I'm lying here now, spread out on the plush bed that feels achingly like mum's. It's soft like her arms, but smells like darkness, cold and unfeeling...God it still hurts to think about how I found her. Limp, eyes blank, like she had been shot. Only it was worse. Cancer was something that I couldn't stop. And it still kills me to know that despite being a warrior for the Light, a Champion of the human race, I couldn't even save my own mother.
My finger catches a loose tendril of hair that's been flung out from my ponytail. Curling it around my finger, I remember one of my few memories of Heaven. That eternal place that I got ripped out of to save the world. Again. Dawn was lying in mum's bed with the Buffybot. And I remember feeling an immense sadness, even in Heaven, right before the incredible pain shot through me, yanking me back to the Hellmouth.
You're alive, and you're home. You're home...Welcome home, Buffy.My head's swirling as I think of Xander and Dawn's words when I returned. Unfortunately, Sunnydale was not feeling particularly home-like at the time. Not compared to Heaven. But I knew as I was scrambling out of the dusty soil covering my grave, something was wrong. There is something missing.
I hear knocks at the door, and I scramble to my feet, hurriedly flattening messy hair and rumpled clothing. I pull the door open to find a smiling Mrs. Weasley on the other side.
"Dear, there's some dinner ready if you're not too tired," she says kindly, but surreptitiously eyeing my figure.
Being holed up in Angel's room after Dawn's departure has taken a heavy toll on me, I know, but I'm more worried about keeping my Slaying skills up, rather than my size. I felt the growing rustiness on my reflexes and muscles during that show with Snape earlier, and if Dumbledore expects me to help him, I'd better get training soon.
"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley, but I was planning on squeezing in a training session later, and I don't eat much before a workout," I explain.
The redheaded woman looks like she's about to lecture me, but thinks better of it and merely nods. I breathe an inward sigh of relief as I say a quick goodbye and shut the door. I walk over to the wardrobe, proudly looking at my organisation of meager items. Pants, shirts and other clothing lie folded neatly in the drawers, while a couple of summer dresses are hung up.
I pull open a drawer, searching for a pair of trackies that I folded in before and...The Slayer does not walk in this world...where did that come from? That is the second time already! I blink quickly. Prophetic dreams, yes, but freaky messages that fly into my head?
I decide to ignore it. I don't want to whine on my first day here to either Giles or Dumbledore. If it happens again...I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. I find my navy blue track-pants and also slip on my favourite white training singlet. I wonder what the time is...I didn't bring a watch, not that it would work properly in a house this embedded with magic. There's no clock in my room either.
I walk over to my bedside and unzip my suitcase, pulling out the twin daggers that I brought, as well as a couple of stakes for target practice. As I fumble in my bag, my fingers graze a small piece of velvet, thrown in haphazardly whilst packing in L.A. I close my eyes briefly and push away the grief that's bubbling underneath the surface.
Now, more than ever, I feel the need to pummel something. Hurriedly, I change into track shoes and head out.
I'm greeted by the dankness of the corridor, thick and cold like Death just sauntered through. Resisting the urge to wrinkle my nose, I head left, back towards the grand staircase. I almost want to try and whistle a tune, just to see if it slices the gloom radiating from the walls.
As I tread past similar wooden doors, I can hear a heated discussion coming from behind one. I hesitate, and peer at the door. Like all the others, it's large, with a doorknob with a serpent's head. If it is possible, though, the snake seems to almost hiss, and as I hear who is speaking, I am not surprised.
"She will be nothing but a menace to the Order and to our group. It is ridiculous that Dumbledore even considered bringing someone so inexperienced," growls the voice behind the door.
Ah, Snape. My personal fan club.
"She seemed quite capable in your little encounter with her, Severus," a bemused voice that I do not recognise replies.
I stifle a giggle, but bite my lip as the voices go silent. Crap...caught out, Summers! I hastily look around for an escape, but there are only open corridors on both sides. My eye catches the staircase...
Just as I hear the door click open, I sprint and vault myself off the staircase railing, landing louder than I would like on the marble flooring below. But thank God I'm not wearing boots. I try to remember which way the kitchen is and run in that obscure direction. I bite my tongue to keep the laughter from erupting, swinging a random door open and following narrow stone steps.
I can hear voices below, and heave a sigh of relief as I see Sirius and Remus standing in the doorway of a somewhat brighter, but hazy room. The two men look pleased as I approach them.
"Buffy," Sirius says in greeting, "having dinner?"
I shake my head, not wanting to tell them of Snape. I'm surprised Sir Glare-A-Lot hasn't chased me down yet, actually.
"Change of plans, let's start training early," I suggest.
Sirius shrugs, "Sure. Mind if Remus comes?"
I grin slyly, "Of course. Want a bit of action too, huh?"
Both men blush in embarrassment and I laugh at the sight, reassuring them of my good intentions. They lead me into the kitchen, lit by a huge fire roaring at the other end of the room. I wave to a few people, but I suspect that the two men have purposely walked me along the walls to avoid them.
There are a couple of doors leading from the kitchen, and I note that Sirius leads me straight across the room, and to the first door on the left. I see a bowl of fruit on a cluttered dining table, and quickly grab an apple, munching through it as I follow the two men through to my training room.
It's dark at first, and all I can hear is me loudly chomping on my apple, and feel the presence of Sirius and Remus in front of me. Then I hear Sirius mutter the word, Lumos, I think, and the whole room is filled with a bright light.
I nearly drop my apple at the sight. The room is cavernous, to say the least. But that's not what shocks me. All my training gear has been fitted in. I'm talking beams to punching bags, mats and swords. I can feel my jaw slacken, and I don't bother to close it as I gaze in astonishment.
At the sound of chuckles, I flick my eyes over to Sirius. The two men look amused.
"Dumbledore mentioned a Mr. Giles arranging for your goods to be here," Sirius amusedly says.
"Yeah, no kidding," I mutter, continuing to chomp on my apple and do a couple of stretches.
"Make yourself comfortable, I'm gonna be here a while, and it looks like I won't really need your help tonight," I say, slightly apologetic.
"We've got nothing else, really, tonight," Remus says, settling back on a mat against a wall, "it'd be interesting to watch you."
I blush slightly, and turn away, finishing my apple and admiring the number of swords that Giles sent, hanging up beautifully on the walls. I move to one of the longer beams set up. Meditation first.
I try to ignore the two curious gazes from the other side of the room, making concentrating even harder. I try to remember Giles' voice, his words during that first meditation session after facing the First Slayer. I lie in a push-up position on the beam, and shut my eyes, taking deep breaths.
You are the centre...within you, there is the core of your being...of what you are...It feels slow, like time is grinding to a halt. There's a rhythm in me, blood pulsing, heart pumping, nerves quivering. I search, dive deep into my lungs, my vessels, my soul...
Find it...The rhythm's louder, throbbing in my ears. My head feels light; I can feel every inch of me crawling.
Breathe into it...Oxygen pumps in, my life force. It gives me a heady feeling, and there's a sudden onslaught of murky images with every breath. I find my concentration lapsing, trying to grasp onto images that could make sense. Words are tumbling around in my head, and I feel like crying.
Focus inward...let the world fall away...I feel like screaming. There's a burning inside me that's so cold, I feel like Death has crawled under my skin and is wracking my body. Breathe, just breathe...
Fall away...I feel my eyes snap open, harsh, but somehow I'm not attached. It's there, but...I vault myself up into a handstand, wanting to groan at the blood-rush to my head that's making me dizzy. But I bite my tongue and shut my eyes for a moment, re-gathering my bearings. It takes a while for my body to gain control, but once I am back without that horrid burning, I lift my left hand off.
After a minute or so, I swap hands, and then spring off the beam and shake my arms gently.
I take a quick glance over at Sirius and Remus, and see them watching me intently. I shoot them a quick grin before moving onto my trusty punching bag. As I start slowly, jabbing the bag leisurely, I'm extremely confused by the burning I felt in me. I never used to have that while meditating.
I can feel the sweat dripping down my forehead and my singlet as I work up the pace, still wondering at the pain that shot through me earlier. In a matter of minutes, I'm thoroughly enjoying the frenzied blows I'm hitting the bag with, thrown in with a few kicks. Finally, I end with a solid roundhouse and breathe out.
Now for the fun, I grin.
"Either of you know how to play with swords?" I ask innocently.