The gypsies have long dedicated their lives to quench their thirst for revenge against the undead. The first real fruit of the their efforts came when they gave the vampire Angelus a soul to torment him. But that anticipated reward turned bitter sweet when the cursed blood drinker's nefarious family returned with their own plot of reprisal. Afterward though, one among those renown gypsy tribes received a gift that ultimately came with a price…
Buffy was walking in the streets of the wonderful little town of Sunnydale, home of the weird and the wrong caused by a teeny little portal the locals chose to block out of their seemingly perfect lives. Buffy Summers and her close social circle of friends know very much about the Hellmouth, that cursed portal, although barely mentioned in the past months. Buffy had other troubles in mind. With Giles and Willow in England, Tara resting in peace, Xander and Anya trying to awkwardly fix things between them though Xander busy reconstructing Sunnydale High and Spike gone for places unknown, Buffy deserved some time to retreat to her own little world. As she licked her rocky road ice cream under the warm Californian night sky, Dawn caught up with her, trying to keep the ice cream on top of her cone.
Dawn: Buffy! Going somewhere?
Buffy: Oh! Sorry. Doing my solo thing again, huh?
Dawn: That's okay, I understand. sigh
Buffy: What's up?
Dawn: School starts in two weeks. Can I skip?
Buffy: You really think my answer will turn out positive?
Dawn: Positive for me, or half-full glass positive?
Buffy: The kind of positive that you will go to school with.
Dawn rolled her eyes and came across Anya in the process. The vengeance demon came to the two girls.
Anya: Hey!
Having put all her energy on emphasizing the monosyllabic word, Anya looked around waiting for the awkward moment to pass. She finally and literally jumped on another conversation.
Anya: You wouldn't have seen a man-rat creeping around here, would you?
Dawn: The cursee hit the road?
Anya: Yeah! But the job is half-done; I still have to feed him to a hungry multiple headed
hydra. I just have to find a multiple headed hydra after I get whiskers back.
Buffy: I worry about all this Anya. You know I'm supposed to protect the… us and
letting you feed the… us to extinct Greek mythologies isn't what I'm all for. I should even stop you, because--
Anya: Yes, I remember unmistakably that conversation where the two of us spoke about
the dangers of power and the evilness of demons. I ate licorice and a dancing purple dinosaur sang merrily on the TV set that was placed behind you.
Buffy: Hum--
Anya: Oh, but more to the point. Yes, I shall not avenge if the victim is to be put in any
kind of danger. I wouldn't want to contradict the Slayer thus making you have to come and bitch-slap me until death follows. nervous chuckles
Buffy: Good. What about the hydra?
Anya: Cuz you know, Anya is just a demon now. She hunts and maims like an animal.
Buffy: I didn't mean--
Anya: Of course you didn't--
Then a rude english man interrupted, coming in between Buffy and Anya, grabbing the slayer by the shoulders.
Spike: Help me, Slayer. Help me…Buffy…
Spike cried and fell into Buffy's arms. The girls stunned on sight.
He was in the Summers' living room drinking a cup of blood. His clothes were changed from its original gloominess to a very distinct lameness, the bleached hairdo was traded for its natural shade which was of a brownish blond and his eyes were filled of such never-before-seen sadness and turmoil. Dawn looked at Spike uncertain how to feel; disgusted, happy or worried. Perhaps it was a mix of all those. Buffy was in shock, and Anya was jittery, unable to stay put for some reason. Buffy knew exactly what to say to her.
Buffy: Sure, Anya, you can go fetch your gerbil.
Anya: Thanks!
As soon as she thanked the slayer, the vengeance demon teleported away. Buffy sat in front of Spike to talk.
Buffy: A soul… That's kinda déjà vu don't you think?
Spike remained silent
Buffy: I really don't know what to say. I--
Dawn: Why did you come back anyway? It's not like we missed you or anything, so…
why?
Buffy found her sister insubordinate and was about to let her know, but the words of scolding got stuck in her throat, gulping. Spike started to talk with a broken and feeble voice.
Spike: (inaudible) nowhere to go. Seemed like… oh my god…
Buffy felt sorry for the vampire with a soul, though she was unable to start a conversation with him. She then strolled to the kitchen with Dawn to her heels who was stomping the floor more than she was walking.
Dawn: I mean, Buffy, he-- he nearly raped you! How can you just let that go?
Buffy: Believe me; I won't. The guy is destroyed emotionally, I'm not about to worsen it.
Dawn: Maybe you'll do that, Buffy. But I won't go nice kitty on him.
Buffy: Look at you, all like me when I was your age. Oh…
Buffy broke the stormy conversation and she hugged her little sister. Dawn smiled as she was being freed of the Slayer grip.
Dawn: Oh, by the way. She grabbed an apple and crunched it loudly, slurping the juice.
She then started to mumble the next few words I can't patrol tonight. Something came up.
Buffy: Oh! Surprised and disappointed
Dawn: Actually, sleepiness came up. I'm kinda worn out having patrolled the last-
awhile. I'll retire to bed early before school starts. Getting used to a more sane
schedule.
Buffy: Sure.
Buffy leaned sideways and glanced on Spike in the living room who seemed enthralled by the content of his cup. Dawn saw her sister's look of worry on her face.
Dawn: I won't stake him, I swear.
At Xander's apartment, Anya and an enraged Xander are talking to each other.
Xander: I'll stake him, I swear!
Anya: Stop it. I'm not the referee here, McEnroe. Plus, the vein on your forehead doesn't
match with your skin tone.
Xander: Sorry. Can't help it. Spike back is as happy times as the return of Black Death.
Anya: Well we're sorry we're not so perfect, Xander. I'm a demon now. No longer
human. You, human. Me, demon. Deal with it.
Xander: Wo! Breathe. I didn't say anything about you turning vengeance-y. This is about
Blondie, not you.
Anya: Well… sure. Slight pause Bye.
Anya disappeared in thin air, leaving Xander completely quizzical. The look on his face remained; astounded and irritated. It's now late at night and our blond heroine marches, uninterested, through the town's cemetary. She tries to remain amused by gliding her index on the rough surface of the gravestone next to her, then brushing the dust off with her thumb.
Buffy: Maybe I should clean here once in a while. Being here more than the keeper I
probably have some sort of dibs on the place. Don't you agree…Reads on the carvings of the headstone Miss Buns!? What kind of name is--
Miss Buns got out of the ground and before she could even fully get out of soil, she was staked and dusted.
Buffy: Another clean kill. Well done, me!
Unexpected to start a conversation, Buffy startled when a low and languorous woman's voice followed the Slayer's clever comment.
"I have to disagree, Slayer. There is no pride in killing without giving the adversary a chance to retaliate. What you did, is cowardice."
Buffy: Please! You're one to talk, unknown voice.
"I'm here."
Buffy, led by the voice, turned and saw a woman sitting on top of a tombstone. She had crossed her legs and lifted her leather coat to cover her knees. Her face had something; a glow of some sort. Seen ever too clearly in the dark of the night even though her face was pale and her hair of a grayish white. She didn't look like anything, yet she was everything. She had an antique leather carrier, which its strap went from her left shoulder to finish off across her body where the containing area was, resting on her right hip. The woman didn't bother to glance at our hero and continued looking at her nails, fingers bent towards her to observe them better.
Buffy: Could you be more clichéd? Want a chair and a cat to twirl to me, Mr. No? Make
that cat Mrs. Bigglesworth since you already gave us a big laugh.
Woman: Monotonic and sarcastic I beg of you, stop making me laugh. The tears are
flooding.
Buffy: Is that--
Woman: Shut up. I'm Morrigan, Buffy. (Looks at Buffy from top to bottom) I'd love
to fight you… but… I'm not that bad.
Buffy: But you know I'm the Slayer, so why would you want to get your ass
kicked voluntarily?
Morrigan: I can't even speak about you. You are so… insolent. And annoying. I might
just go and comeback later.
Buffy: Can't, sorry. You smell vamp number five all the way over here.
Buffy approaches the mysterious woman while maintaining conversation with her.
Morrigan: Unfortunately, you are mistaken, Buffy.
Buffy: Am I?
Morrigan nodded and made her way towards Buffy who had stop moving. She walked languorously among the buried dead. Her saunter was similar to a killer set on its victim. Not a mass murderer, no. But one who delicately chooses his next prey. No less than a game, a simple roll of dice.
Morrigan: I'm way more than a scanty vampire. I came here to see you. I came here, to
observe what is a contemporary Slayer like; is she still alone? is she still
miserable? is she still… so dark? I need you to be dark.
The she-stranger came face to face with the Slayer and walked around her. She was still talking with the same smooth tone as she was before being provoked. Her voice, her traits… were all so alluring. Even to Buffy…
Morrigan: Life is sinister enough. Being a Slayer adds this burden that comes as a curse
but grows on you to become a blessing. I see you have lived to learn that.
Buffy: You know quite a lot about Slayers. A fan, maybe?
Morrigan: I know that you know who I am. And please, fans don't know anything. We
alone know what we are.
Buffy: You're telling me you're a Slayer?
Morrigan: It surprises you, doesn't it? If you were to doubt me, then fight me. I'll show
you.
Buffy: You're call.
Our favorite blond took action and drove her fist to Morrigan's face. The woman claiming to be a Slayer stopped the attack when she caught the mighty punch. She then twisted Buffy's arm which forced her to turn and then kicked her of a very strong blow to the back. Buffy, who got her mojo running for the fight, quickly flipped back on her feet.
Buffy: I wasn't expecting that.
Morrigan remained still while Buffy ran to her. As Buffy punched her opponent in face and stomach, the receiver of blows didn't even flinch. Morrigan seemed like she wanted to ridicule Buffy's attack power compared to hers and also that she could easily put it up with a certain ease. It was time for silvered locks to strike; twice she punched and was blocked. All this according to Morrigan's plan of action yet again. Buffy regained her confidence and propelled her kick to shove it to Morrigan's ribs. To her surprise, Buffy received one heck of a blow to the thigh that made her step back for a few. Buffy then grabbed Morrigan's shoulders and was ready to jump over her, but again, her attack failed when Morrigan overpowered the Slayer balancing above her head and threw her to the ground. As Buffy was getting up, Morrigan covered Buffy's face with her hand and was pushing her fingers against the skin. Panicking, Buffy was franticly throwing her arms here and there while trying to force her foe to let go, but she hit nothing but air. With one single hand, Morrigan effortlessly overpowered the Slayer's strength yet again when she pulled Buffy down to bash her head in with her knee. And so Buffy was stunned… she knew she had lost this battle. Her senses were troubled, and so was she.
Morrigan: You need to stop being insubordinate. Not because you saved the world
countless times and fought dreadful foes that it makes you invincible.
Buffy: Well I'd say that's a pretty good start!
Buffy noticed she had blood dripping down her face, the nails having been buried deep into her skin.
Morrigan: I'll come back to you soon, Buffy. Some of us still need you around here…
Buffy got back on her feet and saw Morrigan fading away in the distance. She chose not to chase her, knowing there was nothing more to do.