T-X Buffy (On Hiatus)

by Brenna's Urbangirl Projects

On that fateful Halloween night. Buffy is talked into wearing a different costume. When the spell is ended, Buffy finds out she is no longer human, but a Terminator.

3. Chapter 3: The Dark Age

Chapter 3: The Dark Age

November 13, 1997 – Thursday

Sunnydale High School

Philip Henry's heart raced with a sense of urgency as he hastened his steps, his gaze fixed on the sign that proudly proclaimed Sunnydale High. Determination etched across his face, he had exhausted all other leads, and now this place held the answers he sought. He had to find him, to warn him, to enlist his aid in this perilous endeavor.

As he neared the school grounds, his eyes caught sight of a custodian, diligently attending to his duties of emptying bins. A glimmer of hope ignited within Philip as he approached the custodian, his voice filled with a mix of desperation and determination. "Can I help you?" the custodian inquired; his curiosity piqued by the stranger's urgency.

Philip turned towards him, his gaze searching for any sign of assistance. Perhaps this custodian held the key to his quest. "Rupert Giles. I need to see him," Philip implored, his words imbued with a sense of urgency.

The custodian's expression shifted; a hint of surprise evident in his features. "Mr. Giles... he's our librarian," he responded, his tone tinged with a touch of confusion. "Next building along, first door on the left." The custodian's voice lingered in the air as Philip immediately set off in the indicated direction, his purpose unwavering. A sarcastic farewell trailed after him as the custodian called out, "You're welcome!"

Philip's urgency intensified, fueled by the stories he had heard about Giles, about what he had become. Time seemed to slip through his fingers like grains of sand, and the impending danger loomed over them all. Desperation etched deep lines upon his face as he pushed forward, driven by the knowledge that their lives hung in the balance.

As the school building came into view, Philip's heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and fear. But then, an unexplained foreboding settled upon him, halting his steps. His instincts screamed for caution, for awareness of the lurking danger that surrounded him. He turned, his gaze piercing through the shadows, and his breath caught in his throat.

A shiver ran down Philip's spine as he beheld the figure emerging from the darkness—a woman, or rather a ghastly semblance of one. Her decaying skin and malevolent presence left no doubt that she was no longer among the living. A name tumbled from his lips, a mix of recognition and dread. "Deirdre?"

A twisted smile played upon Deirdre's decaying lips, embodying the sinister power that consumed her being. The realization struck Philip like a lightning bolt—this was not the Deirdre he once knew, but a vessel controlled by something far more malevolent.

Panic surged through Philip's veins as he desperately sought an escape. He raced toward the building's entrance, hope dwindling as he discovered it locked tight. Fear clawed at his chest, his frantic pleas for help echoing through the empty air. "Help! Help! Somebody, please!" His desperate cries filled the void, but they remained unanswered, exacerbating his mounting despair.

In that moment of desperation, a haunting realization settled upon Philip's troubled mind—a sudden doubt that Giles might not be present, that their last hope for salvation might be beyond reach. Agony mingled with his words, transforming them into a desperate prayer. "God, no! Help!" His voice trembled with a mixture of fear, anguish, and a flicker of fading hope, as the darkness encroached, threatening to consume him whole.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Loud, thumping dance music reverberated through the room, drowning out Philip's desperate cries for help. Amidst the chaos, Buffy engaged in a vigorous step-aerobic routine, her movements synchronized with the rhythm that engulfed the space. The irony was not lost on her—her transformation into a machine had rendered such physical exercises redundant. Yet, she found solace in the repetition, a semblance of normalcy amidst the turmoil of her existence. Time stretched before her, unburdened by the need for rest, offering her ample moments for activities she no longer required.

Giles, struggling to maintain his composure, attempted to find respite in a book. His hands instinctively pressed against his ears, a feeble attempt to shield himself from the relentless assault of the music. As he lowered one hand to take a sip of tea, his frustration spilled forth. "Must we have such noise during your calisthenics?" he voiced his exasperation, his words strained and raised in volume to compete with the overpowering sound.

Buffy, caught up in the rhythm and energy of the music, corrected him with a touch of defiance. "It's not noise, it's music," she declared, her voice carrying a mix of determination and rebellion against the constraints of conventional definitions.

Giles, his patience tested by the incessant onslaught, snapped in response. "I know music," he retorted, his voice tinged with irritation. "Music has notes. This... this is noise." His words held a touch of longing for the melodies and harmonies that had become overshadowed by the dissonance surrounding them.

Buffy halted her energetic movements, the rhythmic beat still reverberating in her ears as she shifted her focus to her Watcher. His weariness and frustration were palpable, etched upon his face like lines of a battle-hardened warrior. She couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for her seemingly endless vitality, a constant reminder of the stark contrast between her existence and the limitations of the human world.

"I'm aerobicizing! I must have a beat!" Buffy protested, her voice laced with a mix of determination and a hint of defiance against the confines of her new reality.

Giles, a wearied expression etched upon his face, surrendered to the futility of his protest. "Wonderful," he sighed, his voice tinged with resignation. "You work on your muscle tone while my brain dribbles out of my ears."

Buffy's gaze softened, and she met Giles's tired eyes. "What muscle tone? I'm a machine, Giles," she reminded him, her voice carrying a tinge of melancholy. "I'm doing it because it's part of our normal training routine, something to occupy my time in this endless wakefulness. It's a constant reminder of what I've lost, pretending to sleep when I no longer need the solace of dreams."

Giles sighed, his heart heavy with the weight of his failure to find a way to restore Buffy to her former human self. The passage of time had only deepened the sorrow and frustration within him, leaving him with a lingering sense of helplessness in the face of this profound transformation.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Philip's desperate plea echoed through the air, a cry infused with fear and a desperate longing for salvation. Each word carried a weight of vulnerability, a plea for someone, anyone, to come to his aid.

But before any help could arrive, Deirdre seized him with a merciless grip, her supernatural strength overpowering his feeble resistance. Dread coursed through Philip's veins as her cold hands closed around his throat, cutting off his air supply. The world around him blurred, his vision narrowing to the chilling sight of Deirdre's decaying face, twisted with malevolence.

Fear surged within him, his heart pounding in his chest, as he gasped for precious breath. The physical torment inflicted upon him mirrored the emotional torment of realizing that his pleas for assistance had fallen on deaf ears. In that moment of helplessness, he grappled with the harsh reality that he was alone, facing a gruesome fate at the hands of this monstrous entity.

The tightening grip around his throat intensified, leaving Philip gasping for air, his life force slipping away. The grip of terror tightened around his heart as he desperately fought for survival, his struggle rendered feeble against the superior strength of his assailant. In the depths of his despair, he yearned for a miracle, for someone, anyone, to come to his rescue and save him from this nightmare.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

As the final notes of the music faded away, Buffy's movements slowed, her body coming to a gentle rest. The echoes of the pulsating rhythm still reverberated in her being, a reminder of the energetic release she had sought within the confines of her mechanical existence. She looked towards Giles, a mix of weariness and determination reflected in her eyes.

Giles, his tense shoulders relaxing, let out a deep sigh, a visible weight lifting from his weary frame. The silence that followed felt profound, a respite from the cacophony that had enveloped them moments ago. It was in this hushed moment that Giles's words carried a sense of solace, a fleeting moment of calm amidst the tumultuous storm that often defined their lives.

"Very good," Giles offered, his voice infused with a blend of approval and appreciation. "And the rest is silence."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Deirdre's grip on Philip's lifeless form released, and his limp body fell to the ground, discarded like a broken doll. The silence of the aftermath hung heavy in the air, a chilling reminder of the life that had been extinguished in a moment of brutality.

Yet, amidst the stillness, a strange and unsettling transformation took place. Deirdre, too, succumbed to the weight of her own existence, collapsing beside her victim. Her decaying form disintegrated, dissolving into a viscous, otherworldly green goo. The grotesque substance pooled around Philip's lifeless body, its eerie luminescence casting an otherworldly glow in the dimness.

November 14, 1997 – Friday

Sunnydale High School

Buffy pondered her response with utmost care, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. "I'm on a beach, but not an American beach, one of those island beaches where the water's way too blue. It's just before sunset, I'm lying on my towel and Kate Winslet is massaging my feet."

A surge of astonishment illuminated Dawn's features, her eyes widening in disbelief. "A woman?" she exclaimed; her voice tinged with surprise. "I thought I was the sole member of our family who was bisexual."

Caught off guard by Dawn's statement, Buffy's confusion manifested in a quizzical arch of her eyebrow. She regarded her sister with a mix of curiosity and bewilderment, desperately seeking to comprehend the unexpected turn of events.

Willow, ever perceptive, interjected with a gentle explanation. "You said Kate Winslet would be massaging your feet."

Ever since the transformation that had rendered Buffy a machine, a wave of clarity washed over her. Perfect recall had become her constant companion, capturing every visual, auditory, and experiential detail with meticulous precision. She summoned this extraordinary ability to replay the events of the past minute, immersing herself in the recollection that had eluded her initially. The realization dawned upon her like a bolt of lightning: her sister and Willow had indeed spoken the truth. A surge of revelation coursed through her being, accompanied by a mix of astonishment and acceptance. "Oh my god," she exclaimed, her voice tinged with a blend of awe and self-discovery, "I am a gay robot."

Dawn, quick to respond with light-hearted amusement, chuckled and welcomed Buffy with open arms to their shared identity. "Welcome to the club," she quipped, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes, while Buffy responded with an affectionate eye-roll.

As Willow's words spilled forth without restraint, she found herself momentarily caught off guard, a realization striking her like a jolt of electricity. "You're a hot gay robot," she blurted out, her voice betraying a mix of confusion and concern. A flicker of apprehension danced in her eyes as she recognized the potential implications of her slip. "I believe something may be amiss, Buffy," she confessed, her voice laced with worry and a touch of self-doubt.

Buffy and Dawn exchanged quizzical glances, their brows furrowed in unison, their shared confusion mirroring one another. "Why?" they wondered.

As Willow delved into her explanation, her voice carried a blend of earnestness and concern, punctuated by a touch of vulnerability. "There are a couple of factors at play here," she began, her words laden with emotional weight. "Firstly, neither of us experienced attraction towards girls prior to these events. And secondly, for you, Buffy, it could be the influence of that program you activated—the one that pertains to sexuality. As for me, it could be the remnants of John's memories."

Dawn, whose experiences as a lesbian granted her unique insight, interjected with an air of certainty. "As someone who genuinely identifies as a lesbian," she asserted, her voice brimming with conviction, "I can assure you that sexual orientation doesn't work that way."

/Dawn is right, Buffy. The Sexuality program did not determine who we like. We determined who we like. The program only awakened the possibility. Before the program was activated, we didn't have the possibility of being sexually attracted to anyone.

Buffy nodded, absorbing Cameron's words with a mixture of comprehension and contemplation. Over the course of the past two weeks, she had grown accustomed to the ever-present heads-up display, gradually adapting to its constant presence. However, what she struggled to reconcile was the realization that she now shared her body with another living being, the machine consciousness known as Cameron. The concept both intrigued and unsettled her, stirring a slight sense of unease within her core.

Buffy, her voice laced with a mix of vulnerability and self-discovery, reached out to her sister and closest friend, determined to clarify their understanding. "The sexuality program didn't dictate who I would be attracted to," she revealed, her tone filled with emotional resonance. "It simply awakened the dormant possibility within me. Prior to its activation, I had no capacity for experiencing sexual attraction."

Xander, drawn by their intense conversation, joined their group, his curiosity piqued. "What's all this talk about?" he inquired, his voice carrying a hint of confusion.

"Sexuality," Buffy responded, her gaze meeting Willow's as a subtle blush graced her friend's cheeks. The weight of the topic settled upon them, intermingling with a sense of intimacy and trepidation.

Dawn, eager to provide clarification, added her insights to the conversation. "More precisely, we're discussing sexual orientation," she interjected, her words carrying a sense of compassion and understanding.

Caught up in the intrigue, Xander's curiosity grew. "And what led to this fascinating discussion?" he probed; his voice tinged with anticipation.

Buffy shared a knowing smile, her eyes reflecting the remnants of their recent experience. "It all started with a spontaneous game of Anywhere but Here," she disclosed, her tone hinting at the profound journey of self-discovery and revelation that had unfolded during their playful diversion.

Xander's expression brightened with nostalgia as he recalled his go-to answer. "Ah," he acknowledged, a fond smile playing upon his lips. "Amy Yip at the water slide park."

Willow, amused by his predictable choice, couldn't help but tease him. "You never come up with anything new," she playfully observed, her voice laced with gentle amusement.

Unfazed by the jest, Xander defended his unwavering preferences with a touch of pride. "I'm just not fickle like you three, okay?" he retorted, his words carrying a hint of steadfastness. "I remain constant in my affections. Amy Yip. At the water slide park."

As the conversation unfolded, Willow's gaze shifted to where Giles engaged in conversation with a student, prompting her to ponder the enigmatic watcher's past. "Do you think Giles ever played Anywhere but Here when he was in school?" she wondered aloud; her voice tinged with curiosity.

Xander's response reflected his understanding of Giles' character. "Giles lived and breathed for school," he mused, a touch of empathy coloring his words. "He's still bitter that there were only twelve grades."

Dawn, chiming in with her own perspective, nodded in agreement. "He probably sat in math class, yearning for more," she quipped, a playful smile adorning her face. "Thinking, 'There should be more math. This could be mathier.'"

Willow persisted, her voice carrying a hint of empathy and curiosity. "Come on, don't you think he ever felt restless as a child?"

Buffy, quick to seize the opportunity for a lighthearted jab, retorted with a playful tone. "Are you kidding? His diapers were made of tweed," she quipped, a mischievous sparkle dancing in her eyes. Her gaze shifted towards Giles, who had wrapped up his conversation and was now within earshot. "Hi, Giles!" she called out, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

Giles, momentarily caught off guard, took a moment to recognize the familiar voice that beckoned him. As realization dawned upon him, he made his way over, his expression blending a mix of surprise and delight. "Ah, there you are," he greeted them, his voice resonating with a touch of parental fondness.

Dawn, ever perceptive, cast a knowing glance at Giles, her eyes drawn to his attire. "Is that tweed?" she inquired; her tone laced with playful recognition.

"What?" Giles replied, momentarily confused at Dawn's question. "Oh, yes," he confirmed, a touch of self-awareness coloring his response. "Now, look, tonight is very important…"

With a playful tone, Buffy prodded Giles for details. "So, what's on the agenda tonight that's so important?" she inquired, her voice infused with a blend of skepticism and curiosity. "An uprising? A prophesized ritual? A preordained deathfest?" Her words carried a mixture of humor and anticipation, highlighting the thrilling nature of their chosen path as defenders against the forces of darkness.

Xander's voice carried a touch of nostalgia as he reflected on their familiar routines. "Ah, the old standards," he mused, a hint of wistfulness coloring his words.

Giles, the ever-reliable source of information, provided a crucial update. "A medical transport is scheduled to deliver the monthly supply of blood to the hospital," he revealed, his tone imbued with a sense of urgency.

Dawn, quick to grasp the implication, recognized the gravity of the situation. "Meals on wheels for vampires," she remarked, her voice tinged with a mixture of understanding and concern.

"Hopefully not," Giles replied as he turned to Buffy, his demeanor growing serious. "Buffy, you and I will meet at the hospital promptly at eight," he instructed, a sense of determination in his voice. "I'll ensure we have the necessary weapons."

Buffy, ever self-reliant, reminded Giles of her unique capabilities. "Just bring enough for yourself," she interjected, her voice confident yet tinged with a touch of playfulness.

Momentarily puzzled, Giles paused before recalling Buffy's built-in weaponry. He nodded in acknowledgment, his stern gaze meeting hers. "Right," he affirmed, his expression conveying both approval and a sense of caution. "Don't be late."

Buffy couldn't help but roll her eyes at Giles' reminder, her gesture conveying a mix of amusement and exasperation. "A physical impossibility," she playfully pointed out, her voice carrying a hint of jest.

Giles, acknowledging his oversight, nodded in agreement. "Right," he conceded, a touch of sheepishness tingeing his tone.

Their conversation was momentarily interrupted by the arrival of Jenny Calendar, the school's computer teacher. She exuded a cheery demeanor as she approached them, her presence a comforting reminder of her dual role as a techno-pagan, well-versed in the supernatural threats that plagued Sunnydale. Jenny's alliance with them had proven invaluable on numerous occasions, leading to a complex dynamic with Giles that occasionally extended beyond friendship.

/We must inform Angel about our changed sexual orientation soon.

Buffy, her words barely audible, responded to Cameron's remark in a low mutter, ensuring their conversation remained private. "I know," she murmured, her voice tinged with a blend of resignation and unspoken turmoil, a testament to the internal struggles she grappled with.

Giles greeted Jenny with a warm yet somewhat restrained politeness, his words carrying a hint of underlying emotions. "Good morning, Miss... Jenny," he responded, his tone betraying a mix of formality and familiarity.

Willow, unable to contain her inner musings, let out a quiet mutter under her breath, her voice laced with a hint of longing. "Feel the passion," she whispered, her words an echo of her unspoken desires.

Jenny, catching the undertone of Willow's comment, gave her a mild, understanding look. "Willow..." she began, her voice holding a touch of gentle admonishment.

Seizing the opportunity to clarify, Willow offered an exaggerated cough, using it as a cover for her momentary slip. "Just coughing, not talking," she interjected, her words carrying a hint of playful deflection.

Undeterred, Jenny redirected her attention to the matter at hand, addressing the trio collectively. "Willow, Dawn, Buffy," she continued, her tone transitioning to a more business-like cadence. "Are you three still on for tomorrow?"

Xander, joining the conversation with genuine curiosity, sought clarification. "What's happening tomorrow?" he inquired, his voice tinged with eagerness and a hint of longing for adventure.

Jenny offered a sincere explanation, her voice reflecting a genuine desire to support her struggling students. "I'm reviewing computer basics for a couple of students who have fallen behind," she clarified, her words infused with a sense of dedication and concern. "Dawn, Buffy, and Willow have kindly offered to assist me, earning extra credit in the process."

Xander chuckled, finding humor in the situation. "Those poor schlubs, having to come in to school on Saturday," he remarked, his laughter tinged with a touch of sympathy.

Jenny's expression turned stony; her response laced with a hint of sternness. "Is 9 am acceptable for you, Xander?" she inquired, her tone conveying a no-nonsense demeanor.

Buffy, finding amusement in the exchange, directed a playful look at Xander. "I think you've got a bit of schlub on your shoe," she quipped, her voice carrying a mix of teasing and affection.

Curious to understand Buffy's motivation, Xander sought further clarification. "So why are you going to be there?" he asked, his gaze fixed on the elder Summers sister. "I never saw you as the extra credit type, especially in computers."

Buffy's enigmatic response hung in the air, the weight of her words evoking a sense of curiosity and intrigue. Her voice carried a tinge of somberness as she revealed a hidden layer of her new existence. "It's because of what I am now," she whispered, her tone filled with a mix of acceptance and introspection. Her sister and friends exchanged understanding glances, silently acknowledging the complexities of her transformed nature as a Terminator, no longer bound by the constraints of human requirements like sleep. It had become just another way to fill her time, a different aspect of her existence to explore.

Jenny's intervention brought them back to the immediate topic, refocusing their attention. "Cordelia's meeting us there," she interjected, reminding them of the plan for their extra credit session.

Xander, in his typical lighthearted manner, rolled his eyes and injected a touch of humor into the conversation. "Ooh, gang, did you hear that?" he quipped, his voice filled with playful sarcasm. "A bonus day of school plus Cordelia. Throw in a bit of rectal surgery and it's my best day ever!"

Jenny, unperturbed by Xander's jest, shifted her focus to Giles, her voice carrying a hint of affection. "Walk me to class?" she requested, her gaze meeting his with warmth and tenderness.

Giles, his eyes reflecting fondness, readily agreed. "It would be my pleasure," he replied, falling into step beside Jenny, their connection palpable.

As they headed off down the hall, Jenny couldn't help but notice Giles' distinctive coat. A gentle smile graced her lips as she offered a heartfelt compliment. "Nice coat," she remarked.

As Buffy observed the departing couple, a soft smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Aww, look at them," she remarked, her voice carrying a tender affection that mirrored the warmth in her eyes.

Xander, sharing in Buffy's sentiment, couldn't help but chime in. "A twosome of cuteness," he agreed, his voice tinged with a touch of playfulness.

Willow, caught up in the moment, couldn't contain her excitement. "Can't you just imagine them getting together?" she gushed, her voice brimming with hopeful anticipation.

The collective thought sparked within their minds, an unspoken acknowledgment of the romantic potential between Giles and Jenny. Yet, aware of the complexities and uncertainties of their lives, they quickly redirected their thoughts to other matters, attempting to dismiss the fleeting daydream.

Dawn, ever observant, directed a quizzical gaze towards her sister. "I didn't know you were planning to help for extra credit tomorrow," she noted, her raised eyebrow indicating her curiosity.

Buffy, pulling Dawn into a gentle embrace, offered an explanation with a touch of pride. "I'm already well on my way to the honor roll," she shared, her voice carrying a mix of confidence and self-assuredness. "You know, because of what I am now. I don't really need the extra credit. It's more about passing the time since I don't require sleep, food, or drink anymore."

Dawn's affectionate response was filled with a mix of admiration and deep sisterly love. "Oh, Buffy," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion as she wrapped her arms around her sister in a heartfelt hug.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Giles entered the library with a glimmer of contentment, his spirits buoyed after a night of fading disturbing dreams. However, his newfound positivity swiftly dissolved as he laid eyes on the unexpected trio waiting for him. A smartly-dressed woman and two uniformed police officers stood before him, instantly dousing his good mood with a sense of unease.

The woman, exuding an air of authority, directed her attention towards Giles, her voice carrying a firm yet inquisitive tone. "Rupert Giles?" she inquired; her words laced with a professional seriousness.

Giles regarded her cautiously, his gaze fixed upon her with a mixture of wariness and curiosity. "Yes?" he responded; his voice steady but guarded.

To substantiate her identity, the woman promptly flashed a police badge. "Detective Winslow. You're going to have to come with me," she declared, her voice leaving no room for negotiation.

Giles remained on guard, his instinct for caution prevailing. "Why?" he pressed, his tone filled with a mixture of concern and curiosity, his mind racing to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

Detective Winslow, her expression unwavering, provided a grim explanation. "There was a homicide on the campus last night," she disclosed, her words carrying the weight of the situation. "The victim had no identification, but he was carrying a slip of paper with your name and address on him." With a deliberate motion, she held up an evidence bag containing the significant clue.

Giles, his heart pounding, took a step forward to examine the evidence. "My name?" he uttered, his voice a mixture of disbelief and apprehension, his mind reeling as he grappled with the implications of the grim discovery.

The tension in the library heightened as Cordelia barged through the door, her words laced with frustration. "Well, evil just compounds evil, doesn't it?" she grumbled, her voice tinged with annoyance. "First I have an extra computer tutorial on Saturday. Now I have to read some computer book. There are books about computers? Aren't computers supposed to replace books?" she quipped; her confusion evident.

Giles let out a weary sigh, his weariness palpable. Cordelia's discovery of the supernatural and her subsequent involvement had proven helpful in certain situations, but this was not one of them. "I'm a bit busy at the moment," he stated, his voice carrying a hint of resignation.

Cordelia's attention shifted to the presence of the police officers, a smile crossing her face as she thought they could assist her with a parking ticket. "Oh, great! You can help me out with my ticket. It's totally bogus. It was a one-way street; I was only going one way..."

Cordelia's optimism faded as Detective Winslow's stony expression revealed her true role. "I'm with Homicide. I don't do parking tickets," Winslow retorted, her voice firm and uncompromising.

Giles, his patience waning, snapped at Cordelia, his voice laced with a touch of frustration. "Cordelia!" he reprimanded, his tone conveying a sense of urgency and irritation.

Caught off guard, Cordelia turned to face him, her expression one of mild offense. "What? Why does everyone always yell my name? I'm not deaf! And I can take a hint!" she protested. "What's the hint?"

Giles, his patience tested, responded to Cordelia's retort with a touch of testiness. "That you should come back later," he curtly informed her, his voice carrying a hint of exasperation.

Cordelia, undeterred, countered with a sassy remark. "Yeah, when you've visited decaf land," she quipped, her words dripping with sarcasm. With that, she exited the library in the same manner she had entered, leaving the tense atmosphere behind.

Giles, now able to refocus his attention, turned his gaze back to the waiting police officers, his tone more composed. "Where do you want me to go?" he inquired, his voice steady but laced with a touch of apprehension. The emotional weight of the situation settled upon him, his mind racing with the possibilities of what awaited him beyond the library's doors.

Sunnydale Police Station

As Giles and Detective Winslow made their way to the designated location, a sense of foreboding settled upon them. Their footsteps echoed in the somber atmosphere of the morgue, intensifying the gravity of the situation. Side by side, they positioned themselves on either side of one of the slots, their anticipation mingled with trepidation.

The attendant, fulfilling their duty with a mixture of professionalism and sensitivity, carefully pulled out the tray, the metallic screech filling the air. Giles, fully immersed in the weight of the moment, offered only a brief acknowledgment, his focus directed solely on the tray before him. The realm of morgue humor remained distant and irrelevant amidst the emotional gravity of the situation.

Sensing the weight of the moment, the attendant's tone softened as they addressed Giles. "You have your breakfast?" he asked, his voice filled with a touch of concern, an acknowledgment of the difficult circumstances.

Giles, his attention firmly fixated on the tray, answered honestly. "Er, no," he replied, his voice reflecting his singular focus on the task at hand. The weight of the impending revelation eclipsed any thought of mundane matters like breakfast.

The attendant's response carried a hint of solemnity. "That's probably just as well," he acknowledged, his words a tacit acknowledgment of the emotional toll that lay ahead. With a gentle yet deliberate motion, he pulled back the sheet, revealing the lifeless form of Philip.

Detective Winslow, seeking information in her investigation, turned to Giles with a mixture of curiosity and compassion. "Do you know him?" she inquired, her voice carrying a sense of genuine interest.

Giles, his voice tinged with a mixture of sorrow and nostalgia, confirmed their connection. "Yes," he affirmed; his words laden with a bittersweet tone. "I mean, I did. His name's Philip Henry. He was a friend in London. I haven't seen him in over twenty years."

Winslow, seeking insight into the unfolding mystery, continued her line of questioning. "Can you think of any reason why he might've wanted to contact you?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of empathy and determination, her gaze fixed on.

Giles responded quietly, his voice carrying a tinge of sadness and contemplation. "No," he whispered; the weight of his emotions evident in his subdued tone. Yet, as his gaze drifted downward to the tattoo adorning Philip's arm, a flicker of recognition passed through his eyes, hidden beneath a veil of secrecy.

Detective Winslow, sensing Giles' hesitation, pressed on with determination. "Do you know what this is?" she inquired, her voice insistent, her gaze fixed on the mysterious tattoo.

Giles met her probing gaze, a mixture of emotions playing across his features. "No," he responded; his voice tinged with a hint of deceit.

Summers Home

Buffy sat at the dining room table, her mother by her side. Though she had no real need to eat, she understood the importance of maintaining appearances and blending in with her human facade for her mother's sake. Consuming food became a routine she upheld, even though her senses were deprived of the joys of taste.

The sound of her mother's voice pierced the air, calling for Dawn to join them for dinner. "Dawn!" Joyce's voice echoed through the house, carrying a mixture of exasperation and love.

In response, Dawn's voice resounded from a distance, carried with youthful energy. "Coming!" she called back, her footsteps audibly quick as she hurried phased through the wall that separated the dining room from the hall and stairwell.

Joyce sighed; her weariness tinged with a newfound acceptance. "Dawn, how many times do I have to tell you not to do that?" she lamented, her voice a blend of frustration and understanding. Since her conversation with Giles, Joyce had slowly grown more comfortable with the extraordinary realities that surrounded her daughters. She had come to accept Buffy's role as the Slayer and had learned to embrace the unique gifts that had manifested in Dawn. The revelation had sparked a transformation within her, allowing her to see the world through a different lens.

Dawn, rolling her eyes in a typical display of teenage resignation, cast a glance at Buffy. "I know, I know," she conceded, her tone reflecting a mixture of resignation and familiarity. "I only do it at home, though," she clarified, a touch of defensiveness slipping into her voice.

Buffy let out a heartfelt sigh, her mind drifting back to the memories of Dawn's early attempts at controlling her newfound powers. She vividly remembered the moment when Dawn first phased through her, a mere sensation on the periphery of her sensors, devoid of any tangible feeling. The realization prompted Buffy to conduct a test, having Dawn phase through Willow, who had experienced a tingling sensation in response. The complexity of their shared abilities, and the need to keep them concealed, weighed heavily on Buffy's mind.

Joyce, ever the caring and protective mother, interjected with a note of concern. "Dawn, that's not the point, and you know it," she stressed, her voice tinged with a mixture of worry and caution. "What would happen if someone saw you? The risks are too great."

Buffy, fully aligned with her mother's concerns, added her own perspective to the conversation. "Mom has a point, Dawn," she affirmed, her voice carrying a tone of gentle authority. "We can't afford to reveal our abilities to the outside world. If someone were to discover that we possess extraordinary powers beyond what is considered normal, they might perceive us as a threat and try to take us away from Mom."

Dawn, recognizing the gravity of the situation, began to speak but then let out a resigned sigh. "I'll be more careful, I promise," she conceded, her words filled with a mix of determination and understanding. "I only practice in case someday I need to use it to help you, Buffy," she added, her voice carrying a touch of devotion and loyalty.

In the midst of the conversation, an unexpected voice chimed in within the depths of Buffy's mind. Cameron, her internal presence, offered her perspective, injecting a new layer of consideration into the discussion.

/Buffy, Dawn makes a good point. She has this ability that she could use to help you. Why should she not be allowed to use it, at least in that regards? Maybe she can be trained by Giles in the use of her power? Possibly even learn self-defense.

Buffy's gaze shifted, fixating on her sister as she pondered the weight of Cameron's words. Both Dawn and Cameron had raised valid points, resonating deep within her. Dawn's abilities held potential usefulness, and if she acquired the necessary skills to defend herself, it could open doors for her beyond mere research, enabling her to actively participate in the fight against darkness. The thought stirred a mixture of pride and concern within Buffy.

Turning to her mother, Buffy mustered the courage to voice her proposal, her voice filled with a newfound determination. "Mom, I've been thinking," she began, her eyes meeting her mother's gaze with a mixture of earnestness and hope. "After school, what if Dawn joins me for my training regimen? It might be beneficial for her to learn self-defense, and with Giles overseeing her training, we can ensure a secure environment for her to practice and explore her powers."

Dawn, caught off guard by her sister's unexpected suggestion, looked at Buffy with a mix of surprise and delight. A smile slowly spread across her face, mirroring the flicker of newfound possibilities that danced within her heart.

Joyce took a moment to reflect, her gaze shifting between her daughters, before nodding in agreement. "That actually sounds like a good idea, Buffy," she admitted, her voice carrying a blend of pragmatism and concern. Her eyes rested on Dawn, her love and protective instincts evident. "But," she continued, her voice firm yet loving, "I don't want you going out with Buffy until she believes you're truly ready."

Dawn, understanding her mother's worry, nodded in acquiescence. "Okay, Mom," she agreed, her voice filled with respect and a desire to prove herself.

Returning her focus to Buffy, Joyce addressed her elder daughter with a mixture of apprehension and understanding. "But also, because the world beyond Sunnydale is not exactly any safer," she stated, her voice tinged with a touch of worry. She acknowledged the harsh realities that lurked beyond their town's boundaries. "You can tell Mr. Giles that he has my permission to train Dawn."

Buffy, grateful for her mother's understanding and support, responded with gratitude. "Okay," she replied, her voice carrying a sense of relief. "Speaking of which, I should be getting over to the hospital. I'm supposed to meet him there."

Joyce's concern for her daughter's well-being remained evident as she offered a heartfelt plea. "Be safe," she urged, her voice filled with love and worry, emphasizing the dangers that awaited Buffy in her ongoing battles against the forces of darkness.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Dawn, expressing her gratitude in Buffy's absence, turned to her mother with sincerity. "Thanks, Mom," she whispered, her voice carrying a mix of appreciation and reassurance.

Joyce's words held a firm resolve, her voice conveying a mix of protectiveness and concern. "I stand by what I said," she reiterated, her tone unwavering. "You do not go out with her until she believes you are truly ready."

Dawn's heart sank, a wave of conflicted emotions washing over her. Inwardly, she grimaced, knowing that her mother remained unaware of the depths of her involvement in Buffy's world. Memories flooded her mind, vivid recollections of the night she had followed Buffy, the night she had witnessed the harrowing encounter with the Master. The images played before her eyes—the Master leaving Buffy for dead, her sister lying face down in a chilling pool of water. The subsequent arrival of Xander and Angel, desperately performing CPR to revive her fallen sister.

The weight of those moments lingered within Dawn, a secret burden that she carried. The world she had glimpsed that night, the dangers her sister faced, and the sacrifices made in the name of protecting others had left an indelible mark on her soul. Yet, for the time being, she remained silent, cognizant of her mother's desire to shield her from the harsh realities that unfolded in Buffy's life.

Sunnydale Hospital

Buffy stood in the shadows outside the hospital, her solitary figure blending into the darkness. Frustration simmered within her as she impatiently waited, her complaints escaping her lips. "Don't be late," she grumbled, her voice laced with annoyance. Restlessly, she checked her internal chronometer time and again, feeling the weight of every passing minute. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Cameron's voice broke the silence within her mind.

/I checked your counterpart's memory files. He's not coming.

Buffy let out a breath, a blend of relief and disappointment intertwining within her. "Thanks, Cameron," she replied, her voice tinged with gratitude.

/You're welcome, Buffy. Buffy, while we are waiting. Can I ask…Do you have a problem with me?

Buffy's brows furrowed in confusion; her curiosity piqued. "Why do you say that?" she wondered, her voice reflecting her genuine perplexity.

/I have gotten the sensation that you…

Interrupting her, Buffy let out a weary sigh, her voice laced with a mix of reassurance and weariness. "Cameron, it's just taking me time to get used to you being in my head. It has nothing to do with you. It's about me," she explained, her tone carrying a touch of vulnerability. The weight of the situation, the fact she now shared her body with another entity, had left her grappling with a whirlwind of emotions.

/I wish I could say I understand. I'm sorry if I am causing you any discomfort.

Buffy was about to reply when the illumination of headlights washed across her face, capturing her attention. Her gaze fixated on the approaching scene, witnessing the arrival of a medical transport van at the loading dock, and two men in scrubs stepping out of the building. The anticipation within her grew, temporarily setting aside the internal complexities as the task at hand demanded her focus.

The cheerful greeting of the delivery driver brought a flicker of relief to the tense atmosphere. As he lifted the box of blood bags from the back of the transport, his friendly demeanor served as a temporary respite from the weight of their mission. "Hey, fellas," he greeted them cheerily, his words carrying a note of casual familiarity.

Buffy felt a wave of ease wash over her, the tension in her shoulders gradually releasing. "All's well that ends with cute ER doctors, I always say," she remarked, her voice holding a hint of humor and underlying gratitude for the presence of those who would benefit from the delivery.

/Is it normal for doctors to accept deliveries?

Buffy paused, reflecting on Cameron's observation, before shaking her head in response. "No," she affirmed; her voice laced with a touch of concern. The deviation from standard protocol raised a red flag, heightening their awareness of the peculiar situation at hand.

As the delivery man bid his farewell and departed, leaving the box with the two doctors, a sense of unease settled in the air.

/There's another one.

The anticipation heightened as Buffy's gaze fixed on the approaching car, its headlights piercing the darkness. Swiftly, the vehicle drove over to where the two vampire doctors stood, accompanied by their vampire driver. The eerie revelation sent a shiver down Buffy's spine.

Her heart pounding, Buffy braced herself, prepared for the imminent confrontation. The scene unfolded before her eyes with alarming speed. One of the vampire doctors seized a blood bag, tearing it open with his teeth, only to be met with a reprimand from the driver. "Hey!" the driver snapped. "No sampling the product." The exchange between them revealed the internal tensions and conflicting desires within the vampire trio.

In that critical moment, Buffy's instincts propelled her into action. Breaking cover, she surged forward, her arm morphing into a formidable flame thrower. With an impressive display of strength and agility, she delivered swift and decisive kicks, toppling each vampire to the ground. Yet, despite her efforts, the first vampire swiftly rose to his feet, undeterred. With a snarl, he seized Buffy, lifting her effortlessly and hurling her onto the hood of a nearby car. The impact jarred her, but her resilience propelled her back onto her feet, her gaze scanning the chaotic scene.

To her astonishment, a fourth figure emerged, charging forward with a sense of urgency. Buffy's enhanced vision, a product of her machine nature, allowed her to instantly recognize him. "Angel!" she exclaimed, relief mingling with surprise in her voice.

"Buffy, look out!" Angel's warning filled the air as he swiftly dove past her, aiming to confront the vampire driver head-on.

The vampire doctor lunged at Buffy, intending to slam his shoulder into her, only to be met with an unexpected resistance. Startled, he stumbled back, his eyes widening in disbelief as Buffy executed a chillingly contorted twist of her head, her body following suit to face him directly. A surge of fear washed over him as she raised her transformed arm, unleashing a torrent of flames from her transformed limb. The vampire doctor ignited, consumed by the searing fire, until all that remained was a cascade of ash drifting through the air.

Meanwhile, the other doctor charged at Angel, seeking to engage him in combat. Quick to seize the advantage, Angel utilized the vampire doctor's momentum, deftly redirecting his assault and hurtling him toward Buffy. "Incoming!" Angel's warning echoed through the chaos, alerting Buffy to the impending threat.

Buffy swiftly reoriented herself, training her flame thrower on the remaining vampire doctor. Without hesitation, she unleashed another fiery blast, engulfing the vampire in flames. In a final act of defeat, he disintegrated into dust, vanquished by the flames that consumed him.

Realizing the futility of his position, the driver, now outnumbered and outmatched, swiftly retreated. He leapt back into the car and sped away, his departure a tacit acknowledgement of his defeat.

Angel, momentarily caught off guard by the astonishing display of Buffy's power, watched in awe as her flame thrower morphed seamlessly back into her arm and hand. He couldn't help but voice his surprise, his words laced with a mixture of wonder and curiosity. "How?" he questioned; his voice filled with genuine astonishment.

Buffy sighed, a mixture of weariness and determination evident in her expression. She gestured toward the case containing the blood bags, silently urging them to complete their mission before delving into deeper conversation. "Let's drop that off so we can find a place to talk," she suggested, her voice carrying a note of urgency.

Acting swiftly, they swiftly deposited the delivery of blood, concocting a plausible excuse to account for their possession of the supplies.

Angel's Apartment

Buffy attempted to unravel the complex events of that fateful Halloween night, her voice carrying a mixture of nostalgia and trepidation. "On Halloween, everything changed for me," she began, her words laced with a tinge of disbelief. "Willow convinced me to do a theme together. We chose matching costumes. She dressed up as a character from a TV show, a child destined to save humanity from a future ruled by machines. And I went as a robot from the same show."

Her voice quivered slightly as she continued to recount the magical transformation that occurred. "A spell cast by a sorcerer altered everyone into their costumes. By the end of the night, Giles managed to break the spell, and most people reverted back to their original forms. However, some of us... didn't. My sister, for instance, went as a ghost, and she gained the ability to walk through walls. As for Willow and Xander, they retained the memories of their costume personas. But as for me, I didn't return to being fully human."

The weight of her revelation hung in the air as Angel grappled with the startling truth. His voice was filled with a mix of curiosity and concern as he posed his questions. "So, you're some kind of robot now?" he inquired, his tone reflecting a blend of wonder and unease.

Buffy reluctantly confirmed his assumption, her voice carrying a touch of resignation. "More or less," she confessed, her inner turmoil evident.

Angel's focus shifted to the matter of weaponry; his tone laced with urgency. "And you possess weapons that you can use for slaying?" he pressed, his concern for her safety palpable.

Buffy's response was tinged with caution as she acknowledged the reality of her capabilities. "Yes," she admitted, her voice carrying a mix of solemnity and vulnerability. "You witnessed one of them. I have many more, although most of them are not particularly suited for slaying."

/Tell him.

However, Buffy's response was laden with a hint of reluctance as she muttered Cameron's name, grappling with the complexities that her existence now entailed.

"Who's Cameron?" Angel inquired; his curiosity piqued by the unfamiliar name.

Buffy let out a weary sigh, momentarily forgetting that vampires possessed enhanced hearing compared to humans. Realizing her oversight, she composed herself and offered an explanation. "Cameron... she's the ghost in the machine," Buffy clarified, her words carrying a mixture of resignation and wonder.

Confusion flickered across Angel's face as he struggled to grasp the reference. "The what?" he asked, failing to comprehend the pop culture allusion.

Buffy realized the need for a simpler explanation, detangling the intricate web of her own existence. "I'm not alone in here," she confessed, tapping her temple gently. "When I reverted back, Cameron didn't disappear. As a machine now, her personality got stored and eventually started communicating with me."

Angel's understanding began to dawn, though he still grappled with the magnitude of the revelation. "Oh," he responded, his voice filled with a mixture of realization and acceptance.

/Tell him.

Buffy asserted her need for autonomy in revealing the information. "I will, Cameron. But let me do it in my own way," she assured, her words directed at Cameron. The vampire watched her intently, a raised eyebrow signifying his curiosity and readiness to listen. "Sorry," she added, acknowledging the impact of Cameron's impatience on their conversation. "She's getting a little impatient."

Buffy took a deep breath, her gaze fixed on Angel as she prepared to share a profound revelation. "Angel, there's something I need to tell you," she began, her voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and determination. "It's about me, and it's about your curse." The weight of her words hung in the air, signaling the gravity of the forthcoming discussion that would shape their intertwined destinies.

"What about you and my curse?" Angel's voice trembled with a mix of apprehension and curiosity, his gaze locked on Buffy, awaiting her response.

Buffy took a moment to gather her thoughts, her heart pounding as she prepared to share a truth that could shatter their fragile connection. "First, the curse," she began, her voice carrying a weight of sorrow and empathy. "There's a clause within it, Angel. If you were to experience one moment of true happiness, your soul would be stripped away. I learned this from the memories I received, glimpses of a future Buffy who had a moment of intimacy with your counterpart and witnessed him losing his soul."

The gravity of her revelation settled heavily upon him; Angel's shock evident in his widened eyes. "Oh, thank you for telling me," he murmured, her voice filled with gratitude.

Their conversation took an unexpected turn as Buffy mustered the courage to share another truth. "That being said, we don't have to worry about me causing your moment of true happiness. While my love for you will always remain, I've realized that my romantic affections have shifted. Since becoming a machine, I discovered that I no longer harbor romantic feelings towards boys, but towards girls."

Angel absorbed her words, a blend of comprehension and acceptance washing over him. "I see," he replied, his voice carrying a touch of resignation. The realization of their altered dynamic weighed heavily on his heart, but he understood the need for growth and acceptance. "Perhaps it's time for both of us to consider moving forward," he suggested, his voice laced with a bittersweet mixture of longing and acceptance.

Buffy's response was swift, her voice filled with warmth and reassurance. "You don't have to do that," she countered gently, her gaze softening. "We can still work together, Angel. Our bond goes beyond romantic love. We can continue to fight alongside each other, supporting one another as we face the darkness."

The weight of their changing relationship hung heavily in the air, and Angel's voice trembled with a mix of sadness and resignation. "With what you've become, you no longer need me," he confessed, his words laden with a sense of longing.

Buffy's heart ached as she heard his words, realizing the depth of his sacrifice. "If that's what you feel you have to do," she responded softly, her voice filled with understanding and empathy. "I understand, Angel. But please know that if you ever need help, if you're in danger or facing a threat, you can still reach out to me."

A flicker of gratitude danced in Angel's eyes as he affirmed his intentions. "I'll let you know when I'm leaving," he promised, his voice carrying a mixture of determination and melancholy. "And I'll call once I find a place to settle, I'll let you know how to reach me, just in case you find yourself in need as well."

Buffy nodded, her voice tinged with a touch of gratitude and sadness. "Thank you," she murmured, appreciating his willingness to provide support even as their paths diverged. "I'm going to go check on Giles now. He was supposed to meet me tonight, but he didn't show up."

Their farewell hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the challenges they faced and the uncertain future that lay before them. Buffy turned, her heart heavy with the weight of their parting, as she embarked on her search for answers, leaving behind a bond that had once been forged in love and shared destiny.

Streets of Sunnydale

Buffy's footsteps echoed softly on the pavement as she distanced herself from Angel's apartment, the weight of their farewell still lingering in her heart. She had tried her best to let him down gently, but uncertainty gnawed at her, leaving a lingering sense of unease. The silence surrounding her was abruptly broken by Cameron's remorseful voice, a gentle reminder of the complex emotions entwined within their shared existence.

/I'm sorry, Buffy, that you had to do that.

Her voice laced with a mix of compassion and understanding, Buffy responded, her words tinged with a sense of melancholy. "Thank you, Cameron," she whispered, her voice carrying a hint of emotional exhaustion. "It's never easy, letting go of someone you care about. But sometimes, it's necessary for both of us to find our own paths, even if it comes at a cost."

/I only pushed for you to tell him, because I thought it would help. I'm still slowly coming to see the world through your eyes instead of through the lens of my programing.

Buffy's footsteps grew softer, her pace slowing as she absorbed Cameron's heartfelt admission. A tender ache resonated within her, a profound understanding of the internal struggle her machine counterpart grappled with. The weight of their shared journey pressed upon her heart, intertwining their fates in ways she never anticipated.

Tears welled up in Buffy's eyes, shimmering with a mix of empathy and appreciation. Her voice trembled with a gentle reassurance, threaded with a hint of vulnerability. "Cameron, your willingness to learn and see beyond the confines of your programming means the world to me," she murmured, her voice infused with a depth of emotion that surpassed words. "It's a testament to your growth, and it reminds me that even within the boundaries of our differences, we can find common ground."

Giles Apartment

As Buffy stood before Giles' apartment door, a swirl of concern and worry enveloped her.

Passing Giles' car parked nearby, a flicker of relief washed over her, knowing that he was home and within reach. The sound of his voice, filled with desperation and frustration, reached her enhanced hearing, amplifying the weight of his worry. It echoed within her, a testament to the depth of their connection.

With a firm knock on the door, Buffy braced herself for the encounter. The sight that greeted her was a stark contrast to the composed Giles she was accustomed to. His disheveled appearance and the telltale signs of alcohol's influence on his features sent a pang of concern coursing through her.

"Buffy," Giles murmured, his gaze clouded with confusion. "It's late. Are you all right?"

A wry smile tugged at the corners of Buffy's lips; her voice laced with a touch of irony. "Kind of a rhetorical question, isn't it?" she replied, her words hinting at what she had become.

"Right," Giles agreed, his voice tinged with a sense of weary resignation.

"Anyways, I was going to ask you the same thing," Buffy replied, her tone carrying a hint of anticipation mixed with concern. She watched Giles closely, searching for any sign of vulnerability in his demeanor.

"Yes, I'm fine, fine," he replied, his words lacking conviction as weariness crept into his voice. His shoulders slumped slightly, betraying the burden he carried. "Look, I'm rather busy at the moment so I'll see you on Monday at school," he added hurriedly, attempting to dismiss the conversation and retreat into his own world.

But Buffy couldn't let him go so easily. She couldn't bear to see him shut himself off from the world, oblivious to the dangers that awaited. With determination burning in her eyes, she thrust out her hand and, fueled by her Terminator strength, firmly held the door open. "Giles, did you forget?" she implored, her voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and disappointment. "Hospital, vampires, handy carry-out packets of blood?"

"Oh!" His eyes suddenly lit up, and in that moment, Buffy felt a flicker of hope ignite within her. The realization that he had genuinely forgotten stunned her, his vulnerability laid bare before her. "Are you all right, are you hurt?" he asked, his concern genuine and his voice laced with remorse.

"No," Buffy replied, her voice carrying a touch of irony. She couldn't help but inject a hint of wry amusement into her response, her new-found resilience coloring her words. "Another rhetorical question, I assume, since I'm a little harder to kill now." She leaned in closer, her gaze unwavering. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice laced with a mix of determination and curiosity, her desire to protect and support Giles shining through.

Giles tried his best to maintain an air of firmness, his voice masking the underlying turmoil that churned within him. "Nothing's wrong. I'm just in the middle of something extremely important," he said, his words laced with a touch of desperation. The strain of his responsibilities weighed heavily upon him, causing his voice to quiver imperceptibly. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to say good night now," he added, his voice trailing off with a tinge of regret.

/Ask him about Eyghon.

Buffy turned her attention back to Giles, a mixture of curiosity and worry etched across her face. "What's Eyghon?" she inquired, her voice tinged with both confusion and apprehension. Giles came to an abrupt halt, his expression shifting to a mix of surprise and concern.

/Tell him it's here. Tell him it's killed Deirdre.

"It's here," Buffy stated, her voice carrying a note of solemnity. The weight of the situation settled upon her, her eyes searching Giles' face for understanding. "It's killed Deirdre," she added, her voice carrying a mix of sorrow and disbelief. She looked at Giles, a perplexed expression marring her features. "Whose Deirdre?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine curiosity and a touch of concern.

Giles sighed, his voice filled with a mixture of sorrow and frustration. "A friend," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of pain. The weight of loss was evident in his tone, an unspoken grief hanging in the air between them. "This is a private matter," he continued, his voice pleading for understanding. "I ask that you let me handle it," he added, his words a plea for trust and respect.

/Tell him that it's just him and Ethan now.

"The guy at the costume shop?" Buffy questioned Cameron, a mix of uncertainty and concern coloring her words as she tried to make sense of the fragmented information.

Giles, misunderstanding Buffy's question, furrowed his brow in confusion. He searched her eyes, seeking clarification. The confusion and worry in his own voice were palpable as he responded, "What?"

/Yes.

"It's just you and Ethan now," Buffy revealed, her voice carrying a mix of revelation and curiosity. Her eyes searched Giles' face, a slight furrow of confusion appearing on her brow. "Which, by the way, why didn't you tell me you knew the guy from the costume shop?"

Giles met Buffy's gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of nostalgia and regret. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, as if burdened by the weight of his past. "We're old friends," he admitted, his voice filled with a tinge of melancholy. The complexities of their relationship seemed to unravel before them, unspoken words lingering in the air.

With a sense of resignation, Giles motioned for Buffy to enter his apartment. She followed, closing the door behind her, the sound echoing like a barrier between them and the outside world.

Giles moved to the phone, a faint tremor in his hands betraying the emotions that coursed through him. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he murmured into the receiver, his voice tinged with weariness. "Thank you for your time." He replaced the receiver gently, his fingers lingering on the device before he made his way to the couch. He sank down onto it, his body seeming to collapse under the weight of his memories.

Buffy took a seat beside him, her presence a silent comfort amidst the turmoil that enveloped them. She listened intently as Giles began to share his story, his words a delicate unraveling of his past. His voice held a mixture of nostalgia and regret as he spoke. "I was twenty-one, studying history at Oxford, and, of course, delving into the occult by night," he began, his voice carrying a touch of bitterness. "I hated it. The monotonous grind of school, the suffocating pressure of my predetermined destiny." Giles let out a hollow chuckle, a bitter amusement coloring his tone. "So, I dropped out. I fled to London and found solace in the company of the worst crowd that would have me. We delved into the dark arts, engaging in magicks. At first, it was just small, trivial things, seeking pleasure or personal gain. But then, Ethan and I stumbled upon something far more significant," he revealed, his voice holding a mixture of trepidation and curiosity.

"Eyghon," Buffy supplied, her voice carrying a mix of recognition and concern. Memories of Giles reversing Catherine Madison's spells flooded her mind, the realization hitting her like a sudden revelation. Giles had deceived her then, claiming to have never practiced magic before. It was a lie, a secret kept hidden from her, a betrayal she hadn't expected.

/Is that any different than you hiding me from him?

Buffy paused, her mind racing as she grappled with the truth. The realization struck her with a pang of guilt and understanding. "I guess not," she thought in response to Cameron, a somber acknowledgment of the parallels in their actions.

Giles confirmed the revelation, his voice tinged with a mix of remorse and vulnerability. "Yes," he admitted, his tone heavy with the weight of the past. "One of us would go into a deep sleep, and the others would summon him. It was an incredible high," he confessed, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia.

Buffy's voice cut through the nostalgia, laced with a touch of disbelief and disdain. "So, you did the mystical equivalent of cocaine or something," she remarked, her words a mixture of disbelief and judgment, her tone tinged with disappointment.

"More or less," Giles agreed, his voice filled with a mixture of resignation and self-disgust. He shook his head, the weight of regret evident in his expression. "God, we were idiots," he lamented, his voice heavy with self-recrimination. The realization of their past actions and the consequences they had borne washed over him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

Buffy's eyes widened as a newfound understanding settled upon her. "You couldn't control him," she realized, her voice carrying a mix of empathy and concern.

Giles's voice trembled with a mix of sorrow and guilt as he recounted the tragic events of the past. "One of us, Randall... he lost control. Eyghon took him whole," he confessed, his voice laden with the weight of remorse. The memories of their failed attempt to drive out the demon haunted him; each word uttered with a heavy sigh. "We tried to drive the demon out... but it killed him," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. He shook his head, a mixture of self-blame and regret shadowing his features. "No. We killed him. We thought we were free of the demon after that," he continued, his voice laced with a bitter realization. "Now it's back. And one by one, he will kill us all."

Buffy nodded, her expression a mix of determination and empathy. "Tell me what you know, please, Giles," she pleaded, her voice filled with a deep longing. "Don't shut me out," she implored, her heart aching to be a part of the fight, to share in the burden he carried.

Giles looked at his Slayer, his gaze filled with both admiration and concern. He recognized the strength and power she possessed, a force that could potentially vanquish Eyghon. "Eyghon can only exist in this reality by possessing an unconscious host," he explained, his voice carrying a hint of desperation. "The possession was always temporary, as we would always observe the proper rituals. If the proper rituals had not been observed, the possession would have become permanent, and Eyghon would have been born from within the host." Giles paused; his words heavy with the weight of knowledge. "Once called, Eyghon can also take possession of the dead, but its demonic energy soon disintegrates the host, and it must jump to the nearest dead or unconscious person to continue living."

Buffy's eyes locked onto Giles, a mix of determination and concern etched across her face. "How do we kill it?" she asked, her voice steady despite the underlying urgency.

Giles shrugged, a sense of helplessness creeping into his demeanor. "I do not know," he admitted, his voice tinged with a touch of resignation. He looked at Buffy, recognizing the unique strength she possessed. "You are the only thing I can think of that could do it, and that's because you're not human anymore," he acknowledged, his voice filled with both admiration and a tinge of sorrow.

Buffy nodded, her resolve strengthening. "Okay. You do some research," she directed, her voice a blend of determination and leadership. "Dawn, Willow and I told Ms. Calendar we'd help out in the morning with her computer tutorial. I'll swing by afterwards to check in," she added, her voice carrying a sense of reassurance.

Giles watched as Buffy prepared to leave, a mix of gratitude and uncertainty in his eyes. "And Buffy, thank you," he expressed, his voice filled with genuine gratitude.

"Don't thank me," Buffy replied, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. A hint of mischief flickered in her eyes, mingled with a touch of vulnerability. "You're not the only one that has kept secrets," she revealed, her words hanging in the air between them.

Giles's expression shifted, a mix of surprise and curiosity crossing his features. "What do you mean?" he wondered, his voice filled with a desire for understanding, a longing to bridge the gaps that had formed between them.

/May I?

"Wouldn't he just see me?" Buffy asked Cameron, her voice tinged with uncertainty. She glanced at Giles, who observed their exchange with a raised eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

/We are a T-X series Terminator, remember, Buffy. We can look like anything or anyone we want. I will take the look of my fictional counterpart.

Buffy nodded, a mix of curiosity and trust in her eyes. "Go ahead," she granted permission, her voice filled with a blend of anticipation and intrigue.

Giles watched, a mixture of awe and surprise filling his gaze, as Buffy's body underwent a transformation. It shifted into a silver, androgynous humanoid appearance, before morphing into the likeness of Summer Glau, the actress who had portrayed Cameron in the television show.

"Good evening, Giles," Cameron greeted him, her voice resonating with familiarity. "We met on Halloween when I was in control of mine and Buffy's shared body," she explained, her voice steady and calm. "Since the end of the spell, I became what Buffy has termed the Ghost in the Machine. We have what your medical professionals call..." Cameron paused for a moment, searching for the right words.

"...Dissociative Identity Disorder," Giles finished for her, his voice carrying a mix of understanding and realization.

Cameron nodded, acknowledging Giles' grasp of the situation. "We are conscious of each other and can communicate with each other," she informed him, her voice carrying a sense of certainty. "I first made my presence known to Buffy on the day of Halloween when our objectives updated, since in this world John Connor is a work of fiction," she continued. A small smile played on her lips, a hint of amusement shining through. "I am the one who told Buffy that the thing we have to protect Dawn from is a hell god," she admitted, her voice tinged with a mix of determination and pride. "Since I killed Buffy's friend last week, I have vowed not to take control without her permission. But I am, like she, always aware," she concluded, her voice filled with a sense of responsibility and loyalty.

Giles took a moment to process the revelation. Emotions danced across his face—awe, understanding, and concern mingled in his eyes. The weight of Buffy and Cameron's shared existence and the intricacies of their unique bond settled upon him, deepening his admiration for their unwavering resilience in the face of adversity.

"Remarkable," Giles murmured, his voice laced with a mix of astonishment and appreciation. He looked at Cameron, the embodiment of the Ghost in the Machine, with newfound respect. "To have such awareness and control, even in your distinct identities, is a testament to your strength," he acknowledged, his voice holding a note of admiration. He gathered his thoughts, a sense of determination returning to his features. "Thank you for sharing this with me," he said, his voice carrying a blend of gratitude and resolve.

"You are welcome, Giles," Cameron replied, her voice carrying the weight of both Buffy and herself.

November 15, 1997 – Saturday

Sunnydale Morgue

The morgue attendant went about his routine, his steps echoing through the sterile corridors. Checking the lifeless bodies, a task that had become all too familiar to him, was normally an uneventful affair. However, as he reached the drawer that should have contained Philip Henry, a sense of unease settled over him like a shroud. The drawer was empty—an unexpected disruption in the usual order of the morgue. Confusion etched across his face, his heart quickening with a mix of curiosity and dread.

In that very moment, a presence lurked behind him, obscured by the shadows. Before the attendant could comprehend the situation, a sheet was thrown over his head, enveloping him in a suffocating darkness. The shock would have overwhelmed him if only he could have seen the figure responsible for his disorientation—a figure that should have been lifeless, a missing body resurrected.

With a swift and calculated motion, Philip bundled the bewildered attendant into the vacated drawer, his movements fueled by an unknown force. The metallic door slammed shut, the echoes reverberating through the morgue, as Philip locked it securely. As the attendant struggled to make sense of his predicament, trapped within the confines of the drawer, Philip staggered away from the mortuary, his own disoriented state mirroring the chaos that had unfolded.

Sunnydale High School

"This is all wrong," Cordelia complained, her voice laced with frustration, as she trailed behind Willow, Xander, and Jenny down the hallway. "School on a Saturday. It really throws off my internal clock." Her shoulders slumped slightly; an expression of annoyance etched across her face.

Xander chimed in, his tone mirroring Cordelia's exasperation. "Yeah, when are we going to use computers for real life anyway?" he grumbled, a hint of sarcasm coloring his words. The idea of dedicating a Saturday to computer work seemed to elicit a sense of disillusionment within him.

Jenny, ever the calm presence, pondered their musings. "Hmm, let's see," she mused, her voice carrying a touch of playful contemplation. "Home, school, work, games." Her words held a glimmer of humor, a gentle reminder that technology had permeated nearly every aspect of their daily lives.

Xander, undeterred, pushed forward with his line of thought. "You know, computers are on the way out. I think paper's going to make a big comeback," he declared, his voice carrying a hint of certainty. His playful banter aimed to lighten the mood, even in the face of their unconventional Saturday plans.

Willow, unable to resist a bit of sarcasm, interjected, her voice dripping with dry wit. "And the abacus," she added, a touch of mockery seeping into her words. She rolled her eyes playfully, a hint of amusement dancing in her gaze. "Yeah, you don't see enough abaci."

Their conversation echoed through the hallway as they made their way into the classroom. The atmosphere shifted as they settled into their seats, anticipation mingling with curiosity. Jenny, their teacher, took charge of the situation, her voice filled with authority and warmth. "Right," she began, her tone carrying a sense of purpose. As Buffy and Dawn strode into the classroom, a sense of relief washed over Jenny. She smiled, understanding their tardiness.

"Sorry, we're late," Dawn offered a quick apology, her voice tinged with a mix of regret and eagerness.

"It's alright, girls," Jenny reassured them, her words carrying a sense of understanding and patience. She directed her attention back to the group, ready to guide them through the day's agenda. "All right, the first thing we want to do is..."

Just then, a loud crash resonated from the library, causing a jolt of alarm to surge through the group. The sound shattered the calm atmosphere, unsettling the previously lighthearted conversation. In an instant, the sisters' instincts kicked in, propelling them into action. Buffy swiftly bolted out of the classroom, a mixture of determination and concern etched across her face, while Dawn, with her own unique abilities, phased through the wall, heading straight into Giles' office.

Buffy entered the library, her senses heightened by her Terminator enhancements, alert and ready for whatever awaited her. Meanwhile, Dawn emerged from the wall, finding herself in Giles' office. As she stepped out, her eyes caught a fleeting glimpse of a shadow flitting across the upper level of the library. With a hushed voice, almost imperceptible to ordinary ears but clear to Buffy's enhanced hearing, Dawn called out to her sister, "Buffy."

Buffy, attuned to every sound, turned towards Dawn, her expression a mix of concern and determination. The sisters locked eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. Together, they moved stealthily up the stairs, their footsteps barely making a sound as they navigated between the bookshelves. Every sense heightened, they scanned their surroundings, searching for any sign of danger.

A flicker of movement caught their attention—an elusive figure on the other side of a bookcase. It was Ethan Rayne, a familiar face from their tumultuous past. Before they could react, he exerted force against the bookcase, pushing it towards them with a malicious intent. The shelves teetered, books tumbling to the ground in a chaotic symphony.

In that split second, Dawn seamlessly phased through the bookcase, her form ethereal and intangible, just as Buffy gracefully dove out of harm's way. The rush of adrenaline coursed through their veins as they swiftly reacted, each movement a testament to their honed skills and unyielding determination. Dawn, fueled by a mix of courage and anger, seized Ethan's arm, twisting it behind his back.

Buffy approached, her eyes blazing with a mixture of rage and resolve. She snatched Ethan from Dawn's grasp, her grip firm and unyielding, as she turned him to face them. Instantly, the weight of recognition settled upon them—a shared history marked by treachery and pain.

"You," Buffy growled, her voice dripping with simmering anger. "Dawn and I should just let Eyghon have you. It's your fault I'm no longer human and my sister can walk through walls." The words held a bitter truth, a reminder of the profound consequences that had befallen them due to Ethan's actions.

Ethan's gaze met Buffy's, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I'm pleased you both remember me," he remarked, his voice carrying a tinge of sarcastic satisfaction.

Dawn's frustration reached its peak, her fist connecting with Ethan's face in a swift, resounding punch. The impact reverberated through the air, a physical manifestation of her pent-up anger and resentment.

Ethan sighed; his voice tinged with resignation. "I take it we're even?" he offered, a hint of weariness seeping into his words.

Buffy's gaze hardened, her voice filled with a mix of disdain and caution. "We'll let you know when we're even," she replied, her tone laced with a chilling determination. Her eyes bore into his, demanding answers. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice edged with a sharpness born from years of battling the darkness.

"Snooping about," Ethan admitted, a sly grin playing on his lips, his voice dripping with an air of mischief.

Both Dawn and Buffy raised an eyebrow, their expressions a mirror of skepticism. Dawn's voice carried a touch of irony as she responded, "Honesty. Nice touch."

Ethan's smile widened, a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes. "It's one of my virtues," he quipped, a hint of mockery lacing his words. He paused, his facade of honesty slipping. "Not really," he added, a confession that underscored the dubious nature of his character.

Giles Apartment

Giles' mind, already burdened with worry and apprehension, was abruptly interrupted by a barrage of vivid images. Rituals and tattoos danced before his sleeping consciousness, intermingling with the chaos of his dreams. However, amidst the turmoil, a jarring sound disrupted the surreal fabric of his slumber—a persistent ringing that cut through the boundaries of the dream realm. Reality seeped in, dawning upon Giles as he realized that the phone on his desk was ringing, its shrill tones piercing the air.

With a disoriented urgency, Giles fumbled for the receiver, his mind still clouded by the remnants of his unsettling dreams. "Hello," he managed to utter, his voice laced with a mix of confusion and concern.

"Giles, it's me," came Buffy's voice on the other end, her words carrying a weight of urgency and tension. The sound of her voice sent a jolt of alarm through his veins. "Dawn and I are in your office with Ethan Rayne. What would you like us to do with him?" she asked, her voice brimming with a blend of caution and readiness for action.

Giles felt his fears tighten their grip, his heart pounding in his chest. The realization that Ethan was now in close proximity to Buffy and Dawn intensified the sense of impending danger that had haunted his thoughts. He spoke urgently, his voice carrying a mix of desperation and a stern resolve. "He's there with you now? Buffy, listen to me," he implored, his voice filled with a paternal concern. "You and Dawn are in danger as long as you're with Ethan. I need you to put down the phone and both of you get out of the library as soon as possible."

A pause hung in the air as Buffy absorbed Giles' words, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "Is it because of Eyghon?" she asked, her voice tinged with a mixture of trepidation and determination.

"Yes," Giles confirmed, his voice filled with somber acknowledgement. "It will likely go through you, Dawn, and anyone around you to get at him and me." The weight of the impending danger settled heavily upon his words, a realization of the lengths Eyghon would go to fulfill its dark desires.

Then, an unsettling sound shattered the brief respite of their conversation. The shattering of glass echoed through the line, leaving Giles filled with concern and a sense of urgency. "Buffy?" he called out, his voice filled with an undercurrent of worry, but she had already put the phone down. A pang of unease surged through him as he tried to return the phone to its cradle, his hands trembling with a mixture of fear and determination. However, in his haste, he missed the mark and left the phone lying on the desk, a symbol of his urgency as he dashed out of the door, driven by a relentless need to protect those he held dear.

Sunnydale High School

The piercing noise shattered the tranquility of the library, originating from the office—a telltale sign of someone forcefully breaking in through the window. In that moment, tension gripped the air, thick with the weight of impending danger. Dawn's form seamlessly phased through the library counter, her ethereal presence serving as a shield, while Buffy swiftly vaulted over it, her movements guided by a potent mix of agility and determination. Ethan, sensing the encroaching threat, took a circuitous route, his eyes darting with a mix of panic and cunning.

Amidst the chaos, Xander, Cordelia, Willow, and Jenny hurried into the library, their expressions a mixture of concern and determination. Their presence, a testament to their unwavering loyalty, bolstered the sisters' resolve.

Philip stumbled out of the office; his intentions focused on something beyond the sisters. Dawn and Buffy stood firmly in his path; a united front prepared to confront the brewing storm. "Ethan!" Philip snarled, his voice dripping with animosity and vengeance.

The command was enough to send Ethan into a frenzied sprint towards the door, his survival instincts propelling him forward. Sensing the urgency, Buffy's voice rang out with a fierce determination, "Don't let him get away!"

Xander lunged, attempting to secure a hold on Ethan, but the elusive figure managed to slip free momentarily, his movements fueled by desperation. However, Cordelia, displaying her own brand of determination, delivered a swift kick to his vulnerable groin as he darted past her, effectively incapacitating him, leaving him writhing in pain on the floor.

Philip, fueled by an uncontrollable rage, swung at the sisters, their instincts honed to perfection. With deftness and grace, Dawn and Buffy evaded his attacks, their bodies moving in unison. Dawn's eyes flickered with recognition, a silent communication passing between the sisters. They tactically retreated, backtracking towards the library cage, their strategic maneuver rooted in a shared understanding.

Philip charged forward, his assault relentless, but the sisters leapt aside with practiced precision, evading his path. In a calculated move, Philip crashed through the open cage door, his momentum driving him into the confined space. Without hesitation, Buffy seized the opportunity, her strength and agility culminating in a decisive action. She slammed the cage door shut, the metallic clang reverberating through the room, sealing Philip inside the confines of the cage. With a resolute twist of the lock, she secured his containment.

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

As Ethan slowly regained his composure, he found himself seated in a chair, his surroundings a blend of confinement and scrutiny. Buffy, her presence commanding and protective, stood close by, her gaze fixed on him, a mixture of caution and suspicion in her eyes. Inside the cage, Philip paced with an unsettling intensity, a caged beast driven by anger and confusion. Willow's attention shifted, her analytical gaze settling upon Philip's motionless form.

"I'm not getting close enough to check for a pulse, but he looks dead," Willow shared her observations with a tinge of uncertainty, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

Xander interjected, his voice laced with a touch of wry humor. "Except for the walking and attacking Dawn and Buffy part," he pointed out, his words a reminder of the inexplicable presence of vitality within Philip's seemingly lifeless shell.

Ethan, compelled by his own knowledge and understanding, confirmed their suspicions. "Oh no, he's dead," he stated, his voice filled with a blend of remorse and resignation. "Sorry, Philip. I really am," he added, his words carrying a heavy burden of regret.

Buffy's curiosity got the better of her, her voice tinged with a mix of intrigue and caution. "You know him?" she inquired, her eyes narrowing in search of answers.

Ethan nodded, a solemn acknowledgment of the connection he once shared with Philip. "Knew him," he replied, his voice trailing off as memories and regrets intertwined.

Cordelia, ever unyielding in her directness, interjected with a hint of authority. "Hey, you don't speak until we tell you to speak," she asserted, her words a reminder of their control over the situation, a clear delineation of boundaries.

The tension in the room escalated as Buffy interjected, her voice tinged with a hint of exasperation. "Uh, Cordelia, I did tell him to speak," she clarified, her words carrying a mix of frustration and the need for cooperation.

Giles burst into the scene, his presence commanding and filled with concern. "Is everyone all right?" he urgently inquired, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of harm or distress.

Cordelia, with a touch of bravado, offered her account of the events, her voice carrying a mixture of pride and excitement. "Super! I kicked a guy," she declared, a hint of satisfaction lingering in her words.

Jenny, her voice calm and reassuring, chimed in to provide further assurance. "We're okay," she confirmed, her tone carrying a soothing quality that sought to alleviate the mounting tension.

Xander, seizing the opportunity to inject a bit of humor into the situation, leaned closer to the cage where Philip was held. "Dead guy here interrupted our tutorial," he explained with a sly grin. A note of gratitude colored his words. "I've been meaning to thank you for that, by the way," he added, his voice filled with a blend of mischief and appreciation. In response, Philip rattled against the cage, his snarls echoing with fury, causing Xander to quickly back away, a flicker of unease crossing his face.

Giles, his anger simmering beneath the surface, directed his fury towards Ethan, his voice filled with disappointment and frustration. "I told you to leave town," he admonished, the weight of his words laced with a mix of betrayal and concern.

Ethan's voice trembled with a mix of defiance and resignation as he tried to explain himself. "You did, I didn't," he confessed, his words tinged with regret. He offered a feeble justification, his voice carrying a trace of resignation. "Shop lease is paid till the end of the month."

Giles, consumed by a maelstrom of emotions, seized Ethan by the hair, his grip firm and unyielding. He hauled him to his feet, his face etched with a blend of anger and disappointment. "You should have left when I told you. You put these people in danger, people I care about," he rebuked, his voice carrying a weight of betrayal and concern.

Cordelia, her voice laced with a mix of surprise and curiosity, turned to Xander, seeking reassurance in the face of Ethan's revelation. "Wow, even me?" she questioned, her words carrying a hint of vulnerability.

Xander responded with a quick shake of his head.

Ethan, fueled by a surge of defiance, wrenched free from Giles' grip, his voice carrying a touch of bitterness. "If you care so much about them, why didn't you leave town?" he challenged, his words laced with a bitter truth. A flicker of understanding passed between them, a shared knowledge of the looming threat that haunted their dreams. "You've been having the dreams. I know. I have. We both know what's coming," he admitted, his voice tinged with a mix of dread and resignation.

Buffy, her voice filled with a sense of urgency, sought answers from her Watcher, her gaze locked onto him. "Did you find anything on how to kill it?" she asked, her voice edged with a blend of hope and apprehension.

Giles hesitated; the weight of his reluctance evident in his response. "No," he admitted reluctantly, his voice carrying a mix of disappointment and concern.

In a sudden eruption of chaos, Philip broke free from the confines of the cage, his movements fueled by an uncontrollable surge of raw power. The door swung open with a forceful impact, striking Jenny, whose body was sent hurtling through the air. The air crackled with tension as Giles, his heart filled with anguish, cried out her name, rushing to her side in a desperate attempt to provide solace and aid.

Ethan, gripped by genuine fear, his voice trembling with a mixture of terror and regret, sobbed in the face of the unleashed threat. The reality of Philip's untamed power had shattered any facade of composure, leaving Ethan exposed and vulnerable.

In a swift flurry of motion, Willow, Dawn, and Cordelia scrambled out of harm's way, their movements guided by survival instincts honed through their shared battles. Buffy, a figure of unwavering strength, delivered a well-aimed kick to Philip, her actions propelled by a potent mix of determination and protective instincts. This time, there was no prolonged struggle—Philip's body convulsed, wracked by unseen forces, before collapsing onto the ground. As his form disintegrated into a pool of viscous goo, the grim reality of their world was laid bare once again.

Willow, her voice tinged with a mix of awe and incredulity, offered a bewildered observation. "That's something you don't see every day," she remarked, her words a testament to the extraordinary nature of their existence, where the boundaries of reality and the supernatural intertwined in unsettling ways.

Cordelia, her emotions a mixture of exasperation and lingering shock, voiced her frustration with a hint of resignation. "I'm going to be in therapy until I'm thirty," she complained, her words laden with a sense of weariness.

/Move Ms. Calendar. NOW! Before Eyghon's essence reaches her.

Buffy's gaze fixed upon the remnants of Eyghon's essence, her realization dawning with a mix of determination and urgency. The gravity of the situation propelled her into action, her voice commanding as she turned to Giles. "Giles, move Ms. Calendar. NOW! Before the goo can reach her," she urged, her words carrying a weight of impending danger and the unwavering resolve to protect those she held dear.

Giles, his eyes locking onto the ominous presence of Eyghon's essence, understood the severity of the situation. With a surge of adrenaline, fueled by love and a profound sense of duty, he swiftly guided the woman who held his heart to safety, ensuring her shelter behind the protective barrier of the counter.

Buffy's voice rang out with authority, commanding the attention of everyone present. "Everyone, stand back," she ordered, her tone filled with both conviction and a steely resolve. Her arm transformed into a formidable flame thrower, a testament to the extraordinary abilities she possessed. She cast a swift glance at Dawn, her sister and ally, her gaze imploring for assistance. "Dawn, I need a fire extinguisher," she requested, her voice carrying a mix of urgency and determination. Dawn, raised eyebrow. "I'm going to burn this stuff to a crisp."

With a determined nod, Dawn sprinted towards the nearest fire extinguisher, its presence conveniently located behind the counter. Time was of the essence.

Buffy unleashed the torrent of flames from the flamethrower, directing the searing heat toward Eyghon's essence on the floor. The ethereal substance ignited, succumbing to the all-consuming power of fire, disintegrating into oblivion as it was reduced to a charred crisp. Sensing the need to contain any lingering danger,

Dawn swiftly approached, wielding the fire extinguisher like a guardian against the flames. She unleashed a blast of foam, smothering the fire and erasing any remnants of the dark entity.

Relief washed over Buffy as her arm returned to its normal state, the fiery weapon fading away. The weight of the moment settled upon her as she spoke with a mixture of hope and fatigue. "That hopefully is the end of Eyghon," she declared, her voice carrying a blend of determination and lingering caution. She turned her attention to Cordelia; whose stunned expression demanded an explanation. "And will someone explain what happened on Halloween to Cordelia. Her jaw is hanging open," she requested, her words laced with a touch of amusement and the need to provide clarity in the face of her new existence.

Xander stepped forward, his voice filled with a mix of concern and determination. "I'll do it," he offered, extending a comforting hand to Cordelia, ready to guide her away from the room that held the remnants of the recent chaos. Cordelia, her emotions still raw from seeing Buffy's transformation, followed his lead, seeking solace in his presence.

Giles, his gaze tender and filled with worry, directed his attention towards Jenny as she slowly regained consciousness. His voice carried a gentle touch as he inquired, "Are you all right, Jenny?" The concern etched on his face mirrored the depth of his care for her well-being.

Jenny, a mix of discomfort and pain evident in her moan, clutched her head, her body still recovering from the impact she endured.

Giles, ever mindful of her fragile state, offered his support. "Careful. Can you stand?" he asked, his voice laced with concern and a desire to assist her. He gently helped Jenny to her feet, offering her a steady support to lean upon. "Lean on me," he insisted, his voice filled with reassurance. "It'll be all right," he promised, his words carrying a weight of determination and a heartfelt commitment to her well-being.

Seeking confirmation, Jenny voiced her uncertainty, her question laced with a hint of vulnerability. "Promise?" she inquired, her gaze fixed on Giles, yearning for a glimmer of hope in the midst of their shared trials.

Giles met her gaze, his own eyes filled with unwavering determination and a sense of comfort. "I promise," he affirmed, his voice carrying a blend of sincerity and resolve. Casting a final glance at Dawn and Buffy, he acknowledged the need for a temporary respite. "We'll talk on Monday," he assured them, his voice a gentle reminder of the bond they shared and the importance of collective understanding and support.

With a mutual agreement, the sisters nodded in acknowledgment, their expressions reflecting a mixture of weariness and trust.

November 17, 1997 – Monday

Sunnydale High School

Buffy's voice carried a mix of apprehension and determination as she gathered Xander and Willow in the schoolyard, aware of the weight of the revelation she was about to share. Her eyes locked with theirs, seeking understanding and acceptance. "There is something I need to tell you guys," she began, her voice laced with a mix of vulnerability and strength. "You know how John and Kyle disappeared when the spell ended for you guys?" Xander and Willow nodded in recognition of the vanishing individuals. "For me, Cameron didn't disappear," Buffy disclosed, her words conveying a truth that held a weight of profound significance.

Confusion clouded Xander's face as he tried to make sense of Buffy's revelation. "Cameron? Whose Cameron?" he questioned, his voice tinged with curiosity and a touch of bewilderment.

/Permission to take over? Like with Giles it might be easier to understand if they see me.

Buffy, trusting her sister and friends, glanced at Dawn, their unspoken bond solidifying their decision. They discreetly drug Willow and Xander out of sight, away from prying eyes, creating a space where the transformation could take place. "Go ahead," Buffy consented, her voice a blend of anticipation and trust.

Dawn, Willow, and Xander watched as Buffy's physical form underwent a transformation. Her body morphed, adopting a silver androgynous humanoid appearance before ultimately assuming the likeness of Cameron. The sight elicited a smile from Dawn, her laughter tinged with a sense of amusement and relief. "You know, Cameron, you made my day," she chuckled, her words carrying a hint of warmth and appreciation.

Cameron, grateful for the positive reception, responded with a genuine sense of pleasure. "I am pleased, Dawn," she acknowledged, her voice holding a note of sincerity before turning her gaze toward Willow and Xander, seeking to bridge the understanding gap. "I am Cameron. I am what Buffy has termed the Ghost in the Machine. When Ethan Rayne's spell ended, I did not disappear; I became a secondary personality matrix in mine and Buffy's shared body," she explained, her words a revelation that carried a mix of vulnerability and an invitation for acceptance.

The emotions swirled within the group as they witnessed the seamless transition from Cameron's form back into Buffy, the familiar visage of their friend. Buffy, her voice carrying a mix of relief and revelation, shared the newfound clarity with her friends, the weight of her words echoing in the air. "We can talk to each other," she explained, her tone filled with a profound sense of gratitude and understanding. "She helped me to realize a few things."

A ripple of excitement filled the air as Buffy continued, her words bringing a wave of unexpected joy to Xander. "And this will make Xander happy. While I will always love Angel, I'm no longer in love with Angel. In fact, he's leaving town." The news sparked an elated reaction from Xander, his smile widening as he expressed his happiness with a small dance of joy, his movements a manifestation of his jubilant relief.

Willow listened intently, her understanding of Buffy's journey intertwined with her own experiences. Memories of the day they played "Anywhere but Here" resurfaced, blending with her own insights she had gleaned from John's memories. The revelation shifted something within her, an evolution of her feelings. She looked at Xander, once the object of her romantic affections, and realized that her emotions had transformed. What was once a romantic crush had matured into a deep platonic connection rooted in their lifelong friendship. Now, when her gaze fell upon Buffy, whether it was Buffy or Cameron in control, she couldn't help but find both versions of her friend undeniably captivating, her perception guided by an appreciation for the strength and beauty within them.

Spotting Giles in the distance, Buffy excused herself from her friends, a sense of purpose guiding her steps as she beckoned her sister to accompany her. They fell into step alongside Giles, their presence grounding and comforting. Giles greeted them warmly, his voice holding a mix of familiarity and concern. "Hello, Buffy... Dawn," he acknowledged, his eyes reflecting the depth of his care for the sisters. As they walked together, Giles proposed a change, his words carrying a touch of relief and acceptance. "Buffy, I was thinking we can do away with your training routine. You don't really need it anymore. Not since Halloween."

"I may not, but Dawn does," Buffy affirmed, her gaze meeting Giles' curious expression as he raised an eyebrow in response to her statement. Buffy continued, her voice steady and resolute. "Mom, Dawn, and I have talked. Mom and I would like Dawn to learn self-defense. Preferably not just to deal with vampires or demons, but in general, so she can defend herself and get away if she were attacked. That said, after this weekend, I can no longer keep my sister away if she doesn't want to be."

Giles absorbed Buffy's words, his expression shifting from curiosity to contemplation. He recognized the validity of their concerns and the need to ensure Dawn's safety in the face of their extraordinary world. With a nod of agreement, he acknowledged their request. "That sounds like a good idea," he concurred, his voice carrying a sense of reassurance. "I could recommend several trainers who specialize in self-defense."

Dawn, her voice filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability, interjected, revealing a deeper motivation behind the desire for training. Her words carried a sense of trust and hope as she addressed Giles directly. "There is a reason beyond just training in self-defense. I'm like my sister. I'm super-powered now, since I can phase through walls. We agree that under your watchful supervision, I could learn how to control my new powers."

Giles, his eyes lingering on the sisters, contemplated the weight of their words and the depth of their connection. He understood that Dawn, as a Potential, possessed the potential to become the next Slayer, a realization that carried both excitement and trepidation. "Alright, Dawn," he acquiesced, his voice holding a blend of seriousness and determination. "We'll start after school during Buffy's normal afternoon sessions. That said, if you do wish to help Buffy, I am not going to sign off until both Buffy and I believe you are ready," he affirmed, his commitment to their safety and growth unwavering.

Dawn's smile radiated gratitude and determination as she met Giles' gaze, her appreciation for the man who had just become her Watcher evident. "I wholeheartedly agree," she declared, her voice filled with a newfound sense of purpose and the anticipation of the journey ahead.