"So, what is it this time?"
Buffy stopped at the kitchen door. Suddenly accosted, she thought the jig was up.
"Are you feeling up for pancakes or waffles?" Joyce looked to her from the local paper on the sink counter.
"I'm feeling up for pancakes." Buffy bathed in the moment. A normal moment, finally, and this time she'd appreciate every second of her mother's company.
"Syrup?"
"All the syrup, or well, not too much."
Joyce watched her daughter sink into the chair by the island. She was stunned. Was this really her daughter? Was all they needed really just a move?
"How's school?"
"Great, Xander and Willow are great."
"Great, Buffy! I'm glad you're settling in. This school's going to be a real nurturing environment for you."
"Well, actually–"
"I know, I know," Joyce retraced her steps, "not too nurturing. I've read all the books about over nurturing."
Buffy paused. Her hands on the table, the paper placed beside her as her mother went to make those pancakes. One glance at it noted the death of two students.
What tangled web she wove into the very fabric of this world. Did two people die then? Jesse and? How many lives were lost that she never knew, and could never save?
If Jesse had died, would these two both be alive?
She couldn't about it. Not now, not when she had this precious Mom time. The fragile and few years left with her, the Slayer would come second and for right now the daughter came first.
"You know I love you Mom, right?" She startled Joyce who turned and gave her daughter a long hard stare as her lips cracked into shock and joy.
"Okay, who are you and what have you done with my daughter?"
"Can't a daughter just appreciate her mother?"
"Oh, Buffy." Joyce embraced her. A long warm hug she thought she'd never have for words she thought she'd never hear. Then pulled back, "what did you do?"
Sat at the bench with the sun stared down upon her, Willow waited for Xander. He said he'd skateboard to school again, which she took for him being late as he had just started to skateboard.
She spotted Buffy along the walkway to the school's entrance and smiled, waved and rocked her head in that nerdy, friendly Willow manner.
Buffy waved and sat beside her, like she had so many times.
"Hey Will, where's the others?"
"Oh, Xander's on his way. I'm supposed to help him with his math before the test today."
"I'm sure he'll do well." She looked around, eyes narrow beneath the hot sun. "Have you seen Jesse?"
"He's inside already. Xander and I have first period free." She confirmed what Buffy wanted to hear.
So far so good. Well, except for the other two.
— —
"Please help me with this," Giles approached Illyria, book in hand and buried within it was his eyes and thoughts. "This Harvest affair. I've been researching and it seems to be preordained massacre." He explained, "rivers of blood, Hell on Earth, quite charmless. However, I'm a bit fuzzy on the details."
"What do you think I know?"
"Well, you're, uh, old, and The Master–"
Illyria stopped him. "This vampire is a child in comparison to me. When I ruled, the half-demons had only just begun feeding on mortals."
He tried to speak, words formed in his mind, but they were just scribbles and intangible lines. That is, until the doors swung wide and the students entered.
Xander, Jesse, Willow and Buffy all together and Illyria adorned in leather, her flesh faded in blues and pale complexions. Eyes as cold as the glaciers that froze where they stood.
"Dear lord." Giles remarked to himself readied for the avalanche he had tried desperately to hold back.
— —
Luke was knelt before the Master, his forehead coated in the bloodied symbol of the Vessel. Marked fresh on his flesh, he slowly leaned up to gaze into the eyes of his Master, lips fresh with the blood of the ancient vampire.
"My body is your instrument." He told, but inside his body knotted with frustration and the old demon could sense it.
"On this, most hallowed night, we are as one. Luke is the vessel!" He assured the others that had gathered in the sunken church.
Their eyes shined in the dim candle light and their teeth wide with hunger and glory. Tonight would be the Harvest, and every drop that filled the Vessel's maw would be one drop closer to releasing destruction incarnate.
However, The Master paused and folded his hands together.
"Luke," he asked like a father would expect a child to tell the truth, "I can sense your frustration. Tell me, did you find the Slayer?"
"I will find him for you, Master!" Darla interjected. For Luke to be the Vessel, for her to lie in the shadow of his feet angered her, but she knew she could do it.
"I found no Slayer. The club was closed when I went. We were too late." He lowered his head as though he had failed.
"Maybe he lied!" Darla suggested of the vampire she had dusted.
"Lie? About a Slayer here? Now?" The Master motioned like mist in the wind toward the blond demon. "We cannot have a Slayer around during the Harvest."
"I will find her for you, Master." Darla, "I will not fail!"
"See," he turned to Luke, "Darla has the passion, the loyalty to me. If anyone can find her, it is you."
He smiled and took her chin in his cold dead hands, the nails carved gentle lines across her reddened flesh.
"She cannot hide, cannot run. All will be revealed." The Master assured the other vampires that gazed upon him as their god.
Seated around the table, the students were flabbergasted. Not a word between them as Illyria morphed into the impression of Winnifred.
Above them Giles stood by a globe that spun slowly beneath his touch. Buffy's arms folded, she hoped this would go better than last time, but it was about time it happened.
"This world is older than any of you know. Contrary to popular mythology, it did not begin as a paradise. For untold eons demons walked the Earth, they made it their home, their," He glanced down at Illyria, "their hell. In time, however, they lost their purchase on this reality. The way was made for mortal animals, for, for man. All that remains of the old ones are vestiges, certain Magic's, and certain creatures."
"And vampires." Buffy added.
"So, what does this have to do with–" Xander pondered, but Buffy stepped in.
"Smurfette here?" She jabbed, but Giles filled it in for them.
"This is Illyria. The called her 'The Merciless'. Not to be confused with the vampires no doubt looking to perform a Harvest of sort tonight. Buffy is the Slayer, she hunts the vampires." He tucked his glasses on the bridge of his nose and took in a breath and hoped for the best, "I suppose that's all the information you need."
"Is Cordelia a vampire?" Jesse raised his hand.
"No. She's just naturally cold hearted." Buffy quipped.
"So, why the big secret?" Xander then returned his attention to the blue demon. "Also, why all the leather, not that I'm against it, in fact I–"
"This one is lusting after me again." Illyria called him out on it.
"Just asking the important questions." He sank back into the chair.
"Buffy the chosen one, if people were to know her secret it could put them in incredible danger."
"Now we know." Willow let it process, the cogs in her mind, they may have worked better than Xander and Jesse's but it was still too much.
Buffy took a step back and absorbed all of this. Though it may have amused her to see it play out again, and warmed her to know at least it didn't involve the death of their friend, she wondered if maybe Jesse's death was a catalyst for them to take it more seriously. Here they were forced to walk this world by Illyria's appearance, but they hadn't seen anything of the darkness that awaited them. These friends of hers had yet to truly be initiated.
"I don't want to be in danger. Does anybody mind if I pass out?" Willow came to from her thoughts.
"Breathe." Buffy assured her.
"Breathe." Willow listened.
"Don't worry, Will, I do the fighting. You don't have to get–" She paused. She remembered the ordeal in the sewers. Willow would obviously fall in place, but now she could craft, or perhaps fix this day. Xander had no need to follow her down, in fact, she had no need to even drop into the sewers. As far as she knew, The Master wouldn't even know of her. She turned to Illyria, "tonight, this thing's going down at the Bronze."
"Buffy?" Giles leaned on the rail. "Are you sure it's at the Bronze?"
"Oh, I'm sure." She added, "Vessel guy needs to feed in order to free The Master. They're going to hit the Bronze hard and strong."
"Then we mount up!" Xander stood.
"No, not you. I'm the Slayer, only I can fight them."
"Look, if we're going to be in danger anyway, we may as well help."
"I'm not looking to jump into some big brewing evil, Buffy, but I want to help too."
"We're all in." Jesse stood with his friend.
"Well, you can help me then, with the, uh, research." Giles assured, but the boys wouldn't listen.
"Illyria and I can handle it. Please, if you go, you'll only get yourselves killed." How could she assure them if they had no clue of what would happen? Since neither Xander, Jesse, nor Willow had any encounter with a demon as of yet, save for the seemingly harmless one before them, they had no clue how treacherous The Vessel and The Master were.
If Jesse was anything like Xander, she knew he wouldn't listen. Somehow they'd both be there. Some how she would have to stop it, or stop them before it they could hurt themselves.
There was still time, however. Time to think it through and plan. Until then, she had to make one stop before it all went down.
She had to see him.
A gentle knock came at Angel's door. The dark apartment lit with the presence of Buffy Summers. He looked her over, surprised to see her.
"I don't remember telling you where I live."
"You didn't, I kind of already knew." She waited until he would invite her in with a gesture.
He looked behind her to find no one else with her.
"She's a demon." He caught her off guard.
"Hmm?"
"That girl you were with."
"I know."
"I don't get you."
He stared hard. Try as she might, she could only do the same right back at him. To see Angel like this, that young slender complexion as opposed to the full and more experienced soul he had grown to become with her and after. So innocent, yet though he may not know what was to come, she did.
"This," she gathered her thoughts, "you being here–"
"I want to help you stop the Harvest." He warned, "unless you can prevent it, The Master walks."
Those eyes. That face. That ridiculously straight standing hair. She could feel the girl inside her all over again, but yet the woman held back. She wasn't the innocent little child that fell for this tender soul anymore.
She knew what would happen if she touched him. If they got close. To walk that world again. Was it worth it?
Was it worth it not to?
"Buffy," he broke her from the spell of trouble thoughts, "you seem different."
"Huh?"
"I saw you. When you got chosen. You were different. You looked different."
If she could tell anyone so freely, it was Angel.
He'd understand.
He'd help her.
He'd be there for her.
He was Angel.
"A lot happens in a year."
"You're not her." He spoke plainly. He could see it now.
"Well, technically you could say I am." She tried to step back, tried to peddle the conversation back to her side. This was unsteady ground for her, well, everything with him was shaky ground.
"What happened?" He pondered, "The Master? A spell?"
"If I tell you, promise not to freak?"
He snickered. This girl. "I'm not going to freak."
There could be no secrets here. Not with him. Not Angel, not Spi–
Spike.
She shook it off.
She made a choice and must live with the consequences of it.
"You probably want to sit down." She offered somewhere, but all he had was the bed.
The bed where he lost his soul.
Details. Best to leave certain things out.
Night fell upon Sunnydale. The stars winked and gazed upon its people. The guard at the door welcomed those who could pay in and all who dare to enter gathered in lines like lambs to the slaughter.
Beneath the stars, above the Earth, a figure sat and watched. Eyes peeled for certain faces, ears open for certain voices. Hidden from all, yet all seeing.
Like being pulled by string, or tangled in the web of time, the last of the bodies entered the night club. The figure stood on the roof of the Bronze and slipped into the ventilation as a certain horde began to emerge from the shadows.
Tonight was the more than just the Harvest.
Tonight was the night it would get its first true glimpse of this new world.
Inside, the figure stood on the metal rafters and leaned on the rail of the grated walkway to watch the show. A vampire stood on stage, the security guard in his grasp and blood on the vampire's forehead.
"Watch me, people." Luke demanded their attention. He commanded it. "Fear is like an elixir. It's almost like blood."
He growled and inhaled the scent of the doorman. His maw widened and the neck tilted for the best curve of flesh to sink into, but in that glorious moment. The warmth of blood and the pulsing of mortal flesh filled Luke's being and then the cradle of death rocked him back like a punch to the chest.
He stared out to the crowd and there in front of the pool table a blond girl stood with crossbow in hand.
"Slayer!" His parting word as his body dried, crisped, and flaked into ashes on stage.
The other vampires?
The crowd watched as two girls took each one by one and once the doors threw wide by a man in a long black coat, they, yet again, bleed out into the alley and parking lot like sheep from the wolf.
The figure above them, undetected by the crowd, the demons, and the forces of darkness watched as several of the vampires escaped through the roof. It made no effort to move, no sudden gestures.
It watched Buffy and Illyria.
When the last vampire was dusted, the two stood tall. Buffy looked around. Cordelia was still in the Bronze, strangely unaffected by her presence. She hadn't even introduced herself yet.
"All good?" Buffy glanced to the scrawny looking girl that had just punched a hole through the heart of a six foot tall vampire.
"This was nothing. I feel cheapened. I wish to do more violence." Illyria replied, the dust on her hands not enough to sate her demonic desires to make living in this bleak hell even mildly better.
"Welcome to the Hellmouth."
Below it, the two gathered themselves and swept out of the exit where a vampire waited for them. This one was different. He accepted them, and most of all, accepted the demon beside the Slayer, though the figure could certainly see the rift created between the three of them.
You chose to walk this world.
What choice did you have?
Will you choose to meet your fate?
Outside the Bronze it watched. Angel, the vampire with a soul and the demon locked away in the mortal shell making small talk with the Slayer.
It gazed up at the stars to a dark and lonely expanse of space itself where a star must have been. Where one had blinked out of existence, or perhaps fallen out of place?
So it begins.