2425, the next evening
I rush through the transport terminal because my reservation is only a handful of minutes away. I almost stumble over a man resting on the ground and knock shoulders with several people in my hurry.
The transport terminal is the epitome of twenty-fifth century travel. A terminal is located in every city with over one thousand people worldwide. Millions of people travel via the transports everyday, and the most interesting aspect of the system of travel is that it is totally free and supported by the world government. To travel, all one has to do is make a reservation, and one can be at one's destination within the hour. Having extra hours before a transport is rare and an almost impossible luxury. Apparently, the Council pulled some strings to give me several hours prior to my departure.
That can only mean one thing.
The Council knows that finding the rogue slayer is going to take a long time. I try not to think about the amount of time I'll be apart from Spike.
Slinging my small bag, which is packed with a few sets of clothing and a small cache of slaying supplies, onto the baggage store, I lean forward to get my eye scanned.
The computer network reads the device in my brain, which contains my identification and my transport reservation. "Buffy Summers," the computer voice softly intones, "you may proceed."
The frightening aspect of travel in this fashion is that vampires and other demons who died after having the brain device implanted are still able to pass through the security system at the transport terminals without leaving a trail. Of course, I received the device after death through Council influence. After much convincing by me and grumbling about "sodding government brain manipulators," Spike agreed to have one implanted as well. The closing argument was that without one, he could not travel with me.
Long hair streaming after me, I run to wait by the door of my transport room until the time is exactly 1705. The door to my room slides open with a quiet ding, and I hurriedly seat myself on the tiny chair in the center of the room. Pulling my pocket journal out of the pocket of my standard transport jumper, I decide I have just enough time to re-read the note I left Spike.
Closing my eyes, I conjure an image of him, awakening from peaceful dreams and slipping through the rooms of our compound in search of me. I wonder if he will sense my absence as soon as he wakes. I know I already notice a difference in myself without him by my side. Somehow, I feel half-empty. . . as if a bit of my soul is missing.
I picture him slumped at the bar in the kitchen nook, reading and re- reading the note I left in his personal journal with tears and lines of concern painted on his face. Half of me worries that I will have broken him for the final time and that he will walk into the sunlight without me. The other half of me worries that he will search the ends of the earth to find me and will end up getting killed by Drusilla or Vanessa. I silently pray that he is able to wait for me no matter how long my mission takes.
Re-opening my eyes, I touch my personal journal, and the machine comes to life. The note I left Spike fills the screen automatically, and I read the words aloud to make them more tangible in my mind because I'm still not certain if what is happening is real.
"My dearest love,
I know you won't understand when you receive this letter, but I am asking you to please trust me. I have to leave for a little while. If I tell you where I'm going and why, I'm afraid that you will come after me. To come after me would place you in a dangerous situation. . . in the path of a formidable force from which I can't protect you. I couldn't bear losing you, so I must leave you without much information.
As you probably guessed, the Wanker's Council (as you love to term them) is part of this mess, and they have recruited me to dig them out of the hole they've gotten themselves stuck in. They need you to stay in the area to control the hellmouth while they extend their other resources to sector fifty-seven. I am being sent on a special mission that requires my silence. I don't have any idea how long I'll be gone.
Please know that I miss you terribly already, and I love you always. I beg of you, do not come after me, and I'll be home sooner than you think.
Buffy"
The transport door slides back, and Roger is in the doorway to greet me. Only then do I notice how wet my cheeks are from the tears streaming down my face.
TBC. . . next stop 2427. . . Thanks again for all the reviews!!! :o)
I rush through the transport terminal because my reservation is only a handful of minutes away. I almost stumble over a man resting on the ground and knock shoulders with several people in my hurry.
The transport terminal is the epitome of twenty-fifth century travel. A terminal is located in every city with over one thousand people worldwide. Millions of people travel via the transports everyday, and the most interesting aspect of the system of travel is that it is totally free and supported by the world government. To travel, all one has to do is make a reservation, and one can be at one's destination within the hour. Having extra hours before a transport is rare and an almost impossible luxury. Apparently, the Council pulled some strings to give me several hours prior to my departure.
That can only mean one thing.
The Council knows that finding the rogue slayer is going to take a long time. I try not to think about the amount of time I'll be apart from Spike.
Slinging my small bag, which is packed with a few sets of clothing and a small cache of slaying supplies, onto the baggage store, I lean forward to get my eye scanned.
The computer network reads the device in my brain, which contains my identification and my transport reservation. "Buffy Summers," the computer voice softly intones, "you may proceed."
The frightening aspect of travel in this fashion is that vampires and other demons who died after having the brain device implanted are still able to pass through the security system at the transport terminals without leaving a trail. Of course, I received the device after death through Council influence. After much convincing by me and grumbling about "sodding government brain manipulators," Spike agreed to have one implanted as well. The closing argument was that without one, he could not travel with me.
Long hair streaming after me, I run to wait by the door of my transport room until the time is exactly 1705. The door to my room slides open with a quiet ding, and I hurriedly seat myself on the tiny chair in the center of the room. Pulling my pocket journal out of the pocket of my standard transport jumper, I decide I have just enough time to re-read the note I left Spike.
Closing my eyes, I conjure an image of him, awakening from peaceful dreams and slipping through the rooms of our compound in search of me. I wonder if he will sense my absence as soon as he wakes. I know I already notice a difference in myself without him by my side. Somehow, I feel half-empty. . . as if a bit of my soul is missing.
I picture him slumped at the bar in the kitchen nook, reading and re- reading the note I left in his personal journal with tears and lines of concern painted on his face. Half of me worries that I will have broken him for the final time and that he will walk into the sunlight without me. The other half of me worries that he will search the ends of the earth to find me and will end up getting killed by Drusilla or Vanessa. I silently pray that he is able to wait for me no matter how long my mission takes.
Re-opening my eyes, I touch my personal journal, and the machine comes to life. The note I left Spike fills the screen automatically, and I read the words aloud to make them more tangible in my mind because I'm still not certain if what is happening is real.
"My dearest love,
I know you won't understand when you receive this letter, but I am asking you to please trust me. I have to leave for a little while. If I tell you where I'm going and why, I'm afraid that you will come after me. To come after me would place you in a dangerous situation. . . in the path of a formidable force from which I can't protect you. I couldn't bear losing you, so I must leave you without much information.
As you probably guessed, the Wanker's Council (as you love to term them) is part of this mess, and they have recruited me to dig them out of the hole they've gotten themselves stuck in. They need you to stay in the area to control the hellmouth while they extend their other resources to sector fifty-seven. I am being sent on a special mission that requires my silence. I don't have any idea how long I'll be gone.
Please know that I miss you terribly already, and I love you always. I beg of you, do not come after me, and I'll be home sooner than you think.
Buffy"
The transport door slides back, and Roger is in the doorway to greet me. Only then do I notice how wet my cheeks are from the tears streaming down my face.
TBC. . . next stop 2427. . . Thanks again for all the reviews!!! :o)