nodded, but felt sorry for Buffy.  Did the Slayer know how wrong she was?  There was still blood on Willow's hands.  She felt the darkness, forever rising, just waiting to come out.  And Willow knew that she wasn't strong enough to fight it forever.  Eventually, she would lose.  By then there'd be no hope for the sunrise.

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"You know, if you'd just stay outta this town, I wouldn't have to kill you."  She lifted her makeshift stake into the air and stabbed the vampire in the heart, the sickening crunch of bone resonating in her ears.  The dust burst and she flipped her long hair over her shoulder.  "Then again, I'd probably kill you anyway."

            She kicked the next one, dodging his weak attempts at trying to hit her.  "For the record, this"—she slammed her fist into his face—"is a real punch.  And this"—she again lifted her stake—"is really going to kill you."  Dust flew into her face.  That was one thing she hated about this job—the massive amount of money spent on conditioner.

            One by one, she staked all the vampires, a tedious job at most.  Fighting got rather dull at times.  She almost wished she was cleaning the house or something like that.  Of course, the hardest part was covering her tracks and making sure no one knew she was the one doing the slaying.  Making sure no one knew there were slayings.

            She took a deep breath as her stake stabbed the last vampire.  Adjusting her denim coat, she wiped the dust from her flared jeans.  Another great night done.  Now there was only tomorrow and forever after.

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            "What would it take for you to just leave with me?  Not trying to sound conceited, but you and me were meant to be.  You're a sexy guy, I'm a nice girl.  Let's turn this dance floor into our own little nasty world."

            Like some deranged cat on narcotics, Dawn danced around the living room, listening to the loud speakers.  It was true what they said. Dancing for girls consisted of two very simple things: throwing their long hair around and shaking their hips.

            "Dawn, will you turn that racket off?!"  Buffy could barely hear herself over the music and, by the way Dawn was shaking her butt, neither did she.  Buffy gritted her teeth and stomped to the stereo system, turning off the immature giggle of Britney Spears.

            Dawn turned to her, outraged.  "Hey! That was my music!"

            "That slut panting is not music, it's her in bed with that Justin Timberpond or whatever his name is."

            "Timberlake, not Timberpond.  That just shows how much you know."  Dawn pouted indignantly.  "She's not a slut.  She's a firm Christian, donated one dollar from each ticket sold for her concert to help with 9/11, and she's sworn off sex until she's married."

            Buffy nodded sarcastically.  "Sure, whatever you say.  But with those clothes and that dancing, I am well within my right to call her a slut.  She gives us blondes a bad name."

            "Who's the blonde slut?"  Buffy jumped when she heard the door open, forgetting that Xander had a key.  He came over, followed by Anya, and gave the two sisters a strange look.  Buffy couldn't help but noticed a renewed vigor in their stride and their affectionate holding of each others' hands.  Xander and Anya sat down next to each other on the couch, oddly close.  There was something going on and Buffy hated being out of the loop.

            Rolling her eyes, she filled him in.  "Britney Spears."

            Xander gave it some thought and came up with a conclusion.  "She's not a slut, she's a very attractive woman who has every right to show off her perfect, tanned, smooth—"

            "Xander!"  Anya slapped him, bringing the hormone-driven man out of his dream world.  He smiled at her innocently with a "Who, me?" look on his face.  Giggling, Anya kissed his cheek.

            "And anyway, she's not blonde.  She's a brunette.  She just colors her hair," Dawn, firmly appointed as Britney's defender, stated.

            "Fine!  Britney is a moral slut who has every right to expose her body, providing her insane male stalkers everywhere," Buffy finalized, ending the stupid argument.  "Who's missing?"

            Anya looked around.  "Just Giles, I suppose."

            "I'm here," the British voice called from the kitchen.  The watcher came into view, his customary mug of tea and latest mystical volume taking up his hands.

"So, all parties of the Scooby Gang present and accounted for."  Xander paused sadly.  "Well, except. . ."

There was an awkward silence.  While the slayerettes did lose and gain people along the way, they had just lost three members in the course of a few weeks.  One to death, one to vengeance, and one to god knows where.  Their absence was felt, like a heavy cloud, an emptiness that lived hidden behind unseen barriers trying to forget.

            "Yes, well, that might not be our biggest problem."  Giles sipped his herbal tea.  "It seems that when Willow became. . . .Satanic, she opened portals to our world for several evil powers."

            Buffy caught Dawn sneaking to the stereo.  Giving her a threatening glare, the younger sister recoiled and came back to the table.  Turning her attention back to Giles, she asked in her confident demeanor, "So, is this a research deal, or can I just go out and kick some demon ass?"

            "Unfortunately, neither.  I'm not exactly sure what the imbalance of evil versus good did and what demons have been unleashed onto our world.  All I know is that we are in grave danger."  He looked at Buffy.  "Willow unleashed some of the darkest and oldest magicks that exist.  Naturally these demons will be of a different class and variety than what we are used to, from a different plane altogether.  Do not put too much confidence in your abilities, Buffy.  The last thing we need right now is an overconfident and dead slayer."

            "Nice visual, Giles."  The blonde tossed her hair over her shoulder, straightening.  "I'm not being overconfident.  But what I don't understand is if you are so worried about this and don't believe in me, how am I supposed to even try to defeat what's coming?"

            "I-I do believe in you Buffy, but this is completely different from anything you've ever experienced before.  I'm working on getting help, but if it doesn't pull thorough, we need to be prepared."  Giles took off his steam-fogged glasses and wiped them with his handkerchief.  "Buffy, we—"

            The first few notes of "Ode to Joy" sounded and Giles excused himself to the kitchen to answer his cell phone, leaving the four friends looking at each other incredulous.  Xander broke the silence.  "I hate when he does that, freaking us out with the latest and greatest monster."  He put his arm around Anya's shoulders.  "Who's up for Chinese?"

            "Me!"  Dawn pulled her jacket off the counter.

            Buffy threw her arms up in the air.  "Xander!  Did you even hear Giles?  Big, evil monsters, prepare?"

            "Come on, Buff.  You are the slayer.  We are the slayerettes.  You slay, we eat Chinese.  Anyway, there's nothing we can do now.  You heard Giles.  He's coming up with a plan.  What's the harm in a little egg foo young?"

            Sighing, Buffy gave in.  "Fine. Just let me ask Giles if we can go and what he wants."

            Xander nodded, and, turning to Anya, said, "So, chow mein, or no chow mein.  That is the question!"

            "Xander, you are such an idiot," Dawn chided, shaking her head.  "Everyone loves chow mein."

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            "We are running out of time."

            "Since I've come back, I have yet to find her."  He readjusted the phone and hushed his voice.  "Sunnydale is where she will be drawn to.  I don't know what's taking so long.  Do you have any idea who she is?"

            "We never know, Rupert.  All we know is that we need to find her."

            He breathed out slowly, flipping absentmindedly through Caro Morior.  "I'll keep looking."

            "Good.  If we don't find her, you know what kind of trouble we're in."

            "I'll find her."  It was more of a weak hope than a promise.  He'd been searching a year, and she hadn't turned up.  This had never been a problem before, but Rupert Giles usually got the difficult job.  Frustrated, he slammed the phone into its cradle.

            "Find who?"

            Giles dropped the book and turned around abruptly, seeing Buffy standing in the doorway, head cocked, arms crossed, and brown eyes boring into his, giving him a questioning look.

            "N-no one, Buffy. This doesn't concern you."  Giles picked up the tattered volume and placed it on the counter.

            She walked closer to him with her slayer grace and intimidation, her eyes never leaving his.  "Oh yes it does.  When it involves you, it automatically concerns me."  Buffy paused, her stiff posture unwavering.  "Tell me, Giles.  Tell me."

Giles held her gaze, his seriousness frightening Buffy slightly. He lifted his head, taking off his glasses.  Clearing his throat, he didn't trust his voice as he spoke.   "The third slayer."