Seven monks dressed in brown robes and sandals sat around an age stained oak table. Books and scrolls covered the center of the workspace and one of the monks sat silently taking notes while the other six argued in Czech over their next course of action.
"We can't keep shifting the key from location to location. The Beast has risen to the surface and has discovered the last three hiding places. We need another option," argued Brother Petr with an undercurrent of frustration and anger evident in his voice. Although the Order of Dagon normally encouraged the members of the brotherhood to maintain a certain level of stoic responsibility, everyone's emotions were running high.
Ever the keeper of the peace, Brother Bohdan offered his understanding of the other monk's agitation but counseled the entire group to remember that they needed to remain calm in order to better approach a solution to their dilemma.
Petr sighed in disgust but was forestalled from retorting when the oldest holy man still remaining in the order spoke softly in response.
"I cannot see how we are to be anything but emotional," Brother Karel offered. His opinion was a whisper from a voice feeble and drained by age and illness. "The Beast has decimated our ranks. She has utterly destroyed the Northern Monastery and murdered every member of the Order that resided there. She slaughtered the initiates and tortured our brothers. Likewise, the monastery in the hills outside Tabor has been lost. The Beast also killed the five monks who maintained the hidden bolthole in the caves of Uhlířský Hill. Unlike our previous belief, the seismic activity of the volcano was not enough to cover its power. The doomed brothers barely had time to gather and forward the key from their chambers to new custodians in Zbrosov before the Beast arrived. Hopefully, the base in the Aragonite caves will remain hidden for a time. Perhaps the crystals will help absorb any of the residual magics and keep the site secret while we find an alternative location for the key. One outside of our province."
"We are lost and the world is doomed," lamented Brother Oldrich. An unrivaled pessimist, overweight and red-faced monk could be counted on to bemoan every topic broached but never to offer any viable or preferable solutions. If he was not the most magically talented monk remaining in the order, he would never have been included in planning of anything more important than what wine to have with supper. It was a testament to how grave the situation the Order of Dagon currently faced that none spoke against his woeful predictions or even pressed for his removal from the council.
Bohdan shifted to the two youngest monks at the table. He requested their reports on the data they were charged to collect. The younger men cringed. Neither of their task forces had found the perfect solution despite the combined efforts of more than three dozen magical practitioners and researchers who had been assigned to the duties.
Papers were shuffled nervously and pleading glances were exchanged between the reporting monks. Their silent interplay determined who would share their bad news first but was unnoticed by the older council members. The younger men completed a mental game of rock, paper scissors where neither side could actually win. Both monks had to share.
With a pinched glare towards his rival, Brother Jarek sighed and delved into his findings. His team had investigated the possibility of shifting the key from this reality to another dimension. They had speculated that since the key was a portal between worlds that perhaps it could be sent to another one where the Beast had no access to it. It would remove all access from the Horror. Although its anger would be tragic, it would not be apocalyptic. Unfortunately, all the researchers found were dead ends and dire consequences of this proposed idea. The key was too powerful and unstable to safely pass through another portal and a portal of its creation would set off the very catastrophe they were hoping to avoid. Either way, hell on Earth would be the ultimate outcome.
The gathered monks nodded in disappointed understanding before turning to Brother Vaclav. The small, nervous man shuffled the pages of his notes. He looked up at his audience and quickly back to his wrinkled papers. After a few deep breaths to calm his frazzled nerves, he began to outline the findings of his make-shift committee.
"Umm, I found... that is... we found that transmogrification is a viable option for the energy that is the um... that is the key. It would require the energy be tied intimately with the energy of another force but it can be done with minimal danger to all involved."
Vaclav shuffled his papers again and missed the sudden flashes of hope that lit on the other monks' faces. With his next words though, he dashed a bit of the good will.
"Of the three viable outlets uncovered, Los Angeles, Devon, and Sunnydale, uh... only one was found to be a strong... um, that is a viable possibility for consideration."
"Although the Coven holds more power than our entire Order, they lack the proper... um... that is to say... ah, they lack the proper resources for our needs."
"Bunch of lily-white goddess wanna-bes," muttered Oldrich quietly but not softly enough that all those assembled couldn't hear his disparaging comments. "Too caught up in the proper balance to be of any use in real battle."
Vaclav squeaked. The monk actually held a deep respect for the ideals practiced by the Coven in Devon but he would have to admit that Oldrich was sadly correct in his overall impression0. His comments may have been crude but they were none the less accurate. The Coven would be unable to face the Beast properly when their actions would be dictated by the natural balance. The key was conceived in another dimension. It was unnatural in its Earthly nature therefore the witches would be hard pressed to be compelled to protect it.
"What of LA?" prompted Bohdan in hopes of avoiding any additional disparaging comments from his fellow monk.
Vaclav shook his head and explained that the volatile nature of the souled vampire's position as a representative for the side of good had to be tempered with the entirely realistic possibility that the champion could and would switch sides with the loss of his soul. The soul curse was explained and its recent breaking and replacement was outlined. Although seasoned on the violence experienced by the Order of Dagon through the years as they sought to keep their magical burden from the many incarnations of the Beast, they were uncomfortable hearing how creative and personal Angelus could become.
"The possession of the key by one such as Angelus would be as detrimental to all linked existences as it would be if the Beast attained it," the presenting monk added after he outlined some of the horrors his team found during the repeated mind probes on the vampire. "Not to mention, his morality even with the soul is questionable at times. He has, after all, a demon by nature if not by active circumstance."
"So you feel that the Slayer is the only viable solution?" Karal confirmed as he attempted to shift the focus towards the one option that was not refuted.
A guilty flash passed over Vaclav's face for just a moment before he nodded.
"Yes, yes," he confirmed. "We did confirm that the Slayer contains a strong enough life force to tie the key to physical form. In fact, we found a number of individuals on the Hellmouth with the potential to counter the pull of energy without causing abnormalities in reality. I did limit my... um... notes into the individuals associated with the Slayer. There were other practitioners in the region also but I felt if the Powers sanctioned the Slayer then she and her companions were the safest choice."
"So we are going to send the key to the most active Hellmouth in the world?" Oldrich grumbled harshly. "We are attempting to keep the power from a Hellbeast and so we propose to place it in the one location where hell is closer to the surface of our reality than anywhere else in the world. Sounds idiotic if you as me."
"Well the Vatican, the Ordinis Sancti, and the Rosicrucian Order have all refused to provide the aid of a Celestial location so we are left with what we have," snapped Bohdan in an unexpected fit of pique. The monk immediately felt embarrassed by his words and tone. He took a deep breath in the unexpected silence after his outburst then turned back to Vaclav. "Please, continue with your observations," he requested.
"Yes... um, that is we conducted numerous mental probes of the Slayer and other individuals in the region."
The young holy man handed neatly written papers to each of the assembled council. He explained that they investigated the Slayer as well as those that surrounded her. Psychological, social and mystical where analyzed and itemized on the sheets. The humans who lacked mystical gifts were given cursory reviews but there were in depth reviews of the personalities, histories and supernatural skills of the Slayer's companions with powers. Besides the biography of the Slayer, the papers revealed two sorcerers, a hedge witch, a white witch and, strangely enough, an unsouled vampire in the region.
"It seems this Chosen One is a bit unorthodox but she seems perfect for our needs," Brother Petr announced happily. Some of the frustration and anger had leaked from his tense body and he offered the younger monk an encouraging grin. "We should start making plans for transmogrification and insertion of the key."
Everyone but Oldrich immediately voiced their support of the plan.
Despite the majority vote, Vaclav cringed.
"Could we not investigate securing Angelus soul so that the curse could not be broken? Slayers never last very long," cautioned Oldrich. "It is in their natures to die young. It would be useless for us to spend months preparing to transfer guardianship only to have the Slayer slaughtered before we can use her. The vampire has lived hundreds of years as well as survived ages in a hell dimension. Isn't he a better choice?"
"Even with the soul affixed permanently, Angel has exhibited some disturbing lapses in judgment," countered Vaclav. "At times, he seems to make decisions that are more harmful than helpful for the side of good. In addition, he has a tendency towards selfishness that makes me leery to entrust him with such a precious burden. Our probes showed that he felt the Slayer was the epic love of his life and yet he abandoned her when he found himself unable to fulfill his desires with her. It would be disastrous if he likewise were to toss aside the key because its stewardship became too large of a burden."
Oldrich grunted but offered no more arguments even though he was intrigued by the concept of twisting the soul curse. He would have enjoyed pitting his skills on mutating a magic supposedly lost at the turn of the last century.
"So we start work tomorrow on the transfer of care for the key to the Sunnydale Slayer," Bohdan announced as if the matter was closed.
When the others started to move to rise from the table, Vaclav cleared his throat nervously and pulled his remaining papers against his chest.
"Um... I know it was a good plan but um... there seems to have been some changes recently... that is, within the past couple days, which makes the transfer um... unlikely to be successful."
There was a collective groan as the monks shifted their attention back to Vaclav. They resettled in their seats with varying degrees of annoyance. He offered an apology and rushed into an explanation of the strange phenomena that had fundamentally changed the Slayer. He explained about the enjoining spell as well as what he believed was the cause of the effect on the Slayer given the memories they had seen with probes into her friends' minds. His report was rushed and missing the truth given they had been only able to glean information from the individuals associated with the Slayer and not the Chosen One herself.
"So why can't we just shove the memories you have already recorded into this transformed Slayer?" Petr questioned. He didn't want to abandon the small spark of hope the plan had kindled. He was also curious as to why they did not have direct information from the Chosen One instead of just her friends.
"Absolutely not," Vaclav forcefully stated. The strength of his conviction astounded the other monks and they waited for him to explain. The younger monk rarely showed any backbone; it served to accent the gravity of his position.
The young man described how the last attempt to deeply engage the mind of the Slayer led to disastrous results. The two monks who had been tapping into her essence were now in a coma. A third one, who had attempted to reach the vegetative victims had brushed up against the life force and muted memories that the other two had fully engaged. Brother Ivan had shattered the link and run sobbing from the infirmary. He was not see at supper the previous night and did not attend prayers afterwards.
"This morning, Brother Ivan was found hanging from the rafters in the quiet room. Whatever he encountered in his brief brush in the Slayer's current mind had been too much for his sanity. For fear of repeat injuries, I would not venture another attempt to connect with the Slayer's force."
"So it is hopeless?" whispered Karel before he fell into a fit of coughing.
"No, no... not hopeless," Jarek cut into the discussion before anyone could agree with the elderly monk. An idea took form in the other young monk's mind and he hoped he would be given a chance to present it.
"But it..." Vaclav started.
"No, no... it is all right here," Jarek clamored in excitement. He waved the detailed papers in the air. "The Slayer. She is still the Slayer, correct?"
Vaclav nodded. The memories from Tara McClay firmly confirmed this.
"Then she will protect the key no matter who is the guardian. Whatever power has boosted her essence has not changed her from being who she is...er... was. She will fight with all she has to ensure the safety of the key if we give it to one of her close friends."
Jarek glanced around the table hoping to see any hint of support for his interpretation of the situation. Most of the monks revealed little in their expressions until he met Bohdan's gaze. Jarek smiled as the older man turned to Vaclav. The only decision available was made.
"Send the key to the witch."
"Don't you have anything better to do than skulk about in cemeteries?" Spike barked at Giles as the unwelcome guest pushed open the creaky door of the vampire's crypt.
The former Watcher sighed in annoyance and reminded the chipped vampire that cemeteries were stock and trade for Slayers and their Watchers.
Spike snorted. He doubted most Watchers ever approached the level of participation that his current visitor shared with his Slayer's patrols. The vamp suspected most pointed their girls in the direction of their death while maintaining their own safe distance from scary places like crypts and caves. Spike had never encountered nor even heard about the Watcher for his first Slayer. Granted, he had caught a glimpse of the Nicki Wood's Watcher once during the months he spent in New York but that didn't come close to how often Rupert Giles dropped into the metaphorical trenches with Buffy Summers. Previously, the young Chosen Ones were on their own in many of the ways that were most important. His first impression of the current Slayer never did change. Buffy wasn't alone. She broke the secret barrier of Slayerdom and dragged her friends along with her.
Strangely enough, the past week had shown an increase in his not being alone either. Spike had enjoyed the unexpected shift. He was never good at being alone. It was one of the reasons he stayed in Sunnydale despite being home to so many serious kickings of his ass. At least here, he had a place. It might not have been a particularly welcome position but it still gave him the illusion of belonging somewhere. Given the unexpected appearance of Rupert Giles, the vampire suspected that he was not the only one intrigued by the resent change in his persona non grata status.
"So what brings you by this sunny afternoon?" Spike questioned as he moved towards his stolen mini-fridge and grabbed a bottle of cold pigs blood. He sniffed the contents, grimaced a bit at the unspoiled pig blood, then chugged the cold congealed contents. he barely suppressed the urge to shudder at its foul, flat taste.
"Must you do that in my presence?" Giles grumbled in annoyance.
"Is my home, no? Don't see me stomping into your flat and telling you when to eat."
Giles sighed but admitted that the vampire had a point.
His agreement startled Spike. The vamp set the red coated but mostly empty jar on the top of the fridge and stalked across the dusty crypt. He stopped within reach of his visitor and waited.
"Why ya here, Rupes?"
"Um, yes," Giles replied a bit nervously as he shifted a messenger bag off his shoulder. From its interior, he pulled a bottle of alcohol. He set the unopened bottle on the top of the stone sarcophagus at the side of the spacious tomb.
"That for me?"
"Perhaps."
Spike smirked. The vampire turned and slid onto the top of the sarcophagus. He reached for the bottle and tilted it absently. He clicked his tongue at the Pusser's Overproof Rum. Spike was impressed. As far as he knew, the green label rum was impossible to purchase outside of Germany due to the alcohol content. It was even more potent than the gunpowder proof rum that the Royal Navy used to ration to their sailors. This bottle of rum actually stood a chance of offering him a buzz without requiring that he resort to multiple bottles.
"Someone was naughty. Ain't exactly somethin' you can buy off the shelf in California."
"Quite, but it will be worth the effort if you are up for a trade."
"Not exactly the floor of The City but I'm bored. Let's see if you can tempt me," Spike replied as he leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him in a practiced picture of ease.
Giles ignored the bit of disrespect and addressed his side of the bargain. The Watcher had been observing Buffy for the past two weeks. After the debacle that was their attempted intervention, Rupert had been keeping quiet but taking notes of everything he observed with his Slayer. Overall, he hadn't seen anything glaring that caused him concern. Tara's observation that she was Buffy only more so actually seemed to have merit. It had been years since Giles had seen this level of excitement and energy from the teen. It reminded him of her early days in Sunnydale when the younger girl was intent on living her life first and embracing her slaying second.
Buffy was spending a lot of time with her mother. She had offered to help at the gallery during summer break and was working four days a week there. The two Summers women seemed to be closer than he had ever seen them. Joyce had even accepted the strange little demon pet that the Slayer had saved.
Although she appeared to have recaptured a lost zest for life, she wasn't avoiding her responsibilities. The Slayer went patrolling each night. She hadn't seemed to mind his company the first couple nights but had requested that she have some nights to haunt the cemeteries by herself. Giles could find no fault with her slaying. In truth, he noticed a serious improvement in her fighting style, efficiency of movement, and general battle sense. Buffy had always been creative and determined with her fights but she had certainly improved after her close contact with the Slayer spirit.
Additionally, the Slayer seemed to have started spending more time with Anya than she ever had previously. Although Giles found the former demon a bit off-putting, this developing friendship thrilled Xander to no end. He was tickled that they were getting along so well and that it meant he was included in more of Buffy's life than he had been recently.
From Giles' observations, only two things seemed off. The first was Buffy's relationship with Willow. Their status as best friends was shattered. Around the others, the Slayer was friendly and warm. Not so around Willow. For some reason, Buffy kept her distance from the other girl. She became tense and agitated when they were together. The blond would leave or move away whenever the redhead approached her. She had refused to participate in any of the spells that Willow had wanted to attempt in order to check on Buffy's mental and physical health. She had only consented to a couple simple spells to ease their concerns and she had insisted that they had to be performed by Tara instead of Willow. Although he could understand a bit of her reservations with Willow's spell casting given his time spent blind, Giles could easily see how frustrated and alienated the novice witch was feeling.
His second concern also involved one of Buffy's relationships. It was why he had gotten a friend overseas to overnight the powerful rum that he was offering as payment for information from Spike. In simple terms, Rupert was worried about how much time his Slayer was spending with the chipped vampire. In the past week, he had heard that Spike came to dinner at the Summer's house three times, that the vampire had joined her in taking out a pair of Githb'rn demons last night, and that Willow saw them playing pool at the Bronze on a night Buffy refused to go dancing with the rest of the Scoobies. The redhead said that Buffy had been joking and laughing and having a good time. Although Willow reported that Spike hadn't been as excited, she observed that he hadn't being his regularly snarky self either.
"You've been spending a good bit of time with Buffy lately."
Spike smirked and shrugged slightly. He uncrossed his legs and shifted until he was sitting forward. The vamp leaned his elbows on his knees and winked at his guest.
"She seemed to have dislodged the stake she had shoved up her arse," he replied with an evil grin.
Giles huffed in disgusted annoyance at the crudeness. He once again wondered why he was even bothering with this discussion. The quick memory of when he learned about Buffy and Riley and their unexpected breakup flashed through his mind. His Slayer had seemed unemotional over the entire affair and that made Giles a bit uneasy. Her reasons for the separation all had merit but he had expected a bit more grief and tears. Perhaps even some ice cream and chocolate. Instead of pitching a fit, Buffy had been pleasantly mature. This additional minor strangeness served as a great reminder to the Brit as to why he was visiting someone he would sooner dust than share drinks.
"Be that as it may, I was hoping that you might share your observations of your recent times together," the former Watcher prodded as he shoved aside his thoughts to focus on the current discussion. He might not like William the Bloody but Giles knew he had a keen mind for observation.
"Nothing to really offer," Spike shared as he reached for his coat and pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket. He pulled a lighter from his back pocket and lit his smoke. "Bout all I can say is the chit seems to have abandoned her tragic taste in men along with her stake-ectomy."
"You don't find her recent behavior odd?"
"Odd? Not exactly."
Stealing a bit from his charge's habits, Rupert rolled his eyes. "You don't find it strange that Buffy is spending time with you, a souless demon?"
Spike shrugged noncommittally.
"She's allowing that little gilly-monster to sleep in her bed. Doubt spending a few hours killing baddies or moving sculptures with me is anything of note."
A bit of a nasty light settled in Spike's eyes as he added "Of course, wouldn't be the first demon she allowed in her bed."
Giles stiffened and his eyes narrowed. Before he could blast the vampire, Spike made the situation more tense by opening his mouth again.
"Course, her Billy-gilly has to be a better bed partner than Ole Peaches."
Giles pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose with the fingers on his other hand. "Spike, please," he begged. "Can you be helpful instead of a pain for just once in your cursed existence."
Spike flicked his only half smoked cigarette across the room and stood. Energy and anger suddenly pulsed off the bleached blonde and Giles took a wary step backwards even though he logically knew Spike wasn't able to attack him. Logic could only do so much to prevent the natural reaction to flee from a dangerous predator.
"Been helpful a number of times in my lifetime, Watcher. You're not sporting a wooden leg compliments of Angelus and his chain saw. You're not a Fyarl demon locked in a cage compliments of the soldier boys. Hell, you're not even taking tea with Acathla since I so kindly helped your Slayer with her ex-induced apocalypse problem."
His hand snapped out and snagged the bottle of rum. With a vicious twist of his wrist, Spike tore free the cap and quickly gulped down a quarter of the contents of the bottle. As he lowered the liquor bottle, his gaze blazed against Giles' eyes.
"Think Red might have had it aright. You are blind. Blind and stubborn and... bloody hell... just leave me alone."
The surge of emotion drained from the vampire as quickly as it had roared to life. His shoulders slumped and he seemed to deflate. He sighed as he walked across the room and stepped on his smoldering cigarette. He turned back to his now wary visitor.
"Don't think you need to worry your head about your Slayer. Think she's just grown up a bit faster than expected. Nothing wrong with her. Just more mature is all."
"Spike..."
"Look, Watcher, if I see anything worth noting, I'll stop by."
Giles stared at the vampire for a moment as he attempted to determine Spike's sincerity. In the end, he decided he had gotten as much as the vampire was willing to give. He nodded then turned for the door. He shoved it open and stepped into the late afternoon sunshine.
"Thanks for the rum, Mate," Spike offered as he lifted a salute of the bottle towards Rupert's back. The crypt door slammed shut as the only response.
"And they say vamps have no manners," Spike grumbled to the silence of his empty stone walls.
At the sound of her name, Anya glanced up from the toenails she was carefully lacquering a brilliant shade of red to match the fingernails Buffy had done earlier. She watched with a smile as her friend dropped to sit beside her on the couch. The Slayer plopped a full bowl of popcorn onto the coffee table and pulled her legs up towards her chest. They had needed a refill of snacks before starting their second movie of the night. Although she had called attention to her return, Buffy wrapped her arms around her knees and stared into space instead of actually talking with her companion. In the past week, Anya had come to recognize the expression as the Slayer's seriously thinking look. Unlike some of Buffy's recent strange silences, she only had to wait a few seconds before the blond turned her focus back to the former demon.
"Do you think truth must be shared at all times with family?"
Figuring this might lead to a serious talk and not just a quick half thought to kill time, Anya capped her polish then mirrored Buffy's position. Leaning to the side, she carefully set the bottle on the floor beside the nest of blankets where Billy-gilly slept peacefully. Anya rubbed his back lightly then settled back into place on the sofa. She wiggled her now freshly painted toes as she considered the question.
"You know, I am not up on all the recent human stuff but I think that depends," she finally answered with a thoughtful frown. "Sometimes, keeping quiet about the truth is a kindness. Like when Willow wears that fuzzy pink sweater. You know the one."
Anya flicked her fingers about over her chest as if that would help Buffy remember exactly which outfit she was referencing. The Eternal One had no clue which shirt she meant but nodded encouragingly as if she understood perfectly. The Slayer had found herself doing that a lot lately. As a coping strategy, it was proving effective since she had realized that most of the folks who claimed to be her friends mostly wanted her to nod and agree with them instead of voicing any type of dissenting opinion. Anya didn't disappoint her. She picked the cue right up and kept talking.
"It clashes horribly with her hair but no one ever says anything because they don't want to hurt her feelings. The truth is that sweater is hideous, possibly a cruelty against humanity, but for some unfathomable reason, it is better that we not tell her about it. She so needs to improve her wardrobe. More greens and blacks would benefit her coloring."
Buffy grinned at the minor tangent then nodded once again at her friend to encourage her to continue on the original topic.
"Also, Xander is always telling me not to share details about our sex life with everyone. I never share stuff that isn't true but it still makes him uncomfortable. Maybe thinking about the other person's reaction to the truth would be what determines if it needs shared? If it will be upsetting, you shouldn't share?"
"What about big stuff?" Buffy offered. "I don't mean the apocalypse-y kinda stuff but the stuff with the major imports for the person?"
For a moment, Anya frowned.
"Buffy, do you have a secret you want to share?"
The blond lightly worried her lower lip with her upper teeth as she grimaced slightly.
"Ummm..."
Excited, Anya shifted so that her legs were crossed like a kindergarten kid at story time. She leaned forward and grinned expectantly.
"Do you have a juicy secret truth that you want to tell me?" the brunet coaxed. She inched slightly closer and her eyes glowed with excitement. "Oh... Oh... Have you found an extraordinary person to give you extraordinary orgasms?"
Buffy couldn't help herself. She giggled even as she shook her head in denial. More than anyone else around her, Anya found little ways to tickle all the right mental places for the Eternal One. Her simple honesty and unfettered enthusiasm were comforting.
"No... sadly no orgasms for Buffy," she offered. "But I do kinda want to talk to you about something important. It's something I want to share with someone. Almost have to at this point. I really want to rely on someone but I don't think anyone else is remotely prepared to hear it. I suspect they would just get wound up over me. It would just make more problems."
Buffy sighed and hugged her legs tighter against her chest.
"You've been alive a lot longer than the others. I think you might understand."
Anya reached out and rubbed her friend's arm.
"I can try. No promises though. I am still relearning all this human stuff. Too much time as a demon sorta skews a person's perspective."
Buffy raised her eyebrows and made a tiny shrugging motion with her shoulders.
"Thinking that actually might help with your understanding."
"Then I am all ears," Anya confirmed before she frowned. "Well, not all ears. I have the full body thing going but my ears will be very ready to hear you and your secret."
Buffy giggled again before the amusing expression slipped away to be replaced by tension and worry. After a bit of rambling about fear of rejection, she made the former demon promise not to share her story with anyone, not even Xander, unless Buffy gave her permission. Instead of instantly agreeing, the brunet asked if it would hurt her boyfriend to not know. Buffy shook her head. Knowing her situation truly was only the business of those she most trusted and she could not imagine being excluded as harmful to anyone. Granted, the Slayer was only considering physical harm and not the emotional kind that her friends would feel but she truly saw no harm in keeping quiet. In her mind, it was actually more prudent to keep her future past insulated. She only wanted to share with Anya because it had been so long since she had a confidant. She missed it and hoped the former demon would understand her and the situation.
Her rediscovered friend considered her answer then nodded her head. She was honored to be the Slayer's confidant.
Once Anya promised her silence, Buffy took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She then admitted that she wasn't quite the Buffy they all knew a few weeks ago.
Anya rolled her eyes and informed the Slayer that she wasn't a fool. She knew that she had changed. The other woman realized that the pre-enjoining spell Buffy would never have opted for a girls night at the Summer's house with movies, snacks and a former demon. That was the sort of thing she had shared with Willow not with Anya or Tara.
"All those years that the Slayer essence existed made you feel older when you mingled, right? I was betting you got a lot of memories and sensations along with the encounter. Changed your perspective a bit."
Buffy absently ran her pointer finger along the bottom hem of her pajama pants. She finally lifted her head and met Anya's gaze.
"Um, not exactly. I mean, yes, there have been a lot of memories and stuff in what is making me different, but it wasn't the first Slayer doing the influencing. It was me. Well, the whole that is the me to come."
Confusion caused a furrow to appear across Anya's forehead and she wiggled her compressed lips. She admitted that she didn't understand.
With a voice heavy laden with the unending sorrow of death and destruction she had endured, Buffy shared the truth of her origins. She provided some of the highlights that she remembered of her previous future life. Her friend listened raptly as Buffy plowed through tears and shaking and even a minor panic attack as she related the unending monotony and pain of her immortal existence. When she finally fell silent, Buffy waited in fear for Anya to react to the unbelievable tale.
Anya shook away her glazed look of shock.
"Oh, Buffy. True immortality? What a horrible curse! And in all that time, you were unable to find a way to break it?"
Buffy shook her head.
"I actually don't think it was a curse. Maybe more like a side effect of some other event."
"You don't remember how it happened?"
Sheepishly, the Slayer admitted that she didn't recall the details. Although she suspected it was somehow related to the effect on the Immortal, she conceded that she didn't actually remember much from before the fall of humanity. There were bits and pieces remaining but not a cohesive time line in her mind.
"So you don't actually remember being Buffy?"
Sheepishly, Buffy smiled.
"Not exactly. I have been using the stuff in my bedroom and watching folks to get an idea of who I am right now."
"For what it is worth," Anya complimented "you are doing an outstanding job of being yourself."
With a chuckle, Buffy thanked her friend.
A horrified expression suddenly crossed Anya's face. She reached out and wrapped her arms around the blond.
"Oh! Poor Buffy! Humanity has been gone for thousands of years in your memories. No wonder you haven't found an orgasm friend. You've obviously forgotten how wonderful they are to have."
"Not really," Buffy admitted with a tiny shake of her head before she pulled out of the embrace. "About three centuries ago, I had a brachen-feldoran hybrid for a lover. We were together for almost fifty years before he died during an earthquake."
"Feldoran?"
"Alien race. Look a bit like a way underdeveloped fyarl demon but without the destructive tendencies. Big hearts, little bodies."
"Thee centuries... long time to go without a relationship," Anya concluded with obvious sympathy.
Buffy shrugged. It had reached the point where the pain of losing a lover coupled with the difficulty in finding someone the Eternal One could find attractive while both anatomically and emotionally compatible had been far greater a task than any pleasure she could enjoy. At that juncture, she had just withdrawn farther into herself. The sex just hadn't been worth it.
Nervously, the Eternal One asked her friend if she would still accept her despite her secret. As if there could be no other answer, Anya assured Buffy that she would support her any way that she needed.
"You're my friend," the former demon stated as if that made any other explanation irrelevant. After a thousand years of wish granting, Anya preferred to believe in absolutes. That meant if Buffy was her friend, then she would be her friend for as long as she wanted her. It also meant that the former demon would gladly accept her friends quirks and protect her secrets. She hoped that Buffy would feel the same way about her.
Relieved, a few final tears trailed down Buffy's cheeks. She swiped them away and physically shook her body as if to knock loose the lingering horrors that haunted her mind. The Slayer forced the tension from her body and a calm expression settled on her face. Appearances were a kind of hard shell that she could use to protect herself. It was a lesson the Eternal One had perfected which had its actual roots in her current life even if she didn't remember it. The Slayer reached for the popcorn. After her emotional outburst, her stomach wasn't feeling great but she was hoping to at least appear like she was back in control. Buffy hoped to move back to their earlier, carefree evening. She flicked on the movie in the VCR with the remote control and settled back against the sofa to at least pretend to watch the romantic comedy Anya had chosen.
"So when do we see the guy who looks kinda like Spike?" Buffy inquired after watching for half an hour and not seeing one of the anticipated points Anya promised.
Anya grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it in her mouth after promising that he appeared near the end of the film.
When Buffy seemed happy to hear she hadn't been tricked about the look-a-like, the former demon hummed slightly. She leaned over and bumped her shoulder against the Slayer.
"You know, Spike's been around for over a hundred years. Although he can't come close to my or your experience levels, I still bet he could give you extraordinary orgasms."
Buffy reached into their shared bowl and popped a single piece of buttered snack into her mouth. A hint of a wicked grin touched on her lips. She had already decided that she found the vampire intriguing as well as attractive. It was nice to hear someone else see him in a more positive manner though since all she had heard over the past week from all her other supposed friends were negatives. She couldn't imagine why the chipped vampire deserved such high levels of animosity. As far as she could tell, he had never killed any of their close friends or family.
"Something to consider," the Eternal One admitted evenly before snagging another piece of popcorn.
"Oh, now I know you aren't the old Buffy," Anya teased happily. "She wouldn't have known a good time if it bit her in the butt."
"Oh!" She added. "Maybe you could get lucky and Spike could bite you on the butt."
A sharp bark of laughter erupted from Buffy which turned to a cough as her popcorn stuck part way down her throat. She grabbed for a bottle of water and gulped its contents. Safe once more from any choking hazard, the Eternal One tilted her head slightly and her thoughtful expression once more settled on her face. As she stared blankly towards the television set, she gave free reign to the thoughts of Spike and biting and orgasms. Her wicked grin returned. In her mind, the idea definitely held merit.