A/N: It's me again! I want to thank everyone who's still invested in this story and leaving great feedback. It gives me even more incentive to churn out these updates. I hope you all enjoy this one.
Also, I wanted to announce the publication of my latest novel, Second Chances. It's now available at Amazon in hardcopy and as an e-book under my pen name, Eliza Lentzski. Such a giant thank you to everyone who supported Date Night. I hope you'll love Second Chances as well :)
Chapter 8: Nora
"Hi, Buffy!"
Buffy stood up from her cot and approached the bars of her cell. The girl whom Dagmar had told her was her lost daughter bounced into the room. Dagmar, however, was not in sight. "How did you get down here?"
The young girl shrugged and licked at a melting ice cream cone.
"Where's Dagmar?"
A mischievous smile flitted on the child's innocent face. "Upstairs talking with Nanna."
"Nanna?" Buffy's eyebrows rose. "Who's that?"
"She's not my real grandmother. She looks too young. Even I know that," the girl said matter-of-factly.
Buffy had too many questions and didn't know where to start. She had no idea how or why her daughter was visiting her in jail again. And as much as she hated to admit it, this girl might not really be her daughter. It could all be an elaborate plan of The First's. "What's your name?" she finally asked.
The girl suddenly stopped licking her ice cream cone.
Buffy crouched down. "You can tell me," she gently urged.
The child averted her gaze. She kicked at a small pebble and sent it flying across the prison floor.
A thought came to Buffy's mind. Something about the way Dagmar always addressed the child struck her. "Do you have a name?" she asked.
The young girl sheepishly shook her head.
"What do people call you then?"
"'Young One,' or 'Little One.'" She made a face. "I hate it."
Another thought, one infinitely unsettling, sprang in Buffy's mind. This girl could be The First. It wouldn't have been the first time the Worst of the Worst had deceived her by taking on an unexpected form. At one point she and her friends had even thought Giles might have been The First Evil. Pretending to be her own daughter seemed just the type of cruel trick The First was capable of.
Buffy tentatively reached out, her fingers snaking through the bars of her cell. She touched the fabric of the small girl's dress. It was solid. It was real. "This is a pretty dress," she remarked, breathing a sigh of relief.
The girl's frown transformed into a wide smile. "Thanks! My mom got it for me!"
A surprising sob leapt from Buffy's throat, but she coughed loudly to mask it. "Your m-mom?" she stuttered.
"Yeah." The smile on the girl's face disappeared. "But she's dead."
"Dead?" Buffy echoed.
The child touched the bottom hem of her dress. "Uh huh," she murmured, her hazel eyes downcast. "She died a long time ago. I don't remember her, but Dagmar tells me about her sometimes, and he gives me presents he says she left for me." Her mouth sagged at the edges. "I don't really think this dress is from her though," she said quietly. "Dagmar just likes to make me happy."
Buffy sat down on the cement floor and tucked her legs beneath her. "Will you tell me about her?" she gently asked. "Your mom, I mean."
The little girl shrugged. "Dagmar says she was a great warrior and that she saved the world where I'm from a lot."
Buffy's heart ached inside her chest. How could she ever tell this girl that her mother wasn't dead? She was sitting right in front of her.
"What else?" Buffy asked, choking down overwhelming emotions.
The girl continued to fiddle with the bottom hem of her sundress. "I don't know. I probably shouldn't say." She suddenly eyeballed Buffy with curiosity. "Do you have any kids?"
"Yes. Once," Buffy nodded gravely. "Her name is Nora." The verb tense confused Buffy. Was she supposed to talk about the girl standing before her in the past or present tense? Was she even hers anymore or had she lost any opportunity to be her mother when The First stole her away?
"Nora," the girl tried experimentally.
A metal gate was violently thrown open and Dagmar suddenly appeared. "Young one!" Dagmar raised his voice. He sounded breathless with worry. "I've been looking for you everywhere!"
"I was just talking to Buffy," the girl pouted. She huffed and stomped her foot.
Dagmar's usually serious register took on a lighter tone. "I see that. But you know how I feel about you wandering off," he gently chastised. "Your Nanna would be very angry with me if anything were to happen to you."
"Buffy wouldn't hurt me." The girl snapped her attention to look back at the slayer, still behind bars. "Besides, she's in a cage."
"You can see Buffy whenever you'd like, but next time I want you to ask me first. Understood?"
The girl's bottom lip made an appearance. "Yes, Dagmar," she sullenly agreed. Any doubt that this child might not be hers erased. That pout was unmistakable. Who knew a talent for pouting was a genetic trait?
Dagmar opened the massive gate that led to the outside world, and Buffy's daughter walked through it. She stopped, turned back to the caged slayer, and waved exaggeratedly. "Bye, Buffy! I'll see you soon!"
Buffy felt the corners of her mouth form a smile without her permission. "Bye." The door closed with a metallic clang. "Nora," she whispered.
Dagmar sighed. It sounded like a great wind.
"So much for being a great protector," Buffy snorted.
"I've been charged with protecting many children in my time, but that one…" Dagmar trailed off and chuckled. The unexpected laugh vibrated the bars of Buffy's cell. "She's a handful." He looked purposely at the captive slayer. "Just like her mother."
Buffy swallowed hard.
Dagmar's voice returned to his usual business tone. "The First would like to talk with you if you're open to an audience with It."
Buffy stood and approached the edge of her cell. "You make it sound like The First is asking for permission."
"I don't know many details." Dagmar shook his massive head. "I'm not usually privy to those kinds of things, but I think It has a favor to ask."
Buffy laughed bitterly. "It tries to destroy my world, steals my daughter, locks me in a cage, and now expects a favor?"
Dagmar looked unimpressed. "What should I tell her?" The use of a gender-specific pronoun was not lost on Buffy.
"I'll meet with it."
The last place Faith expected meeting with the leaders of the anti-demon movement was a church basement. But the longer she sat, surrounded by posters and bulletin boards espousing love and charity, the less it surprised her. Humans mucked up everything despite the Golden Rule, and this dimension, this place called Gafka, was no exception.
She'd quickly been brought up to speed about the background of this world. It had been a former wasteland, re-gentrified by an outcast group of demons and humans. It became a safe haven for exiles or ex-patriots from various dimensions, which helped explain the diversity of its population and the openness about the existence of the supernatural.
The first few generations had lived in relative harmony. But lately the tide had begun to turn. Humans proved to be the most fertile and prolific of species and within the past few generations their populations had begun to overwhelm the local demon community. To check these swelling numbers and human influence, the town's governance had put in place strict limitations on human breeding along with harsh punishments for those guilty of human-on-demon violence.
With the restrictive legislation came resentment. The most vocal and angry were now seated in a half-circle around the Boston-born slayer.
"What are you exactly?" a steely eyed woman in a pastel-colored sweater asked.
"I'm a slayer," Faith responded.
"But what does that mean?" a man in the back corner of the room pressed.
Faith scanned the room. There were about thirty people surrounding her, all leaning forward in their metal fold-up chairs. She didn't like the feeling of so many eyes all trained on her. She had never thought of herself as a leader - that was Buffy's area. Despite her grumblings when she was younger, she better enjoyed being Second in Command. There was less pressure, less responsibility, less guilt that came with failure. But with Buffy in jail and with who knew how much time left before her 'trial,' the reigns had been handed over to her.
"How much do you know?" Faith asked the group. "What have you heard about slayers?"
Steve, the man who had originally recruited Faith and had kept her out of jail, spoke for the assembled group: "Not much that's probably true. I always thought the story of the Slayer was an Old Wives' Tale. Or something demon parents threatened their spawn with to get them to brush their teeth. I mean, it's pretty unbelievable - a girl with the strength and skills to fight vampires and other monsters?"
Faith nodded. "I know. I thought the same thing when I first heard the story though. But for me it wasn't the power that seemed unreasonable, it was the demon bit. Where I'm from, most everyone doesn't realize that vampires and werewolves and magic exist. Or if they do, they think they sparkle in the sun and have washboard abs."
"Huh?"
Faith waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about it. It's not important."
"So are the rumors true?" another man asked. He stared at Faith with large, blinking eyes. He reminded her of an owl.
Faith couldn't help herself. "Don't believe everything on the Internet. These tits are 100% real." The collective confusion and overall horror plastered on the faces around the room momentarily pacified her.
She stood up and addressed the group. "Listen up because I'm only gonna say this once. I'm strong, I'm fast, I kill demons for a living, and I look damn good doing it. I don't give a flying fuck about your little anti-demon Crusade here, but my girlfriend is a prisoner in this godforsaken dimension. You scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours. You help me bust Buffy outta prison and I'll help you kick a little demon ass. Do we have a deal?"
A collective murmur rose among the group. Voices blended together and Faith was unable to make out individual conversations. Finally, Steve stood up and held out his hand.
"Deal."
Buffy tested the chain links between the oversized cuffs clamped securely to her wrists. "Is this really necessary?"
Dagmar shrugged his massive shoulders. He led Buffy down a long corridor.
"You know that my legs are more dangerous, right?"
"Yes," the demon confirmed. "But I also know you're not a threat as long as The First has your daughter."
"If I'm not a threat, then why the oversized jewelry?"
"It's just a formality."
The last time Buffy had been in handcuffs, she'd been in the backseat of a Sunnydale squad car with Faith at her side. It was moments like this when she longed for simpler days when her biggest problems were washing the blood out of her favorite jacket and hoping Faith didn't notice when she ogled her ass in those leather pants. Actually, she took that back. She had been in handcuffs more recently. But it had been Faith, not a policeman, who'd put them on her, and this time she'd submitted voluntarily.
The creature beside her cleared its throat. "Are you well, Slayer?"
Buffy met Dagmar's inquisitive stare. "What?"
"You look flushed. Are you feeling well?"
"Y-yes. I'm as fine as can be expected."
She couldn't be blamed if thinking about her sinfully sexy girlfriend got her a little hot around the collar. When she managed to get herself out of this world and back to her own dimension, she and Faith would have to revisit restraints so she could replace her current memories about shackles with far more pleasant ones. Even though things looked dire, she'd gotten out of worse situations. She had to keep positive, had to keep hope alive that it was just a matter of time before she escaped.
The long corridor ended and they went through a series of heavily guarded security checkpoints. The elaborate locks and gates felt unnecessary, just like Buffy's restraints. If The First really was at the end of this maze, why the need for such precaution? Buffy was immediately suspicious. Maybe this thing was a fraud. Maybe they were only calling themselves The First like some tacky Dracula imposter. That thought bolstered her confidence that she could escape. If this thing needed such heavy protection, it had vulnerabilities. And if Buffy could kill it, she could win.
Dagmar stopped when they came to a set of double doors. "I would highly recommend you show The First some respect."
Buffy snorted. "Why would I do that?"
"Because your life hangs in the balance, Slayer. You've violated our world's most important law. Unlike in your own world you have no friends or allies here. If you truly wish to come away from this intact, I'd suggest keeping your attitude in check."
"Why do you care if I live or die?"
Dagmar hesitated. "Because you are Nora's birth mother."
Buffy's eyes widened. "You heard that?"
The demon nodded. "The First had no reason to name your child and thusly didn't. And it was not my place either. You were right earlier, Slayer. If I care about the child, if I want to protect her to the best of my abilities, she belongs with you."
Buffy smiled. "You were wrong about something, Dagmar." The red-skinned creature looked down at her. "I have at least one ally."
Dagmar made a noise in the back of his throat. "Just remember what I said." He put his oversized hands on the doors and pushed.
Buffy followed her daughter's caretaker into a large room with a high, vaulted ceiling. Sunlight streamed in through colorful stain-glass windows casting a mosaic of colors on the floor. A woman sat at the far end of the large room. She stood from her chair when she spotted Buffy and the demon.
"Slayer. So glad you could come."
With Dagmar's advice fresh in her mind, Buffy bit back the sarcastic response that reflexively came to mind. Instead, she strode toward the woman with Dagmar at her side. The demon kept his hand at her elbow; his presence no longer felt threatening, however, and Buffy walked with her head held high and hazel-green eyes trained on the mysterious woman.
"You seem to know me, but I find myself at a bit of a disadvantage in more than one way."
The woman's face split into a charming smile. Buffy had to admit, she was striking. Bright blue eyes, raven-black hair that fell just past her chin and framed her heart-shaped face. She was tall, but not overly so, sturdy and strong-looking, but still feminine.
"I go by many names," the woman said. The smile remained on her face. "I'm known here in Gafka as Governor Sheila Prentise. But you might know me better as The First Evil. The Worst of the Worst."
Buffy kept her face impassive so as to not show her surprise. "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. I wasn't expecting this form. Normally you look like me."
The woman, The First, laughed as if truly amused by Buffy's response.
"So what should I call you?" Buffy asked. She tried to make herself look larger than her slight-frame allowed. With her hands chained in front of her body, a demon at her side, and facing an un-killable foe, she felt justifiably vulnerable. "'The First' seems so formal. We're old pals by now, aren't we?"
"On this plane of existence I am simply known as Sheila." The woman smirked. "Or Nanna as your daughter calls me."
The mentioned of her daughter momentarily made Buffy forget herself. "Why did you steal her?" she shrilly demanded. "She has no special powers, no destiny to fulfill. What purpose could you possibly have with her?"
The dark-haired woman pursed her lips. "You surprised me once. I underestimated your resiliency when I sent the Turok-Han after you. I knew it was foolish to come back at you again, and to be honest, I've tired of your world. But I still need to re-organize the balance of Good and Evil on that plane." She started to pace. "You may not be aware of this yet, but the spell your witch evoked that turned those girls into slayers is only temporary. When the magic ends, the balance will nearly be restored. But you and the other Called Slayer will still co-exist." She shook her head. "That cannot continue."
The First sighed. "I know you hate me and see me as the Worst of the Worst, but all I've ever wanted to do was restore balance to your world as it should be. Two slayers were never intended to co-exist. I could have had any one of my numerous followers simply kill you, but you are a formidable opponent who deserves much more than that. So I lured you to this world instead. Your child may not be part of any ancient prophesy, but she's still yours. Forgive me for my underhanded tactics – after all this time, it's the only way I know how to have my Will done. I thought having your daughter here with you might soften the blow of banishment."
"Banishment?" Buffy nearly choked on the word.
The First's face took on an unexpected emotion. She-It-He-Whatever-It-Was, truly looked remorseful. "Yes. I'm afraid, Slayer, that you may never return to your world."
TBC
