A/N: I have no idea how well this chapter turned out, or how well it will be received. I like it, though it's a little lengthy for me. I gave it a lot of thought, actually, so this is how it is and I don't really want to change anything. First word of warning, it has some religious aspects to it, hence the chapter title, ta da, 'Confession'. Think of the time period, the setting, and the person. England at the turn of the century, and Filia, one of the most religious in the whole Slayers series. Of course she'd be religious in her second life! The church is the Church of England, which is a lot like the Catholic church. The dream interpretation was ripped from my favorite dream site: www.dreammoods.com. Thanks to them, I mean no plagiarism, honest. It's all in fun, people. I've really got worse things to worry about than someone getting offended by this chapter, so if you do get offended, you know what you can do.

Chapter 12 – Confession

Filia had finally had enough. In her mind, she had begun to wonder if the terrible dreams she'd been having were a message from God that something was terribly wrong, whether it was an omen of some tragedy in the future, or something was wrong in her life. Either way, she had to find out, and the only person she knew that she could trust was in a place that she had turned away from years ago.

The looming towers of the church cast her in shadows as she stood beneath them at the building's entrance. How could she be going back to this place now, after all that had happened before with her grandfather? This place, and its people, had turned their backs on her when she adopted young Val out of compassion. She was too young, they told her. She had no business with a child. What about her reputation? People would think her a loose woman, despite the fact that she wasn't, but they didn't know that. Val came from an unknown family of unknown origins. All Filia knew was that they were distant relatives, and had for some reason left him in her care. She couldn't very well abandon him.

He'd arrived to her in a bundle, a tiny infant, brought by someone and left on her doorstep with a note attached that read:

To Miss Filia ul Copt, granddaughter of Elton Dequator, II

This is Valteria, our son and last living heir. We can no longer care for him, as our health is failing, as well. He is our pride and our joy, and we hope that you will care for him as we have. Please forgive us for the surprise. We know that you don't know us, but we know you, and we know that you are honorable.

The letter was unsigned. At first, Filia wasn't sure if it was some sort of joke. But something inside her told her that it was no joke. There was a note of desperation in those written words that Filia could almost hear, as though hearing the writer speaking them. What, then, was she to do?

Indeed, taking one look at the sleeping child's face, all doubt was erased from her mind. Picking him up, she felt as though she were holding her own flesh and blood. And when his eyes opened, they were the color of bright gold, a gold that would fade to look almost light brown as he grew older. The intensity of the infant's eyes told Filia that she held no ordinary child.

So she adopted him. It was several years before her grandfather finally drove her to leave both his home and the church, but here she was again, back at the church. Her son was older. She was in a new area, with new people, no one knew her, and no one had seemed to care that she was an unmarried woman with a son. For all they knew, she was a widow. Her grandfather had been the one to spread the rumors about her that she was a woman of ill-repute, and had turned the entire congregation against her. This was different.

She hoped.

For the moment, she was merely going to confession, hoping to gain some insight from the priest about her dreams. That was why her son and two servants were not with her. She had to do this alone, without worrying about anything else. She briefly wondered if the 'ghost' had followed her, and would listen to what she told the priest, but she had not seen him in nearly a week. Perhaps he was gone.

She sighed again, not wanting to continue that train of thought. Taking a deep breath, she entered the church, and found a confession booth. She sat down, and waited for the priest to open the window and speak to her.

The sliding door opened shortly thereafter, and a gentle voice asked, "What is your confession, child?"

Filia took a deep breath. "Well…I don't know how to say this…"

"Whatever you tell me, child, shall be kept between us and the Lord. I would hear anything you say with confidentiality."

"I know, that, Father, and I thank you," she replied. "But I'm afraid what I have to tell you isn't your normal confession."

The priest chuckled warmly. "My dear, what is a normal confession? I have not heard any one confession that is like another."

She blushed. "Well…you see…I don't really know what I've done."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Well, lately I've been having…dreams."

"What sort of dreams, my child?"

"Not sexual dreams!" she hurried on quickly, eliciting another chuckle from the priest. "Not anything of that sort…no, they're much worse…not that those sort of dreams are any better…you know what I mean."

"I do. Go on, tell me about your dreams."

She sighed again. "I don't know what they are. They're confusing, I know that much. Starting out, I'm walking through a house that does not belong to me, even though it feels like it does, but I've never been in it to my recollection. I'm walking through the hall, looking into rooms, like I'm looking for someone. I start calling out names that I don't recognize, but at one point I call for Val, my adopted son. And no one answers me. I'm alone.

"Eventually I start to panic, because I don't know where anyone is or what has happened. I'm afraid that something terrible has happened. I start to run through the hall again, continuing to look through rooms. And then all of a sudden, it's as though I was outside, and I open the door to the kitchen. I see blood; a knife on the counter, and blood, dripping onto the floor. At that moment, I…" Her voice began to shake.

"Fear not, for you are safe, child," the priest said gently. "Go on."

"I lose all coherent thought, Father. At that moment, I think that someone or something has killed my son. And then a man appears in my kitchen, out of nowhere, and says my name. He is a man that…I should not know, but somehow do. He shouldn't be in my dreams, anyway. He looks harmless enough, but I know there's something more to him than meets the eye. In that moment, I know he killed my son, but the thing is, I don't know, but at the moment I do. Does that make sense? I don't even know if my son is dead or not, but in my state of mind, I believe that he is. I pick up the bloody knife, say something that I don't understand, and run towards this man, ready to kill him. But I never do, and that's where I wake up." Finished with her story, Filia waited for the priest to respond.

There was a long silence in which the priest thought over what she'd told him. Finally, he sighed, and spoke. "Those are troublesome words you speak to me, child," he said. "But do not be troubled. Dreams can be works of evil, or works of the Lord. How can you tell? I do not know, either, but I do know that your dream is very metaphorical to me. I can see many meanings in your dream, which may or may not be the case, and some answers that you may already know, yourself. But you come asking for my counsel; therefore I must tell you what the meaning of your dreams is, to the best of my knowledge.

"Let's start at the beginning, shall we? You are in a house that you have never been in, but it feels like home to you. In a sense, you believe that this house is, in fact, your home?"

"Yes."

"Indeed, the home represents feelings of security, basic needs, and values. Perhaps the reason that you don't recognize your home is that someone or something is threatening those three things. Do you perhaps feel threatened, yourself?"

"I…I don't know," she replied, thinking instantly of the ghost. He wasn't a major threat, was he?

The priest continued, and Filia was already wondering if she wouldn't have been better off going to a psychiatrist rather than the church.

"The fact that you were wandering through a hallway, looking into rooms, searching for someone or something, tells me that there is something missing in your life that you can't find, or can't seem to grasp. There is some aspect of yourself that you have neglected that needs nourished. Which leads me to the kitchen, which speaks of spiritual nourishment. You have been gone from the church for quite awhile, haven't you?"

She grimaced. Perhaps this wasn't turning into a therapy session, after all.

The priest chuckled warmly. "I do not speak entirely in jest. Never underestimate the strength of faith and the power of the church when we are united as one. While these dreams may not be result of becoming separated from the church, finding your faith again will help you."

"I've never lost my faith in the Lord, Father," she replied. "But all of that aside, I feel that there's something…more, perhaps. Something else to my dreams that I'm missing. What about the bloody knife? This man that I see and try to kill?"

"Wielding this knife may mean that there is repressed anger, frustration, and a need to separate something from yourself. There is something that you need to cut out of your life…what is causing you turmoil? Also this man that you see in your dream…is he someone that you know, and are just afraid to tell me, for fear of being reprimanded for some unknown occurrence? Blood often represents life, love, and passion. Is there something deep inside you, perhaps feelings or memories that you harbor for this man? The fact that he called your name may indicate that he is the only one who really saw you for who and what you really are. That you attack him because you feel he has killed your son may mean that you feel that he is threatening your family, your stability, or your well-being."

Filia's mind was in a whirlwind at this point, as what the priest was telling her was actually sinking in, and causing some of her own deep, personal theories to surface. How could she tell the priest that the man in question was haunting not only her dreams but also her everyday thoughts…and was technically not alive? He wasn't dead, either, but he wasn't human. Of that she was certain. If she told the priest this, he would immediately think it was a demon she was referring to. And how could she tell the good father that she had the distinct feeling that these dreams weren't just dreams…but memories?

The fact that he called your name may indicate that he is the only one who really saw you for who and what you really are. Is there something deep inside you, perhaps feelings or memories that you harbor for this man?

"Father?"

"Yes, child?"

"If I told you something else…will you promise to not think that I've completely lost my mind?"

"Of course," he replied, chuckling again. "Go on."

She paused. "What if…I were to tell you that these dreams…I think these dreams are…memories." >[?"Memories?" He sounded positively confused. "Childhood memories?"

"No…memories from a past life."

The priest was silent for a long pause before he spoke again. "My child, what you speak of is directly against the teachings of the gospel. Why do you think these dreams are of a past life?"

"Because I just…do. I can't explain the feelings, sensations, and emotions in these dreams, Father, nor can I explain the setting. I know you're telling me that all of these things are metaphors, and maybe they are, but there's something inside of me that insists that this was all real at one time. It's frightening! I don't want to believe it! I've never been in this house, but this house is real to me. I'm not lost, I know exactly where I'm going when in my dreams I walk through the hall. I know which rooms belong to whom, though I can't say their names or see their faces, I know who they are. It's like their identities are hidden from me. I know my son Valteria was there…I can see his face in my mind, and he looks different, but he's still Val. I know that man in my dreams who I believe killed my son. I know him now, in this time, but I'm not supposed to because he's not supposed to exist!"

Filia's voice was getting louder and louder, drawing stares from people in the sanctuary. Several people looked at each other and shrugged, feeling somewhat sympathetic for the poor priest who had to listen to this crazy woman's confession.

The priest, however, was very patient. Father Milton was indeed older than he looked and sounded, and while he was extremely religious, he secretly believed in past lives, as well. He vaguely remembered his past life, as well, though it had ended quite tragically in some long, drawn-out war. Of course he would never tell anyone this, not even the young, distraught woman sitting across from him that he could only barely make out through the screen. But he had to tell her something. He couldn't just tell her to pray about it and all would be fine…though prayer certainly wouldn't hurt, of that he was certain. But this was something that was not possible to explain, and he wasn't going to continue to try. He had rather thought his dream interpretation had been spot-on, and perhaps it still was, but past lives were something he was not willing to try to explain.

"Well," he began. "I really don't know what to say. I think that you were wise in telling me these things, but at the moment I truly don't know what I can tell you to do. Except pray, of course, and perhaps the Lord will lead you to understanding."

Filia nodded, knowing full well that this was the answer she was going to receive. She had rather hoped for more, though, but truly she wasn't surprised or disappointed. What did she expect?

"Thank you Father," she said quickly, and stood up.

He sighed and said, "You are quite welcome, child. Go with God."

***

Later that evening, when Filia returned home, she decided to head to the bathhouse and relax for a while. It was getting dark, but she wasn't hungry and Jacob had already fed Val, who was reading in his room. She was tired and her head hurt from all the thinking she'd been doing that day. Thinking wasn't good, but she did a lot of it, unfortunately.

She slipped into the water and sighed, keeping an eye on the window, half-expecting to see a pair of violet eyes staring back at her. Nothing. Where was he, anyway? She had a feeling that her dreams bothered him, though she didn't know why. Some crazy part of her that she tried to ignore kept insisting that he knew more about her dreams than he let on. She hadn't told him a lot, just bits and pieces, but he always avoided the subject whenever he could. He hadn't been around as much. Sometimes she thought she would see him out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned her head, there would be no one there. It was a little unnerving, and she tried speaking to him…to thin air, rather, but just in case he was there…but no results. Some days he didn't show up at all. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him.

What was wrong with him? And why did it matter? Questions she wanted to ask him rolled around in her head with no way of asking him. Why did she continue to have the same dream in which she accused him of killing her son? On more than one occasion, in her dreams she called him a strange name…that brought to her attention the fact that she had never learned his name. She simply called him 'the ghost' or 'the pest'. Why hadn't she once asked his name? Why hadn't he told her? Upon waking, she would never be able to remember it, exactly. Selas? Solace? Zealous? All sounded so close, yet so far. Just like he was, himself.

Those things that the priest had told her also unnerved her. The fact that he called your name may indicate that he is the only one who really saw you for who and what you really are. That statement had sent a shockwave down her spine like nothing else. It was such a silly thing, really…how could 'the ghost', or whatever his name was, really know her? Then again, she had lived in that house for almost ten months. But if her dreams were really memories…and that was a scary thought in and of itself…then why was he in her present? Brought to the point of insane curiosity, her mind began to reel with the possibilities. What had happened to him? Or her? Had she really killed him with that knife? Perhaps she'd only injured him. How did they know each other? What had been their relationship? Why had she been so quick to assume that Val was dead and that he had been the one that killed her son? Was that why he always avoided talking about her dreams?

And then something hit her. That woman…the woman he knew long ago! The one he had been moping about whenever she'd first moved into the house. She'd owned a pottery shop. Filia reminded him of her. What if…?

She mentally slapped herself. How could she continue going on this way without completely losing her mind? There was no such thing as a past life. Right…like there were no such thing as ghosts…or at least those who could pass as ghosts, according to him.

It wasn't as though the dreams/memories really mattered. That was in the past. She was in the present. And he was in the present. She wasn't sure she even wanted to understand. It was all too complicated.

But unfortunately, she felt that tug, that insane pull to know what had happened. If she knew, maybe her dreams would end. But what if they didn't? What if, once she discovered what had truly happened, the dreams would never end? She would be forced to relive them forever. Something tragic had happened, of that she was sure. She just didn't know what, and was afraid to learn.

She sighed again and wondered how all of this had started. It had been that day at the store…Gordon had received a shipment of new swords. How did swords play into the situation? She had no idea…she just remembered him holding one of the swords, the light hitting it, giving the impression that it was glowing. Glowing swords. It was then that something had sparked within her, and she'd had visions of evil, swarming clouds that seemed to engulf her, glowing weapons, and a bright light that pierced the sky.

She had no idea what any of this meant, or how it would have to do with her dreams. Perhaps she needed to return to the store to see if there was anything else she remembered. She smiled to herself. What would she say to them? "Um, excuse me, but I have been having memories of a past life and was wondering if you were, too?"

She laughed in spite of how miserable she was feeling at the moment. At any rate, she decided that going back to the city might do her some good. She needed to get out. If nothing came of it, at least she would be out and about, doing something. Perhaps it would get her mind off of all of these things that were driving her mad.