Buffy dreams of an ancestral Slayer / A new witch and an old friend / Dawn reads the Watcher Diaries

Buffy screamed in pain as her mind opened up. No one in the crowd stopped to help. She screamed her voice hoarse, then curled up crying, her feet hanging over the edge of a sidewalk. A small boy in a pageboy cap finally noticed the pained slayer and placed the string of a red balloon in her hand. Buffy looked up at the balloon. Everything but the balloon was devoid of color. Buffy wiped her tears and released the balloon, which carried away her pain on the winds of her dream.

When she could think again without hurt, she looked at her surroundings. Girls in flapper dresses and boys with sports jackets. A soda shop. Slicked hair. Buffy tried to recall what she knew about the twenties vainly. History slipped out of her memory. Her body moved and acted for her. This was another ancestral memory, so she let it happen around her, taking in what she could. The details always ended up being important.

Her body went into a speakeasy, where a hostess called her Lorraine. She walked purposefully towards a booth in the corner, then found an abandoned seat and lounged, practicing the art of looking bored while scanning the crowd. Surprised, Buffy realized that Lorraine was on patrol. Lorraine's eyes tracked every movement and filtered through conversations with ease while idly holding a drink. When a group of strangers entered, her heart beat faster for a moment before being tamped down.

Buffy's too, skipped when she saw one of the companions. It was the vampire that she staked, the one that everyone called Stefan. He still had the soul-less look that he carried to his death. Lorraine focused on the man with sandy brown hair and a white suit. His lazy gait and intense stare announced his status as alpha, and she parted her lips for a moment, showing some leg as she slid down off the tall stool. He swept her up in his arms with a kiss, and she leaned back with a seductive smile.

"I was wondering when you'd come back to me," Klaus murmured, pulling her in for another long kiss. Stefan walked around them and cleared a booth for the trio to take. Lorraine opened her eyes languidly and tugged Klaus into the private area. "Sorry I was gone so long," she lied, "Daddy found a lover in Long Island and needed me to play hostess and nanny."

They sat nestled in each other's arms. Klaus brushed a finger up and down Lorraine's neck, and Buffy riled with anger. Lorraine blushed, "Not just yet."

"But I've missed your taste," he teased while she rolled her eyes. "You've ruined me for other women."

Lorraine shook her head, "That's what you say to all the girls." She turned to address Stefan. "Is it what he says to all of his girlfriends?"

Stefan leaned closer with a smirk, "Every single one."

A waiter brought around several rounds of drinks without being prompted, and they began drinking in earnest, though Buffy noticed that Lorraine's senses never dropped off, only acting tipsy. The servers must already be instructed to give her virgin drinks. Much later, when Lorraine offered up her wrist to Klaus, Buffy wasn't surprised to see rows of faded bite scars lining her arm.

Lorraine's eyes checked a new arrival to their table briefly without recognition. Buffy gaped. Anya sat across from her. Stefan entertained her with idle chatter while Klaus drank greedily from Lorraine's blood. He finished with a deep kiss on her lips, full of heat and passion. A well-timed throat clearing by Anya presumably stopped Klaus from treating the booth like a bedroom, and Lorraine pulled a bandage from her purse to attend her new wound. Buffy mentally shuddered, trying to shake the feeling of pleasure and still trying to figure out what part her friend played in this scenario.

Klaus reached into his suit jacket and brought out a piece of paper. "Is this what you're looking for?" he waved it gently. Anya nodded and reached for it. "Ah ah," Klaus warned, keeping it close. "What are you giving me?"

She slumped with a pout when he took the paper back and replied simply, "Access to the hellmouth in Mystic Falls as sworn by D'Hoffryn."

"Good girl," he passed her the paper. "Take all the time you need. I'm not in a rush just yet." Anya tucked it into her dress and thanked him. Stefan then took her to the dance floor.

When they were alone again, Klaus grinned at Lorraine. "I'm still jazzed from you. One of these days..."

Lorraine shook her head playfully and finished his sentence, "...You'll never find out my secret."

Buffy gasped. Klaus knew that Lorraine hunted his kind. Lorraine was playing with fire, using an Original for insider information, and Klaus found joy in keeping a hunter as a lover.

…

After a series of calls, a few promises, house calls, and monetary exchanges, Damon made his way to a dive bar called Good Times about 10 miles outside of Mystic Falls at 2am. He asked around the smoke-filled den and was directed to a girl sitting in the corner next to a pile of empty cans. He put on his friendliest tone, "Anyanka?"

Anya's face lightened up, "Anya."

"Damon," he introduced himself.

Anya nodded, still looking at him oddly. "Oh, I know who you are."

He had a nagging feeling that she was laughing at him. He tried to brush it aside and sat down. "You're the only witch that hasn't refused to help me out yet."

"Okay." Her wide eyes betrayed no mirth, "I'm not a witch. Go ahead, feel rejected." Damon reached for a beer at the table before she attempted to slap his hand away. Her hand slid through his with a tingle. "I paid for that. It's not yours."

"You're dead?" Damon bowed his head, disappointed. "You look so..." he waved his hands around.

"Corporeal, yes." she confirmed. "I'm very good at looking it." Anya looked at him expectantly.

Damon dragged a hand down his face. "I'm way too tired for this, so I'll get to the point. Can you do spells?"

"Well, sure." Anya never considered herself a witch, though if she hadn't become a vengeance demon, a witch would have been a clear path. She was a natural with spells, and the hexes she had cast in life packed a nice punch.

He picked out a piece of paper from Stefan's wallet, sliding it to her. "Can you cast these two?"

Anya read the titles of the spells and instantly recognized them. "I can. But I won't." She narrowed her eyes at Damon. "I don't like you enough to wish myself into non-existence. These create areas of no magic, and that would mean poof for me." She looked around the bar. "Not that leaving this town would be a bad thing. But I've seen hell before and I'm not going to be a customer."

Damon popped open a can. "So you're not going to be helpful."

"Fraid not. Why are you creating lands without magic at 2am anyway?" Anya asked, curious.

"There's this hellmouth," Damon began to explain before Anya interrupted him.

"Under Fell's Church?" When Damon nodded, Anya angrily threw an empty can across the room, clattering into a trash can. "A hellmouth killed me. And then I have 'unfinished business' with another hellmouth. It's been eight months since I convinced the Bennetts to open that damn doorway, and it's still not open. What is the hold up?"

Damon guardedly explained, "The door just leads to the tomb. The hellmouth itself is hidden inside, still unopened." He paused. "And we convinced the Bennetts to open it, not you."

"Hah," Anya cackled, "Sheila wouldn't have spent the last bit of energy she had to open a tomb just for her grand-daughter's friend's boyfriend's brother's lover. She had principles."

"Wait." Damon analyzed her last sentences. "Okay, that's probably true. So why did she do it?"

Anya smirked. "Because I performed a ritual to pass along her witchery to her grand-daughter upon her death."

Damon frowned, wondering what else had passed beneath his notice. "Bonnie has been stronger. But if what you're saying is true, you want to open the gate, not lock it up." He stood up with a rueful smile, "Sorry to waste my time."

…

Spike woke to a slight mumbling from Buffy. He tried to gently wake her and succeeded. Buffy still couldn't open her eyes, and her lips barely moved, whispering, "It hurts." Her body didn't move.

Spike smiled softly. "It might hurt for a while."

"Write..." Buffy could only speak simply, but she told him the dream, and he hastily scribbled what he could hear of her low whispers. "Ask...Anya?"

"I'll take care of it," he assured her.

When Buffy fell back asleep, Spike reviewed his notes on her dream. None of it made sense to him, so he decided to call the expert.

…

"Spike!" Dawn greeted her friend. "I could actually use a break from these books. What's new?"

Spike grinned at the girl's voice. "Ah, sorry bit, I need you in research mode."

Dawn groaned and slumped over her table of books. "Seriously? I thought I'd never get tired of looking at pictures of weird demons. But you know, when you're looking through stacks of these things for something with a slightly different tattoo on his left forearm it gets kind of tedious."

"This one will get you into the Watcher's Diaries, actually. I'm looking for a slayer named Lorraine, flapper's era, Buffy just had a dream about her."

"Okay, at least it'll be something different," Dawn grumbled happily. She easily found the journal and thumbed through it. "Oh, I remember reading this one. She's actually one of my favorite slayers. She was very wily, seductive, sort of a loner and a spy. Totally unlike Buffy's style. I bet she didn't like it much."

Spike answered cagily, thinking mainly on Klaus's blood-sucking habit, "I think that's true. We're looking for a time that Lorraine met with Klaus, Stefan, and Anya."

"She never met with Klaus, I tried to dig up everything I could on him and she wasn't referenced...Anya? Our Anya?" Dawn demanded.

"Yeah, she would have been a vengeance demon though. So maybe her as Anyanka." Spike explained.

"Okay..." Dawn skimmed the entries. "Any other details?"

Spike looked at his notes. "They were at a fancy bar, Klaus drank her blood, and Anya was there making a deal with Klaus about the hellmouth."

"Shoot," Dawn mentally kicked herself. "That's Nicholas. Klaus must be her Nicholas. I feel so stupid. She tracked his moves for seven years while in a really twisted relationship with him. I'll send you everything on him from here. Oh my god, I can't believe we overlooked that."

"He could have had tons of aliases over the years," Spike reassured her. "Find the one with Anya yet?"

"Maybe. There's one meeting he had with a witch...who needed a recipe for...ooh. That could be vengeance-y."

"What's that?" Spike asked.

"He gave her a potion recipe." Dawn snapped the book shut. "A very bad one for men. There's...boils." She shuddered, "I'm going to email you guys the info about Nicholas. If he really is Klaus, then it should help out a bunch." Dawn read the entry further. "It says she promised him a hellmouth in return. Would that be the one you're working on?"

"Yeah. Obviously she took her time because it's still shut up eighty years on, but a dream like that right now could mean some unfinished business malarky," Spike concluded.

Dawn frowned. "You think she's back and demon-y?"

"No, I think she's gone ghost. We'll try to find her and see what she knows. Right. Thanks, Dawn." Spike nodded to himself as he clicked the phone shut.

He watched Buffy a few moments longer. She had healed quickly so far, already able to wake and talk. Buffy had lots of dreams, but the slayer ones were always important. And Anya was involved. "Sorry, love. Anya needs us." Spike slit his palm open with a knife and dripped his blood into her mouth slowly.

…

"Wait," Anya called out before Damon walked away. "You want to destroy a hellmouth, and I actually want to do that too. So count me in."

Damon faced her. "I can't trust you."

"But you can't stop me, and you need me," Anya stood up to join him. "Trust is irrelevant."