Title: A World Without Shrimp

Summary: "Sure, alternate realities. You could have, like, a world without shrimp. Or with, you know, nothing but shrimp." Buffy falling through Glory's portal didn't kill her. Trapped in an alternate dimension with amnesia, it's a race against time for Willow and the scoobies to bring Buffy back. But with no memory of home, her friends or of her birthright, will Buffy even want to come back? And of course... there's the small matter of her overprotective maker.

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy: the Vampire Slayer or True Blood or anything affiliated with either of them.

"Call no man happy till he is dead."

-Aeschylus

England, 1495

Elisabetta discovered that despite the contentedness she had begun to find in performing the menial tasks that ran the household, she began to miss the company of Giles. Mrs. Lawson had for the past three days been bringing meals and her sewing over to the house and had been keeping Elisabetta Company during the day. The nights however, were spent sitting by the fire, pouring over Giles' numerous books and absorbing any knowledge that she could, though out of respect she made sure that she stayed away from the locked trunk which held the Giles family archive, knowledge that had been passed down father to son for generations. She swore to him that she would not touch the books inside, and she meant to keep her promise, even against her curious nature.

Though she would never mention it to Giles, ever since she had taken that sword in her hands, she had felt something deep inside of her stir, a primal need, a calling, for war and for blood and violence. She began to wonder who she had been before, for such a hunger to build up within her, skills that her mind didn't recognise but that her body flowed through fighting stances as effortlessly as water falling.

As each night passed Elisabetta grew uneasy, a sense of foreboding came upon her and her senses flared at each passing noise. It was both a relief and terrifying when there was a loud and demanding series of knocks on the door. With apprehension, she slowly made her way towards the door, holding the sword in her left hand, concealed behind her skirts, as she pulled the door open slightly, peering out from behind it.

At the door stood a large muscular man, his dark hair and beard rugged and unruly and his ripped clothes swathed in mud, his feet bare and dirty. Something felt wrong here, like there was someone other than the man before her watching her. Everything about him screamed danger, and she gripped the hilt of the sword harder.

"May I help you, Sir?" she inquired politely, though everything inside screamed at her to take the sword and cut his head from his muscular shoulders.

His eyes bored into hers "Looking for Giles," He grunted roughly "My master has an offer for him, on some books that he is very interested in." His speech was broken, rehearsed, and often mispronounced, as if someone else's words were leaving his mouth.

"Mr. Giles is away for some time." She replied carefully "and he does not have any books for sale." Her face was expressionless but every muscle was coiled in anticipation, ready to strike.

The gruff man's face contorted into a waxy grin, his heavy hand leaning on the wooden door "I never said he was going to buy them," he chuckled "I said there was an offer my master was giving."

Elisabetta's body stiffened and her fingers clenched around the sword in her palm. "And the offer would be?"

The man's face contorted even further, his completion looking sickly in the dim light of the lamp situated on the table beside her. His hand pushed the door open wide and she was shocked that his strength could nearly overpower her own had she been using her full capacity. "Either you give the master the books he desires, of you will die."

He took a menacing step towards her and without even thinking, her leg shot out at full strength, striking him in the chin and sending him flying out of the door and a good three or four feet away from the house. The extent of her strength did not surprise her, but the sight of a full grown man transforming into a wolf shocked her to the core. Time seemed to slow and the wolf charged and leapt at her, she raised the sword and the head and body separated almost flawlessly, as they hit the ground they reverted back into human form.

A chill ran down her spine as a series of howls sounded from all around her, and soon enough, she was surrounded by a pack of at least twelve wolves. A calm quiet filled her ears and her body ran through a series of motions that seemed as effortless as breathing. Side-stepping, dodging and slicing, the sword sang as she wielded it as if it were a part of her.

Pain. Red hot and searing, like fire scorching her flesh. The short distraction of her glancing down at the bloody gouges in her side was enough for her to be pinned to the floor, her throat in the jaws of a wolf, the sword forced from her hand. Fangs tore into her flesh and blood ran down her neck. Her screams died in her throat and in one last valiant effort she reached up with shaking arms and gripped the jaws of the wolf, with her waning strength she snapped her hands sharply and broke the wolf's jaws apart, snapping bone as she went. Shifting her hands downwards she gripped its neck and twisted sharply to the side a satisfying and audible crack broke its neck and much like before, the wolf became human.

Elisabetta raised her hand to her throat, trying to stop the blood, she pulled the sword into her hand and tried to stand, she only got as far as to her knees when the next wolf attacked, she ran it through but before she could withdraw it she was surrounded by wolves. Barely able to move she swung her arm out desperately trying to hit anything, to take them down with her, but she had barely any strength left in her, and the strike went wide, a wolf tore into her arm and the sword dropped from her grip. She closed her eyes in resignation waiting for the final blow to come. It never did.

Attentively, she opened her eyes and was shocked to see a tall blonde man kneeling before her, blood dripping from his lips, and the corpses of men surrounding them. He smiled at her appraisingly "You fought admirably." He murmured his eyes trailing over her face, he reached out a hand and swiped a drop of blood off of her neck and brought it to his lips, tasting it. He closed his eyes and hummed appreciatively. "Delicious."

Her eyes bore into his "W-what are you?" she coughed, blood dripping through her fingers from her throat.

He grinned at her question "What I am is the man who can save you."

She narrowed her eyes "How?" She demanded.

His smiled and reached out a hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear that had escaped her braid. "You would become my companion, my child, and walk with me through death. I would make you like me, and you will never know weakness again." He stared into her eyes and he watched as his words registered in her mind. He knew her answer before she even voiced it.

"Yes."

In a burst of motion too fast for her to see, he lunged forwards and sank his teeth into her neck and drew her remaining blood into him. As she felt herself begin to lose consciousness, he shifted his position so that he cradled her between his legs, her back pressed against his chest and he supported her with one arm, whilst he brought his other wrist to his mouth and bit into it sharply, tearing into his flesh.

He lifted his bloody wrist to her mouth and stroked her hair comfortingly "You must drink of me or you will die." With no further prompting she began to drink deeply. He sighed and pulled her closer to him, letting her drink until she passed out. He held her in his arms and looked at her like a blind man seeing for the first time in his life. He took in every curve in her face, watched as his blood healed her wounds, and was amazed at the perfection he found in his soon-to-be child. He knew that he had to find a suitable place for them to go to ground, but he was reluctant to move from where they were.

A displacement of air and the sound of footsteps caught his attention; he turned his head and was met with the sight of a young looking boy, with dark hair and place skin. "Godric." He acknowledged with deference.

"What have you done, Eric?" the boy inquired in a disarmingly calm voice

"They knew nothing beyond what they were ordered to collect." Eric stated

"Did you interrogate them?"

Eric averted his eyes from Godric's gaze "No, I did not."

Godric's eyes softened when they finally took in the situation before him "And the girl? What made you choose her?"

Eric smiled proudly "She killed three of them herself, she was magnificent."

Godric's smile mimicked Eric's "I am happy for you, my child." He reached a hand out and paled it upon Eric's shoulder "Come, I will put you both to ground, she has already begun the change, we must bury her soon."

Eric followed Godric into the woodland; in a rush of speed Godric had dug a grave deep enough for both him and the girl to rest, he cradled her in his arms, placed her gently into the dirt and laid down beside her holding her close to him as the dirt was pushed over their bodies. Eric closed his eyes and waited calmly for the earth to settle. He felt Godric leave and he prepared for the sun to rise. Time meant little as he began to feel every change within the girl beside him, the call of his blood within her growing stronger with each passing second. Soon enough the sun rose, and he felt the pull of the sun into sleep. He surrendered into oblivion, pulling her closer to him as he did so. Tomorrow night, she would rise as a vampire, his first progeny.

BtVS/TB

Sunnydale, California 2001

For almost three months filled with desperation Rupert Giles had exhausted every lead, both legal and otherwise, delving deep into contacts of his darker past for any scrap of information he could on where the girl he had come to love as if she were his own flesh and blood could possibly have been sent when she fell from that tower.

The information that he gained was far from encouraging, but still he persevered. There were hundreds of journals from dozens of different scholars each more contradictory than the last. There were an infinite number of realities in an incomprehensibly vast universe. There were so many different possibilities to the destination of portals; alternate dimensions, alternate realities, hell dimensions and dimensions with ridiculous classifications.

Each source told of documented cases of people travelling through portals and the information was never cohesive. But one very important detail was clear; whilst there may be similarities between the worlds, they were not connected. One minute in one dimension could mean a month in another. A month in another dimension could be a century in the next.

With the crushing realisation that even if he could bring Buffy back home, she would never be the same girl that had sacrificed her own life for her sisters. The very thought of Dawn caused anger and shame to burn through his veins. He had tried to help her, to care for her like Buffy would have wanted but her father had gained custody of the teen soon after his eldest daughter's disappearance and apparent demise. The loss of dawn on top of his feeling of utter helplessness had lead to Giles' descent into drink.

At night, after Willow and Xander (who were sometimes accompanied by their significant others) had left, he would not move from his seat other than to refill the often emptied glass. The silence of his home other than the ticking and chiming of the clock on the wall, allowed his inebriated thoughts to consume him. His guilt, his anger and his grief were all encompassing covering him in a thick shroud, that even the sliver of hope he griped tightly could not penetrate it.

Each day became routine, a sparse breakfast followed by a glass of whatever he could find, and he would wait until the others arrived. The next hours were filled with reading, theorizing, guessing and hoping. Each day bit by bit the hope that he clung to began to die.

The living room of Giles' home radiated despondency, and had done ever since Buffy had been lost to them. Books and paper was scattered everywhere, as well as half empty bottles of drink, several dirty plates. Giles sat in a chair to the side, his eyes circled in black from sleep deprivation, and a glass of scotch in one hand, a book loosely held in the other. Willow and Xander sat huddled together on the sofa, both of them transfixed on the tome Willow had been pouring through.

"This could be it!" Willow exclaimed, causing Xander to look up from his own tome. "I know it's essentially just a viewing spell, but it's a start."

"Wait, you're telling me you have a way of seeing where Buffy is?"Xander said.

"Well yeah," She paused. "We agreed that Buffy is most likely in another dimension, so maybe this will help us pinpoint which one. All we have to do is perform this spell." She said painting at the book she was holding."We find Buffy and then we figure out a way to get her back." Giles scoffed disdainfully and rolled his eyes at her.

"What's up with you Giles?" Xander scowled "Willow just found the way we're gonna get Buffy back." He said a little louder than he meant to. "You could, you know, be more enthusiastic about the whole thing."

Giles stood up sharply and set his glass down roughly. "Oh yes?" He breathed out."Do you have any idea how many alternate dimensions are out there. The possibilities, they are endless. What makes you think that this spell will even work," It wasn't a question "That you will find her, just like that?!" He snapped his fingers to emphasise his point. "And even if you do find her, what then? How will you bring her back, hmmm? Did you take into account that time has been known to move differently in alternate dimensions, minutes in one, and hundreds of years in the next." Giles had been shouting, but now his voice lowered and he finished his tirade with a venom unknown to Willow and Xander. "So tell me, how is this spell different from any of the others we have tried before." He slumped back down into his chair, sounding defeated, he said. "How can you still believe that all of this will have a perfectly wonderful ending?"

Willow's eyes welled up with hurt and angry tears. "If we can't find a spell, we'll just have to make one." She exclaimed. "We can do this Giles, we've got to get Buffy back, no matter what."

Xander wrapped one of his arms around her."Just because the odds seem to be stacked against us, you want us to just give up? Do you think that if it was the other way 'round that Buffy would give up on us? We're going to find her, one way or another." Xander said.

Giles sighed, a hand falling over his eyes, tears threatening to fall. "No, Buffy would never give up on any of us."

"Good," Xander nodded "then sober up and help us out here."

Giles picked up the glass he had slammed down earlier, took it to the sink and poured the remainder down the drain. Then he walked back and settled on the arm of the sofa Willow and Xander were sitting in. He took a closer look at the book Willow had found, reached over to the pile of books, picked out another one, and silently got to work.

AN- This chapter was edited with the help of JulesHG, who kindly took the time to help me improve it.