God, she loved Jonah. She really did. It really was love at first sight...
She had run away from Sunnydale, again, just wanting to get away from everything she had destroyed, from everyone she had failed. This time, instead of relocating somewhere else in So Cal, Buffy took the train and wen to NYC, where she got a job as a waitress in café in the Village and did nights at a community college she had long since forgotten the name of. Life was hard at first, because of all he guilt she continually carried with her. But over the course of a few months she thought less and less of the happenings in Sunnydale as she settled into the routine of her brand-new life as Anne Summers, once again.
She really loved working at that café. At first she hated it, because it was owned by some raunchy new breed of dickhead that she suspected was also a pimp, because he kept hinting that she ought to worked for him in his "other business," the one he held at night. Then, once he was arrested—narcotics traffickers are the norm in NY, unfortunately—his young niece inherited the shabby place.
Helen—that was the niece's name—was a dear, sweetheart who cam from a not-so-well-to-do part of Brooklyn with a charming accent. She had pretty orange red hair and freckles that were actually flattering, and not the best body but not the worst. She had a boyfriend was had supported for 2 ½ years while he was writing his novel, and just when Helen was going to dump him because she thought he was putting her on, he got published and made millions off his bestselling book. So this poor, dirty, smoky, gothic place was extremely below her new self, but right at home for the Brooklyn Helen, and Helen never forgot her Brooklyn self.
The place was quickly decomposing on itself, falling to bits and pieces inside and out. Helen had fixed the shoddy construction in a wink, giving it a fresh look while still keeping that coffehouse, starving-artists-chronically-depressed-poets-come-here kind of place. She had redone the interior keeping the same nostalgic look while making the place look permanently clean, and advertised the place so that they got more customers. Since her boyfriend spent the day writing his other novels and they were living just fine off his last paycheck, Helen devoted all her time to the Green Leaf Café. She hovered over everyone's shoulders and becoming good friends with the help, including Anne.
In fact, Anne was Helen's mission. Helen would not leave Anne alone until she managed to open up just the tiniest bit. Helen thought that Anne was a good girl who had associated with the wrong people and just needed some good influence. Helen thought Anne needed a guy.
Anne was behind the counter, wiping clean the marble blocks Helen had installed to given the place some class, Helen had snuck up behind her. Anne, startled, shrieked and jumped up, losing control of all her body parts. Her hand, flying free, knocked over a full coffee mug—
—and Anne watched as the dark brown liquid tipped over cup's mouth as it clattered onto the counter. The mug crashed down and rolled away, covered into the coffee. The rest of the drink spread around the counter, and write on top of the papers it had landed on.
She hadn't noticed him in front of her. He was about her age, maybe a little older, as old as Angel had looked to her the first—no, stupid, don't think about him or anything related to Buffy—time she saw him (who?). He looked like he was in college, or should be in college, with dark black hair that desperately needed to be combed, soft pale skin, oval face, and the most intriguing set of dark green eyes, an unnatural color Anne had never seen before. He looked down at his pages of ruined manuscript, and then looked up at Anne. Anne had gulped and squeezed her eyes shut, afraid of whatever screaming and shouting session would follow. For sure she might be fired.
"It's ok," he had soothed instead. Buffy had opened one eye and stared at him disbelievingly, eyebrow arching. "What, don't look at me like I'm from Mars or something." He had smiled, and that made Anne give an attempt at a laugh. "It's just a little coffee stain. It'll come out. Besides, the script wasn't winning no Pulitzer anyhow."
"Script?" Anne asked, interested. "As in a script for a play, or a script for a movie?"
"Movie script," he had answered. "I've realized that Broadway is far too classy for me, so I might as well make my life as one of the many leeches in the movie industry." He said this sadly, as though he regretted his choice in "careers."
"Oh, there are plenty of good people out there in Hollywood," Anne had assured him, leaning her elbows comfortably on the marble counter. "No one really comes to mind just now"—he cracked a smile—"but there are. And I'm certain you're one of them."
"Thanks so much, you really don't know what it means to e to have you talk to me," he said, all smiles. He looked so debonair, yet homely and nice. "I was afraid I was going to use one of those horrible pickup lines, like 'Can I have quarter? I promised I'd call my mother when I met the girl of my dreams' or 'I must have died and gone to heaven, because I'm seeing an angel before me' or"—he mock-shuddered—"the dread 'Have we met before?' deal. You know, all out to get the girl."
Anne had laughed, and he took that as a good sign. "My name is Daniel," he said, extending his hand. Anne had taken it, shaking it lightly and about to burst out laughing at his awkward formality.
"And my name is..." Anne paused for a moment. Who did she want to be in front of Daniel? Did she want to be Anne and have a fresh start? Or did she want to take on the horrible emotional baggage brought along by calling herself Buffy. What to do...?
"My name is Buffy," she said hesitantly, her hand sliding out of his firm handshake. "Buffy."
Daniel's brow wrinkled. "But you tag says Anne," he said, as though Buffy had jus had a memory lapse.
Buffy blushed and fingered her nametag, which read ANNE in big back letters. "Yeah, I know," she admitted. "Let's just say that I though I was Anne, but I really am a person called Buffy."
"Oh, I get it," Daniel said, slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand. "You moved here from somewhere, got a new name, and decided you were gonna get a whole new start on life. But then you decided to be who you really were." Buffy was taken aback by his rudeness, but his following comments made sense. "You are much more of a man than I am, Buffy." He held out his hand, and Buffy took it again, this time shaking it a bit more firmly. "I might as well...my name is Jonah. It's very nice to meet you, Buffy,"
"Charmed," Buffy said, looking up into Jonah's green eyes. She smiled dreamily. "Very, very charmed."
Now Buffy had gathered the covers and comforter from the floor and draped them motheringly over her sleeping husband. She then proceeded to slip in one his side and cudle up next to his warm body. She felt his breath hot on her neck, and then his arm slid around her waist.
"Oh, you're *up*, you dick!" Buffy teased, jutting Jonah in his stomach. Gosh he had gorgeous abs. Jonah just chuckled and drew her tighter.
"I just wanted to hold you," he said, nibbling on her ear and stroking her hair. Buffy smiled and snuggled closer to her husband, sighing contently. She and Jonah hadn't grown apart during their many years of marriage. They had made sure that they were in love before they had tied the knot. She remembered finding out that she was pregnant with Elisabeth Sarah so soon, but both she and Jonah had agreed that they would wait a bit longer to see if they really loved each other, because they just didn't want to do "the right thing." The wanted to do "the right thing," but to do it with love. Thank God they had had love, and they were able to give Elisabeth Sarah love.
"I love you Jonah. I love you so much." She giggled as Jonah's tongue tickled her earlobe. "Christ, Jonah, I think I might've married you just for the sex alone."
"Is that a compliment or not?" Jonah teased back, his mouth moving down the contours of her neck. "I love you too," he uttered breathlessly, nibbling on her flesh. "Too, too much for my own good, Buffy."
"What?" Buffy asked, finding something wrong with his tone of voice. The nibbling of her flesh was turning into biting now, and it hurt. "Jonah!" She pushed his face away with her hand, and then she definitely knew something was wrong.
She looked at him in horror. His beautiful face had turned into a disgusting, demon, ugly-face vampire. At she froze with shock, he lunged towards her and grabbed her arms, burying his face in her neck.
She screamed.
After the announcement that they were heading towards the mansion, everyone in the van quieted down. The silence was suffocating and almost as loud as the conversation had been. Buffy knew that it had to deal with her, somehow, and she was very uncomfortable. But what was she to do about it?
Everyone was in their own little world, and Buffy seemed to be off in hers. But was she was really doing was watching everyone else trying to guess that they were thinking.
Xander had on a pained expression. He probably thought that all this was his fault, and it was just too strange for him today. He was also probably thinking about this future coupling. No doubt that things between Xander and Cordelia were not very good, although they seemed to have turned out just fine.
She could make out Willow's outline from where she sat, the lamplight from outside occasionally flicking across her worn features. She looked so old there, probably thinking about her and Oz and the big empty gap between them. Probably going over and over in her head the conversation that she and Buffy had had the night before over the phone, talking about their totally messed-up relationships or lack thereof.
Buffy couldn't see Oz's face, but she was damn sure what was on *his* mind.
F-Oz and F-Willow were a puzzle. They were in the same position as before, but both of them had their heads hung low and staring blankly at some nonexistent spot on the van's rug. They seemed detached a little, but deep in thought at the same time.
F-Xander was staring stonily in silence, his mouth set in one straight line, occasionally making a "harumph" of disgust, and F-Cordelia had rested her head on his shoulder. She seemed awfully tired—perhaps time-travel jet lag? Who knew? Things were strange enough as they were, Buffy could just except more weirdness.
Buffy finished her analyzing rounds just as Oz pulled to a stop. "Well, here's the mansion," he said, putting the van in Park. He opened the driver side door. "Anybody coming?"
Xander came back from wherever he was and snapped to attention. Tiredly, he opened the van doors and toppled outside. Yet more visitors from the future. Yay.
The others followed him begrudgingly, and Buffy was beginning to suspect that things weren't all that great between her Future Self and the Future Slayeretttes. {Oh God, can that be true? What could've happened...?}
F-Xander was mumbling something to his wife (girlfriend? No, there were the wedding bands glinting in the darkness) and Buffy scooted closer and strained to listen with her slayer senses. It was something about her, maybe it would provide a clue to the sudden silence in the van...
"...oh please, like we really need to come after that spineless little hussy. I say we leave her to fare for herself, and if she fares really, really badly, then all the better to give me a happy..."
Buffy felt like stopping in her tracks, but she kept walking down the dirt path. God, what had happened to make *Xander* call her a spineless little hussy? Sure, they had had their past where things weren't all too good between them, but this was unexpected. She could never be less than a goddess in his eyes, and she had always coveted that position, as much as she hated it. She *liked* his admiration, even if she didn't want to take it to another level. She was twisted like that.
But something had happened, something *big* had happened to make F-Xander think of her like that. A thousand possibilities ran through Buffy's mind. And also a warning Giles had hissed to her before they had left:
"Don't talk to any of them. Don't ask them any questions regarding events that have yet to happen. Knowing about your future is a very dangerous thing, and we do not want to tamper with it. We have done enough."
Angel was stretched out on the couch, half-naked with a pair of black jeans on, in the dreamy-like state of sleep for a vampire, The Brothers K lying bent open on his slowly rising and falling chest. He was dreaming, dreaming of Buffy and him during better times. Oh, how he longed for those times...
And then he had felt the sudden weight on his shoulders, the proverbial breath knocked out of him if he had been human, and the feminine "oof!" that had followed. Then he had opened his eyes, and to his surprise, saw a complete stranger that wasn't that strange.
And then the Buffy look-alike opened her mouth and screamed.
Angel's eyes widened and his immediate reaction was to sit up. That, of course, sent the Buffy woman crashing to the floor. Angel quickly reached over to help her up, but the woman made a few squeaking noises and quickly backed away. Soon she was up against the fire place, and she reached up for the poker and held it in front of her as she climbed to her feet.
"Don't you come near me," she warned, and although she tried to sound menacing there was the underlying not of fear that Angel could pick up. Immediately his vampiric senses were enthralled by her fear, but Angel fought for control.
"Please, don't be afraid," he said, slowly holding his hands up and backing away from her, to show the woman that he meant no harm. She obviously did not believe him. "I don't mean any harm. If you tell me where you are from, or how you got here, then perhaps I can help you get back—"
"Don't give me that shit!" she demanded angrily, and started to edge towards the door, her eyes flickering over her shoulder every so often so that she knew where she was going. "I don't know what you plan to do, Angel, but I *swear* I'm going to find it out and I'm going to kill you..."
She trailed off as the sound of hurried, thumping footsteps came from just outside. She looked around, her hair swishing around her face, and then she ran towards the far wall where there was still a small pile of stakes from Buffy's last training session with her ex-lover. She completely abandoned the poker and grabbed a stake, still looking cautiously towards Angel, who was doing nothing. He was pretty confused as it was. {The next time I see Buffy I hope that she can explain all this...}
"Please, Ms...." Angel tried again, holding out a tentative hand towards her. The woman just shrieked and back away from the vampire. The hand that held the stake was shaking nervously, and there were tears of frustration in the woman's eyes.
"You said you'd leave me alone, you said you'd leave me alone," she told him, trying hard to control her voice. "You *lied*. I'm surprised I even believed you, I can't believe I was *fool* enough to believe you..."
The thumping footsteps were right outside now, and the woman took one last look at Angel before darting out of the room, running down the corridor to try and find another way out.
The woman had just disappeared out of view when the Slayerettes, present and future, entered the room. Buffy was at the lead, and she skidded to a halt right in front of Angel, looking around wildly.
"Where is she? Where did I go?" Buffy asked impatiently, still looking around. Angel looked at Buffy, at the corridor, and then swallowed. "Um, she went down there...he said, motioning to the corridor with his eyes. He swallowed again. "Um, could someone please explain this situation to me?'
Buffy ignored him and walked towards the corridor with quick, decisive steps, the heels of her shoes clicking on the floor's surface. "Hey...you! Come back!" she yelled into the hall. When she got no answer, she turned back to the Slayerettes. "Do I go after her?" she asked a little uncertainly.
F-Xander rolled his eyes and sighed. They turned to look at him as he stepped up besides Buffy and cupped his hands around his mouth. "BUFFY!" he yelled into the corridor, and Angel winced at the yell as it racked his sensitive hearing. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Oz...or what looked like Oz in very rumpled clothes, squinch his eyes shut and wince also.
There was a dead silence, then the soft sound of bare feet hitting floor. "Xander?" came the shaky voice.
"Who the hell else?" Xander called back. No reply. "Are you coming out here or not?"
More soft thuds, and closer this time. "But..."
"He's not who you think he is," Xander sighed. "Thank God. Just get out of here so we can get the hell back to the library and get all this mess done. You're holding us back...figures."
Willow, Xander, and Oz traded looks. The underlying hostility is Xander's voice was rapidly becoming overlying hostility. What was this?
That last comment did it. F-Buffy stormed out, stake at her side, hair flowing behind her, and her face tilted down and eyes glaring. "The hell does that mean..." Her voice trailed off as she came to a halt, realizing that she was standing right before herself.
Time seemed to stop. Both Buffys stopped breathing, her chests tightening and hearts leaping up into their throats. Beautiful green eyes became large pools of light as they looked into each other, seeing a mirrored reflection. Little curved noses wrinkled in confusion and soft, full red lipsticked lips quavered and then settled into a frown. Both Slayers lost hold of the stakes in their hand, and they fell to the floor with a loud clatter, which brought them back crashing to reality.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh, *no*," F-Buffy said, shaking her head quickly. She backed away from Buffy slowly, shaking her head and speaking with fake laughter. "This could not *possibly* happen to me, no, no, no, not after all this time...why?"
"'Cause that's how it is," F-Xander said matter-of-factly, shoving his hands into his pockets and letting out another sigh. He turned around to look at F-Cordelia, who just shrugged and mouthed the word "actresses."
As F-Buffy's gaze went from Buffy to F-Xander, her eyes hardened into jade stones. "Xander," she said, her voice dripping with acid. "What an annoyance to see you again. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if all this had some connection to do you."
"The annoying feeling is mutual." F-Xander took his left hand out of his pocket and pointed to her hair. "Buffy...love the hair. And the shirt...the whole get-up's doing *nothing* for your figure. Or is it some kind of new Hollywood sheik I should become aware of?"
F-Buffy stifled an annoyed laugh in her throat and shook her head. "Xander, Xander...and we all know the fashion gods bow down and pray to *you*. I mean, look." She motioned towards his outfit, and then to Angel, who had backed considerably back to his sofa. "I mean, we all know who's closet *you* raided this morning."
F-Xander was about to spit something equally mean back to her when F-Willow cleared her throat loudly. F-Xander and F-Buffy broke their smoldering glares at each other to look at F-Willow. "Down," she told them firmly, looking straight at F-Xander. "Let's just go back to the library and you two can solve your squabble over in the future, preferably the hell away from me so I don't have to hear you to go at it. Ok?"
F-Buffy and F-Xander didn't respond, but looked at each other silently. Then F-Xander, rolling his eyes, walked right out the mansion mumbling about actresses under his breath. Buffy just glared after him.
"Oh yeah, and federal lawyers are a bunch of princes!" she retorted loudly, and F-Xander called her an English swearword from out of view.
F-Buffy turned back to her self, and no one knew what to say. F-Buffy threw her hands impatiently in the air. She had no idea how to treat this situation she was in, and she opted for anger because it blocked all other emotions and rationale from her mind.
"So, are we going or not? Or are we all gonna stand here and stare at me like I'm an alien from some other planet. 'Cause *you* guys are the weirdos here, ok?"
No one spoke. This biting, spiteful version of Buffy had yet to be revealed in her present self, and it was quite a shock to everyone. F-Cordelia had run off after F-Xander, and now F-Willow and F-Oz shrugged and followed in suit. F-Buffy took one look at the younger generation, made an exasperated sound, and walked out with her head down and muttering to herself in F-Xander-fashion.
That left Generation-X behind. Xander smacked his lips and went "Well." Willow nodded in agreement to his short blurb of words. Buffy was left speechless, and Angel walked over to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, which quickly turned into a comforting hug.
"May I take this moment of silence," Oz said, balancing his words carefully. Everyone turned to look at him. "Just to say that this is some very, very weird shit that is going on here."
His audience bobbed their heads like a dutiful congregation, listening to their priest speaking the True Words of God.
"Aw, *SHIT*!"
The sharp cry came exploding out of the bookcases, and startled Giles to the point where he lost his grip on "The Tiberius Manifesto." As the heavy yet flimsy book slid out of his hands, he quickly bent over to catch it. He managed to grab the back cover and a few pages in the middle, succeeding only in ripping the fragile book in two. As the now freed pages fluttering down to the floor, Giles spoke an oath of his own and bent to his knees, scrambling around desperately to gather the ancient sheets.
There was the heavy stomping of boots, and then a poke in his side. Giles set his mouth into a grim line and made sure his temper was under control. He rolled back on his heels and put a hand on his knees, looking up. F-Faith. He should have known.
"What exactly may I do for you, Faith?" Giles asked, his voice showing his annoyance.
"Prophecy," F-Faith said simply, crossing her arms and looking down at him. When he began to make some signs of moving to stand up, she marched on over to the table and sat down heavily in the nearest chair.
"What prophecy?" Giles asked, wincing as he carefully stepped over the mess that was once the "Manifesto." "Could this help in explaining—"
"—yeah, yeah, it could explain why all of us future people are back in the past," F-Faith filled in quickly. "My last Watcher told it to me," she spoke as Giles pulled out a chair for him to sit in, "at least, she told me what she could before I got rid of her."
"Um, 'got rid of her'?" Giles inquired, not sure exactly what he was asking for.
"Yeah, got rid of her." F-Faith noticed he really didn't get it, so sighing, she bent over the table and scooted her chair in. "You see, I'm not all that big on authority figures. I pretty much despise them, in fact. And a Watcher is an authority figure and one of the worst. So, whenever one manages to corner me and proclaims themselves the boss of me, I devise some kind of way to torture them and then head for the freakin' hills.
"The first time I got rid of a Watcher was right after I'd left Sunnydale after, uh, somethin' happened. Anyway, I was up in Mississippi working on the river as a boatlady, ya know, enjoying life pretty much, and then this kid barely out of high school comes up and says he's my Watcher, and he's gonna be ordering me around for the rest of life. I, of course, have none of it. Three days later, he's tied to a raft, naked, and ridin' down the Mississippi River, with a buncha people gawking and a bunch of little children throwing sticks and stones. I gave it to him good." She noticed a flash of alarm in Giles' eyes, and decided she liked it. "And you know, I still use that technique, too, whenever I'm near a relatively large body of water. I like to call it 'skinnin'."
"So, just a month ago this lady comes up to me and says she's my Watcher. And you know, word gets around at what a bitchy, temperamental Slayer I am, so she was pretty frightened. I liked that she was scared and constantly on edge, and she also offered me a place to sleep and food to eat, so I frickin' put up with her. But then she kept getting on my nerves, over and over and over again. I was tired of her, *so* tired of her. When she told me there was a prophecy, I waited to here enough of it, and then lead her out for 'training' in a not-so-secluded part of a local forest. She's resting after I've totally annihilated her, and then I take her by surprise. I tie her up to this branch far enough away from the ground so that her feet aren't touching it but if she falls off (which I rigged it so that she'd slip out of her chains after awhile) she won't get *too* hurt. Then I give her some headphones blaring bad 70s American rock, which she hates with a fiery passion."
F-Faith started a slow smile. "You know, that was kinda fun. Maybe I'll try that again with another stuffy British bitch, when I get the chance."
Giles gulped and flushed as he thought of F-Faith or Buffy "skinnin'" him. He quickly chased that picture of his mind, least he dwell too long on it. He cleared his throat loudly. "And about this prophecy?" he prompted.
"Oh, yes," F-Faith said, hitting herself on the forehead with the palm of her hand. "I can't believe I forgot about it so long. 'Cause you see, my Watcher, Gladys, has got this book called, oh, what was it? 'Argentum Interfector', I think it was?"
"The Silver Slayer?" Giles asked, quickly drawing his breath. F-Faith shrugged and nodded her head. "My God. Complete prophecies for centuries and centuries of female slayers." Amazed, her took of his spectacle and loosened his hold, letting the spectacles dangle precariously by the tips of his fingers. "Where did she get the book? A-actually, what volume?"
"How the hell should I know?" F-Faith asked, sending him a dirty look. "Listen, Slayers slay, and Watchers read books about slaying. Ok? That's how you play the game, and you can only be on one team and once. So why should I care what volume the hell that Gladys was reading?" The sharp and direct way that F-Faith had of speaking made Giles extremely glad that Buffy was his slayer, and that Faith pretty much Watched herself.
"Anyway," F-Faith grumbled, leaning back into her chair. She swung one leg over the other in a very male position. Her entire attitude and the way she carried herself screamed 'Mess with me, prepared to be disemboweled '. "The prophecy went just like this:
"The Chosen Ones, the Slayers Four
Shall be baptized in Devil's blood
Death after Death, Life taking Life
Time into Time, Hell upon Earth."
Giles was absolutely stunned. He leaned back in his chair and looked at F-Faith with wild eyes. "That sounds...that sounds apocalyptic," he finally managed to stutter, taking in the prophecy.
Behind them all, D-Giles stopped ripping apart his new-found chew toy/stamp pad and padded over to where the humans were. He came up to Giles and place his red-and-blue, wet, matted fur and snout on his namesake's knee. Giles looked down at him, and D-Giles looked up at him with soulful, sympathetic eyes. Giles again wondered why the dog was here.
"Apocalyptic, hmm," F-Faith mused, putting one slim finger to her chin. "Well, I guess if you look at it from that angle..."
"What other angles are there to look at?" Giles asked. "'Hell upon Earth'," he quoted the prophecy.
"Well, yeah, that could mean the end of the world." F-Faith paused for a moment. "So what? Are we suppose to prevent it or something? Why?"
Giles practically toppled out of his chair. It could be the end of the world as they knew it, and F-Faith wanted to know 'so what?'? If they were suppose to 'prevent it?'? 'Why?' they should prevent it? "Yes, of course we should prevent it. I-it's our duty. A-and there are m-many good reasons as to why the world should continue on." Giles stopped there. "Ah, well—"
"Oh please, stop it," F-Faith said, shaking her head and breaking into a sardonic grin. "I mean, there is like, zero reasons as to why the world should continue on the way it is, and every reason for the apocalypse to happen. I mean, there's that 86Z thing, Bill Gates (who just *refuses* to die), Sandra Lewinsky, that Sakash Arven clone, that Nuclear Winter thing they have going on in China...I mean, mankind has seriously screwed up Earth. Maybe demons can run the White House a helluva lot better than James Betrich and his little gang of government conspirators."
Giles looked at her blankly. F-Faith stared back at him with the exact strange expression, and then she got it. Her hand flew up to her mouth, and she cursed loudly. "Damn, I shouldn't have said all that," she said, closing her eyes and mouthing the words 'stupid, stupid, STUPID!'. Then she opened her eyes and removed the hand from her mouth, done humiliating herself. She looked at Giles, who was still a bit surprised. "Don't worry, G. It's not like you'll have to know that stuff anyway."
Another blank expression. "Best to forget that I said that," F-Faith said quickly, shaking her head in agreement with herself. Giles just sighed, and D-Giles blew air through his nose. Giles looked down and saw the dog looking back at him, and something eerie flashed through his eyes.
Giles wondered why everything strange and weird always had to happen to him.
Nicholas McLeary was sitting at the dining room table, idly munching on a sugar cookie and staring off into the distance. Next to him, his littler sister Annie Harris was doing the same thing, except Nicholas' cookie was half-eaten and Annie's cookie was still whole and covered in slobber. As much as he loved his sister, Nicholas didn't like to be around her when she had food in her hand, because it quickly became a mess to be cleaned up or a projectile heading for something that would later be needing a clean-up. This time, though, Annie was being relatively neat, so he allowed her to sit next to him and stare off into space, an activity Nicholas did often and that Annie like to join in too, when there was nothing else to do.
In the same room but far enough so that Nicholas felt ok sat Julie and Josh, his step-brother and step-sister, playing a demented version of Trouble. He liked Julie and Josh—sometimes. He liked Julie when she was alone, 'cause she was really funny and could be sweet around Annie and stuff. But when she was around Josh she was all the tom-boy girl, and she was that way around Xander, too. Around Mommy she was a girl a lot, though. Yeah.
Josh was a boy, and he was Xander's favorite, no doubt. Nicky could never live up to him anyhow, because Josh was Xander's real son and Nicky was just someone in the way, no matter how much everyone tried to make him a big part of the family. Josh was rowdy and rude and loud, but he was very, very defensive of his sisters. NOBODY touched Julie or Annie when he was there, especially Julie. In fact, he and Julie were very strange. They always seemed to know stuff about each other, and they were just so close. Nicky often wondered what it was like, having a twin, and he used to ask that of Josh all the time. But Josh would just shrug and said he didn't know, what was it like *not* being a twin? Nicky couldn't answer that question, so the conversation just kind of laid there and died, and then Josh would go off and play with Julie and Nicky would go off to find Annie and do s' more silent thinking. That happened a lot.
Sometimes he and Annie were like Julie and Josh. Like, Annie couldn't speak, but if she wanted something, Nicky just knew 'cause he knew so much about her. Like a while back, they were grocery shopping and were in the cookie aisle. Annie hated hard cookies 'cause they were harder to get in her mouth then the soft ones, and Ms. Natalie had soft ones and she wanted soft ones. So Mommy was holding up every bag in the aisle and Annie was starting to cry when Nicky said, "I think she wants the soft cookies, Mommy," and Nicky was right.
Unfortunately, Ms. Natalie hadn't bought the soft cookies this time around and Annie was getting very agitated at the cookie. Nicky planned to ignore her until she started to cry or to scream, 'cause there wasn't much you could do until then. So he went back to thinking.
Xander wasn't really so bad. He wasn't his Dad, of course, and Nicky was glad. He couldn't remember his Dad that much, and he's only seen him once or twice. The only things he knew from memory was that he was really angry and really loud and yelled and Mommy and him a lot of the time, and he used to smell like beer, like Uncle Oz did one night back a year ago. But Uncle Oz had been friendly-drunk, and Dad had been mean-drunk. There was a difference. When he was drunk, Dad always hit Mommy over and over and over again and sometimes would hit Nicky. Nicky was too little and thought it was something he did wrong and he didn't do much, since he was little over three, so he just stopped the little he'd been doing. That's why Nicky was quiet all the time. Also, he knew that his Dad had red hair just like him and ice-blue eyes, so that's where he got the looks in the family.
Xander never raised his voice at Mommy or Nicky or Annie or Julie or Josh. At least in mean ways. Sometimes the kids were so loud Xander would *need* to shout to be heard, but otherwise then that he was not loud. And he *never* hit anybody, except once or twice he would do funny things like spank Mommy's butt and she would laugh and enjoy it or he would be drying Julie's hair with the hairdryer and then occasionally touch it to her butt so that she would jump and laugh and hit Xander playfully on the arm. And Xander never drank, except on New Years when everybody had a teeny bit of champagne, and when Xander went out with his friends he only had one drink or two, and that didn't affect him at all.
Annie didn't look like anyone else in the family, either. Neither did the twins. None of them looked like brother and sister, and Mommy and Xander were always asked about it, mainly if they had adopted all of them or something like that.
Nicky was tall like his mom with red hair and ice-blue eyes, and lotsa freckles like his dad that everybody always said were cute but Nicky thought they were ugly 'cause they were like his dads. When all the other seven-year-olds talked, their voice were squeaky and loud, but Nicky's voice was soft and calm, and Xander used to joke that he wanted Nicky's voice more than his, Nicky like Xander's voice. Nicky like lotsa things about Xander. Nicky would trade voices with Xander anyday.
Julie and Josh looked just like each other and a little like their father and a lot like their mother. They had never known their mother. Their Mommy had died back in England, but they said a prayer to her every night for the angel's to watch over her and they had pictures to look at her. Their mommy was very pretty, but not as pretty as Mommy, at least in Nicky's opinion. No one was pretty than Mommy. Julie and Josh both had brown hair the color of Xander's and heavy eyebrows like him, but they had heart-shaped faces and the most "gorgeous" pair of blue-gray eyes you'd ever seen. When they smiled, and that was a lot, they had the deepest dimple on their chin, and Julie had lots of "attractive" beauty marks. When they smiled, they smiled just like their Dad. Ms. Natalie said they could be child models, if they had their behavior a little more under control. But Josh's behavior wasn't his fault, cause he has ADD and had to take Ritalin. Julie was normal. They were both short, but then again, they were only five.
Annie was a mix of both the Chase and Harris families, but looked nothing like Mommy and Xander. She was tiny for a three-year-old, and neither of her parents were tiny, but Mommy's mom was tiny so there was a Chase gene. She had long blond hair that laid in wispy bits around her oval face, and that was from Xander's side of the family with his great-grandmother. She had big brown eyes that were the color of Mommy's uncle's eyes and a tiny stub of a nose that was from Xander's side of the family again, from his Dad. Being mute was Annie's special thing. She was even gonna be place in the special class when she started to go to school. There was not a special class at Nicky's school, so that was only the bad part of the thing, 'cause Nicky would miss her there, like he did now.
Now to Xander. Xander was the coolest dad out of anyone Nicky knew, and Nicky knew lotsa dads 'cause he knew lotsa kids. Xander bought Nicky a lot of toys, and at first Nicky had thought that he bought all those toys so that Nicky would like him. Nicky was wrong, in a way. Xander bought Josh and Julie toys, too, but Xander would play with them, too. There was one day when the house was being fixed, and there was noise from upstairs and the whole downstairs was a mess. Xander got out every action figure they had, including some Barbies, and placed them all over the living room. Then Nicky, Josh, Julie, and Xander pretended it was all a war zone, and they played together, pretending the living room was the battle field and that the noises of the workmen upstairs were gunshots and stuff. Then Mommy and Annie came in the room and Annie started stomping on everything and then Josh started to whine and complain, but then Nicky said that she was Godzilla and they were in China and they'd better run for cover! Josh and Julie had grinned and fallen for it and they had watched their half-sister demolish their "battlefield" and Nicky had felt good when Xander had flashed him a thank you smile. Xander was pretty ok.
And Mommy was ok 'cause she was Mommy. Nobody else could be Mommy. Ever. That was it.
Mommy and Xander were off to New York and had dropped off Nicky, Julie, Josh, and Annie at Ms. Natalie's house. Ms. Natalie was upstairs resting for just a half hour and everybody had promised not to do anything bad. Nicky was watching everybody and would tell Ms. Natalie who was being bad. Nobody was, so Nicky had it pretty good. He was just...being there.
And then the loud, raucous cries from the living room stopped. Nicky at first thought they were playing Graveyard or something, but there were no sounds of shuffling or moving and they always did that even thought it was against the rules 'cause they never heard each other and their eyes were closed. The game would end either by somebody waking them up 'cause they would've gone into la-la land, or someone bumping into each other. But it was too soon for them to have fallen asleep.
Nicky put his cookie down, or what remained of his cookie, and looked over at Annie. She looked back at him with those brown eyes. She had made little progress on her cookie. Nicky thought about leaving her here while he checked on the twins, but he thought that Annie might fall out of her chair or something. He worried about her a lot. So Nicky crawled out of his chair and then helped Annie down from hers and they walked into the dining room hand-in-hand.
The twins were nowhere in sight. Nicky's grip on Annie's hand tightened as he looked all around the room. Yup, nowhere. Oh oh, he'd better wake Ms. Natalie up and tell her the twins were gone...or hiding.
"BOO!"
Nicky jumped in the air and Annie let out a shriek as the voices came out of nowhere. Nicky spun around and saw Josh and Julie standing side-by-side, silly identical grins on their faces. They were giggling quietly. Nicky didn't get upset because he used to sneak up on people like that. All he did was make sure Annie wasn't too spooked and patted his right pocket, where he had an extra bottle of Josh's pills in case of an emergency. He sighed and said, "You got us."
"We know," they said in twin voices. Then their faces clouded over, and their eyes widened.
"What is it?" Nicky asked. The twins were very quiet, not speaking a word. Nicky saw they were staring at something over his shoulder, and as he turned to see what was so captivating, the sinking feeling in his stomach told his young self that whatever it was, it couldn't be good.
His fears were confirmed, and none of the four children had any time to scream before the big blue vortex-thingy surround them with a blue-gray light the color of the twin's eyes and everything around them disappeared.
The four figures hovered over the pool of blood, two dressed in typical vampire leather and the other two dressed only is heavy black cowls. The two figures in cowls leaned over into the blood, whispering ancient chants and occasionally touching the blood, makings shimmering ripples all across the surface. To the figures in leather, they were just ripples. To the figures in cowls, they were the movements of time.
"Is everything in bloody place already?" asked Fil2. "My foot's falling asleep here." He shifted his weight to further impress his point upon his comrades.
"Quiet, patience," whispered Fic2, although she barely heard him. She was gazing that the blood ripples with a sort of quiet awe, moving and speaking only when Fic1 told her to. "Ssh, dove, all is well."
"These things take time, you know," said Fic1, a bit crossly. There was something evident in her voice, something that said "I'm surrounded by morons". "Time is a very difficult dimension to work with, especially under these conditions. There is still *light* in this room."
"There's no bloody light in this room," said Fil2, more than slightly pissed. "If there was bloody light in here then I'd be up in flames."
"There is light," grated Fic1. Her finger dove into the pool of blood and caused a strong ripple, and the faint sound of voices that greeted her ears was comforting. "I can feel it." Fic1 allowed herself a smile. "The children have come through."
"Great. Wonderful. And where do we find them?" asked Fil2.
"How in the hell-on-earth should I know?" spat back Fic1. She gave another sharp dip in the blood, and then motioned for Fic2 to make soft little ripples all around the area in which she had jabbed.
"Now, now," chided Fil1, who had been silent for a good ten minutes. "Let's not upset the gorgeous demon-witch who has been very grateful in lending us her services."
Fic1 grinned, and then turned around to face Fil1, her fingers still at work in the pool. "Ah, Angelus," she said sultrily, "you always were the flirt."
She had run away from Sunnydale, again, just wanting to get away from everything she had destroyed, from everyone she had failed. This time, instead of relocating somewhere else in So Cal, Buffy took the train and wen to NYC, where she got a job as a waitress in café in the Village and did nights at a community college she had long since forgotten the name of. Life was hard at first, because of all he guilt she continually carried with her. But over the course of a few months she thought less and less of the happenings in Sunnydale as she settled into the routine of her brand-new life as Anne Summers, once again.
She really loved working at that café. At first she hated it, because it was owned by some raunchy new breed of dickhead that she suspected was also a pimp, because he kept hinting that she ought to worked for him in his "other business," the one he held at night. Then, once he was arrested—narcotics traffickers are the norm in NY, unfortunately—his young niece inherited the shabby place.
Helen—that was the niece's name—was a dear, sweetheart who cam from a not-so-well-to-do part of Brooklyn with a charming accent. She had pretty orange red hair and freckles that were actually flattering, and not the best body but not the worst. She had a boyfriend was had supported for 2 ½ years while he was writing his novel, and just when Helen was going to dump him because she thought he was putting her on, he got published and made millions off his bestselling book. So this poor, dirty, smoky, gothic place was extremely below her new self, but right at home for the Brooklyn Helen, and Helen never forgot her Brooklyn self.
The place was quickly decomposing on itself, falling to bits and pieces inside and out. Helen had fixed the shoddy construction in a wink, giving it a fresh look while still keeping that coffehouse, starving-artists-chronically-depressed-poets-come-here kind of place. She had redone the interior keeping the same nostalgic look while making the place look permanently clean, and advertised the place so that they got more customers. Since her boyfriend spent the day writing his other novels and they were living just fine off his last paycheck, Helen devoted all her time to the Green Leaf Café. She hovered over everyone's shoulders and becoming good friends with the help, including Anne.
In fact, Anne was Helen's mission. Helen would not leave Anne alone until she managed to open up just the tiniest bit. Helen thought that Anne was a good girl who had associated with the wrong people and just needed some good influence. Helen thought Anne needed a guy.
Anne was behind the counter, wiping clean the marble blocks Helen had installed to given the place some class, Helen had snuck up behind her. Anne, startled, shrieked and jumped up, losing control of all her body parts. Her hand, flying free, knocked over a full coffee mug—
—and Anne watched as the dark brown liquid tipped over cup's mouth as it clattered onto the counter. The mug crashed down and rolled away, covered into the coffee. The rest of the drink spread around the counter, and write on top of the papers it had landed on.
She hadn't noticed him in front of her. He was about her age, maybe a little older, as old as Angel had looked to her the first—no, stupid, don't think about him or anything related to Buffy—time she saw him (who?). He looked like he was in college, or should be in college, with dark black hair that desperately needed to be combed, soft pale skin, oval face, and the most intriguing set of dark green eyes, an unnatural color Anne had never seen before. He looked down at his pages of ruined manuscript, and then looked up at Anne. Anne had gulped and squeezed her eyes shut, afraid of whatever screaming and shouting session would follow. For sure she might be fired.
"It's ok," he had soothed instead. Buffy had opened one eye and stared at him disbelievingly, eyebrow arching. "What, don't look at me like I'm from Mars or something." He had smiled, and that made Anne give an attempt at a laugh. "It's just a little coffee stain. It'll come out. Besides, the script wasn't winning no Pulitzer anyhow."
"Script?" Anne asked, interested. "As in a script for a play, or a script for a movie?"
"Movie script," he had answered. "I've realized that Broadway is far too classy for me, so I might as well make my life as one of the many leeches in the movie industry." He said this sadly, as though he regretted his choice in "careers."
"Oh, there are plenty of good people out there in Hollywood," Anne had assured him, leaning her elbows comfortably on the marble counter. "No one really comes to mind just now"—he cracked a smile—"but there are. And I'm certain you're one of them."
"Thanks so much, you really don't know what it means to e to have you talk to me," he said, all smiles. He looked so debonair, yet homely and nice. "I was afraid I was going to use one of those horrible pickup lines, like 'Can I have quarter? I promised I'd call my mother when I met the girl of my dreams' or 'I must have died and gone to heaven, because I'm seeing an angel before me' or"—he mock-shuddered—"the dread 'Have we met before?' deal. You know, all out to get the girl."
Anne had laughed, and he took that as a good sign. "My name is Daniel," he said, extending his hand. Anne had taken it, shaking it lightly and about to burst out laughing at his awkward formality.
"And my name is..." Anne paused for a moment. Who did she want to be in front of Daniel? Did she want to be Anne and have a fresh start? Or did she want to take on the horrible emotional baggage brought along by calling herself Buffy. What to do...?
"My name is Buffy," she said hesitantly, her hand sliding out of his firm handshake. "Buffy."
Daniel's brow wrinkled. "But you tag says Anne," he said, as though Buffy had jus had a memory lapse.
Buffy blushed and fingered her nametag, which read ANNE in big back letters. "Yeah, I know," she admitted. "Let's just say that I though I was Anne, but I really am a person called Buffy."
"Oh, I get it," Daniel said, slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand. "You moved here from somewhere, got a new name, and decided you were gonna get a whole new start on life. But then you decided to be who you really were." Buffy was taken aback by his rudeness, but his following comments made sense. "You are much more of a man than I am, Buffy." He held out his hand, and Buffy took it again, this time shaking it a bit more firmly. "I might as well...my name is Jonah. It's very nice to meet you, Buffy,"
"Charmed," Buffy said, looking up into Jonah's green eyes. She smiled dreamily. "Very, very charmed."
Now Buffy had gathered the covers and comforter from the floor and draped them motheringly over her sleeping husband. She then proceeded to slip in one his side and cudle up next to his warm body. She felt his breath hot on her neck, and then his arm slid around her waist.
"Oh, you're *up*, you dick!" Buffy teased, jutting Jonah in his stomach. Gosh he had gorgeous abs. Jonah just chuckled and drew her tighter.
"I just wanted to hold you," he said, nibbling on her ear and stroking her hair. Buffy smiled and snuggled closer to her husband, sighing contently. She and Jonah hadn't grown apart during their many years of marriage. They had made sure that they were in love before they had tied the knot. She remembered finding out that she was pregnant with Elisabeth Sarah so soon, but both she and Jonah had agreed that they would wait a bit longer to see if they really loved each other, because they just didn't want to do "the right thing." The wanted to do "the right thing," but to do it with love. Thank God they had had love, and they were able to give Elisabeth Sarah love.
"I love you Jonah. I love you so much." She giggled as Jonah's tongue tickled her earlobe. "Christ, Jonah, I think I might've married you just for the sex alone."
"Is that a compliment or not?" Jonah teased back, his mouth moving down the contours of her neck. "I love you too," he uttered breathlessly, nibbling on her flesh. "Too, too much for my own good, Buffy."
"What?" Buffy asked, finding something wrong with his tone of voice. The nibbling of her flesh was turning into biting now, and it hurt. "Jonah!" She pushed his face away with her hand, and then she definitely knew something was wrong.
She looked at him in horror. His beautiful face had turned into a disgusting, demon, ugly-face vampire. At she froze with shock, he lunged towards her and grabbed her arms, burying his face in her neck.
She screamed.
After the announcement that they were heading towards the mansion, everyone in the van quieted down. The silence was suffocating and almost as loud as the conversation had been. Buffy knew that it had to deal with her, somehow, and she was very uncomfortable. But what was she to do about it?
Everyone was in their own little world, and Buffy seemed to be off in hers. But was she was really doing was watching everyone else trying to guess that they were thinking.
Xander had on a pained expression. He probably thought that all this was his fault, and it was just too strange for him today. He was also probably thinking about this future coupling. No doubt that things between Xander and Cordelia were not very good, although they seemed to have turned out just fine.
She could make out Willow's outline from where she sat, the lamplight from outside occasionally flicking across her worn features. She looked so old there, probably thinking about her and Oz and the big empty gap between them. Probably going over and over in her head the conversation that she and Buffy had had the night before over the phone, talking about their totally messed-up relationships or lack thereof.
Buffy couldn't see Oz's face, but she was damn sure what was on *his* mind.
F-Oz and F-Willow were a puzzle. They were in the same position as before, but both of them had their heads hung low and staring blankly at some nonexistent spot on the van's rug. They seemed detached a little, but deep in thought at the same time.
F-Xander was staring stonily in silence, his mouth set in one straight line, occasionally making a "harumph" of disgust, and F-Cordelia had rested her head on his shoulder. She seemed awfully tired—perhaps time-travel jet lag? Who knew? Things were strange enough as they were, Buffy could just except more weirdness.
Buffy finished her analyzing rounds just as Oz pulled to a stop. "Well, here's the mansion," he said, putting the van in Park. He opened the driver side door. "Anybody coming?"
Xander came back from wherever he was and snapped to attention. Tiredly, he opened the van doors and toppled outside. Yet more visitors from the future. Yay.
The others followed him begrudgingly, and Buffy was beginning to suspect that things weren't all that great between her Future Self and the Future Slayeretttes. {Oh God, can that be true? What could've happened...?}
F-Xander was mumbling something to his wife (girlfriend? No, there were the wedding bands glinting in the darkness) and Buffy scooted closer and strained to listen with her slayer senses. It was something about her, maybe it would provide a clue to the sudden silence in the van...
"...oh please, like we really need to come after that spineless little hussy. I say we leave her to fare for herself, and if she fares really, really badly, then all the better to give me a happy..."
Buffy felt like stopping in her tracks, but she kept walking down the dirt path. God, what had happened to make *Xander* call her a spineless little hussy? Sure, they had had their past where things weren't all too good between them, but this was unexpected. She could never be less than a goddess in his eyes, and she had always coveted that position, as much as she hated it. She *liked* his admiration, even if she didn't want to take it to another level. She was twisted like that.
But something had happened, something *big* had happened to make F-Xander think of her like that. A thousand possibilities ran through Buffy's mind. And also a warning Giles had hissed to her before they had left:
"Don't talk to any of them. Don't ask them any questions regarding events that have yet to happen. Knowing about your future is a very dangerous thing, and we do not want to tamper with it. We have done enough."
Angel was stretched out on the couch, half-naked with a pair of black jeans on, in the dreamy-like state of sleep for a vampire, The Brothers K lying bent open on his slowly rising and falling chest. He was dreaming, dreaming of Buffy and him during better times. Oh, how he longed for those times...
And then he had felt the sudden weight on his shoulders, the proverbial breath knocked out of him if he had been human, and the feminine "oof!" that had followed. Then he had opened his eyes, and to his surprise, saw a complete stranger that wasn't that strange.
And then the Buffy look-alike opened her mouth and screamed.
Angel's eyes widened and his immediate reaction was to sit up. That, of course, sent the Buffy woman crashing to the floor. Angel quickly reached over to help her up, but the woman made a few squeaking noises and quickly backed away. Soon she was up against the fire place, and she reached up for the poker and held it in front of her as she climbed to her feet.
"Don't you come near me," she warned, and although she tried to sound menacing there was the underlying not of fear that Angel could pick up. Immediately his vampiric senses were enthralled by her fear, but Angel fought for control.
"Please, don't be afraid," he said, slowly holding his hands up and backing away from her, to show the woman that he meant no harm. She obviously did not believe him. "I don't mean any harm. If you tell me where you are from, or how you got here, then perhaps I can help you get back—"
"Don't give me that shit!" she demanded angrily, and started to edge towards the door, her eyes flickering over her shoulder every so often so that she knew where she was going. "I don't know what you plan to do, Angel, but I *swear* I'm going to find it out and I'm going to kill you..."
She trailed off as the sound of hurried, thumping footsteps came from just outside. She looked around, her hair swishing around her face, and then she ran towards the far wall where there was still a small pile of stakes from Buffy's last training session with her ex-lover. She completely abandoned the poker and grabbed a stake, still looking cautiously towards Angel, who was doing nothing. He was pretty confused as it was. {The next time I see Buffy I hope that she can explain all this...}
"Please, Ms...." Angel tried again, holding out a tentative hand towards her. The woman just shrieked and back away from the vampire. The hand that held the stake was shaking nervously, and there were tears of frustration in the woman's eyes.
"You said you'd leave me alone, you said you'd leave me alone," she told him, trying hard to control her voice. "You *lied*. I'm surprised I even believed you, I can't believe I was *fool* enough to believe you..."
The thumping footsteps were right outside now, and the woman took one last look at Angel before darting out of the room, running down the corridor to try and find another way out.
The woman had just disappeared out of view when the Slayerettes, present and future, entered the room. Buffy was at the lead, and she skidded to a halt right in front of Angel, looking around wildly.
"Where is she? Where did I go?" Buffy asked impatiently, still looking around. Angel looked at Buffy, at the corridor, and then swallowed. "Um, she went down there...he said, motioning to the corridor with his eyes. He swallowed again. "Um, could someone please explain this situation to me?'
Buffy ignored him and walked towards the corridor with quick, decisive steps, the heels of her shoes clicking on the floor's surface. "Hey...you! Come back!" she yelled into the hall. When she got no answer, she turned back to the Slayerettes. "Do I go after her?" she asked a little uncertainly.
F-Xander rolled his eyes and sighed. They turned to look at him as he stepped up besides Buffy and cupped his hands around his mouth. "BUFFY!" he yelled into the corridor, and Angel winced at the yell as it racked his sensitive hearing. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Oz...or what looked like Oz in very rumpled clothes, squinch his eyes shut and wince also.
There was a dead silence, then the soft sound of bare feet hitting floor. "Xander?" came the shaky voice.
"Who the hell else?" Xander called back. No reply. "Are you coming out here or not?"
More soft thuds, and closer this time. "But..."
"He's not who you think he is," Xander sighed. "Thank God. Just get out of here so we can get the hell back to the library and get all this mess done. You're holding us back...figures."
Willow, Xander, and Oz traded looks. The underlying hostility is Xander's voice was rapidly becoming overlying hostility. What was this?
That last comment did it. F-Buffy stormed out, stake at her side, hair flowing behind her, and her face tilted down and eyes glaring. "The hell does that mean..." Her voice trailed off as she came to a halt, realizing that she was standing right before herself.
Time seemed to stop. Both Buffys stopped breathing, her chests tightening and hearts leaping up into their throats. Beautiful green eyes became large pools of light as they looked into each other, seeing a mirrored reflection. Little curved noses wrinkled in confusion and soft, full red lipsticked lips quavered and then settled into a frown. Both Slayers lost hold of the stakes in their hand, and they fell to the floor with a loud clatter, which brought them back crashing to reality.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh, *no*," F-Buffy said, shaking her head quickly. She backed away from Buffy slowly, shaking her head and speaking with fake laughter. "This could not *possibly* happen to me, no, no, no, not after all this time...why?"
"'Cause that's how it is," F-Xander said matter-of-factly, shoving his hands into his pockets and letting out another sigh. He turned around to look at F-Cordelia, who just shrugged and mouthed the word "actresses."
As F-Buffy's gaze went from Buffy to F-Xander, her eyes hardened into jade stones. "Xander," she said, her voice dripping with acid. "What an annoyance to see you again. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if all this had some connection to do you."
"The annoying feeling is mutual." F-Xander took his left hand out of his pocket and pointed to her hair. "Buffy...love the hair. And the shirt...the whole get-up's doing *nothing* for your figure. Or is it some kind of new Hollywood sheik I should become aware of?"
F-Buffy stifled an annoyed laugh in her throat and shook her head. "Xander, Xander...and we all know the fashion gods bow down and pray to *you*. I mean, look." She motioned towards his outfit, and then to Angel, who had backed considerably back to his sofa. "I mean, we all know who's closet *you* raided this morning."
F-Xander was about to spit something equally mean back to her when F-Willow cleared her throat loudly. F-Xander and F-Buffy broke their smoldering glares at each other to look at F-Willow. "Down," she told them firmly, looking straight at F-Xander. "Let's just go back to the library and you two can solve your squabble over in the future, preferably the hell away from me so I don't have to hear you to go at it. Ok?"
F-Buffy and F-Xander didn't respond, but looked at each other silently. Then F-Xander, rolling his eyes, walked right out the mansion mumbling about actresses under his breath. Buffy just glared after him.
"Oh yeah, and federal lawyers are a bunch of princes!" she retorted loudly, and F-Xander called her an English swearword from out of view.
F-Buffy turned back to her self, and no one knew what to say. F-Buffy threw her hands impatiently in the air. She had no idea how to treat this situation she was in, and she opted for anger because it blocked all other emotions and rationale from her mind.
"So, are we going or not? Or are we all gonna stand here and stare at me like I'm an alien from some other planet. 'Cause *you* guys are the weirdos here, ok?"
No one spoke. This biting, spiteful version of Buffy had yet to be revealed in her present self, and it was quite a shock to everyone. F-Cordelia had run off after F-Xander, and now F-Willow and F-Oz shrugged and followed in suit. F-Buffy took one look at the younger generation, made an exasperated sound, and walked out with her head down and muttering to herself in F-Xander-fashion.
That left Generation-X behind. Xander smacked his lips and went "Well." Willow nodded in agreement to his short blurb of words. Buffy was left speechless, and Angel walked over to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, which quickly turned into a comforting hug.
"May I take this moment of silence," Oz said, balancing his words carefully. Everyone turned to look at him. "Just to say that this is some very, very weird shit that is going on here."
His audience bobbed their heads like a dutiful congregation, listening to their priest speaking the True Words of God.
"Aw, *SHIT*!"
The sharp cry came exploding out of the bookcases, and startled Giles to the point where he lost his grip on "The Tiberius Manifesto." As the heavy yet flimsy book slid out of his hands, he quickly bent over to catch it. He managed to grab the back cover and a few pages in the middle, succeeding only in ripping the fragile book in two. As the now freed pages fluttering down to the floor, Giles spoke an oath of his own and bent to his knees, scrambling around desperately to gather the ancient sheets.
There was the heavy stomping of boots, and then a poke in his side. Giles set his mouth into a grim line and made sure his temper was under control. He rolled back on his heels and put a hand on his knees, looking up. F-Faith. He should have known.
"What exactly may I do for you, Faith?" Giles asked, his voice showing his annoyance.
"Prophecy," F-Faith said simply, crossing her arms and looking down at him. When he began to make some signs of moving to stand up, she marched on over to the table and sat down heavily in the nearest chair.
"What prophecy?" Giles asked, wincing as he carefully stepped over the mess that was once the "Manifesto." "Could this help in explaining—"
"—yeah, yeah, it could explain why all of us future people are back in the past," F-Faith filled in quickly. "My last Watcher told it to me," she spoke as Giles pulled out a chair for him to sit in, "at least, she told me what she could before I got rid of her."
"Um, 'got rid of her'?" Giles inquired, not sure exactly what he was asking for.
"Yeah, got rid of her." F-Faith noticed he really didn't get it, so sighing, she bent over the table and scooted her chair in. "You see, I'm not all that big on authority figures. I pretty much despise them, in fact. And a Watcher is an authority figure and one of the worst. So, whenever one manages to corner me and proclaims themselves the boss of me, I devise some kind of way to torture them and then head for the freakin' hills.
"The first time I got rid of a Watcher was right after I'd left Sunnydale after, uh, somethin' happened. Anyway, I was up in Mississippi working on the river as a boatlady, ya know, enjoying life pretty much, and then this kid barely out of high school comes up and says he's my Watcher, and he's gonna be ordering me around for the rest of life. I, of course, have none of it. Three days later, he's tied to a raft, naked, and ridin' down the Mississippi River, with a buncha people gawking and a bunch of little children throwing sticks and stones. I gave it to him good." She noticed a flash of alarm in Giles' eyes, and decided she liked it. "And you know, I still use that technique, too, whenever I'm near a relatively large body of water. I like to call it 'skinnin'."
"So, just a month ago this lady comes up to me and says she's my Watcher. And you know, word gets around at what a bitchy, temperamental Slayer I am, so she was pretty frightened. I liked that she was scared and constantly on edge, and she also offered me a place to sleep and food to eat, so I frickin' put up with her. But then she kept getting on my nerves, over and over and over again. I was tired of her, *so* tired of her. When she told me there was a prophecy, I waited to here enough of it, and then lead her out for 'training' in a not-so-secluded part of a local forest. She's resting after I've totally annihilated her, and then I take her by surprise. I tie her up to this branch far enough away from the ground so that her feet aren't touching it but if she falls off (which I rigged it so that she'd slip out of her chains after awhile) she won't get *too* hurt. Then I give her some headphones blaring bad 70s American rock, which she hates with a fiery passion."
F-Faith started a slow smile. "You know, that was kinda fun. Maybe I'll try that again with another stuffy British bitch, when I get the chance."
Giles gulped and flushed as he thought of F-Faith or Buffy "skinnin'" him. He quickly chased that picture of his mind, least he dwell too long on it. He cleared his throat loudly. "And about this prophecy?" he prompted.
"Oh, yes," F-Faith said, hitting herself on the forehead with the palm of her hand. "I can't believe I forgot about it so long. 'Cause you see, my Watcher, Gladys, has got this book called, oh, what was it? 'Argentum Interfector', I think it was?"
"The Silver Slayer?" Giles asked, quickly drawing his breath. F-Faith shrugged and nodded her head. "My God. Complete prophecies for centuries and centuries of female slayers." Amazed, her took of his spectacle and loosened his hold, letting the spectacles dangle precariously by the tips of his fingers. "Where did she get the book? A-actually, what volume?"
"How the hell should I know?" F-Faith asked, sending him a dirty look. "Listen, Slayers slay, and Watchers read books about slaying. Ok? That's how you play the game, and you can only be on one team and once. So why should I care what volume the hell that Gladys was reading?" The sharp and direct way that F-Faith had of speaking made Giles extremely glad that Buffy was his slayer, and that Faith pretty much Watched herself.
"Anyway," F-Faith grumbled, leaning back into her chair. She swung one leg over the other in a very male position. Her entire attitude and the way she carried herself screamed 'Mess with me, prepared to be disemboweled '. "The prophecy went just like this:
"The Chosen Ones, the Slayers Four
Shall be baptized in Devil's blood
Death after Death, Life taking Life
Time into Time, Hell upon Earth."
Giles was absolutely stunned. He leaned back in his chair and looked at F-Faith with wild eyes. "That sounds...that sounds apocalyptic," he finally managed to stutter, taking in the prophecy.
Behind them all, D-Giles stopped ripping apart his new-found chew toy/stamp pad and padded over to where the humans were. He came up to Giles and place his red-and-blue, wet, matted fur and snout on his namesake's knee. Giles looked down at him, and D-Giles looked up at him with soulful, sympathetic eyes. Giles again wondered why the dog was here.
"Apocalyptic, hmm," F-Faith mused, putting one slim finger to her chin. "Well, I guess if you look at it from that angle..."
"What other angles are there to look at?" Giles asked. "'Hell upon Earth'," he quoted the prophecy.
"Well, yeah, that could mean the end of the world." F-Faith paused for a moment. "So what? Are we suppose to prevent it or something? Why?"
Giles practically toppled out of his chair. It could be the end of the world as they knew it, and F-Faith wanted to know 'so what?'? If they were suppose to 'prevent it?'? 'Why?' they should prevent it? "Yes, of course we should prevent it. I-it's our duty. A-and there are m-many good reasons as to why the world should continue on." Giles stopped there. "Ah, well—"
"Oh please, stop it," F-Faith said, shaking her head and breaking into a sardonic grin. "I mean, there is like, zero reasons as to why the world should continue on the way it is, and every reason for the apocalypse to happen. I mean, there's that 86Z thing, Bill Gates (who just *refuses* to die), Sandra Lewinsky, that Sakash Arven clone, that Nuclear Winter thing they have going on in China...I mean, mankind has seriously screwed up Earth. Maybe demons can run the White House a helluva lot better than James Betrich and his little gang of government conspirators."
Giles looked at her blankly. F-Faith stared back at him with the exact strange expression, and then she got it. Her hand flew up to her mouth, and she cursed loudly. "Damn, I shouldn't have said all that," she said, closing her eyes and mouthing the words 'stupid, stupid, STUPID!'. Then she opened her eyes and removed the hand from her mouth, done humiliating herself. She looked at Giles, who was still a bit surprised. "Don't worry, G. It's not like you'll have to know that stuff anyway."
Another blank expression. "Best to forget that I said that," F-Faith said quickly, shaking her head in agreement with herself. Giles just sighed, and D-Giles blew air through his nose. Giles looked down and saw the dog looking back at him, and something eerie flashed through his eyes.
Giles wondered why everything strange and weird always had to happen to him.
Nicholas McLeary was sitting at the dining room table, idly munching on a sugar cookie and staring off into the distance. Next to him, his littler sister Annie Harris was doing the same thing, except Nicholas' cookie was half-eaten and Annie's cookie was still whole and covered in slobber. As much as he loved his sister, Nicholas didn't like to be around her when she had food in her hand, because it quickly became a mess to be cleaned up or a projectile heading for something that would later be needing a clean-up. This time, though, Annie was being relatively neat, so he allowed her to sit next to him and stare off into space, an activity Nicholas did often and that Annie like to join in too, when there was nothing else to do.
In the same room but far enough so that Nicholas felt ok sat Julie and Josh, his step-brother and step-sister, playing a demented version of Trouble. He liked Julie and Josh—sometimes. He liked Julie when she was alone, 'cause she was really funny and could be sweet around Annie and stuff. But when she was around Josh she was all the tom-boy girl, and she was that way around Xander, too. Around Mommy she was a girl a lot, though. Yeah.
Josh was a boy, and he was Xander's favorite, no doubt. Nicky could never live up to him anyhow, because Josh was Xander's real son and Nicky was just someone in the way, no matter how much everyone tried to make him a big part of the family. Josh was rowdy and rude and loud, but he was very, very defensive of his sisters. NOBODY touched Julie or Annie when he was there, especially Julie. In fact, he and Julie were very strange. They always seemed to know stuff about each other, and they were just so close. Nicky often wondered what it was like, having a twin, and he used to ask that of Josh all the time. But Josh would just shrug and said he didn't know, what was it like *not* being a twin? Nicky couldn't answer that question, so the conversation just kind of laid there and died, and then Josh would go off and play with Julie and Nicky would go off to find Annie and do s' more silent thinking. That happened a lot.
Sometimes he and Annie were like Julie and Josh. Like, Annie couldn't speak, but if she wanted something, Nicky just knew 'cause he knew so much about her. Like a while back, they were grocery shopping and were in the cookie aisle. Annie hated hard cookies 'cause they were harder to get in her mouth then the soft ones, and Ms. Natalie had soft ones and she wanted soft ones. So Mommy was holding up every bag in the aisle and Annie was starting to cry when Nicky said, "I think she wants the soft cookies, Mommy," and Nicky was right.
Unfortunately, Ms. Natalie hadn't bought the soft cookies this time around and Annie was getting very agitated at the cookie. Nicky planned to ignore her until she started to cry or to scream, 'cause there wasn't much you could do until then. So he went back to thinking.
Xander wasn't really so bad. He wasn't his Dad, of course, and Nicky was glad. He couldn't remember his Dad that much, and he's only seen him once or twice. The only things he knew from memory was that he was really angry and really loud and yelled and Mommy and him a lot of the time, and he used to smell like beer, like Uncle Oz did one night back a year ago. But Uncle Oz had been friendly-drunk, and Dad had been mean-drunk. There was a difference. When he was drunk, Dad always hit Mommy over and over and over again and sometimes would hit Nicky. Nicky was too little and thought it was something he did wrong and he didn't do much, since he was little over three, so he just stopped the little he'd been doing. That's why Nicky was quiet all the time. Also, he knew that his Dad had red hair just like him and ice-blue eyes, so that's where he got the looks in the family.
Xander never raised his voice at Mommy or Nicky or Annie or Julie or Josh. At least in mean ways. Sometimes the kids were so loud Xander would *need* to shout to be heard, but otherwise then that he was not loud. And he *never* hit anybody, except once or twice he would do funny things like spank Mommy's butt and she would laugh and enjoy it or he would be drying Julie's hair with the hairdryer and then occasionally touch it to her butt so that she would jump and laugh and hit Xander playfully on the arm. And Xander never drank, except on New Years when everybody had a teeny bit of champagne, and when Xander went out with his friends he only had one drink or two, and that didn't affect him at all.
Annie didn't look like anyone else in the family, either. Neither did the twins. None of them looked like brother and sister, and Mommy and Xander were always asked about it, mainly if they had adopted all of them or something like that.
Nicky was tall like his mom with red hair and ice-blue eyes, and lotsa freckles like his dad that everybody always said were cute but Nicky thought they were ugly 'cause they were like his dads. When all the other seven-year-olds talked, their voice were squeaky and loud, but Nicky's voice was soft and calm, and Xander used to joke that he wanted Nicky's voice more than his, Nicky like Xander's voice. Nicky like lotsa things about Xander. Nicky would trade voices with Xander anyday.
Julie and Josh looked just like each other and a little like their father and a lot like their mother. They had never known their mother. Their Mommy had died back in England, but they said a prayer to her every night for the angel's to watch over her and they had pictures to look at her. Their mommy was very pretty, but not as pretty as Mommy, at least in Nicky's opinion. No one was pretty than Mommy. Julie and Josh both had brown hair the color of Xander's and heavy eyebrows like him, but they had heart-shaped faces and the most "gorgeous" pair of blue-gray eyes you'd ever seen. When they smiled, and that was a lot, they had the deepest dimple on their chin, and Julie had lots of "attractive" beauty marks. When they smiled, they smiled just like their Dad. Ms. Natalie said they could be child models, if they had their behavior a little more under control. But Josh's behavior wasn't his fault, cause he has ADD and had to take Ritalin. Julie was normal. They were both short, but then again, they were only five.
Annie was a mix of both the Chase and Harris families, but looked nothing like Mommy and Xander. She was tiny for a three-year-old, and neither of her parents were tiny, but Mommy's mom was tiny so there was a Chase gene. She had long blond hair that laid in wispy bits around her oval face, and that was from Xander's side of the family with his great-grandmother. She had big brown eyes that were the color of Mommy's uncle's eyes and a tiny stub of a nose that was from Xander's side of the family again, from his Dad. Being mute was Annie's special thing. She was even gonna be place in the special class when she started to go to school. There was not a special class at Nicky's school, so that was only the bad part of the thing, 'cause Nicky would miss her there, like he did now.
Now to Xander. Xander was the coolest dad out of anyone Nicky knew, and Nicky knew lotsa dads 'cause he knew lotsa kids. Xander bought Nicky a lot of toys, and at first Nicky had thought that he bought all those toys so that Nicky would like him. Nicky was wrong, in a way. Xander bought Josh and Julie toys, too, but Xander would play with them, too. There was one day when the house was being fixed, and there was noise from upstairs and the whole downstairs was a mess. Xander got out every action figure they had, including some Barbies, and placed them all over the living room. Then Nicky, Josh, Julie, and Xander pretended it was all a war zone, and they played together, pretending the living room was the battle field and that the noises of the workmen upstairs were gunshots and stuff. Then Mommy and Annie came in the room and Annie started stomping on everything and then Josh started to whine and complain, but then Nicky said that she was Godzilla and they were in China and they'd better run for cover! Josh and Julie had grinned and fallen for it and they had watched their half-sister demolish their "battlefield" and Nicky had felt good when Xander had flashed him a thank you smile. Xander was pretty ok.
And Mommy was ok 'cause she was Mommy. Nobody else could be Mommy. Ever. That was it.
Mommy and Xander were off to New York and had dropped off Nicky, Julie, Josh, and Annie at Ms. Natalie's house. Ms. Natalie was upstairs resting for just a half hour and everybody had promised not to do anything bad. Nicky was watching everybody and would tell Ms. Natalie who was being bad. Nobody was, so Nicky had it pretty good. He was just...being there.
And then the loud, raucous cries from the living room stopped. Nicky at first thought they were playing Graveyard or something, but there were no sounds of shuffling or moving and they always did that even thought it was against the rules 'cause they never heard each other and their eyes were closed. The game would end either by somebody waking them up 'cause they would've gone into la-la land, or someone bumping into each other. But it was too soon for them to have fallen asleep.
Nicky put his cookie down, or what remained of his cookie, and looked over at Annie. She looked back at him with those brown eyes. She had made little progress on her cookie. Nicky thought about leaving her here while he checked on the twins, but he thought that Annie might fall out of her chair or something. He worried about her a lot. So Nicky crawled out of his chair and then helped Annie down from hers and they walked into the dining room hand-in-hand.
The twins were nowhere in sight. Nicky's grip on Annie's hand tightened as he looked all around the room. Yup, nowhere. Oh oh, he'd better wake Ms. Natalie up and tell her the twins were gone...or hiding.
"BOO!"
Nicky jumped in the air and Annie let out a shriek as the voices came out of nowhere. Nicky spun around and saw Josh and Julie standing side-by-side, silly identical grins on their faces. They were giggling quietly. Nicky didn't get upset because he used to sneak up on people like that. All he did was make sure Annie wasn't too spooked and patted his right pocket, where he had an extra bottle of Josh's pills in case of an emergency. He sighed and said, "You got us."
"We know," they said in twin voices. Then their faces clouded over, and their eyes widened.
"What is it?" Nicky asked. The twins were very quiet, not speaking a word. Nicky saw they were staring at something over his shoulder, and as he turned to see what was so captivating, the sinking feeling in his stomach told his young self that whatever it was, it couldn't be good.
His fears were confirmed, and none of the four children had any time to scream before the big blue vortex-thingy surround them with a blue-gray light the color of the twin's eyes and everything around them disappeared.
The four figures hovered over the pool of blood, two dressed in typical vampire leather and the other two dressed only is heavy black cowls. The two figures in cowls leaned over into the blood, whispering ancient chants and occasionally touching the blood, makings shimmering ripples all across the surface. To the figures in leather, they were just ripples. To the figures in cowls, they were the movements of time.
"Is everything in bloody place already?" asked Fil2. "My foot's falling asleep here." He shifted his weight to further impress his point upon his comrades.
"Quiet, patience," whispered Fic2, although she barely heard him. She was gazing that the blood ripples with a sort of quiet awe, moving and speaking only when Fic1 told her to. "Ssh, dove, all is well."
"These things take time, you know," said Fic1, a bit crossly. There was something evident in her voice, something that said "I'm surrounded by morons". "Time is a very difficult dimension to work with, especially under these conditions. There is still *light* in this room."
"There's no bloody light in this room," said Fil2, more than slightly pissed. "If there was bloody light in here then I'd be up in flames."
"There is light," grated Fic1. Her finger dove into the pool of blood and caused a strong ripple, and the faint sound of voices that greeted her ears was comforting. "I can feel it." Fic1 allowed herself a smile. "The children have come through."
"Great. Wonderful. And where do we find them?" asked Fil2.
"How in the hell-on-earth should I know?" spat back Fic1. She gave another sharp dip in the blood, and then motioned for Fic2 to make soft little ripples all around the area in which she had jabbed.
"Now, now," chided Fil1, who had been silent for a good ten minutes. "Let's not upset the gorgeous demon-witch who has been very grateful in lending us her services."
Fic1 grinned, and then turned around to face Fil1, her fingers still at work in the pool. "Ah, Angelus," she said sultrily, "you always were the flirt."