****Anyone know how I got myself into this? I have woven a web of tales and
am trying really hard to connect everything. Cross your fingers and it
might work.
Title: Akoshta: Ulterior Battles
Author: Kaylorin
Beta Read by: RogueAngel
Synopsis: Buffy and Spike have been thrown through time and must prevent any changes in the past. Meanwhile, in Sunnydale a new Slayer arrives with an entourage and is slowly introduced to her new life.
Rating: R
Distribution: Fine with me, make sure it's the final edited copy, and let me know where it's going. My e-mail is bsdance@comcast.net
Disclaimer: BtVS and AtS are the property of other people. Some have lots of money. Lucky them. I however own the characters I have made up such as the sisters of Akoshta, Michelle, Christian and Richard. As well as Samantha the Vampire Slayer and Ashton the Vampire.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Missing Members
Mr. Emerson sat bent over the books and scrolls covering the surface of the table meant for meals, but more often used for documentation, conversions and reading. He counted down the days to Akoshta, and its coincidence with the events coming.
Samantha had spent the last week preparing to come home to America. This he knew. He had frequent updates from the elder Watcher in training, Quentin Travers, and from the information he obtained, knew that she had also ceased entanglements with the vampire who often fought at her side.
When reports had come with frantic notions that the Slayer and her enemy were sharing more than a need to battle, Crawford reacted accordingly, embarrassed and afraid at the words. It was not a new or unusual circumstance. Murmured rumors of past Slayers falling into a thrall from the demons that they preyed upon ran rampant among the younger students of the Council and were whispered blasphemously by the elder who knew the repercussions of such actions.
The transgressions of one's charge in such a respect were normally not documented, and if the Slayer in question did not halt her actions immediately, punishment would follow.
Sam had taken these words to heart once he shared the concern of the Council over a crackling phone line during one of the rare phone calls he made to the apartment building she used while in England. A simple warning not to work with vampires. He made no mention of the calendar that said her time was near, nor that the actions taken in the next few months would be a turning point in what could be her only chance for a future.
Now the time was not only near, but within easy reach. In 48 hours time, his charge's life would be decided. It's continuation, or its end.
He could not tell her this was her only chance. The Akoshta prophecy had said as much. Whatever choice she made now had to be her own, and the vampire's as well.
He adjusted his glasses and stood up, looking around his quiet, dim home. The apartment was simply furnished and felt empty without Sam's presence, but it was home. He was surrounded by books on shelves and charts and calendars hung on the wall displaying foreign languages, foreign lands and the heavens. So much went into the prediction of prophecy. They never truly said what they meant, and rarely meant what they said.
He knew she would die and be born into her life, as would the vampire. But by all accounts the vampire had died two centuries ago and then some. If she died, her life would be over, another called, and the prophecy would never come to pass.
He was still ignorant as to much of the old scroll's meaning, but at least he had saved her from an early death by the hands of those she thought she worked for. The skillful man knew how to convert the calendar, was in fact gifted when it came to such things. The conversion was quick those many years ago. Once he understood the implications, he knew he had to buy her the time to accomplish it.
So he had added a two here, not carried a zero there, and had completely ignored one element in the conversion. The other Council members and the Watcher who kept track of her while in London all had copies of the astral chart used in the process. If they had bothered to check his figures they would know he had essentially added two years to the prediction. But he was an expert in this area; his family was an honored one and therefore trusted.
Crawford smiled when he walked to the stack of files on the small table beside his armchair. He picked up one and quickly flipped through the papers he'd had made almost a month ago. He had faith in the Slayer. When it was all over he had every intention of wishing her a long happy life.
He read over the name on the forged document again. Ashton Emerson. A birth certificate, a driver's license, and a social security card. All were in order, and ready for use if --when-- the time came.
With a final sigh, the worn, nearly retired Watcher smiled and placed the folder back among the others and returned to his work. He still had little information on the demon heading the Tomar. He was beginning to think there was none. But, with any large group, there had to be.
In the past, he read, the order's leader was one of vision. One who could call upon powers only given in life. A demon most likely.
Demons who had once been alive generally proved to be vampires. Few of the known masters had these powers, and even fewer had been sighted near London. All but the large group that had cornered Sam and Ashton two nights ago. Crawford was still amazed the couple had beaten the group, but remained confident that Sam had always been more than most Slayers had. And that the demon that battled alongside her would let no harm come to her.
He scanned the notes he had jotted down earlier, hoping for a revelation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Xander slowed the car near the curb then came to a stop. He turned to the woman beside him and smiled. "Have a good day, sweetie."
Anya leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before letting herself out of the car. "You, too. And don't forget to come to the shop after work," she reminded him.
Xander nodded, knowing that she said this everyday, but that she probably would until he was retired. Then she'd want him there all day, which, surprisingly, didn't sound so bad. "You got it."
She gave him another heart-stopping smile before turning and letting herself into the Magic Box. As he pulled away, he wished he didn't have to go to Faith's first, and only, place of employment. Thankfully it was a very short drive, and he pulled up to find the store was still closed.
After thinking it over for about two seconds, he decided to see if the manager just hadn't gotten to turning the OPEN/CLOSED sign over and knocked on the door.
A few more knocks later and a green-haired man opened the door, greeting Xander with a smile. "Sorry, man, just a little under-manned around here lately."
Xander walked in the open door and looked around the familiar store, taking note of a few outfits he recognized from nights with Anya and letting himself smile before looking back at the man now walking behind the glass counter. "You're Zeek, right?"
"'At'd be me." He placed some items inside the glass case and smiled up at Xander. "What'cha need?"
Xander walked nervously to the punked-out man. "I'm a -- was a friend of Faith's"
Zeek stopped his work, and the smile left his face. "Oh."
"Yeah." Xander took a few steps to the now serene man. "Faith wasn't real religious, but she...uh.had some friends around here who wanted to give her a service. One to kinda...placate her spirit."
Xander expected a laugh or a look of amusement, but the man just nodded. Of course, this was Sunnydale. Most people here believed in something. An icon, a god, some sort of all powerful something, or a lot of little powerful somethings. Alternative religion was nothing new to anyone in this town. "So, uh, my friends, Willow and Tara will be doing this thing for Faith, and we could really use any positive energy for it." He quickly followed with, "I know it sounds hokey but-"
"When?" Zeek asked.
Xander stopped. "Tonight."
"Just tell me where, and I'm there." Zeek replied seriously.
Xander really liked this guy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I'm really sorry," Buffy repeated. "I didn't mean to make such a mess."
Mrs. Walsh walked out of the laundry area off of the kitchen and back towards Buffy who stood wrapped in a large towel near the counter used to prepare meals. "Nonsense." The large woman smiled at her. "Some people are just not meant for such things," she said and handed Buffy a clean towel to try to dry off her hair. "I would guess another member of your family has the green thumb."
Buffy nodded and looked at her now pruned fingers. "Mine must just be brown or something."
Sam walked into the kitchen with a bundle of clean clothing. "Here you go. I picked up the pants. You seem to prefer them to the skirt."
"Thanks." Buffy took the bundle and walked into the laundry room, pulling the green drape closed and began getting dressed. "It's a good thing you have a laundry right here."
She looked around the room filled with large tubs. One had just been filled with water, and her, but now lay drying upside down. The cement floor slanted slightly towards a drainage hole, covered by a metal plate, near the far wall. A spigot jutted from the wall just above it. The walls looked like whitewashed cinder block. It was a bit cool in the room, but not too chilly for a muddy Slayer to get cleaned up.
"I'll have to admit, it has gotten more use for washing people still in their clothes ever since Samantha showed up on my doorstep." Buffy heard shuffling. "And you never do tell me exactly how you get such colorful substances on yourself. At least with mud I know what to expect."
"Are you almost done?" Sam called. Buffy had a feeling that the mother hen that kept this home often tried to get Sam to divulge more of who she was, but that it was done playfully.
Buffy pulled the curtain aside, now fully dressed in black slacks and a white button up shirt. She had to wear the boots she'd had on when she arrived in this time, and not the shoes on loan from Sam. Those were caked in mud at the moment. But she was happier and more comfortable with a little of herself on her feet. At least the boots were black, and like Spike's, no one would be able to tell they weren't normal footwear unless they looked closely.
"Much better." Mrs. Walsh nodded approvingly at Buffy's now clean appearance. "And I can't thank you enough for making sure that was done before you left, Samantha."
"Well, Buffy did make it more fun. Clearing that earth can be hard work, but alone it's also boring."
"And hey, dirt clod wars, always fun," Buffy added while she wrung the last few drops of water from her hair.
A little while later, Buffy and Sam walked out of the building carrying several bags. They began their rounds in silence. Following the same route as the day before, but stopping at several houses Buffy knew they hadn't the day before.
They visited large families with children playing in the street. Houses with one person struggling to make it day to day. Homes with siblings only, the mother long dead and the father off fighting. In all these homes, Sam was wished well, and often tearful good-byes were involved. Buffy knew that Sam had plans to go home soon.
After the last parcel was dropped off, Buffy decided she could ask. "When are you leaving?"
Sam smiled. "I wondered when you would catch onto that." She carried the last bag. It held the jars filled with the life giving substance that would keep her vampire undead for another day. "I should be leaving Monday."
Buffy nodded then turned. "What is today?"
Samantha laughed as they walked along the sidewalk to The Hook and Claw. "It's Friday."
"Really?" Buffy turned to her a little surprised. "That's what day it is at home, too. I mean, now it would be.if we were home." She looked at her feet; the stylish black boots gleamed back at her under the glow of the moon.
Sam saw Buffy suddenly become melancholy. "Don't worry, Buffy. We will get you home, one way or the other."
Buffy let the lone tear run down her cheek. "You sound like one of us. One of the Scoobies. We figure we'll always find a way, too."
Sam grinned. "I am. I'm a Slayer."
They stopped in front of the door leading inside the pub. "Yeah. You're right." And she went in to find the bar stools empty. Buffy let the trepidation that seemed to follow her most places in this time take hold. "Where are they?"
"Don't worry," Sam replied. "As much as I love Ashton, he's never been punctual."
Buffy was walking behind the elder Slayer then bumped right into her when she came to a dead stop in the middle of the pub. Sam was doing an amazing impression of a statue. Stock still and holding her breath.
Buffy looked up, as Sam was a few inches taller, and walked around her. "Sam?"
The dark Slayer's eyes were glazed over as she stared at the wall behind the bar.
"Sam?" Buffy asked and this time pulled at the woman's forearm. "Hey. Snap out of it. What's wrong?"
Sam said nothing, just shook her head slowly. Then her face became even more sullen before she seemed to take any notice of the golden haired woman speaking to her. "Buffy?"
"Yeah. Buffy. Freaky chick from the future. Just got a close up of your back," she rattled off, hoping to at least coax a smile form Sam's pursed lips.
"I didn't mean it," Sam explained, but Buffy acted as though she missed the topic of discussion somewhere along the line.
"So, he is punctual? Should we be worried? Not that Spike is really good with time and place," Buffy again rambled.
Sam shook her head wrinkling her forehead. "It doesn't bother you?"
"What? Being late?" Buffy took the last few steps to the bar and settled herself atop a well-used seat. "It's annoying, but there are worse quirks."
Sam followed Buffy, now on automatic pilot. "No. I mean, I didn't mean to say I lo-." She stopped again.
Buffy smiled widely. Of course she had heard the proclamation. The trick was, did Sam catch it? And if she did, would she let Buffy go unknowing of her words, or would she bring them up?
She brought them up.
"It's ok, Sam. I already knew. And, in case you haven't been paying attention, I'm all for it."
Sam looked at Buffy. This time, she had to hear why. Why was this Slayer here, infringing on her time. Her future. Her life. "Why? Why is it ok? Because of you and Spike?"
Buffy shook her head and for the first time Mike came behind the bar. He smiled despite the scene. He himself knew the answer to the Slayer's question "How are you ladies this evening? So nice of you to come by tonight." He was ignored.
Sam related it. "Why?" She never took her eyes off of Buffy.
The steely gaze of Sam bore into Buffy. With finality she returned the glare. "No. Because of you and Ashton." She had to tell her. If for no other reason but to help Sam understand some of what her world was. "Sam, the Council knows."
Mike took the moment to back away and help his other customers. The ladies needed to be alone. He eyed the door, hoping their male companions didn't walk in anytime soon.
Sam's face went white. "No. Crawford warned me. Told me that they knew I was working with Ashton and warned me not to let it be known. Not even the association. We've been careful, even now."
"I'm sure you have, but I know-" She decided to be honest. "I read about it. Someone in the Council used to follow you."
"Used to?" Sam processed the words in chunks. "Follow?"
Buffy remembered the last of the entries. "She has disappeared again." The final apocalypse noted in her diary had already come to pass. What happened between that time and Sam's disappearance was vague. No one had been there to document it, not officially. She remembered because the descriptions of Ashton's presence were often and descriptive until the last few pages. Little was noted then. "I was looking for something. Before. Something to show me an instance where a vampire and a Slayer were more than enemies."
"And you found my Diary?" Sam surmised.
Buffy nodded, figuring that explaining how she it actually came into her possession was not a needed fact. "I couldn't believe it. I mean, none had anything other than brief accounts of a vamp not killing a Slayer, or the other way around. No explanations, just accounts. But then."
"Mine has more than accounts?"
Again Buffy nodded. "I'm not sure what happens next. I mean, it pretty much covered all the big fights, but this one was vague. The Tomar thing wasn't even mentioned. Just some small fights."
"And my death?"
Buffy was caught off guard. "It," she breathed hard, "it doesn't mention your death."
Sam shook her head. "What?"
Buffy remained silent.
"This is what you meant. It's not all written out?" Sam guessed.
It wasn't what Buffy had meant. She had meant a Slayer's life in general wasn't planned out, but a better opportunity couldn't have presented itself if she'd planned it, and she took it. "Pretty much." And nodded at her own statement.
It was Sam's turn to be quiet. The Council knew. They didn't just think she may be associating with Ashton, they knew she was. Had been for quite some time now. Years. And still she lived. The Tomar weren't even mentioned in her diary. The moment that could prove to be her final battle and it wasn't even named once. Neither was her death.
Then it all fit. Buffy's conversation with her lover in the early hours of dawn. It sounded as though Buffy met Sam, spoke to her in the future.
Her advice not to give up. Even her presence here. All of it. Buffy was sent to her, maybe for this crystal, but also to give Sam's heart a push in the direction it was already pulled.
"Sam?"
She was yanked from her thoughts by the familiar old man's voice. She looked up to see Mike standing behind the bar with a worried look crossing his face. Buffy was finishing off her drink. Sam wondered briefly how long she'd been just sitting here thinking.
"I'm sorry, dear," Mike continued when he saw he had her attention. "I was just wondering, is Ashton coming this evening? It's getting late. Even for him."
Sam watched Buffy take the last swig of her drink. "Why didn't you tell me it was getting late?"
Buffy pushed the mug away. "You looked like you needed a few minutes."
Sam nodded. "Well, it is pretty late. I think we better make sure our guys haven't gotten themselves in to trouble."
Sam, remembering at the last moment, the bag at her feet, handed it to Mike. "Thanks, Mike. We'll be back later tonight."
"Alright then," he said and lowered it behind the counter.
Buffy followed Sam and exited the pub, walking into the dark evening. People walked by them on their way to whatever Friday night activity was planned. "Where are we going?" Buffy asked.
"We'll start at Ashton's place. If they aren't there, I know a few spots he likes to check out on his way over to the pub some nights.
They continued down the streets quietly, both ladies caught up in their own thoughts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tara and Willow walked in to The Magic Box still discussing events form their final class of the day when Christian stood from his seat at the table. "Willow!"
The redhead, a little shocked that the young man would interrupt them, walked towards him. "Yeah, Christian? Something up?"
"Perhaps," the brunette said. "I think I may have something as far as the crystal's use."
"Really?" Tara asked, surprised.
"It is not all good," Richard stated, turning in his seat.
"What is it?" Willow looked between the two young men.
Christian led them to his place at the table, and they flanked him as he sat down. "I was doing my lessons. For my spell casting classes," he began to explain. "I remembered reading something about the crystal used to open the vortex and began to look for it." He pulled out a book and tablet filled with figures and notes. "And I found this."
Willow leaned down close and read over the equations. "What're the mathematics for?"
"I'm trying to figure out if I'm right, but I'm afraid my calculus is less than perfect."
Tara read over the notes while Willow deciphered the math. "Uh, Willow."
The hacker looked at the practicing witch and took the notebook from the blonde. She read over the notes once and looked back at Christian. "Where did you find this?"
He pulled out a book, bound in the worn leather familiar to them all. Another tome whose age was greater than most vampires. "Like I said, I remembered hearing about it, but you have the books on the darker magics." He turned past several pages then pointed to a passage. "Here."
Willow took the book and read over the paragraphs quickly. "But we don't know when. I mean, other than when they went back."
"And there are no notations of it in the other Slayer's past," Richard said, pointing to Sam's diary. "I checked."
Willow nodded. "Then we'll have to find another way."
"Can I see it?" Tara asked, and Willow quickly handed the book to her. The diagram was simple, a tunnel with a connection. Two crystals similar to the one Dru had used to open the vortex laid at either end of the tunnel. "And it has to be the same one?"
Richard nodded. "As I said, it is not all good."
******************************************** ****************************
Cryptic much? Yup. Thanks for asking. Mwahahaha.
Title: Akoshta: Ulterior Battles
Author: Kaylorin
Beta Read by: RogueAngel
Synopsis: Buffy and Spike have been thrown through time and must prevent any changes in the past. Meanwhile, in Sunnydale a new Slayer arrives with an entourage and is slowly introduced to her new life.
Rating: R
Distribution: Fine with me, make sure it's the final edited copy, and let me know where it's going. My e-mail is bsdance@comcast.net
Disclaimer: BtVS and AtS are the property of other people. Some have lots of money. Lucky them. I however own the characters I have made up such as the sisters of Akoshta, Michelle, Christian and Richard. As well as Samantha the Vampire Slayer and Ashton the Vampire.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Missing Members
Mr. Emerson sat bent over the books and scrolls covering the surface of the table meant for meals, but more often used for documentation, conversions and reading. He counted down the days to Akoshta, and its coincidence with the events coming.
Samantha had spent the last week preparing to come home to America. This he knew. He had frequent updates from the elder Watcher in training, Quentin Travers, and from the information he obtained, knew that she had also ceased entanglements with the vampire who often fought at her side.
When reports had come with frantic notions that the Slayer and her enemy were sharing more than a need to battle, Crawford reacted accordingly, embarrassed and afraid at the words. It was not a new or unusual circumstance. Murmured rumors of past Slayers falling into a thrall from the demons that they preyed upon ran rampant among the younger students of the Council and were whispered blasphemously by the elder who knew the repercussions of such actions.
The transgressions of one's charge in such a respect were normally not documented, and if the Slayer in question did not halt her actions immediately, punishment would follow.
Sam had taken these words to heart once he shared the concern of the Council over a crackling phone line during one of the rare phone calls he made to the apartment building she used while in England. A simple warning not to work with vampires. He made no mention of the calendar that said her time was near, nor that the actions taken in the next few months would be a turning point in what could be her only chance for a future.
Now the time was not only near, but within easy reach. In 48 hours time, his charge's life would be decided. It's continuation, or its end.
He could not tell her this was her only chance. The Akoshta prophecy had said as much. Whatever choice she made now had to be her own, and the vampire's as well.
He adjusted his glasses and stood up, looking around his quiet, dim home. The apartment was simply furnished and felt empty without Sam's presence, but it was home. He was surrounded by books on shelves and charts and calendars hung on the wall displaying foreign languages, foreign lands and the heavens. So much went into the prediction of prophecy. They never truly said what they meant, and rarely meant what they said.
He knew she would die and be born into her life, as would the vampire. But by all accounts the vampire had died two centuries ago and then some. If she died, her life would be over, another called, and the prophecy would never come to pass.
He was still ignorant as to much of the old scroll's meaning, but at least he had saved her from an early death by the hands of those she thought she worked for. The skillful man knew how to convert the calendar, was in fact gifted when it came to such things. The conversion was quick those many years ago. Once he understood the implications, he knew he had to buy her the time to accomplish it.
So he had added a two here, not carried a zero there, and had completely ignored one element in the conversion. The other Council members and the Watcher who kept track of her while in London all had copies of the astral chart used in the process. If they had bothered to check his figures they would know he had essentially added two years to the prediction. But he was an expert in this area; his family was an honored one and therefore trusted.
Crawford smiled when he walked to the stack of files on the small table beside his armchair. He picked up one and quickly flipped through the papers he'd had made almost a month ago. He had faith in the Slayer. When it was all over he had every intention of wishing her a long happy life.
He read over the name on the forged document again. Ashton Emerson. A birth certificate, a driver's license, and a social security card. All were in order, and ready for use if --when-- the time came.
With a final sigh, the worn, nearly retired Watcher smiled and placed the folder back among the others and returned to his work. He still had little information on the demon heading the Tomar. He was beginning to think there was none. But, with any large group, there had to be.
In the past, he read, the order's leader was one of vision. One who could call upon powers only given in life. A demon most likely.
Demons who had once been alive generally proved to be vampires. Few of the known masters had these powers, and even fewer had been sighted near London. All but the large group that had cornered Sam and Ashton two nights ago. Crawford was still amazed the couple had beaten the group, but remained confident that Sam had always been more than most Slayers had. And that the demon that battled alongside her would let no harm come to her.
He scanned the notes he had jotted down earlier, hoping for a revelation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Xander slowed the car near the curb then came to a stop. He turned to the woman beside him and smiled. "Have a good day, sweetie."
Anya leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before letting herself out of the car. "You, too. And don't forget to come to the shop after work," she reminded him.
Xander nodded, knowing that she said this everyday, but that she probably would until he was retired. Then she'd want him there all day, which, surprisingly, didn't sound so bad. "You got it."
She gave him another heart-stopping smile before turning and letting herself into the Magic Box. As he pulled away, he wished he didn't have to go to Faith's first, and only, place of employment. Thankfully it was a very short drive, and he pulled up to find the store was still closed.
After thinking it over for about two seconds, he decided to see if the manager just hadn't gotten to turning the OPEN/CLOSED sign over and knocked on the door.
A few more knocks later and a green-haired man opened the door, greeting Xander with a smile. "Sorry, man, just a little under-manned around here lately."
Xander walked in the open door and looked around the familiar store, taking note of a few outfits he recognized from nights with Anya and letting himself smile before looking back at the man now walking behind the glass counter. "You're Zeek, right?"
"'At'd be me." He placed some items inside the glass case and smiled up at Xander. "What'cha need?"
Xander walked nervously to the punked-out man. "I'm a -- was a friend of Faith's"
Zeek stopped his work, and the smile left his face. "Oh."
"Yeah." Xander took a few steps to the now serene man. "Faith wasn't real religious, but she...uh.had some friends around here who wanted to give her a service. One to kinda...placate her spirit."
Xander expected a laugh or a look of amusement, but the man just nodded. Of course, this was Sunnydale. Most people here believed in something. An icon, a god, some sort of all powerful something, or a lot of little powerful somethings. Alternative religion was nothing new to anyone in this town. "So, uh, my friends, Willow and Tara will be doing this thing for Faith, and we could really use any positive energy for it." He quickly followed with, "I know it sounds hokey but-"
"When?" Zeek asked.
Xander stopped. "Tonight."
"Just tell me where, and I'm there." Zeek replied seriously.
Xander really liked this guy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I'm really sorry," Buffy repeated. "I didn't mean to make such a mess."
Mrs. Walsh walked out of the laundry area off of the kitchen and back towards Buffy who stood wrapped in a large towel near the counter used to prepare meals. "Nonsense." The large woman smiled at her. "Some people are just not meant for such things," she said and handed Buffy a clean towel to try to dry off her hair. "I would guess another member of your family has the green thumb."
Buffy nodded and looked at her now pruned fingers. "Mine must just be brown or something."
Sam walked into the kitchen with a bundle of clean clothing. "Here you go. I picked up the pants. You seem to prefer them to the skirt."
"Thanks." Buffy took the bundle and walked into the laundry room, pulling the green drape closed and began getting dressed. "It's a good thing you have a laundry right here."
She looked around the room filled with large tubs. One had just been filled with water, and her, but now lay drying upside down. The cement floor slanted slightly towards a drainage hole, covered by a metal plate, near the far wall. A spigot jutted from the wall just above it. The walls looked like whitewashed cinder block. It was a bit cool in the room, but not too chilly for a muddy Slayer to get cleaned up.
"I'll have to admit, it has gotten more use for washing people still in their clothes ever since Samantha showed up on my doorstep." Buffy heard shuffling. "And you never do tell me exactly how you get such colorful substances on yourself. At least with mud I know what to expect."
"Are you almost done?" Sam called. Buffy had a feeling that the mother hen that kept this home often tried to get Sam to divulge more of who she was, but that it was done playfully.
Buffy pulled the curtain aside, now fully dressed in black slacks and a white button up shirt. She had to wear the boots she'd had on when she arrived in this time, and not the shoes on loan from Sam. Those were caked in mud at the moment. But she was happier and more comfortable with a little of herself on her feet. At least the boots were black, and like Spike's, no one would be able to tell they weren't normal footwear unless they looked closely.
"Much better." Mrs. Walsh nodded approvingly at Buffy's now clean appearance. "And I can't thank you enough for making sure that was done before you left, Samantha."
"Well, Buffy did make it more fun. Clearing that earth can be hard work, but alone it's also boring."
"And hey, dirt clod wars, always fun," Buffy added while she wrung the last few drops of water from her hair.
A little while later, Buffy and Sam walked out of the building carrying several bags. They began their rounds in silence. Following the same route as the day before, but stopping at several houses Buffy knew they hadn't the day before.
They visited large families with children playing in the street. Houses with one person struggling to make it day to day. Homes with siblings only, the mother long dead and the father off fighting. In all these homes, Sam was wished well, and often tearful good-byes were involved. Buffy knew that Sam had plans to go home soon.
After the last parcel was dropped off, Buffy decided she could ask. "When are you leaving?"
Sam smiled. "I wondered when you would catch onto that." She carried the last bag. It held the jars filled with the life giving substance that would keep her vampire undead for another day. "I should be leaving Monday."
Buffy nodded then turned. "What is today?"
Samantha laughed as they walked along the sidewalk to The Hook and Claw. "It's Friday."
"Really?" Buffy turned to her a little surprised. "That's what day it is at home, too. I mean, now it would be.if we were home." She looked at her feet; the stylish black boots gleamed back at her under the glow of the moon.
Sam saw Buffy suddenly become melancholy. "Don't worry, Buffy. We will get you home, one way or the other."
Buffy let the lone tear run down her cheek. "You sound like one of us. One of the Scoobies. We figure we'll always find a way, too."
Sam grinned. "I am. I'm a Slayer."
They stopped in front of the door leading inside the pub. "Yeah. You're right." And she went in to find the bar stools empty. Buffy let the trepidation that seemed to follow her most places in this time take hold. "Where are they?"
"Don't worry," Sam replied. "As much as I love Ashton, he's never been punctual."
Buffy was walking behind the elder Slayer then bumped right into her when she came to a dead stop in the middle of the pub. Sam was doing an amazing impression of a statue. Stock still and holding her breath.
Buffy looked up, as Sam was a few inches taller, and walked around her. "Sam?"
The dark Slayer's eyes were glazed over as she stared at the wall behind the bar.
"Sam?" Buffy asked and this time pulled at the woman's forearm. "Hey. Snap out of it. What's wrong?"
Sam said nothing, just shook her head slowly. Then her face became even more sullen before she seemed to take any notice of the golden haired woman speaking to her. "Buffy?"
"Yeah. Buffy. Freaky chick from the future. Just got a close up of your back," she rattled off, hoping to at least coax a smile form Sam's pursed lips.
"I didn't mean it," Sam explained, but Buffy acted as though she missed the topic of discussion somewhere along the line.
"So, he is punctual? Should we be worried? Not that Spike is really good with time and place," Buffy again rambled.
Sam shook her head wrinkling her forehead. "It doesn't bother you?"
"What? Being late?" Buffy took the last few steps to the bar and settled herself atop a well-used seat. "It's annoying, but there are worse quirks."
Sam followed Buffy, now on automatic pilot. "No. I mean, I didn't mean to say I lo-." She stopped again.
Buffy smiled widely. Of course she had heard the proclamation. The trick was, did Sam catch it? And if she did, would she let Buffy go unknowing of her words, or would she bring them up?
She brought them up.
"It's ok, Sam. I already knew. And, in case you haven't been paying attention, I'm all for it."
Sam looked at Buffy. This time, she had to hear why. Why was this Slayer here, infringing on her time. Her future. Her life. "Why? Why is it ok? Because of you and Spike?"
Buffy shook her head and for the first time Mike came behind the bar. He smiled despite the scene. He himself knew the answer to the Slayer's question "How are you ladies this evening? So nice of you to come by tonight." He was ignored.
Sam related it. "Why?" She never took her eyes off of Buffy.
The steely gaze of Sam bore into Buffy. With finality she returned the glare. "No. Because of you and Ashton." She had to tell her. If for no other reason but to help Sam understand some of what her world was. "Sam, the Council knows."
Mike took the moment to back away and help his other customers. The ladies needed to be alone. He eyed the door, hoping their male companions didn't walk in anytime soon.
Sam's face went white. "No. Crawford warned me. Told me that they knew I was working with Ashton and warned me not to let it be known. Not even the association. We've been careful, even now."
"I'm sure you have, but I know-" She decided to be honest. "I read about it. Someone in the Council used to follow you."
"Used to?" Sam processed the words in chunks. "Follow?"
Buffy remembered the last of the entries. "She has disappeared again." The final apocalypse noted in her diary had already come to pass. What happened between that time and Sam's disappearance was vague. No one had been there to document it, not officially. She remembered because the descriptions of Ashton's presence were often and descriptive until the last few pages. Little was noted then. "I was looking for something. Before. Something to show me an instance where a vampire and a Slayer were more than enemies."
"And you found my Diary?" Sam surmised.
Buffy nodded, figuring that explaining how she it actually came into her possession was not a needed fact. "I couldn't believe it. I mean, none had anything other than brief accounts of a vamp not killing a Slayer, or the other way around. No explanations, just accounts. But then."
"Mine has more than accounts?"
Again Buffy nodded. "I'm not sure what happens next. I mean, it pretty much covered all the big fights, but this one was vague. The Tomar thing wasn't even mentioned. Just some small fights."
"And my death?"
Buffy was caught off guard. "It," she breathed hard, "it doesn't mention your death."
Sam shook her head. "What?"
Buffy remained silent.
"This is what you meant. It's not all written out?" Sam guessed.
It wasn't what Buffy had meant. She had meant a Slayer's life in general wasn't planned out, but a better opportunity couldn't have presented itself if she'd planned it, and she took it. "Pretty much." And nodded at her own statement.
It was Sam's turn to be quiet. The Council knew. They didn't just think she may be associating with Ashton, they knew she was. Had been for quite some time now. Years. And still she lived. The Tomar weren't even mentioned in her diary. The moment that could prove to be her final battle and it wasn't even named once. Neither was her death.
Then it all fit. Buffy's conversation with her lover in the early hours of dawn. It sounded as though Buffy met Sam, spoke to her in the future.
Her advice not to give up. Even her presence here. All of it. Buffy was sent to her, maybe for this crystal, but also to give Sam's heart a push in the direction it was already pulled.
"Sam?"
She was yanked from her thoughts by the familiar old man's voice. She looked up to see Mike standing behind the bar with a worried look crossing his face. Buffy was finishing off her drink. Sam wondered briefly how long she'd been just sitting here thinking.
"I'm sorry, dear," Mike continued when he saw he had her attention. "I was just wondering, is Ashton coming this evening? It's getting late. Even for him."
Sam watched Buffy take the last swig of her drink. "Why didn't you tell me it was getting late?"
Buffy pushed the mug away. "You looked like you needed a few minutes."
Sam nodded. "Well, it is pretty late. I think we better make sure our guys haven't gotten themselves in to trouble."
Sam, remembering at the last moment, the bag at her feet, handed it to Mike. "Thanks, Mike. We'll be back later tonight."
"Alright then," he said and lowered it behind the counter.
Buffy followed Sam and exited the pub, walking into the dark evening. People walked by them on their way to whatever Friday night activity was planned. "Where are we going?" Buffy asked.
"We'll start at Ashton's place. If they aren't there, I know a few spots he likes to check out on his way over to the pub some nights.
They continued down the streets quietly, both ladies caught up in their own thoughts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tara and Willow walked in to The Magic Box still discussing events form their final class of the day when Christian stood from his seat at the table. "Willow!"
The redhead, a little shocked that the young man would interrupt them, walked towards him. "Yeah, Christian? Something up?"
"Perhaps," the brunette said. "I think I may have something as far as the crystal's use."
"Really?" Tara asked, surprised.
"It is not all good," Richard stated, turning in his seat.
"What is it?" Willow looked between the two young men.
Christian led them to his place at the table, and they flanked him as he sat down. "I was doing my lessons. For my spell casting classes," he began to explain. "I remembered reading something about the crystal used to open the vortex and began to look for it." He pulled out a book and tablet filled with figures and notes. "And I found this."
Willow leaned down close and read over the equations. "What're the mathematics for?"
"I'm trying to figure out if I'm right, but I'm afraid my calculus is less than perfect."
Tara read over the notes while Willow deciphered the math. "Uh, Willow."
The hacker looked at the practicing witch and took the notebook from the blonde. She read over the notes once and looked back at Christian. "Where did you find this?"
He pulled out a book, bound in the worn leather familiar to them all. Another tome whose age was greater than most vampires. "Like I said, I remembered hearing about it, but you have the books on the darker magics." He turned past several pages then pointed to a passage. "Here."
Willow took the book and read over the paragraphs quickly. "But we don't know when. I mean, other than when they went back."
"And there are no notations of it in the other Slayer's past," Richard said, pointing to Sam's diary. "I checked."
Willow nodded. "Then we'll have to find another way."
"Can I see it?" Tara asked, and Willow quickly handed the book to her. The diagram was simple, a tunnel with a connection. Two crystals similar to the one Dru had used to open the vortex laid at either end of the tunnel. "And it has to be the same one?"
Richard nodded. "As I said, it is not all good."
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Cryptic much? Yup. Thanks for asking. Mwahahaha.
