Author's Note: Hello again, I have an update for all you loyal readers. I've managed to find time to write this in between other things so I hope it appears as up to scratch as my usual stuff. Enjoy and review!

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters except those personally created by myself.

Haunted

Buffy stepped cautiously through the busy corridors and hallways of UC Sunnydale, minding herself against every other body that rushed by with urgent purpose. Everything felt loud and new and frightening. Buffy found herself regressing to the years of high school where social awkwardness and constant fear reigned supreme—though the Hellmouth got the majority of credit for the latter.

"Come on, Buffy!"

Hearing a friendly and familiar voice, Buffy turned expectantly to find Willow scooting past her with confidence abound. The cheery redhead shifted the collection of books in her arms and gave Buffy a beaming smile, gesturing her to follow.

"Where are we going?" Buffy asked nervously, trailing her friend as best she could through the bustling crowd. For a dreadful moment Buffy lost sight of her and had to scan the hallway frantically for a glimpse of her illusive Wiccan friend.

"Buffy, over here!"

Buffy caught a glimpse of red hair disappearing through a doorway right at the end of the corridor. How had she gotten to the end of the hall so quickly? Thought Buffy, puzzled by her friend's ability to navigate this new and unfamiliar environment with apparent ease. It took a lot longer for Buffy to reach the doorway herself and panic began to set in at the prospect of being late for her first lesson.

Tentatively, Buffy stepped towards the threshold. The steep rows of chattering students in the large lecture room appeared harmless enough but something caused her to pause. Buffy held her notebook tightly to her chest and chewed on her bottom lip as the sounds of the crowded hallway began to die out behind her. She turned, discovering she was now alone in an empty corridor that seemed a lot longer and imposing than before. Facing the door again, Buffy saw a small lamented sign beside it that she hadn't paid any attention to prior. Her jaw dropped in shock and disbelief as she realised it read:

'Vampires 101'

Buffy's sensitive ears pricked up at the unmistakable sound of whispering and restrained giggling. She suddenly felt very exposed and assumed someone had noticed her hovering pathetically outside in the corridor. If this was a practical joke she wasn't amused. With a duty to guard her slayer pride, Buffy puffed out her chest and stepped through into the cavernous room.

Descending the stairs to where Willow sat wasn't as humiliating as she thought it would be, as the entire assembly had fallen silent instantaneously when she entered, and were all fixated upon a man leaning against a polished desk at the bottom of the expansive room. As Buffy squeezed passed a few seated students and sat beside Willow she got a better look at the man she assumed was her lecturer. Her brow wrinkled with bemusement as she noticed the leather duster adorned by the stocky, handsome man and the graduation cap perched comically on his head. If this was some kind of start of term gag Buffy wasn't clued in on then he was doing an amazing job of hiding it; Buffy had never seen someone look so bored.

"If you could all please take out your textbooks we shall begin." He droned, in a tone that personified indifference.

"Oh..." Buffy realised with sudden panic that she didn't have a textbook.

"Its fine, you can share mine." Willow chirped, seemingly reading her mind whilst still in an extremely happy mood.

"Thanks..." Buffy glanced suspiciously at her neighbour.

A loud thwack against the mammoth blackboard at the front of the class got Buffy's instant attention.

"This...will be today's lesson." Announced the lecturer, "I have a feeling some of you will be better prepared than others." A ripple of laughter filled the room and Buffy's jaw dropped completely at what was written across the board. In impossibly large, chalky letters stood the sentence:

"DATING THE UNDEAD: STUPID, UNPROFESSIONAL AND YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE THEY'VE BEEN!"

"Turn to page 19," instructed the lecturer in a tone that bordered on sardonic, "I'm sure you'll find the text there...enlightening."

"Wha...wha...wha—?" spluttered Buffy as she frenetically tore through the book, finding offensive jabs at her previous relationship wherever she looked:

'It could have been worse: At least you're not a virgin anymore!'

'What kind of name is Angel anyway?'

'Older men are overrated, girlfriend!"

As Buffy's rage seethed inside her like a brewing tempest, the chosen one shot to her feet, unintentionally crushing the book's spine in her vice-like grip. She sent a twitching glare down at the man who'd been unsubtly mocking her. The capped professor smiled smugly back up at her and Buffy decided then and there that homicide wasn't beyond her capibilities.

"What's the matter, miss?"

"This. Book. Is..." She paused to find the most fitting word. "Crap!"

"I'm sorry to hear you think that. But what, exactly, do you think you can do about it?" The question hung thickly in the air and as Buffy stood, processing the insanity taking place, she felt the eyes of every student focused solely on her.

"I can suggest a new location for it." Buffy's eyes narrowed tightly as she spoke through a clenched jaw. Buffy heard someone giggle and her gaze flickered in the direction of the malicious sound. There was no one there.

The entire lecture room was empty, save the familiar presence of Willow by her side. Buffy blinked and looked back down at the Professor to discover he'd vanished too.

More disturbingly, the blackboard had expanded across the entirety of the room, covering every wall and even the ceiling. As Buffy stood to face the exit she realised even the door had dematerialised. A more peculiar sight came in the form of green shoots piercing their way through the floor and steadily transforming the carpeted stairs into a grassy slope. Moss crept across the floor as weeds grew quickly up between the seats.

It dawned on Buffy that if the lights were out she shouldn't be able to see. That's when she noticed the large moon etched in stunning realism on the blackboard. With a gasp, she realised she was gazing at a clear night sky; stars littered the heavens as they came into sparkling focus.

"Uh, Willow..." Buffy said slowly as a thick mist began to roll across the transforming floor and flow up the stairs, step by step. "...why are you not wigging out right now?"

Willow said nothing, seemingly engrossed in the textbook.

Half the seats were now missing— tombstones in place of the now vacant spaces.

As Buffy rubbed her arms for warmth something shiny caught her eye. Focusing on the spot way down at the bottom of the vast—steadily expanding—space, Buffy realised one gravestone in particular stood out amongst the rest. It was resting by itself on the grassy mounds that had consumed the lecturer's desk and chair, and was at an angle compared to the stiff rows of its cousins. It was also facing Buffy directly—the shine was an attribute to whatever had been engraved on the stone.

After hesitating for a minute, curiosity got the better of the slayer and she slowly made her way through the growing mist to the alluring headstone. A strange repetitive sound was just audible through the now fog-shrouded room. She dropped to her knees in front of the unimpressive slither of stone, waving a way the swirling mist, Buffy squinted to make out the words on the engraving.

It read:

'I'm leaving.'

"Is this really happening?" Buffy echoed the words that she'd once asked in heartbreak. Her head began to feel faint as a devastating surge of emotion caused silent tears to trail across her haunted features. She felt sad; more broken than when Angel left; more distraught than when her Father abandoned her. The misery, anger and resentment grew palpable and Buffy couldn't stop the tears that now cascaded freely down her cheeks. The repetitive droning around her had gained speed and volume. The hairs on the back of Buffy's neck rose as she realised the sound was a combination of whispering and maniacal giggling. There was no pause for breath, no recognisable words, no sense of genuine amusement—just a mocking semblance of human laughter.

Without warning Buffy was thrust backwards with tremendous force into the seat she'd started in. Wide-eyed and alarmed, the winded girl tried to stand but found herself paralyzed from the neck down. As she struggled to move, a long hissing breath was exhaled beside her and a fractured, barely coherent voice spoke sharply in her left ear.

"...you...should not...be...here..."

Buffy slowly turned to look at her friend and screamed at the sight of what sat in her place.

Buffy woke with a jolt. Her breath came out in ragged, strained bursts and a slick film of sweat coated her skin, saturating her pyjama top. She sat for what felt like an eternity in the dark, her nightmare still fresh in the recesses of her mind, the details swimming and surfacing causing her to shudder uncontrollably. As her chest began to settle, Buffy realised she was upright in her bed. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself, wiping the sweat from her forehead, her hands forming a comforting shield over her delicate features. With surprise she noticed her face was wet with genuine tears. She wiped them away slowly, remembering just how potent the emotions had been in her dream.

Buffy dropped her hands into her lap and accustomed herself to the shadows of her room, wanting to escape her own head. Another unexpected shiver shot through her slender frame. She stood up abruptly, crossing the room in two strides. Buffy turned on the light, unwilling to stay in the darkness alone.

The fetid stink of rotting garbage assaulted her nostrils.

Damp filth squelched and crunched beneath her boots.

An overwhelming sensation she was being watched by the eternal stare of a dead man.

Faith's breath hissed between her clenched teeth as her chest tightened in fear, the familiar sense of dread and guilt swelling uncomfortably inside her as it twisted through her body.

Faith was in the one place she abhorred the most. She begged her mind to take her somewhere else—anywhere else. Her fractured childhood home was welcome in place of this personal hell. Yet despite her silent pleas Faith knew she couldn't escape.

She waited in the unbearable silence that always accompanied the cold.

"Faaaaithhh..."

The trembling girl refused to move as the sickly, sinister voice toyed with her name. She heard it intake a long, gagging breath that stretched on forever and left her shaking worse than ever when the alley echoed the awful sound.

"Look at me, Faith..."

She faced him.

His lips were still and his expression blank. But Faith knew it was him calling her. She'd never heard his real voice save the last few terrified syllables that left his quivering mouth before he died. In a way, Faith wished she had known it, for the one her subconscious had replaced it with was as chilling a design as her imagination could create.

She continued to stare down at Finch's lifeless body. The man she'd killed without hesitation. The one who'd brought her reckless abandon to a crashing halt. The Mayor's assistant who'd tried to help only to meet the sharp end of a stake. Faith stared at the gaping wound in the man's chest. She did what she always did. Stepping close to the slumped form, Faith lowered gradually to her haunches and was forced to reach out and touch the wet spot where blood seeped through the man's crisp, white shirt. A wave of nausea shot through her. She swallowed hard and made herself close his eyelids, taking care to be as respectful as possible. Faith studied the dead man's features for a moment as it began to rain.

"I'm sorry." Faith's voice cracked on the last word, her throat dry and scratchy as she finally tore her eyes away from the source of the guilt that writhed uncontrollably inside her gut.

Thunder cracked deafeningly above her.

"Where... are you going?" A hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her down to within an inch of a pale, clammy face. Faith almost choked in shock, her eyes unable to look away from the furious, contorted expression that roared one word with livid intensity, "MURDERER!"

Faith lay panting in the dark, air rushing from her lungs in erratic bursts. Her eyes darted around the narrow, dark alley, waiting for Finch to lunge from the shadows and avenge his untimely death. As she adjusted to her surroundings Faith realised with a great exhalation of air that she was in Buffy's guest room—her room—safe from the insanity of her unconscious mind.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and walked to her dresser. Faith had spent the majority of the summer sleeping nude thanks to the most humid month in Sunnydale's history, but knew better than to leave her room naked in someone else's house. Well, after that first awkward encounter with Xander on the stairs she'd learnt to adhere to a more acceptable dress code. Finding boxers and a vest top, Faith ventured out onto the landing, taking her time not to make excessive noise as she tiptoed to the bathroom.

As cold water cooled her flushed skin, Faith sighed with relief, banishing the unwelcome images that still lingered in her throbbing head.

"It wasn't your fault...it wasn't your fault...it wasn't your fault." Faith chanted shakily to herself, bowing her head against her chest as she gripped the sides of the porcelain sink.

"Yes...it was..."

Faith's eyes shot open as her mind processed the quiet words that had seemingly been snarled from the darkness. The slayer suddenly wondered with growing fear why she hadn't bothered to turn the light on. That's when she noticed the reflection of the glowing bulb in the mirror. It was on—but it was barely illuminating an inch in any direction.

"You should rot!" Faith's gaze flickered to her own reflection, frozen in terror; she was certain her mouth had moved of its own accord. The shadowy imitation stared back; the ivory gleam of its eyes and teeth frighteningly distinct in the small, dark room.

"...you-should-rot-in-hell-you-WORTHLESS-WHORE!" The mirror exploded outwards in a shower of glass; jagged shards embedding themselves into Faith as she fell screaming to the floor.

Faith woke abruptly, sprawled on Buffy's bathroom floor; the cold tiles proving a rude awakening as they pressed against her bare back. She blinked. Then frantically ran her hands across her torso and face; breathing a sigh of relief when she found no glass shrapnel protruding from her body. Resting her head back against the soft bathroom rug Faith laid in silence listening to the erratic thump of her heart vibrating in her aching head.

A soft creak caught Faith's attention. She angled her head awkwardly on the floor until a lone figure came into view.

"How you doing down there?" Buffy asked as her head cocked to the side to better match Faith's peculiar position.

"Oh, you know, five by floor." Faith deadpanned, "You?"

"Can't sleep." Buffy shrugged lightly, then turning sheepish under Faith's curious stare and coyly added, "I had a bad dream."

"...and then I was back next to Willow and she said something...but when I looked at her..." Buffy's face scrunched up in thought as she tried to remember what she'd seen. An involuntary shudder ran down her spine. "...I don't know what happened. I just remember waking up terrified out of my mind. I've not had a nightmare this bad since I was six and dreamt that my bed was trying to eat me." She narrowed her eyes at Faith's fleeting grin of amusement. "What? It was traumatizing!"

"No, I believe you. It's not that." Faith explained, casually spinning her beer's cap on the kitchen island's smooth surface. "I just can't get over you studying up on...the A-word."

Faith had found Buffy's retelling of her Angel-oriented dream mostly hilarious; much to Buffy's chagrin.

"It's not that funny." Buffy practically growled as she cradled her cup of hot chocolate.

"Seeing as his name's been forbidden from polite conversation since Sunny High went sky high, it's kinda funny to know he's still rattlin' around up there." Faith snickered from her seat on the opposite side of the island. She took a swig of her beer before continuing with, "Gravestones and creepy, cryptic messages aside, I'm just bummed I never got to see your face."

Buffy glared ominously, sending her friend into another fit of stifled laughter, snorting as she tried to contain her mirth with one hand.

"I'm going to bed." Buffy stated in full on sulk mode.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Faith shot her hand out turning Buffy back round to face her. "I'm sorry. I'll behave. Call me...Mrs Sensitivity."

"Right." Buffy frowned. "I don't get why you'd rather drink that than hot cocoa." She said conversationally, skilfully changing the topic of interest, "Anyone who turns down mini marshmallows should be deemed legally insane."

"It's taking the edge off my nightmare-induced migraine." Faith supplied whilst resting the cold surface of the bottle against her temple.

"That bad, huh?" Buffy asked with controlled concern.

"I really...really don't wanna talk about it." Faith sighed, suppressing the imagery that tried to claw her mind back down that dark, forsaken alley. Buffy didn't look pleased with her secrecy; Faith had been very vague on the details of how she'd ended up on her bathroom floor. But with Faith's stubbornness being as legendary as her ability to casually disregard pain and misery, Buffy knew pressing her on the subject would be pointless.

"So..."Buffy trailed off in thought after a pregnant pause. Her fingernails tapped idly against the ceramic mug. "Wacky coincidence or serious slayer dream intent on creeping us out? Discuss."

"Coincidence."

"Really?" Buffy asked with surprise at the girl's answer. Faith rolled her eyes at the blonde's gullibility.

"It's Sunnydale, Buffy. When is it ever just a coincidence or an accident or a gang on pcp?"

"Well there was that one time when that guy tripped neck first on to a barbeque fork..." Buffy drifted off timidly under the cynical stare of the other slayer. "Point taken." Buffy mumbled with slight embarrassment at her naivety. "It'd be nice if it was though—a coincidence I mean. I was starting to get used to the easy life."

"Well we wanted action and now we've got it." Faith stated dryly, raising her hands in a shrugging gesture. Her brow furrowed suddenly and she added, "Speaking of which...gravestones...seeing things...I'm gettin' wicked déjà vu here."

"What? Last week? Faith, it was a bird! Albeit a big, unfriendly bird in a graveyard at night, but since it didn't try to tear our throats out I'm not losing any sleep." Buffy blinked at her choice of words. "You know what I mean."

Faith sighed in frustration, drinking the dregs of her beverage.

"I guess." She grumbled not fully convinced. "Pretty weird coincidence though."

"You'd be amazed how many of my dreams involve cemeteries." Buffy stated impassively, a small smile stretching her lips. "Really, don't worry. Hot summer plus lack of action equals overactive slayer brain." Buffy smirked reassuringly.

"You're probably right." Faith sighed grudgingly. "But there is one thing that still bugs me..."

"What?" Buffy asked with a hint of impatience.

"How do we know we're not still dreaming?" she stated in a deep, dramatic voice, raising her eyebrows for added effect.

The posed question hovered in the silence between them and a sense of unease crept up the slayers' spines before Buffy cut the tension with a well-rounded punch to Faith's forearm.

"What the f u—?"

"I was just checking!" Buffy exclaimed in defence.

"It's pinch." Faith growled through gritted teeth. "Not punch!"

"Slayer strength. I had to improvise to make sure you'd feel it." Buffy stated matter-of-factly as she innocently sipped her hot beverage.

The faint sound of birdsong began to drift in over Faith's grumbled protests, hailing the arrival of the rising sun. Buffy noted the brightening colour of the sky and realised it must of been later than she first imagined.

"I need to sleep. I've gotta start packing tomorrow or I'll never move into my dorm on time." Buffy rose from her stool, taking Faith's bottle and dumping it in the trash on her way to put her mug in the sink.

"You still aren't packed?" Faith asked in disbelief.

"Well...I've been busy!" Faith gave the defiant older girl an unconvinced look. Buffy cracked under the weight of Faith's gaze. "Fine! So I haven't been that busy with there being a general lack of evil lately, but...but I have been doing...things!"

"Like...?" Faith queried with a smug little smile. She relished the turmoil taking place in Buffy's features as she desperately tried to find an excuse.

"Well..." Buffy looked conflicted with what she was about to say, then as her expression dissolved into dawning realisation, she said, "...I've been busy with you."

Faith blinked as her mouth hung loosely open, apparently devoid of either a snarky or flirtatious comment for the first time in Buffy's company.

"Spending time with you, I mean." Buffy hastily interjected, looking oddly flustered. "You know...slaying and... more recently not slaying."

"Yeah, course." Faith added. She coughed to hide the unusually husky tone of her voice. "Anyway, I can help with the packing. Seems fair since I'm getting your room."

Buffy let out a scathing laugh, "Ch-yeah! Keep dreaming, bud."

"Oh I will. Me and Mr Gordo are gonna get real acquainted." Faith smirked, swivelling on her seat as she leaned back casually on the island and observed the blonde coolly.

"Sicko!" Buffy exclaimed with genuine appal. "As if I'd leave him to be corrupted by you. He's coming with me."

"Because taking a stuffed toy to college doesn't scream freshman at all." Faith sneered sarcastically with a roll of her eyes.

The back door abruptly rattled in its frame making both girls jump.

"Sheesh, must be windy out there." Buffy joked nervously, evidently still on edge from the night's events. Faith turned pale and slowly looked at Buffy.

"What wind? It's like the Amazon out there."

The two girls exchanged a long, silent look, neither willing to move.

"I'll let you have my room if you sleep with me tonight."Buffy bargained unexpectedly with a tone that practically bordered on pleading. "No sex jokes!"

Faith, who had gleefully opened her mouth to say something insinuating and dirty, shut her mouth and scowled moodily at the blonde standing in front of her.

"You've got a weapon's chest in there still, right?"

"Yeah..." Buffy replied hesitantly, eyeing Faith anxiously as an impish smirk graced the younger girl's face.

"Deal."