Midnight in California. A veil of blue and black mixed like gently swirled paint across the canvas of the sea that was the void-like sky. Dots, thorns, and eyes of light pricked along the fabric of time and space and all little bumps and ridges that caressed high above the clouds for Buffy and Angel to scan from Kingman's Bluff.
This high cliff saw to the Pacific Ocean like a thin line, a tender crease across the horizon that outlined the sleepy town of Sunnydale.
The clouds were clear in the coffee of the milky way. Buffy, arms folded, eyes to the city lights, turned to Angel and watched the crease and furrow of his brow change as he thought, as he gazed down upon this hungry city.
She had told him everything. The consequence of the curse, of Illyria and the destruction of Sunnydale. She knew little to nothing of his time in L.A., but whether that transpired now was up to him.
In this hidden moment, tucked away from the world days after such revelations, Buffy still tried to clasp to that sixteen year old girl who instantly melted for this dark and brooding man. Now, he was an asset for sure, and though she would always have a place for him in her beating heart, she knew he could never feel it.
"You know," she broke the fast of their silence, "there's a big demonic statue beneath us that could destroy the world."
He looked down, back at her, slightly alarmed.
"Should we be concerned?" He wasn't sure what was or wasn't the end of the world now. What could she stop, and what must she let pass?
As they stood here on the Bluff, somewhere in Sunnydale a child was on a bus being chosen just as she was. Being born in darkness and thrust in the world of the undead. The Anointed.
Giles was right, she discovered. Some things cannot help but come to pass. They are the motions of fate, the little trickling dew drops that gather on the Web of the Wyrd and feet the spiders that pull on them at the end of time itself.
"No, just thought I'd say something cool." Buffy brushed her hair with a shake and then turned to him. "I need you. You're kind of really important in all this."
"I'm here. I'm all yours."
Was he? Could he?
No.
"That's the thing," she laughed it off with a half stolen breath, and he looked down. "We can't–"
"I know. You said." He added, "I just can't help coming in at the end here. I don't know what to do, what to say."
What do you say? The erasure of the original Slayer did not change his desire to help her. He was here in Sunnydale to do what he could for Buffy Summers, it's just to know so much had happened and all of it he'd miss out on. The good, the bad, everything that makes you who you are completely taken from him in a single breath.
If he could breath he'd suffocate.
"Well, at least you don't have any other dark and brooding men to save the world with you."
He was right, and yet again she thought of Spike. At this point he'd be, well, evil, but somewhere in Europe with Drusilla.
"Witches, bug ladies, vampires, you know, you really don't notice these things until that big ugly bump in the night comes to get you." Xander pondered, "how come we never noticed any of this? I mean, we've been living in Sunnydale since, like what? Forever?"
"Well, maybe not forever, but I get your point." Willow pulled away from the volume regarding the Anointed One and creased her brow.
How many times had she escaped death? How many nights did a vampire desire her blood and yet just let her go?
"It's kind of exciting." Jesse closed the book he had, nothing in it to find, only that the Anointed would rise.
"What you got?" Xander wondered, he likely had the same info as his friend.
"Bupkis, or is it bubkis?" Jesse scratched the walls of his mind, "now that's going to bother me."
"It's bupkis." Willow tended to that urge.
Another school night spent in the books of the library. Buffy had revealed all that she knew regarding the Anointed and that no matter their efforts, the child would rise. However, she knew nothing of how the child was slain.
Should he be dust before the fateful night of her death, perhaps The Master could simply wither away in the sunken church. She knew he must be dealt with at some point, but could you truly escape death as many times as Buffy Summers had? This was not the same girl, these were not the same circumstances. She might be stronger, or he may still best her.
To the friends, the students gathered at the table, it was all about another walk in the world of Sunnydale weeks after their eyes had opened to the darkness around them.
As such, Xander slammed the book he had shut. For all intents and purposes the Anointed was merely a child or perhaps just the ordinary vampire with a special gift. He didn't care. So long as he saved Buffy and rode off with her on his horse, he would be happy.
Until then, he was hungry.
"I'm going to get some snacks, you guys want any?" He offered.
"Hohos!" Jesse perked up.
"I'm good." Willow did now.
"Hohos are a valuable addition to any diet. You should get on the bandwagon, Will."
"Sugar at night makes my belly do the twisty thing. I'm good."
"All right, but you're missing out on a great childhood of regrets."
With a laugh and a smile they parted. Giles in the office with Illyria, Xander passed through the double doors and the halls of the school he despised so.
Not three turns away in the school hall where the students could lounge, he found the wonderful machine of confectionary delights to brighten the dark hall and his mood.
As he waited for the plastic wrapped confections to drop on the tray, he stood with hands in pockets and thoughts on Buffy.
The temperature of the school dropped at night. It was never cold in Sunnydale, but for some odd reason in this frivolous little moment he should have forgotten seconds later, the temperature dropped and a gentle mist formed behind him. If he could see it in the reflection of vending machine he'd find a man adorned in black and red with flowing black hair and pale complexion arise from the mist.
"You will turn and face me." A soft, elegant voice called to him like a tender whisper in the crease of his ears.
"Yes." He answered readily.
The man was pale, far whiter than any vampire without the rush of blood to push the red into their cheeks. He wore a cloak and black slacks with red vest. He appeared almost like he was about to attend some sort of vampire convention for Anne Rice, or those classic Christopher Lee horror films.
"Do not speak, only listen to me. Do as I tell you." The man's eyes, sunken into his skull yet dark with liner and death. They burrowed into Xander's eyes, lively and completely taken with him.
"Ye–" He was about to until the lips of the vampire curled to reveal fangs.
"You will my eyes and my ears while I am here. Go. Bring me the Slayer." He demanded, a gesture of his long nails through an outstretched hand to draw Xander's attention to them like he were to slit his throat. "Do it now."
"Yes, my Spookiness!" Giddy, he chirped and wiggled and left the school with haste.
— —
The moon high over head. Full and brilliant. It was still so strange to walk these streets. Alone and dark along the dim street lights she traced every step as she had for seven years until her house was just the next curve.
The image of her body as it stared back at her, young and innocent stained her eyes as they dropped to her cheeks toward the sidewalk. She tried to play the event in her mind. Forced through the crag by the Old One, Illyria, and brought before the well of Mirrors. Millions of shards, cuts, cracks, and world lines that stared back at them.
Billions of versions of Buffy Summers from babe to the withered corpse reached out to her. Each one begged to be touched.
Many horrors lay beneath her feet near the very molten core of the planet. The Deeper Well, the crag of shadows that consumed all but Buffy and Illyria, and all of it now fresh below, just like The Master.
In this moment of reflection in the wrinkles and cracks of the pavement she walked, she wondered if this was a mistake.
Who do I turn to?
"There you are!" Xander's voice broke her concentration. "I've been looking all over for you!"
"Xander?" She turned to him. He was tired, exhausted. Clearly the boy has run from the library to her home, perhaps big news on The Master she'd have to pretend to know for the first time again.
"We need you at the library!" He added, "the Dark Prince, I mean, uh, Giles sent me to get you!"
She folded her arms and stared blankly at him. Of course, how could she not see it from his expression. Xander was under the thrall of Dracula.
Wait, Dracula? That's a little early.
"Is everyone–" She pondered if Dracula might have attacked the crew at the library, and bore holes through Xander to expect an honest answer.
This stumped him. He really didn't know, and perhaps didn't care in this trance-like state. As he tried to come up with an answer, a voice pulled Buffy to it instead.
A gentle mist formed behind Xander and the familiar pale face of the longhaired celebrity vampire cast through the silly bug-eater.
"Dracula." Buffy had no time for his games, but she was curious. "Let me guess, you came to show me my true power? Make be drink?"
Xander popped up. Elated at the sight of his master and welcomed him with a giddy jump and turn. Dracula, every maudlin, quiet, and with no desire for Xander's insolence hushed him and sent him away.
"I have come to seek you, Slayer." He looked her over. His deep sunken eyes penetrated her every form, and thought. This time he would have no control over her. She was not the girl she was then. "Though, I admit, I had expected you to be younger."
"Get on with it. You're here for something, and I'm not looking for history lesson."
"There is darkness that surrounds you Slayer." Though a vampire could not breathe, he bathed in her scent. It was to study her, to understand her and yet he could not. His eyes narrowed and he traced the air around her as though to grab the veil and pull it free. "I do not understand."
"What do you mean?"
"A dark and old power is about to rise in this town. I was drawn to it, like a moth to a flame." He added, "deep within me, Slayer, I can feel it. From beneath me it devours."
That phrase. It chilled her to the bone. Was The First back in Sunnydale to correct the balance of power between the dark side and the light? A dark and old power to rise? Was it Illyria?
Dracula, not one to care for the death and destruction that would wring the neck of this town should The Master rise, or the Initiative, or even when Angel chose to end the world through Acathla. Not once did the Dark Prince ever make himself known until he chose to meet her personally on his terms.
Even then, Dracula had no intentions to ruin Sunnydale, to deform or destroy the Slayer, merely to toy with her and to learn just how powerful her blood was.
This was a disturbing encounter for Buffy. He could see it in her eyes and that alone made him smile for Dracula was still a fiend of the night.
"So, what do you think?" She pondered. How and why she'd even give him the time of day? Perhaps that was the thrall?
"You will do as I say," he waved his hand and stared deep into her soul. "You will help me find the source of this power and–"
"I'm not falling for that again, Drac." She broke his spell. "How about you meet me at the library and figure this out together. You know, with stakes and crosses?"
He hissed, growled, but did he have a choice? Did she? It seemed they both now needed information from one another. Dracula was not meant to be in Sunnydale so soon and his words burned curiosity within her and even worse, it lit the fire of fear in her mind.
Giles' words of consequence for her transferring into this world line echoed through her heart and banged along her ribcage until it was a scream she could only sooth with the numb and monotonous voice of Dracula.
"You look like an angel came by and took me to heaven." Jesse idolized the demon before him.
"Can I kill him?" Illyria stared back as Giles passed her.
He stopped, the left temple tip of his glasses in his mouth. He caught wind of her intent, pulled himself from the pages and looked at Jesse, then to Illyria.
"You probably shouldn't." He continued to pace as he read.
Xander burst through the double doors from the dark hallway of the school. Before he could cross the distance between he and the table, noticeably void of any confections, Dracula formed from a mist.
"Master!" Xander exclaimed, but the others stood with fright and fear in their eyes with the exception of Illyria.
The book fallen between his feet, Giles nearly dropped his glasses at the sight of the famous vampire, even before he could name him.
"They can do that now?" Willow backed up against the books beneath the rail, her nervousness caught in her throat.
"Who is this guy?" Jesse pondered.
"Dracula." Illyria approached.
"Dracula?" This caught Giles' attention. "This is he?"
"I'll get Buffy!" Willow could only pull out of herself these words, otherwise she felt the need to grovel before the celebrity as his eyes sank into her. Somehow she resisted as be best she could, all too happy when Dracula's focus siphoned over to the ancient demon in red and black leather.
"Yes, get Buffy." Giles concurred with this, only to seemingly summon Buffy from the double doors not long after Dracula's arrival. "Never mind then."
"Start talking, Lestat." Buffy urged of Dracula. She stood beside him as though they had already known one another.
This disturbed them all, save for the Old One.
"Giles? Explain?" Jesse wondered.
"Something, uh, very weird is happening." Giles couldn't.
The Old Ones. Immortal. Each entity transcended time and space, dimensions and reality itself. All of them now here, buried and waiting.
The entity, a form of darkness seemed to follow along the shadows from hole in the wall to hole in the wall where millions of sarcophagi nestled and buried like trees into the Deeper Well of the Earth.
Somewhere in the cogs of fate it crossed an empty hole. A small crevice of dirt and rocks that once held something as ancient as the Earth itself.
Illyria the Merciless.
It reached into the hole like a bed to crawl and sprawl across in the darkness of time and space. Unsatisfied with the wide birth of an empty tomb, it spilled out like mist down deeper and deeper until the very heat death of the molten core of the planet threatened to sizzle it into a fine mist.
There, from tomb to tomb, wall to wall and mile by mile did it find another hole in the world.
This one. The first one. I know what you're doing, Illyria. Do you know what you've done? Does the Slayer?
As it climbed from the empty rocky crack in the world. If it could move its lips it would, but was merely shadow and a formless figure. It spoke a name, ancient.
No.
Timeless.
A name not spoken since–
"Maloker"