"Are you okay?" Willow said when she entered their dorm room, having spent the night at Tara's. She looked at her best friend, seeing the pristine outfit, carefully styled hair, and touch of makeup - but also the distracted staring into space and fidgeting.
"Oh," she said then, partly answering herself, "did you sleep any better?"
"I had another dream, if that's what you mean," Buffy said, "but it was ... a pretty good one."
"A Slayer one?" Willow checked.
"Yeah," Buffy told her. "A Slayer one."
Willow waited to see if any more information would be forthcoming, but it soon became apparent it wouldn't be. She busied herself with getting books for her classes that day.
"Will," she heard, quietly, a few minutes later, "do you know if anything's ... happened ... to, um, Angel lately?"
"I don't think so," Willow replied, frowning in thought. "I mean, Cordelia called when she was decrypting that disk, but that was months ago." She flashed a piercing glance at Buffy, using her witch's eye to see the muddy gold, grey-tinged aura. "How lately are we talking?"
"I don't know," Buffy admitted, coming to sit on Willow's bed. "A guy in the dream reminded me of him, and I woke up and I was still half asleep and I tried to call, and I got one of those 'your number has not been recognised' recordings."
"Hang on, hang on," Willow said. "A guy in the dream reminded you of Angel?"
"Yeah," Buffy said, "do you think that's weird?"
"I don't know," Willow said slowly. "Do you think it was prophetic?"
"Oh, no," Buffy said, "it was definitely an in-the-past dream. And it wasn't even Angel. It just reminded me of him."
"I would advise asking Giles," Willow said. "He's the expert."
"Yeah," Buffy said, giving her a weak smile, "I guess."
Buffy stood up with sudden energy. "In fact, I'm going to go and do it now. Ask Giles." She turned smartly and headed for the door, opening it and heading out.
"Buffy!" Willow called after her.
The door reopened and Buffy came back in, grabbing the bag on her bed.
"Just as soon as I've been to class," she amended sheepishly.
* * * * *
"Anything new?" Buffy said cheerfully, walking straight into Giles' apartment.
"Well, your sixteenth century Slayer is not in actual fact a sixteenth century Slayer," he informed her from the kitchen. "None of the records from that time match a girl fitting the description you gave me."
"I told you sixteenth century was a guess," she reminded him.
"I know," he said, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose, "I'm going to start on seventeenth century tonight."
"Fine, fine," Buffy said, sitting on the couch and leaning her head back against it, closing her eyes gratefully.
Giles came into the living room and observed his resting charge for a silent moment.
"Any more dreams to report?" he said quietly, trying not to disturb her too much.
"Yeah," Buffy said, "and I'm going to spare your blushes and only say that Sarah was definitely with this David guy. Like, with in a biblical sense."
"Thank you for your concern over my feelings," he said dryly, "though unfortunately it's not terribly helpful to me."
"Sorry," Buffy said, grinning. "I don't think there was anything ... oh, oh! Wait, there was," she gestured wildly, trying to think, scrunching up her face with dramatic effort. "Her Watcher was named, oh, erm, Oliver. I don't know if it was first name or second."
"Oliver," Giles said slowly, turning the new information over, "A Watcher named Oliver with a Slayer called Sarah, British accents ... yes, that could be very helpful."
He went over to his well-stocked bookshelf, scanning the titles. Not finding what he wanted, he tutted with impatience and disappeared upstairs, coming back empty-handed.
"I believe the book I need is at the shop," he began apologetically, "I can go and ..."
"Okay," Buffy said, "I'll come with you. Any chance to ride in the speed machine."
"Don't mock, Buffy," Giles chided gently, holding the door open for her.
As Buffy pulled on her coat, a stake clattered from her pocket to the floor. Buffy stared at it for a moment, and then turned to Giles as he locked the door, asking tentatively, "Have you heard from Angel at all lately? Or Wesley?"
Giles didn't answer for a moment, finishing with the door, then turned to her and said, "Angel called a couple of months ago, yes. Apparently his office building was burnt down by a demon they were chasing. In fact, Wesley called a couple of weeks ago with a new permanent address. Why do you ask?"
Buffy hesitated for a moment, "A couple of times now, I've woken up from a dream, and started to call him. This morning I did, and I couldn't get through. Why didn't you tell me?"
"You've started to call him?" Giles asked with concern.
"Yeah," she admitted, leading him out of the courtyard. "Why didn't you tell me about his office?"
"We were dealing with the First Slayer at the time, I didn't want to disturb you with it," he said impatiently.
"Disturb me?" she said loudly. "He gets in enough danger to get his office blown up, and you don't want to disturb me?"
"I thought it was best," Giles replied equally loudly, "now why did you call him?"
Buffy looked at him sharply, then looked down again, shutting her eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry. It's the guy," she told him, "David? He reminds me of Angel. Like, big time."
"He looks like Angel?" Giles enquired.
"No," she said. "Well, actually, there's something in the eyes, but," she exhaled hard, "no. It's just ... I can't explain it. He just has sort of an Angel-quality to him."
"And you feel an affinity for the character of Sarah," Giles said, choosing his words carefully.
"Yeah," Buffy said, "It's like I'm -" his words registered. "The character of Sarah? She's not a character, Giles. She's a person. She's a real person whose life I'm dreaming about."
"Are you sure?" he said gently. "You and Angel had a deep connection, and it's not something you seemed to deal with much after he ..."
"Left me?" she said harshly. "I didn't want to spend another summer grieving over me and Angel, Giles. This isn't some fantasy I've come up with to deal with repressed Angel issues, which by the way I don't have. It's her *life*."
"Okay," Giles said simply, catching her gaze. She nodded, satisfied, and they got into the car.
* * * * *
Sarah wandered the graveyard, noting the streaks of red beginning to show in the east. She'd been hunting all night; the vampires had been plentiful, though she fancied they had seemed almost grateful to meet her stake. She dismissed the thought. Vampires, especially those who had just begun eternal life, were never pleased to be dusted before even a first meal.
"Time to go home," she muttered to herself, happy with the night's hunt.
She realised she'd jinxed herself when she heard a deep growl behind her.
Resigned, she readied a stake and turned to the vampire.
Which wasn't a vampire, but rather a tall, blueish demon with a roughened complexion and powerful-looking arms which grasped a sharp, gleaming sword.
Before she had a chance to consider it, it roared a challenge and attacked her.
Positive her stake wouldn't even scratch the creature, Sarah nimbly avoided its first swing, trying desperately to come up with a battle strategy, but finding herself too occupied with staying alive second to second to be able to plan ahead. It was skilled with its weapon, and she had to dodge its accurate thrusts, soon becoming tired.
Recognising the dangerous weariness, she knocked aside the sword and was inside its reach in a quick movement. Clasping her hands together in a fist, she swung upwards in an uppercut intended to break its neck, and if not, at least stun it.
She never knew how it evaded her; but evade her it did. Her punch connected with nothing but its sword, but the movement saved her as the blow meant to kill her only sliced a long gash down her right arm.
Sarah pulled away from the fight and took off running. The demon did not follow her.
* * * * *
Buffy woke up and automatically reached for her arm. Her fingers connected with smooth skin; no cut, and no scar, but still she had to click the light on and bring her hand up to her face to reassure herself that no blood stained it.
Riley grumbled lightly and shut his eyes against the light. "Are you okay?"
"I had another dream," she said, "see? I'm bad for your sleep patterns."
"It doesn't matter. Want to talk about it?" he offered, cuddling her to him.
She pulled out of his arms, "No, it's okay. Go back to sleep."
Riley watched regretfully as she grabbed her robe and headed out of her room.
* * * * *
"Giles?" Buffy said quietly. She was answered by a deep yawn down the phone line.
"Giles!" she snapped, a little more loudly. "Another nocturnal commission to report. I think it was important."
"Go on," he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose in his apartment. He checked the cup of tea at his elbow; cold, and no doubt had been since soon after he'd fallen asleep, surrounded by the books he was using to find the mysterious Sarah. He was still dubious as to whether she had ever existed; but as long as it was important to Buffy that he keep looking, he would do so until he could prove conclusively either way.
"She was fighting a demon, it was tall, had a blue tinge, carried a sword, didn't talk, really good fighter ..."
"Hang on," he stopped her, scrabbling for a pen. He wrote down what she had said so far.
"What else?"
"It let her go," Buffy said, "nearly killed her and then just let her go. It was wearing some kind of armour." She closed her eyes, trying to recapture the vivid images of her dream. "No, scrap that. Its top half was armoured. It was the skin. It was familiar." She bit her lip in thought, now trying to run over her extensive mental demon most-wanted gallery. Or, generally, most-dead.
She was hit by a vision of Angel, and tried to banish it, assuming her dream had her thinking of David, and from there the souled vampire. But it kept reinstating itself insistently, and she suddenly remembered - a morning, nearly a year ago, when she had gone to try and reclaim her heart and ended up only losing it further.
"It reminded me of a bigger, uglier Mohra demon," she said slowly.
"What? When did you come across a Mohra?" Giles said in surprise.
"When I went to see Angel after Thanksgiving," she said, "one attacked. It wasn't too important, he killed it really fast. But that was what this reminded me of. It didn't have the jewel thing in its head, though."
"Right," Giles said, and she could faintly hear him rustling about with his books. "Sarah, Oliver, Mohra look-a-like. I'll try and have something for you tomorrow."
"Thanks," Buffy said, "but remember to sleep, okay?"
He chuckled, "Yes, I will," he said, "thank you, Buffy."
"Bye."
"Goodbye."
Buffy put the phone down and looked up at the ceiling. Telling herself she was only concerned for Riley's health, she grabbed a throw and, lying on the couch, pulled it over herself. She fell asleep quickly.
* * * * *
"Oh," she said then, partly answering herself, "did you sleep any better?"
"I had another dream, if that's what you mean," Buffy said, "but it was ... a pretty good one."
"A Slayer one?" Willow checked.
"Yeah," Buffy told her. "A Slayer one."
Willow waited to see if any more information would be forthcoming, but it soon became apparent it wouldn't be. She busied herself with getting books for her classes that day.
"Will," she heard, quietly, a few minutes later, "do you know if anything's ... happened ... to, um, Angel lately?"
"I don't think so," Willow replied, frowning in thought. "I mean, Cordelia called when she was decrypting that disk, but that was months ago." She flashed a piercing glance at Buffy, using her witch's eye to see the muddy gold, grey-tinged aura. "How lately are we talking?"
"I don't know," Buffy admitted, coming to sit on Willow's bed. "A guy in the dream reminded me of him, and I woke up and I was still half asleep and I tried to call, and I got one of those 'your number has not been recognised' recordings."
"Hang on, hang on," Willow said. "A guy in the dream reminded you of Angel?"
"Yeah," Buffy said, "do you think that's weird?"
"I don't know," Willow said slowly. "Do you think it was prophetic?"
"Oh, no," Buffy said, "it was definitely an in-the-past dream. And it wasn't even Angel. It just reminded me of him."
"I would advise asking Giles," Willow said. "He's the expert."
"Yeah," Buffy said, giving her a weak smile, "I guess."
Buffy stood up with sudden energy. "In fact, I'm going to go and do it now. Ask Giles." She turned smartly and headed for the door, opening it and heading out.
"Buffy!" Willow called after her.
The door reopened and Buffy came back in, grabbing the bag on her bed.
"Just as soon as I've been to class," she amended sheepishly.
* * * * *
"Anything new?" Buffy said cheerfully, walking straight into Giles' apartment.
"Well, your sixteenth century Slayer is not in actual fact a sixteenth century Slayer," he informed her from the kitchen. "None of the records from that time match a girl fitting the description you gave me."
"I told you sixteenth century was a guess," she reminded him.
"I know," he said, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose, "I'm going to start on seventeenth century tonight."
"Fine, fine," Buffy said, sitting on the couch and leaning her head back against it, closing her eyes gratefully.
Giles came into the living room and observed his resting charge for a silent moment.
"Any more dreams to report?" he said quietly, trying not to disturb her too much.
"Yeah," Buffy said, "and I'm going to spare your blushes and only say that Sarah was definitely with this David guy. Like, with in a biblical sense."
"Thank you for your concern over my feelings," he said dryly, "though unfortunately it's not terribly helpful to me."
"Sorry," Buffy said, grinning. "I don't think there was anything ... oh, oh! Wait, there was," she gestured wildly, trying to think, scrunching up her face with dramatic effort. "Her Watcher was named, oh, erm, Oliver. I don't know if it was first name or second."
"Oliver," Giles said slowly, turning the new information over, "A Watcher named Oliver with a Slayer called Sarah, British accents ... yes, that could be very helpful."
He went over to his well-stocked bookshelf, scanning the titles. Not finding what he wanted, he tutted with impatience and disappeared upstairs, coming back empty-handed.
"I believe the book I need is at the shop," he began apologetically, "I can go and ..."
"Okay," Buffy said, "I'll come with you. Any chance to ride in the speed machine."
"Don't mock, Buffy," Giles chided gently, holding the door open for her.
As Buffy pulled on her coat, a stake clattered from her pocket to the floor. Buffy stared at it for a moment, and then turned to Giles as he locked the door, asking tentatively, "Have you heard from Angel at all lately? Or Wesley?"
Giles didn't answer for a moment, finishing with the door, then turned to her and said, "Angel called a couple of months ago, yes. Apparently his office building was burnt down by a demon they were chasing. In fact, Wesley called a couple of weeks ago with a new permanent address. Why do you ask?"
Buffy hesitated for a moment, "A couple of times now, I've woken up from a dream, and started to call him. This morning I did, and I couldn't get through. Why didn't you tell me?"
"You've started to call him?" Giles asked with concern.
"Yeah," she admitted, leading him out of the courtyard. "Why didn't you tell me about his office?"
"We were dealing with the First Slayer at the time, I didn't want to disturb you with it," he said impatiently.
"Disturb me?" she said loudly. "He gets in enough danger to get his office blown up, and you don't want to disturb me?"
"I thought it was best," Giles replied equally loudly, "now why did you call him?"
Buffy looked at him sharply, then looked down again, shutting her eyes for a moment. "I'm sorry. It's the guy," she told him, "David? He reminds me of Angel. Like, big time."
"He looks like Angel?" Giles enquired.
"No," she said. "Well, actually, there's something in the eyes, but," she exhaled hard, "no. It's just ... I can't explain it. He just has sort of an Angel-quality to him."
"And you feel an affinity for the character of Sarah," Giles said, choosing his words carefully.
"Yeah," Buffy said, "It's like I'm -" his words registered. "The character of Sarah? She's not a character, Giles. She's a person. She's a real person whose life I'm dreaming about."
"Are you sure?" he said gently. "You and Angel had a deep connection, and it's not something you seemed to deal with much after he ..."
"Left me?" she said harshly. "I didn't want to spend another summer grieving over me and Angel, Giles. This isn't some fantasy I've come up with to deal with repressed Angel issues, which by the way I don't have. It's her *life*."
"Okay," Giles said simply, catching her gaze. She nodded, satisfied, and they got into the car.
* * * * *
Sarah wandered the graveyard, noting the streaks of red beginning to show in the east. She'd been hunting all night; the vampires had been plentiful, though she fancied they had seemed almost grateful to meet her stake. She dismissed the thought. Vampires, especially those who had just begun eternal life, were never pleased to be dusted before even a first meal.
"Time to go home," she muttered to herself, happy with the night's hunt.
She realised she'd jinxed herself when she heard a deep growl behind her.
Resigned, she readied a stake and turned to the vampire.
Which wasn't a vampire, but rather a tall, blueish demon with a roughened complexion and powerful-looking arms which grasped a sharp, gleaming sword.
Before she had a chance to consider it, it roared a challenge and attacked her.
Positive her stake wouldn't even scratch the creature, Sarah nimbly avoided its first swing, trying desperately to come up with a battle strategy, but finding herself too occupied with staying alive second to second to be able to plan ahead. It was skilled with its weapon, and she had to dodge its accurate thrusts, soon becoming tired.
Recognising the dangerous weariness, she knocked aside the sword and was inside its reach in a quick movement. Clasping her hands together in a fist, she swung upwards in an uppercut intended to break its neck, and if not, at least stun it.
She never knew how it evaded her; but evade her it did. Her punch connected with nothing but its sword, but the movement saved her as the blow meant to kill her only sliced a long gash down her right arm.
Sarah pulled away from the fight and took off running. The demon did not follow her.
* * * * *
Buffy woke up and automatically reached for her arm. Her fingers connected with smooth skin; no cut, and no scar, but still she had to click the light on and bring her hand up to her face to reassure herself that no blood stained it.
Riley grumbled lightly and shut his eyes against the light. "Are you okay?"
"I had another dream," she said, "see? I'm bad for your sleep patterns."
"It doesn't matter. Want to talk about it?" he offered, cuddling her to him.
She pulled out of his arms, "No, it's okay. Go back to sleep."
Riley watched regretfully as she grabbed her robe and headed out of her room.
* * * * *
"Giles?" Buffy said quietly. She was answered by a deep yawn down the phone line.
"Giles!" she snapped, a little more loudly. "Another nocturnal commission to report. I think it was important."
"Go on," he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose in his apartment. He checked the cup of tea at his elbow; cold, and no doubt had been since soon after he'd fallen asleep, surrounded by the books he was using to find the mysterious Sarah. He was still dubious as to whether she had ever existed; but as long as it was important to Buffy that he keep looking, he would do so until he could prove conclusively either way.
"She was fighting a demon, it was tall, had a blue tinge, carried a sword, didn't talk, really good fighter ..."
"Hang on," he stopped her, scrabbling for a pen. He wrote down what she had said so far.
"What else?"
"It let her go," Buffy said, "nearly killed her and then just let her go. It was wearing some kind of armour." She closed her eyes, trying to recapture the vivid images of her dream. "No, scrap that. Its top half was armoured. It was the skin. It was familiar." She bit her lip in thought, now trying to run over her extensive mental demon most-wanted gallery. Or, generally, most-dead.
She was hit by a vision of Angel, and tried to banish it, assuming her dream had her thinking of David, and from there the souled vampire. But it kept reinstating itself insistently, and she suddenly remembered - a morning, nearly a year ago, when she had gone to try and reclaim her heart and ended up only losing it further.
"It reminded me of a bigger, uglier Mohra demon," she said slowly.
"What? When did you come across a Mohra?" Giles said in surprise.
"When I went to see Angel after Thanksgiving," she said, "one attacked. It wasn't too important, he killed it really fast. But that was what this reminded me of. It didn't have the jewel thing in its head, though."
"Right," Giles said, and she could faintly hear him rustling about with his books. "Sarah, Oliver, Mohra look-a-like. I'll try and have something for you tomorrow."
"Thanks," Buffy said, "but remember to sleep, okay?"
He chuckled, "Yes, I will," he said, "thank you, Buffy."
"Bye."
"Goodbye."
Buffy put the phone down and looked up at the ceiling. Telling herself she was only concerned for Riley's health, she grabbed a throw and, lying on the couch, pulled it over herself. She fell asleep quickly.
* * * * *