So, this is what happens when I have a snow day and too many thoughts buzzing around in my head. I know this has been done before, but hey, I figured I would give it a shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy or any other characters and never will, except for in my own head.

Chapter One

Buffy lay curled up on the bed she had commandeered only hours before, knees pressed tightly against her chest. She looked hollow; a shell of her former self but that was what happened when those held closest to your heart betray you. Buffy was on the brink of sleep, had been ever since she had lain down in this strange bed but something kept her from slipping into sleep, something to keep her tethered. Presently though, her exhaustion overcame any obstacles in her path and the Slayer drifted off to sleep.

Somewhere in the darkness, a voice chanted. The voice itself was young and adolescent sounding but the words he spoke were anything but. An ancient dialect, nearly forgotten but no less terrifying. Every syllable rang with malice and bloodlust. The candles around the boy suddenly formed a giant pyre, inclosing him inside. He wasn't afraid though, the flames didn't touch him, it was like being at SeaWorld, with water on all sides of you, but still not drowning. He lifted the urn he carried in both hands over his head and his hood slipped back to reveal a teenaged boy, probably about the same age as Dawn, the fear in his eyes was obvious, but behind them hid something else, something darker and malevolent. His voice rose suddenly in a piercing, inhuman shriek and he slowly upturned the urn, spilling it directly over a small altar of sorts, with Buffy's picture at the helm.

Bright light flooded into Buffy's subconscious and stained the inside of her eyelids red. Her eyes snapped open and she gazed around at her unusual surroundings. She was outside, in the middle of what looked like a rosebush. Attempting to get up, she felt several sharp pricks in the middle of her back. Yup, definitely a rose bush she thought, hoisting herself up and out of the bush. Only her Slayer balance kept her from rolling out of the plant and landing flat on her face. Her quick eyes scanned her surroundings, the rose bush she had just emerged from was one of a long line, encircling the outside of a giant, brick house or rather mansion. Buffy's mouth dropped open at the sight of it. She had never seen anything like it before and that only scared her even more. Where the hell was she? Before she could wonder anymore, a woman emerged from a side door, dressed in an old-fashioned nurse's outfit and began hurrying towards her.

"Miss Summers, what are you doing? This is hardly the time to be wasting away in the garden." As she approached Buffy, her jaw dropped in apparent shock.

"Mistress, what ever are you wearing? Please, come into the house before the police spot you." Buffy looked down at her outfit; jeans with a see-through shirt over a black tank top. She could see nothing wrong with it, sure, she had been wearing it for a while and it was on the border of Stink-town but it was an entirely fine outfit in her eyes but certainly not in the eyes of the maid. She quickly latched onto Buffy's arm and dragged her into the mansion. On her way inside, Buffy noticed a newspaper lying on a small table. The headline cut into her; The London Bugle, November 23rd 1879. Buffy stood dead in her tracks. Where she was suddenly didn't matter, what did matter was when she was. 'November 23rd 1879' she thought dizzily, 'Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

Buffy stood in the middle of a strange room, still trying to figure out how she had made it to Victorian London. Everyone here seemed to know who she was, or more precisely, who 'Mistress Anne Summers' was. Because of this, Buffy was almost convinced that she was put here, kind of like when the monks gave her Dawn, they manipulated everyone's memories, so that it would seem like Dawn had always been there. But if that was the case, then why didn't Buffy know anything about her new surroundings? And also, Buffy was pretty sure that she hadn't seen any monks skulking around her lately. Buffy's train of thought was interrupted when her airway was suddenly cut off. She gasped deeply, but all that accomplished was a sharp, burning pain in her lungs. She glanced behind her at the young maid who was lacing up her corset.

"Would you mind loosening that a bit? I can't breathe." The young maid just raised an eyebrow and continued strapping Buffy into the whalebone torture device. The maid that had found Buffy in the bushes bustled in, clicking her tongue.

"Now, now, Miss Summers, what is breath compared to beauty?" Buffy opened her mouth to snap at the woman but the lack of oxygen traveling to her brain left her mute. Behind her, the maid finished her inhumane torture and was now attempting to force layer after layer of petticoat over the corset and giant underclothing. Through the hustle and bustle in the room, the older maid's voice rang out like a bell, with clear confidence.

"Remember, Miss, your new employer's name is Carleton, Mistress Anne and her son" Buffy's head emerged out of the numerous folds of fabric and she saw the maid smiling kindly.

"You see, Miss, your new employer is named Anne as well, so there will be no way to forget her name" Buffy shot her a scathing look. Who did this woman think she was talking to? A three year old? Buffy said as much.

"I'm not an idiot, I can remember names." The maid looked chastised and not a little shocked.

"I never said so, Miss, I just didn't want you to forget" Buffy didn't wan to give up the fight this easily but all her arguments were disappearing along with several of her brain cells, due to the almost complete lack of air in her lungs. The maids around her finished with the petticoats and began to lower her dress over her head.

"As you know, you are to be Mistress Anne's companion"

"Companion?" Buffy broke in and the maid sighed.

"You are to keep Mistress Carleton company"

"But they'll pay me for it?"

"Yes"

"So, I'm like a hooker?" Everyone in the room inhaled sharply and paused in their incessant pinning and prodding.

"Certainly not." The older maid said, pursing her lips together so tightly they had gone white.

"You are to be a friend to Mistress Carleton for the last days of her life."

"She's dying?" Now, the maid's face was creased with impatience but a touch of sadness and worry flittered briefly across it.

"Yes, Ma'am, of consumption" Buffy had no idea what consumption was, but by the look in the maid's eyes, she knew that it wasn't good. Finally finished with her dress, the maids around Buffy began on her hair, twirling it into a braid that hung over her left shoulder. The older maid (who Buffy was beginning to realize was the housekeeper) swept a critical eye over Buffy, who was beginning to feel like a doll and nodded, pleased. Intrigued, Buffy looked at herself in the full-length mirror and gasped, despite the pain. She looked gorgeous, if she did say so herself. The dress was plain, at least by Victorian standards. Some stiff brown fabric, bringing out the brown in her eyes, all the edges were embroidered with small brown flowers. The gloves they handed her were a few shades darker than the dress and if she really racked her brain, Buffy could pull out a piece of information that she had found useless at the time, this type of outfit was called travel wear. With a groan, Buffy realized what that meant, she was going to have to repeat this torturous at least once more today. The housekeeper kept babbling on, once she was sure Buffy looked presentable.

"Now, no matter what you do, do not mention our recent . . . . . fall from grace." She averted her head to speak to one of the younger maids, clearly taking Buffy's keen hearing for granted.

"It's just terrible what happened, her parents dying, leaving all those debts, it's a miracle we were able to afford a large enough wardrobe. I shudder to think what would have happened if we hadn't secured her this job in time." The two maids bustled off and the remaining maids followed suit, leaving Buffy to wrestle her way out the door by herself. This isn't going to be easy, Buffy thought pessimistically.