Author's Note: WiccaWhiteWitchSmallTownGuy (2013) - The reason the books are nearly identical is explained in the summary for the story. Joyce is Patty's sister; Prue, Piper, Phoebe and Paige's aunt. That means Joyce was a witch also. It makes sense she would have her own copy of the Book of Shadows. But of course there would be differences between the two books. the Charmed BoS is geared towards the Power of Three. Joyce and Buffy's BoS is geared for Buffy your second review I believe this chapter answers that.
Chapter 3: Welcome to the Hellmouth
March 10, 1997 - Monday
Gateway High School
Gateway High School looked different at night.
In fact, it looked almost scary.
Classes had been over for hours, and now the buildings lay empty and eerily silent, walls gleaming dark in the moonlight. Shadows clung to the stairwells; rooms gaped along the corridors like so many abandoned caves. When a window suddenly shattered inside one of them, the echo seemed to hang there forever, even as a hand thrust beyond the broken glass, fumbling with the lock and sliding the window up.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
The girl who spoke looked around nervously as her male companion climbed through, then reached back to help her.
"It's a great idea!" he insisted. "Come on."
He led her out into the hallway. It was even blacker out here than the classroom had been, and the girl threw him a timid glance.
"You go to school here?"
"Used to," he said. "On top of the gym, it's so cool—you can see the whole town."
"I don't want to go up there."
His body moved against hers. "Oh, you can't wait, huh?"
"We're just gonna get in trouble," she protested, but he only pressed closer.
"Count on it."
As he kissed her, he felt the tensing of her shoulders, felt her pull away from him, saw the genuine look of fear upon her face.
"What was that?"
"What was what?" he asked impatiently.
"I heard a noise."
"It's nothing."
"Maybe it's something . . ."
"Maybe it's some Thing . . ." he deadpanned.
"That's not funny."
Grudgingly the boy surveyed their surroundings. The hall was still dark, still completely deserted, yet the shadows seemed to have thickened somehow, creeping up on them while they hadn't been watching. He could feel the girl cowering close behind him.
"Hello . . ." he called softly, teasingly.
Silence.
"There's nobody here," he said at last, turning back to her.
But she still sounded frightened. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Okay," she murmured.
And then, as her face contorted into a horrible shape, she bared her fangs, burying them swiftly into his neck.
March 11, 1997 - Tuesday
Halliwell Manor
Buffy was lost.
Wandering through a place she didn't know and didn't want to know.
A subterranean chamber, perhaps, or the hidden lair of some horrible beast—this dark, forgotten place of dampness and decay. She moved on through the gloom, wary and confused, trying to figure out where she was, how to find her way out again. And yet while one small part of her mind knew she was dreaming—had to be dreaming—another part warned her that this place was all too real, all too horribly close.
Images jumped out at her, then faded again almost instantly, leaving only the vaguest of memories in their wake. She saw candles flickering over a deep red pool . . . clawing fingers through a glow of fire . . . drawings of beasts and the silvery glint of a cross. Demonic laughter echoed among crumbling headstones—faceless figures stalked her—and then suddenly, startlingly clear, she saw a book, a very old book with the word VAMPYR engraved upon its cover . . .
From far, far away she could feel herself tossing and turning upon her bed, tossing and struggling even as the dream pulled her deeper and deeper into its spell. Without warning a shadow rose up behind her, foul and evil, a shadow black as death, roaring through her head, through her veins—"I'll take you . . . like a cancer . . . I'll get inside you and eat my way out—"
Buffy's eyes flew open.
Even in the light of morning, it was as if the nightmare still lingered, the horror of it, the danger of it . . .
She sat up in bed, blinking against the brightness that streamed in through her window. She was awake now; she was perfectly safe. This was her room in the Manor.
"Buffy?"
"I'm up, Piper."
"Don't want to be late for your first day!" called Piper from the hallway.
"No," Buffy mumbled to herself. "Wouldn't want that."
She heard the uncertainty in her own voice. She sat up and stared around the room, at the half-decorated walls, the unpacked boxes stacked in one corner.
Then with a sigh, she forced the last dregs of nightmare from her mind and got up to face the day.
Gateway High School
"Now, you have a good time," Piper said, watching Buffy get out of the car. "If you need me, Prue or Phoebe, you have our cell phone numbers."
"I promise," said Buffy. "And if I need you I will call. But remember that goes both ways."
"And if we need you we will call," said Piper as she reached across and hugged Buffy.
Buffy got out of the car and watched as Piper drove off. She turned and headed inside, she didn't notice the cute boy on the skateboard.
the cute boy on the skateboard.
"Coming through . . ." Xander announced, weaving his way recklessly through the crowds. "Coming through . . . not certain how to stop . . ."
He was tall and dark-haired, with a look of shaggy indifference about him, and as he headed toward the entrance, he suddenly spied a girl he'd never seen before.
She was short and petite, with dark blond hair and big blue eyes, and her face had that heart-shaped cuteness that he never could resist. She was wearing boots and a really short skirt, and as Xander passed her he craned his neck for a better view and completely forgot about navigating.
At the last possible second he managed to miss the steps, but only by ducking beneath a railing. He landed in a heap on the pavement, and as a familiar face ran up to help him, he looked at her with a grin that was all charm.
"Willow!" Xander exclaimed, picking himself up again, not at all bothered by his dramatic entrance.
"You're so very much the person I wanted to see."
"Really?" Willow asked hopefully.
"Yeah," he said. "You know, I kind of had a problem with the math."
Willow quickly hid her disappointment. "Which part?"
"The math. Can you help me tonight? Please? Be my study buddy?"
"Well," Willow considered cheerfully, "what's in it for me?"
"A shiny nickel . . ."
"Okay. Do you have Theories in Trig? You should check it out."
Xander looked baffled. "Check it out?"
"From the library. Where the books live."
"Right." He grinned again. "I'm there. See, Iwant to change."
As they went inside and pushed their way along the packed corridor, they saw their friend Jesse approaching.
"Hey," Jesse nodded, and Xander raised his arm in a casual wave.
"Jesse! What's what?"
Jesse didn't hesitate. "New girl!"
"That's right," Xander confirmed enthusiastically. "I saw her. She's pretty much a hottie."
"I heard someone was transferring here," Willow added.
"So," Xander insisted. "Tell."
"Tell what?" Jesse asked. He was tall and gangly with short-cropped hair and thick brows. Definitely not one of the hot guys at Gateway.
"What's the sitch?" Xander urged. "What do you know about her?"
Jesse shrugged matter-of-factly. "New girl."
"Well," Xander came back at him without missing a beat. "You're certainly a font of nothing."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Buffy walked down the hallway looking for her first class of the day. She sighed as she paused there in the hallway, rummaging through her bag for the campus map. A distracted student bumped into her, sending her stuff flying in all directions. Frustrated, Buffy knelt down and started scooping everything back up. For the second time that morning she failed to see Xander, who was standing close by and had witnessed the whole incident. Immediately he came over and knelt beside her.
"Can I have you," Xander asked, then corrected himself. "Dyeh—can I help you?"
"Oh, thanks."
He started picking up her things and handing them to her. "I don't know you, do I?"
"I'm new. I'm Buffy Halliwell."
"Xander. Is me. Hi."
"Thanks."
"Maybe I'll see you around," Xander suggested. "Maybe at school, since we both . . . go there."
"Great. Nice to meet you."
He gave her the rest of her books. She stuffed them into her bag and hurried away.
"'We both go to school,'" Xander shook his head in disgust. "Very suave. Very not pathetic."
Then he noticed something on the floor. Bending down to retrieve it, he automatically called after her,
"Oh, hey, you forgot your—"
He broke off. He looked at the thing he was holding.
"Stake," he said.
Buffy was too far away now to hear him.
With a puzzled frown, Xander stared at the wooden stake clutched in his hand.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Buffy sat in the back of her history class, earnestly taking notes. The teacher's voice droned on and on while she tried to keep up.
"It's estimated that about twenty-five million people died in that one four-year span. But the fun part of the Black Plague is that it originated in Europe: How? As an early form of germ warfare. The plague was first found in Asia, and a Kipchak army actually catapulted plague-infested corpses into a Genoise trading post. Ingenious. If you look at the map on page sixty-three you can trace the spread of the disease . . ."
Everyone opened their books. Buffy didn't have one yet, and as she looked around at the other kids, a girl in the desk next to hers leaned over. She was tall and very pretty in an exotic sort of way, obviously self-assured, and was wearing a killer outfit of tight pants and a mostly see-through shirt.
"Here," the girl said. She moved her book so Buffy could share it.
"Thanks," Buffy smiled.
"And this popular plague led to what social changes?" the teacher continued. Buffy thought class would never end. When the bell rang at last, the girl finally introduced herself.
"Hi, I'm Cordelia."
"I'm Buffy."
"If you're looking for a textbook of your very own, there's probably a few in the library."
"Oh, great. Thanks. Where would that be?"
"I'll show you."
The girls walked out into the crowded hall and Cordelia glanced at Buffy with unconcealed interest.
"You transferred from Hemery, right? In L.A.?"
"Yeah."
"Oh! I would kill to live in L.A. ... Why'd you come here?"
"My mom passed away. I'm living with my cousins, now."
"Sorry to hear that," Cordelia said feeling sad for the girl. Well, you'll be okay here," she assured her. "If you hang with me and mine, you'll be accepted in no time. Of course, we do have to test your coolness factor. You're from L.A., so you can skip the written, but let's see . . . Vamp nail polish."
Buffy asked tentatively, "Over?"
"So over," Cordelia replied. "James Spader."
Buffy hesitated on how to answer as she knew she was bisexual. "He needs to call me," she finally said.
"Frappachinos?"
"Trendy but tasty."
"John Tesh."
"The Devil?"
Cordelia nodded. "Well, that was pretty much a gimme, but you passed."
"Oh, good." Buffy put a hand to her heart in mock relief.
They stopped at the water fountain, where Willow was taking her turn.
"Willow!" Cordelia raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Nice dress. Good to know you've seen the softer side of Sears."
Buffy saw the instant hurt on Willow's face. She stared at Cordelia, surprised by the girl's sudden viciousness.
Willow sounded almost apologetic. "Well, my mom picked it out."
"No wonder you're such a guy magnet." Cordelia's tone was withering. "Are you done?"
"Oh," Willow said softly, instantly vacating the fountain. Cordelia stepped up to it and glanced at Buffy.
"You wanna fit in here, the first rule is, 'Know your losers.' Once you can identify them all by sight, they're a lot easier to avoid."
She bent down to drink. Buffy looked unhappily at the departing Willow, then followed Cordelia on to the library.
"And if you're not too swamped with catching up, you should come out to the Bronze tonight," Cordelia suggested.
"The who?"
"The Bronze. It's the only club worth going to around here. They let anybody in, but it's still the scene." Cordelia rattled off an address, then said, "You should show."
They'd reached the library now. The two of them stopped in front of the door.
"Well, I'll try, thanks," Buffy promised.
"Good. I'll see you at gym and you can tell me absolutely everything there is to know about yourself." Cordelia turned and went off.
Buffy, slightly thrown off by the idea of giving her whole life story, allowed herself an ironic smile. "That sounds like fun," she mumbled.
She entered the library, surprised at the elegance of it, the dark wood paneling, the streaming sunlight across the floor, the shelves and shelves of books. A short flight of stairs led up to a second level of still more bookcases, and with its large oak table and cozy study lamps, the room had a curiously warm country-house feeling.
There didn't seem to be anyone around. As she paused beside the checkout counter, she happened to notice a folded newspaper lying there, an article on its first page circled in red. The headline stated "Local Boys Still Missing," and beside it was a blurry picture of three boys.
Buffy wandered farther in. She peered around a bookcase.
"Hello . . . is anybody here?"
Without warning someone touched her shoulder. Startled, she spun to face him.
"Can I help you?" the man asked politely. He spoke with a British accent, and his expression was one of quiet intensity.
Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. "I was looking for some, well, books. I'm new."
"Miss Summers," the man said.
"It's Halliwell actually, I guess you didn't get the memo. My cousins changed my name after I moved in with them. Though it was at my request. Anyways good call. I guess I'm the only new kid."
"I'm Mr. Giles, the librarian."
Buffy studied him for an instant. "Great." She smiled. "So you have, uh—"
"I know what you're after."
He turned and led her to the checkout desk by the door. Buffy could see his office just behind it, but Mr. Giles obviously hadn't meant to take her there. She watched curiously as he pulled a book out from beneath the counter and slid it toward her. Huge and leather bound, it bore a single word in gilt upon its cover.
VAMPYR
It was the book from her nightmare.
Concern flooded Buffy's face—and with it, a look of wary understanding. She stepped back from the desk, but her gaze remained on the librarian.
"That's not what I'm looking for," she told him, her voice going tight.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm way sure."
Mr. Giles hesitated . . . gave an almost imperceptible nod. "My mistake."
He replaced the book under the counter.
"So," he continued softly, "what is it you said—"
He stared out into the empty room.
Buffy had gone.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Willow carefully sorted through her packed lunch. Healthy as usual. And totally boring. She was so involved that she didn't notice anyone approaching until a voice spoke behind her.
"Uh, hi," the voice said. "Willow, right?"
Willow started and turned around. "Why?" she asked suspiciously, and then, seeing who it was, "I mean, hi. Did you want me to move?"
"Why don't we start with 'Hi, I'm Buffy,'" Buffy suggested, sitting down beside her. "And then let's segue directly into me asking you for a favor. It doesn't involve moving, but it does involve you hanging out with me for a while."
Willow's expression was doubtful. "But aren't you . . . hanging with Cordelia?"
"I can't do both?"
"Not legally."
"Look, I really want to get by here," Buffy explained. "New school . . . Cordelia's been really nice—to me, anyway—but I have this burning desire not to flunk all my classes, and I heard a rumor that you were the person to talk to if I wanted to get caught up."
Willow brightened. "Oh, I could totally help you out! If you have sixth period free, we could meet in the library—"
"Or not," Buffy declined at once. "Or, you know, we could meet somewhere quieter. Louder. That place kind of gives me a wiggins."
"It has that effect on most kids. I love it, though. It's a great collection, and the new librarian's really cool."
"He's new?"
"Yeah, he just started. He was a curator of some British museum. Or the British Museum, I'm not sure. But he knows everything and he brought all these historical volumes and biographies, and am I the single dullest person alive?"
"Not at all!" Buffy insisted.
The girls looked up as Xander sauntered over with Jesse.
"Hey. Are you guys busy?" Xander greeted them. "Can we interrupt? We're interrupting."
"Hey," Buffy smiled.
"Hey there," Jesse answered.
"Buffy, this is Jesse." Willow made the introductions. "And that's Xander."
"Oh, me and Buffy go way back," Xander said casually. "Old friends, very close. Then there was that period of estrangement, I think we were both changing as people, but here we are, and it's like old times, I'm quite moved."
Buffy stared at him half amused, half amazed.
"Is it me?" Jesse asked him. "Or are you turning into a babbling idiot?"
For a split second Xander looked almost embarrassed. "It's not you."
"It's nice to meet you guys," Buffy said. "I think."
"Well, we wanted to welcome you, make you feel at home," Jesse replied gallantly. "Unless you have a scary home."
"And to return this," Xander added. He produced the stake that had fallen earlier from Buffy's bag. "The only thing I can figure is that you're building a really little fence."
"Oh. No." Buffy's mind worked swiftly. "That was for self-defense. Everyone has them in L.A. Pepper spray is so passé."
Xander nodded, as though not quite convinced. "So. What do you like, what do you do for fun, what do you look for in a man? . . . Let's hear it."
"If you have any dark, painful secrets that we could publish," Jesse suggested.
"Gee," Buffy's tone was mildly sarcastic. "Everybody wants to know about me. How keen."
"Well, not a lot happens around here," Xander confessed. "You're big news."
"I'm not. Really."
"Are these people bothering you?" Cordelia suddenly appeared behind Jesse, a look of pure disdain on her face.
Buffy glanced around in surprise. "Oh! No."
"She's not hanging out with us," Willow hastened to explain, while Jesse only looked smitten at the sight of her.
"Hey, Cordelia," Jesse said.
"Oh, please," Cordelia dismissed him in disgust, turning her attention to Buffy. "I don't want to interrupt your downward mobility. I just thought I'd tell you that you won't be meeting Coach Foster, the woman with chest hair, because gym has been canceled due to the extreme dead guy in the locker."
Buffy stared at her. "What?"
"What are you talking about?" Willow straightened, looking alarmed.
"Some guy was stuffed in Aura's locker," Cordelia explained.
"Dead," Buffy repeated.
"Way dead," Cordelia confirmed.
"So not just a little dead, then," Xander added.
Cordelia gave him one of her looks. "Don't you have an elsewhere to be?"
"If you need a shoulder to cry on," Jesse offered, "or just to nibble on—"
"How did he die?" Buffy broke in, her gaze still steady upon Cordelia.
"I don't know . . ."
"Well, were there any marks?"
"Morbid much?" Cordelia was eyeing her as though she were some kind of alien. "I didn't ask!"
Abruptly Buffy stood up. "Uh, look, I gotta book. I'll see you guys later." She took off hurriedly toward the gym, leaving the others to stare after her in bewilderment.
"What's her deal?" Cordelia asked, sounding annoyed.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Buffy went straight to the girls' locker room. Unfortunately, Mr. Flutie was just coming out, closing the door behind him.
"Oh! Buffy!" He regarded her in surprise. "Uh, what do you want?"
Buffy tried to keep her voice casual. "Um, is there a guy in there who's dead?"
"Where did you hear that?" Mr. Flutie asked quickly. Then, "Okay. Yes. But he's not a student! Not currently."
"Do you know how he died?"
"What?"
"I mean," Buffy fumbled, "how could this have happened?"
"Well, that's for the police to determine when they get here," Mr. Flutie replied. "But this structure is safe, we have inspections, and I think there's no grounds for a lawsuit."
"Was there a lot of blood?" Buffy couldn't help asking. "Was there any blood?"
Mr. Flutie gave her a long look. "I would think you wouldn't want to involve yourself in this kind of thing."
"I don't," Buffy assured him. "Could I just take a peek?"
"Unless you already are involved . . ." Mr. Flutie insinuated, and Buffy shook her head.
"Never mind."
"Buffy," the principal went on, relenting a little, "I understand this is confusing. You're probably feeling a lot right now. You should share those feelings. With someone else."
Giving him a wan smile, Buffy nodded and backed away.
She had no intention of giving up so easily.
Rushing from the building, she went quickly around the side of the gym. It was easy locating another door to the locker room. She twisted the knob, but the door was locked tight.
Buffy looked around to make certain she was alone knowing that if she was caught that Prue would be angry that she used her Slayer powers in front of anyone. With one quick tug, she pulled the door open, splintering the lock in the process. Then she gave one last glance over her shoulder and slipped inside.
She saw the body at once, lying on the floor stretched out beneath a blanket. Hesitantly she approached it, feeling certain she wasn't going to be at all pleased with what she found. Slowly she folded the blanket down from the corpse's head and shoulders.
Grim frustration flooded Buffy's face. She stared down at the body, nearly seething.
"Oh, great!" she exploded.
There on the boy's neck were two distinct bite marks.
Moments later, an exasperated Buffy strode back into the library.
"Okay, what's the sitch?" she demanded.
Giles was standing on the second level, completely engrossed in a book. He looked down as she started up toward him.
"Sorry?" he asked.
"You heard about the dead guy, right?" Buffy retorted. "The dead guy in the locker?"
"Yes."
"Well, it's the weirdest thing. He's got two little holes in his neck, and all his blood's been drained. Isn't that bizarre? Aren't you just going, 'Ooooh . . .'"
Giles let out a sigh. "I was afraid of this."
"Well, I wasn't! It's my first day. I was afraid that I'd be behind in all the classes, that I wouldn't make any friends, that I'd have last month's hair. I didn't think there would be vampires on campus. And I don't care."
"Then why are you here?"
Buffy's stopped for a moment. She wondered the same thing, 'Why was she here? She had promised Prue, Piper and Phoebe to keep a low profile. "To tell you that I don't care," she stammered. "Which I don't, and . . . have now told you. So, 'bye." She retreated and started for the door, feeling a little let down by her undignified exit.
"Will he rise again?" Giles asked.
Buffy stopped in midstride. "Who?"
"The boy."
"No, he's just dead."
"Can you be sure?"
Buffy shook her head. "To make you a vampire they have to suck your blood and then you have to suck their blood. It's a whole big sucking thing. Mostly they'll just take all your blood and then you just die—why am I still talking to you?"
"You have no idea what's going on, do you?" Giles challenged her, his words tightly controlled. "Do you think it's a coincidence, your coming here? That boy was just the beginning."
Buffy turned back and looked up at him. "Oh, why can't you leave me alone?"
"Because you are the Slayer."
She froze. All the clever things she'd been ready to say to him stuck in her throat. She watched as Giles came down the stairs, his gaze very solemn.
"Into every generation, a Slayer is born," Giles intoned. "One girl, in all the world, a Chosen One. One born with the—"
Buffy joined him then, the two of them speaking together. "—the strength and skill to hunt the vampires—"
Until Giles broke off, letting Buffy finish the words alone. "To stop the spread of their evil blah blah, I've heard it, okay?" Buffy threw at him remembering the last time she heard it, in the car ride from Los Angeles when her book had opened all on its own and flipped to the page on the Vampire Slayer and that Phoebe had read from.
Giles looked troubled. "I don't understand this attitude. You've accepted your duty, you've slain vampires before—"
"Well, I have both been there and done that. And I am moving on."
Giles considered this a moment, then asked, "What do you know about this town?"
"It's where my cousins live. Where I live now, since my mom passed away."
Motioning her to wait for him, Giles disappeared into a back room and continued to talk.
"Dig a bit into the history of this place and you'll find there've been a steady stream of fairly odd occurrences. I believe this area is a center of mystical energy. Things gravitate toward it that you might not find elsewhere."
He reappeared with a stack of books.
"Like vampires," Buffy concluded.
She tried to move past him, but he pulled a book from the pile and handed it to her. It resembled the vampire book he had shown her earlier, and while Buffy stared down at it, he continued to heap more books into her arms.
"Like werewolves," Giles went on quickly. "Zombies. Succubi, incubi . . ." He leaned close into her face. "Everything you ever dreaded under your bed and told yourself couldn't be by the light of day."
"What, did you send away for the Time Life series?"
Giles actually looked a bit sheepish. "Uh, yes."
"Did you get the free phone?"
"The calendar."
"Cool." Then, remembering her agenda, Buffy stated, "Okay, first of all, I'm a vampire slayer," transferring the books back into his arms. "And second, I'm retired. Hey, I know! Why don't you kill them?"
Giles's smile seemed rather surprised. "I'm a Watcher. I haven't the skill."
"Oh, come on. Stake through the heart, a little sunlight—it's like falling off a log."
"The Slayer slays," Giles explained patiently. "The Watcher—"
"Watches?"
"Yes. No!" Giles recovered himself. "He—he— trains her, he prepares her—"
"Prepares me for what?" Buffy was really angry now. "For getting kicked out of school? Losing all my friends? Having to spend all my time fighting for my life and never getting to tell anyone, because it might 'endanger' them? Go ahead." Her gaze was challenging. "Prepare me."
She turned on her heel and left. Giles went out after her.
Both of them had been so intent on their discussion that neither had noticed the shadowy figure lurking in the stacks. But now Xander emerged slowly into the light, a mixture of amusement, excitement, and total disbelief upon his face. He looked down at the copy of Theories in Trig that he held in his hands, and then he looked back at the library door. For a long time his lips moved without a sound. And then at last his voice echoed out into the silence.
"What?"
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Giles continued to follow Buffy through the hallway as it began filling with students once again.
"It's getting worse," Giles called after her.
Buffy stopped and whirled to face him. All too conscious of the crowds around them, she tried not to sigh too loudly. "What's getting worse?"
"The influx of the undead," Giles murmured, moving her over against the wall. "The supernatural occurrences. It's been building for years, and now . . . there's a reason why you're here, and there's a reason why it's now."
"Because now is the time my mom moved here."
She started to walk away from him, but he put up one arm to stop her.
"Something is coming," he insisted. "Something is going to happen here soon."
Buffy pulled his arm down. "Gee, can you vague that up for me . . . ?"
But Giles's voice had dropped even more. Buffy had to strain to hear.
"As far as I can tell," he explained, "the signs point to a crucial mystical upheaval very soon— days, possibly less."
Buffy gave him a narrow stare. "Come on. This is San Francisco," she reminded him. "How bad an evil can there be here?" Given that she had face a warlock her first night in San Francisco she knew that answer. But she was not going to let him know that she knew that as it meant he might learn that she was also a witch.
Halliwell Manor
Buffy stood in front of her bedroom mirror, agonizing over her fashion statement of the evening. Holding up an outfit that was shockingly scanty, she spoke aloud to her reflection.
"Hi! I'm an enormous slut!"
Somehow it wasn't quite right. She replaced it with the second outfit, this one a much plainer version, and took another careful look at herself.
"Hi! Would you like a copy of theWatchtower?"
Still not right. Frustrated, she threw them both down.
"I used to be so good at this," she grumbled as Phoebe came into the room.
"Where you off to tonight, Buffy?" Phoebe asked her.
"Hear of a club called the Bronze?"
Phoebe nodded. "Yes. Went there a few times when I was your age. Grams hated me going there. Do you know where it is?"
"Not really," Buffy answered. "I got the address from a girl at school. But I have no idea where that is without a map of the city."
Phoebe smiled at Buffy. "I'll go with you," she said. "So how was your day?"
Buffy sighed as she looked at her cousin. "There is this guy at the school, he's the librarian, he knows I'm the Slayer."
"Buffy you didn't?" Phoebe said instantly worried.
"No Phoebe I didn't," answered Buffy. "Apparently he already knew, I guess he's Merrick's replacement. Merrick was my Watcher in L.A."
"You didn't tell him about us did you?" Phoebe asked.
"That we're witches, no," said Buffy. "I didn't really want anyone to know about being the Slayer."
"So what is a Watcher?" asked Phoebe.
"Supposed to be some old guy who is supposed to guide and train the Slayer," said Buffy with a sigh.
Streets of San Francisco
Phoebe and Buffy decided to walk to the Bronze, talking all long the way. They turned a corner. The sidewalk stretched endlessly before them, camouflaged in shadows, and their footsteps echoed hollowly in the dark. They continued along the pavement until slowly it began to dawn on Buffy that they weren't alone.
There was another sound of footsteps now.
Footsteps behind them . . . footsteps walking where they had walked . . .
Buffy whirled around.
Phoebe looked at Buffy quizzically, "What?"
Buffy motioned toward a figure she could see standing there, shrouded in blackness.
The figure didn't move.
And though they couldn't actually see its face, they had the distinct, unsettling impression that it was looking straight at them, or at least at Buffy in particular.
Turning quickly, Buffy and Phoebe went on.
The figure followed.
Buffy picked up speed as Phoebe struggled to keep caught up. Buffy could hear the footsteps again, sure and measured behind them, taking their time. . . keeping a discreet distance.
On impulse, Buffy ducked into an alleyway, quickly assessing her surroundings. A large pipe spanned the enclosure some ten feet above her. A cluster of smelly garbage cans blocked the other end. She looked at Phoebe, "Hide behind those garbage cans."
Phoebe frowned as she made her way to the other end of the alley and the garbage cans, "What are you going to do?" she called over her shoulder.
There was no answer to Phoebe's question as Buffy, with one smooth movement, swung herself up onto the pipe, her body poised in a handstand. She waited for the figure to turn into the alleyway, and then she dropped down on him without warning, her legs locked over his neck. Throwing herself back, she tipped him over, then rolled and slammed his body onto the ground.
He was on his feet instantly, but she grabbed him and threw him up against the wall. As she closed in, she suddenly realized he was making no move to attack her. Instead he put up his hands.
"Is there a problem, ma'am?" the young man asked. He seemed faintly amused at the situation.
Buffy eyed him suspiciously, getting a good look at him for the first time. She noticed out of the corner of her eye as Phoebe came out from her hiding spot and moved beside her. "There's a problem," she shot back. "Why are you following us?"
His voice was calm. Matter of fact. "I know what you're thinking, but don't worry. I don't bite."
"What about the other thing?" Phoebe wondered.
"I assume you mean a warlock?" he asked as Phoebe nodded. "I'm not one."
Buffy and Phoebe glanced at each other as they took a step back from him.
"Truth is, I thought you'd be taller," the young man said looking back at Buffy. "Or bigger: muscles and all that. You're pretty spry, though."
"What do you want?" Buffy demanded.
"Same thing you two do."
"Okay, what do we want?"
The amusement left his face. "To kill 'em. To kill 'em all."
Buffy felt a split second of surprise as she glanced at Phoebe. She looked back at the man. "Sorry!" she announced, doing her best impression of a game-show host. "That's incorrect, but you do get this lovely watch and a year's supply of Turtle Wax . . . what I want. . . is to be left alone."
He gazed at them steadily. "You really think that's an option anymore? You're standing at the mouth of hell. And it's about to open."
Slowly he reached into his coat. When he withdrew his hand again, he was holding what appeared to be a good-sized jewelry box.
"Don't turn your back on this," he warned, throwing it to Buffy. "You've got to be ready."
Buffy's chin lifted defiantly. "What for?"
"For the Harvest."
He turned from her then and started back the way he'd come. Buffy called out after him.
"Who are you?"
"Let's just say I'm a friend," he said quietly.
"Well, maybe we don't want a friend," Buffy answered, exasperated.
His smile was strangely secretive. "I didn't say I was either of yours . . ."
Phoebe and Buffy watched him go. They saw his shadow fading into all the other shadows, and then Buffy carefully opened the box to find four smaller jewelry boxes inside the larger one. She opened one of the smaller boxes to find a Carolingian Cross. "Isn't that on the cover of our Books?".
"Close," said Phoebe. "Ours has a circle around the three points." She took out a second box and found a matching Carolingian Cross.
"I bet you the other two match also," said Buffy. "And I think he he knows who we are."
Phoebe nodded. "I would have to agree. We'll worry about that when we get back to the Manor."
The Bronze
A good-sized crowd milled aimlessly around the Bronze. Phoebe and Buffy pushed their way through. Buffy spotted spotted Willow at the bar. The girl was shyly ordering a soda as Buffy and Phoebe made their way to her.
"Hi!" Buffy smiled.
"Oh, hi!" Willow looked surprised and pleased at the same time. "Hi." She looked at Phoebe. "Who's your friend?"
"Willow this is my cousin, Phoebe," said Buffy with the introductions. "Phoebe, this is Willow she goes to school with me."
"Hello, Willow," said Phoebe.
"Hi," said Willow shyly.
"Are you here with someone?" Buffy asked.
"No, I'm just here. I thought Xander was gonna show up . . ." Willow answered.
"Oh, are you guys going out?"
"No. We're just friends." Willow thought a moment, then added, "We used to go out, but we broke up."
"How come?" Phoebe wondered.
"He stole my Barbie." As Buffy and Phoebe gave her a strange look, Willow explained, "We were five."
"Oh," the cousins said simultaneously.
"I don't actually date a whole lot . . . lately," said Willow.
"Why not?" Buffy wondered.
"Well, when I'm with a boy I like, it's hard for me to say anything cool or witty, or at all . . . I can usually make a few vowel sounds, and then I have to go away."
Buffy couldn't help laughing. "It's not that bad."
"It is. I think boys are more interested in a girl who can talk."
"You really haven't been dating lately," said Buffy.
"It's probably easy for you."
"Oh, yeah," Buffy nodded a little forlornly. "Real easy."
"I mean, you don't seem too shy."
"Well, my philosophy is—" Buffy broke off. "Do you wanna hear my philosophy?"
"I do," Willow said eagerly.
"Life is short."
"Life is short?" echoed Phoebe as she looked toward Buffy, who nodded.
Willow fixed the cousins with a steady gaze. "Life is short."
"Not original, I'll grant you," Buffy shrugged. "But it's true. Why waste time being all shy? Why worry about some guy and if he's gonna laugh at you? You know? Seize the moment. 'Cause tomorrow you might be dead."
Given what Buffy had told her, Piper and Prue about the Slayer; Phoebe understood why Buffy might have that outlook on life.
"Oh . . ." Willow smiled. "That's nice . . ."
Buffy's glance went quickly around the crowds. As she spotted someone moving about on the balcony above them, her brow creased in a frown. "Uh, I'll be back in a minute," she promised.
"That's okay," Willow assured her. "You don't have to come back."
Smiling at her friend's self-effacing attitude, Buffy said again, more firmly this time, "I'll be back in a minute."
She wasn't sure if Willow heard. The girl's head was lowered and she was murmuring to herself, "Seize the moment . . ." while Buffy took off again through the crowds leaving Phoebe with Willow.
"The death part aside, Buffy did give some good advice," Phoebe admitted.
It didn't take her long to find the stairs. She pushed her way up and onto the balcony, then managed at last to squeeze next to the railing that overlooked the stage. She leaned there trying to appear casual, not even looking at Giles, who came to stand just as casually beside her.
"So, you like to party with the students?" Buffy teased him. "Isn't that kind of skanky?"
Giles's tone was withering. "Right. This is me having fun." He continued to gaze down upon the stage. "Watching Clown-hair prance about is hardly my idea of a party. I'd much prefer to be home with a cup of Bovril and a good book."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "You need a personality, stat."
"This is a perfect breeding ground for vampire activity," Giles admonished her. "Dark, crowded . . . besides, I knew you were likely to show up. And I have to make you understand—"
"That the Harvest is coming, I know, your friend told me."
Giles seemed completely thrown off by this remark. He shot Buffy an anxious glance. "What did you say?"
"The . . . Harvest," she said carefully. "That means something to you? 'Cause I'm drawing a blank."
"I'm not sure. . . . Who told you this?"
"This guy." She could still see him in her mind, could still recall their confrontation in the alley. "Dark, gorgeous in an annoying sort of way. I figured you were buds."
"No . . ." Giles mumbled, frowning. "The Harvest. . . . Did he say anything else?"
"Something about the mouth of hell. I really didn't like him."
They were both staring out over the floor now at the kids dancing and partying to the loud rhythm of the band.
"Look at them," Giles's tone bordered on annoyance. "Throwing themselves about . . . completely unaware of the danger that surrounds them."
"Lucky them . . ." Buffy said as she noticed Phoebe was making her way up the stairs, no doubt looking for her.
"Or perhaps you're right," he conceded. "Perhaps there is no trouble coming. The signs could be wrong. It's not as though you're having the nightmares . . ."
At the mention of the word, Buffy's face suddenly clouded. She gazed down at all the happy faces below her. "I didn't say I'd never slay another vampire," she tried to rationalize. "I'm just not gonna get way extracurricular with it. If I run into one, sure . . ."
"But will you be ready?" Giles asked earnestly. "There's so much you don't know about them and about your own powers. A vampire appears to be a normal person until the feed is upon him. Only then does he reveal his true demonic visage."
"You're like a textbook with arms!" Buffy exploded. "I know this!"
Giles chose to ignore her outburst. "The point is, a Slayer should be able to see them anyway. Without looking, without thinking. Can you tell me if there's a vampire in this building?"
Buffy hesitated. "Maybe?"
"You should know! Even through this mass and this din you should be able to sense them." Giles drew a breath, his voice encouraging. "Try. Reach out with your mind." It was then that Phoebe leaned upon the railing next to Buffy. He looked at Phoebe. "Do you mind this is a private conversation."
Phoebe smiled. "Seeing how you're talking to my cousin," she said. "And seeing how my sisters and I are her legal guardians. That means I have a right to know exactly what you and she might be talking about, especially when your older than I am. Also if this has to do with what I think it is I know all about who Buffy is."
Giles frowned, "You know she is the Slayer?"
"Yes," answered Phoebe. "Buffy, can I talk to you alone for a second."
"I'll be right back," Buffy said as she and Phoebe moved a short distance away. "What is it, Phoebe?"
Phoebe sighed. "I was getting your friend Willow a refill and I had a premonition about her. She is going to be killed by a vampire."
Buffy made her way back to the railing with Phoebe. They began scanning the crowd looking for Willow.
"Now as I was saying, you have to hone your senses," Giles instructed Buffy. "Focus until the energy washes over you, till you can feel every particle of—"
"There's one," Buffy said quickly.
Giles stopped. He peered down over the railing, completely nonplussed. "What? Where?"
Pointing, Buffy tried to show him. "Down there. Talking to Willow."
Giles cast Buffy a doubtful look. "But you don't know—" he began, while Buffy vehemently interrupted.
"Oh, please! Look at his jacket. He's got the sleeves rolled up. And the shirt . . . deal with that outfit for a moment."
Again Giles looked perplexed. "It's dated?"
"It's carbon dated! Trust me—only someone who's been living underground for ten years would think that was the look."
"But . . . you didn't hone . . ." he broke off as Buffy and Phoebe walked away from him.
Buffy and Phoebe fought their way down the steps and through the mobs across the floor, but when they looked again, Willow had disappeared. Worried, Buffy scanned the room, and then headed for the backstage door.
Phoebe grabbed Buffy's arm stopping the younger girl. "Outside. In my premonition they weren't in the club."
"Do you know where?" Buffy asked.
Phoebe shook her head. "Somewhere underground."
They turned and saw Giles waiting at the foot of the stairs, and they went over to join him.
"That was fast." Giles looked relieved. "Well done. I'd best go to the library. This Harvest is—"
"He and Willow left the club," Buffy said.
Giles stared at Buffy as though he'd misunderstood. "The vampire's not dead?"
"Not yet but he will be," answered Buffy.
"What do we do?" he asked.
"You go on. Phoebe and I'll take care of it."
"Your cousin?" Giles asked. "No offense to you, Ms. Halliwell. But why are you taking her along?"
Buffy smiled. "Let's just say Phoebe and I are Charmed."
Streets of San Francisco
Willow was definitely having second thoughts.
As she and her date walked along through the dark, she could feel herself growing increasingly nervous.
He hadn't said half a dozen words since they'd left the Bronze, and there was just something different about him that hadn't been so obvious back there in all the noise and bright lights. And all the people, she thought to herself.
"Sure is dark." She made a feeble attempt at conversation, but it didn't make her feel any braver.
"It's night," her date replied.
"That's a dark time." Willow nodded. "Night. Traditionally."
They walked farther. Again she tried to start a conversation.
"I still can't believe I've never seen you at school. Do you have Mr. Chomsky for History?"
The boy didn't answer. He just suddenly stopped.
Willow glanced around uneasily. "The ice-cream bar's down this way," she directed him. "It's past Hamilton Street."
She watched as his hand reached out, as it firmly took hold of hers.
"I know a shortcut," he said.
And then he led her toward the cemetery . . . into the darkness of the woods.
Outside the Bronze
"Really?" Phoebe said as she and Buffy walked outside. "That was your answer. We're Charmed? Could you be any more obvious?"
"I know, Pheobe," said Buffy with a sigh as she spotted Xander coming down the sidewalk, his skateboard tucked under one arm.
"You're leaving already?" Xander asked. "Who's this?"
"Phoebe," said Phoebe. "Buffy's cousin."
"Xander, have you seen Willow?" asked Buffy.
"Not tonight," Xander answered.
"We need to find her. She left with a guy," explained Buffy.
"We are talking about Willow, right?" Xander sounded impressed. "Scoring at the Bronze. Work it, girlfriend."
Phoebe and Buffy were oblivious to his humor. "Where would they go?" Phoebe asked.
"Why, you two know something about Mr. Goodbar that she doesn't?" Xander pretended to have a sudden brainstorm and rubbed his hands together. He looked pointedly at Buffy. "Oh! Hey. I hope he's not a vampire . 'Cause then you'd have to slay him."
This got Buffy and Phoebe's full attention. "Was there a school bulletin?" Buffy asked. "Was it in the news? Is there anybody in this town who doesn't know I'm a Slayer?"
"I only know that you think you're a Slayer," he admitted. "And I only know that 'cause I was in the library today."
"Look!" said Phoebe. "Just tell us where Willow would go."
"You're serious," said Xander as he looked at the older woman.
"We don't find her, there's gonna be another dead body in the morning," said Buffy.
Xander hesitated, studying their solemn expressions. It dawned on him then that they weren't kidding. That they were, in fact, very deadly serious.
"Come on," he said.
Woodlawn Memorial Park
Willow had passed the point of nervousness.
As she and her date continued on through the woods, she realized she was easing into quiet panic. Her mind spun helplessly as she tried to figure out how she'd managed to get herself into such a scary situation—and how on earth she was going to get herself out again.
"Okay," she said at last. "This is nice and . . . scary. . . . Are you sure this is faster?"
Still her date said nothing. She couldn't be certain, of course, but every instinct warned her that this probably wasn't the way to the ice-cream bar. And then, as he suddenly stopped, she realized they were standing outside a small mausoleum.
Confused, Willow stared at the crumbling entrance. A well of thick blackness yawned before her, and a cold chill crept up her spine.
"Hey," her date spoke at last. "You ever been in one of these?"
Willow tried to keep her voice from shaking, tried to sound assertive. "No, thank you."
But he was moving in on her now, pulling her hair back from her neck. Holding her intimately . . . holding her much closer than she wanted to be held . . .
"Come on," he tempted her, his voice teasing. "What are you afraid of?"
And then he pushed her through the doorway.
Willow stumbled in, terrified. She couldn't see a thing and she blinked rapidly, trying to adjust her eyes to the dark. After several agonizing seconds, she was able to make out a small room with carved stone walls. A huge tomb took up most of the center, with a stone figure of a man lying on top of it. Behind her was the door she'd come in; ahead of her was a much smaller iron door that was locked shut.
Willow spun around. She could see her date now, his silhouette filling the entrance to the mausoleum, blocking her escape. Her heart thudded frantically in her ears.
"That wasn't funny." She tried to sound calm and in control, but her voice was dangerously close to tears.
The boy didn't respond. Instead he stepped closer, his face bathed in shadows. Willow circled away from him, trying to get closer to the door.
"I think I'm gonna go," she told him.
"Is that what you think?"
There was no playfulness in his voice. Willow heard the danger there and instinctively took a step back, and then another. And then she turned and squealed as she ran straight into Darla.
Darla seemed to be appraising the situation. She looked first at Willow and then at Willow's date.
"Is this the best you could do?" Darla asked him.
The boy's voice sounded slightly defensive. "She's fresh."
"Hardly enough to share," Darla returned, walking casually down the steps and across the floor.
"Why didn't you bring your own?"
"I did."
Darla indicated the doorway just behind her. As Willow watched in fearful confusion, a very dazed Jesse stumbled in.
"Hey, wait up," Jesse called to Darla.
"Jesse!" Willow hurried over to him, relieved. He was clutching his neck and looked slightly feverish. In truth, he didn't seem particularly aware that Willow was even there.
"I think you gave me a hickey." Again he spoke to Darla, who pointedly ignored him.
Willow watched as Jesse took his hand from his neck. She could see blood on his fingers, blood on his throat. She gazed at him for a moment in disbelief, then looked at the other two figures behind her, her eyes going wide.
"I got hungry on the way," Darla shrugged.
Willow took hold of Jesse, pulling desperately on his arms. "Jesse, let's get out of here."
"You're not going anywhere," Darla informed her.
"Leave us alone," Willow tried to sound forceful, but Darla advanced on her so swiftly that she didn't even have time to back away.
"You're not going anywhere," Darla muttered, "until we've fed!"
As she spat out the last word, she thrust her face right into Willow's. And before Willow's horrified eyes, Darla's face began to change—to shift and slither into something grotesque—rotting skin, teeth gleaming razor sharp, a grin that was as ravenous as it was evil—
Willow screamed. She stumbled backward and fell. Through a haze of terror she could see her date laughing now, circling her slowly, his predator's face every bit as hideous and repulsive as the girl's had become.
Willow knew she was going to die. She watched as the creatures closed in on her, knifelike fingernails reaching out, mouths drooling, eyes glistening hungrily. When the voice suddenly spoke out behind them, she thought at first that it wasn't—couldn't possibly be—real.
"Well, this is nice," a voice said pleasantly.
Buffy stepped into the room with Phoebe and Xander following.
Everybody froze.
"A little bare," Buffy observed, running one hand across the dusty tomb, "but a dash of paint, a few throw pillows—call it home."
"Who the hell are you?" Darla growled.
"Wow, you mean there's actually somebody around here who doesn't know already?" Buffy tossed back glancing at Phoebe. "That's a relief. I'm telling you, having a secret identity in this town is a job of work."
As Buffy held their attention, Xander and Phoebe moved in between the two vampires. Nothing had quite prepared the creatures for this unexpected turn of events, and they slowly loosened their grips on Willow and Jesse.
"Buffy, we bail now, right?" Xander prompted, but Willow's date had managed to recover himself a little.
"Not yet," he snarled.
"Okay, first of all, what's with this outfit?" Buffy baited him. "Live in the now, okay? You look like DeBarge." Then turning to Darla, she added, completely unperturbed, "Now, we can do this the hard way, or . . . well, actually, there's just the hard way."
Darla stood her ground. "Fine with me."
"You sure?" Buffy persisted. "It's not gonna be pretty. We're talking violence, strong language, adult content."
Even as she spoke, Willow's date rushed her from behind, charging with lightning speed. Buffy went to whip a stake out from beneath her jacket when she saw something. There was a fireball in her hand. She tossed the fireball behind her and the creature caught on fire and exploded into ash. "Wow, I think I like this fire power, Phoebe, it's going to come in handy." She looked at Darla. "See what happens when you roughhouse?"
Xander and Willow were speechless. All they could do was stare at where Willow's date had been only seconds ago. Darla, on the other hand, was wide-eyed and wary, but definitely not cowed.
She moved slowly around Buffy, preparing to fight the girl herself.
"He was young," Darla said in disgust. "And stupid."
"Phoebe, get them out of here," Buffy ordered.
"Don't go far," Darla echoed.
Without warning she lunged at Buffy. Buffy met her head-on, parrying Darla's blows with martial arts precision, while Phoebe and Xander herded the others out.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
The four ran as quickly as they could through the woods, Willow and Xander half dragging, half carrying Jesse as they followed Phoebe.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Buffy got in another effective blow and Darla hit the ground painfully. "You know, I just wanted to start over," she said peevishly, planting one foot on Darla's chest. "Be like everybody else. Have some friends…" she would have added something about getting a dog, but she did have Kit, "...but no. You had to come here. You couldn't go suck on some other town."
"Who are you?" Darla glared up at her, fury in her eyes.
"Don't you know?"
But before Buffy could go on, a pair of hands suddenly grabbed her by the throat and lifted her bodily from the ground.
"I don't care," Luke said slowly.
She hadn't sensed him behind her. As Luke stepped from the shadows, his enormous bulk made her seem tiny and insignificant, and Buffy realized the odds were now dangerously against her. Luke tossed her into the air with no effort at all, hurling her a good fifteen feet. She landed badly and hit the wall with her face.
Luke turned on Darla, who was struggling to get up. "You were supposed to be bringing an offering for the Master," he berated her. "We're almost at Harvest, and you dally with this child?"
"We had someone." Frightened now, Darla tried to defend herself. "But she came and . . . she killed Thomas . . . Luke, she's strong."
Luke fixed her with a contemptuous stare. "You go. I'll see if I can handle the little girl."
Buffy was trying to lift herself off the floor when Luke closed in and grabbed her. He'd counted on her being stunned, but she was ready for him this time. She knocked his arms away, then kicked him smartly in the face. It sent him back just a little, but he recovered himself almost instantly, landing a solid punch to her jaw.
"You are strong," Luke muttered. He slammed her back to the ground and gave a throaty laugh. "I'm stronger."
But Buffy had no intention of giving up. Wrestling away from him at last, she got to her feet and circled slowly around the tomb, keeping it safely between her and Luke.
"You're wasting my time," Luke said calmly.
"Hey," Buffy retorted, "I had other plans, too, okay?"
Luke shoved at the lid of the tomb. As the heavy stone slab flew straight at her, Buffy leaped over it and jumped on top. With one swift movement, she flipped over and planted both feet solidly on Luke's chest.
The momentum caused both of them to fall, but Buffy managed to get up first, pulling out her stake and driving it toward his chest. Luke's hand shot out and grabbed it just before it made contact.
"You think you can stop me?" Luke's face was twisted with rage. "Stop us?"
He squeezed his fist. The stake splintered like a matchstick in his powerful grip and he punched Buffy violently, knocking her backward.
"You have no idea what you're dealing with," he snarled.
Victorious now, he stood over her. His voice lowered, and he began to intone the sacred text.
"And like a plague of boils, the race of man covered the earth. But on the third day of the newest light will come the Harvest . . ."
Buffy hovered on the very edge of consciousness. Her head spun in slow motion as she was forced into a premonition.
Giles stood in his library, poring over his ancient books with growing consternation. He was staring down at one page in particular—an old engraving which depicted a cruel and vicious massacre . . .
The people in the engraving writhed about in their own blood, and in the very center of them all stood a creature bearing a three-pointed star upon his forehead, feeding off a woman . . .
She then saw the crumbling ruins of an old church; she could sense an awesome danger emanating from a figure bathed in darkness.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Phoebe, Willow, Xander and Jesse hurried through the forest.
"We'll get the police," Willow gasped. "It's just a few blocks up—" Her voice broke off. They stopped and stared, expressions of utter despair creeping over the teen's faces.
"Why couldn't I have an active power," Phoebe muttered to herself.
Three vampires stood waiting for them. As they backed off they suddenly realized that Darla was right behind them . . .
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Buffy blinked her eyes as the premonition ended. She got unsteadily to her feet, all the while keeping her wary gaze on Luke.
". . . When the blood of men will flow as wine . . ." Luke went on. ". . . When the Master will walk among them once more. The world will belong to the Old Ones and hell itself will come to town."
Buffy tried to move sideways, to get away from him—but he struck her with savage force. Helplessly she flew backward and landed inside the tomb. She landed hard upon her back, all the wind knocked out of her. She turned her head slowly to the side and saw the withered, decaying corpse of the tomb's owner.
She could tell she was badly hurt. She couldn't see Luke anymore, couldn't see anything but the damp, moldy walls of the tomb, though she strained her eyes desperately through the darkness. He could be anywhere, she realized. Anywhere . . .
Slowly, achingly, she lifted her head. She was really frightened now—more frightened than she'd ever been in her life. Very cautiously she peered over one side of the tomb.
Nothing.
Only silence.
With her heart wildly hammering, Buffy tried to look over the opposite edge.
Luke jumped out of nowhere, roaring triumphantly, filling her vision, filling the room, throwing himself into the crypt on top of her.
She tried frantically to fight him off, but he pinned her with no effort at all. And then he simply stared down at her, contemplating her with gleeful animal hunger.
His teeth dripped a thick string of spittle. She could feel it sliding over her cheek.
"Amen," Luke grinned.
And then he bore down on her.