In the realm of dreams, where love's fire burns bright,
Two souls found each other their hearts took flight.
Through time and space, they sought and they yearned,
Destiny's whispers brought them, two souls intertwined.
—Maestro Varial
Prologue
California
October 1999
Buffy sighed heavily, her shoulders drooping as she kicked a small pebble, watching it skid across the cracked sidewalk and disappear into the bushes. The late afternoon sunlight cast a golden hue on everything around her, but it did little to brighten her mood. She felt like such an idiot. How could she have been so naive? She had allowed herself to believe the smooth-talking lies Parker had spun just to get into her pants. Shaking her head in frustration, she replayed the memories in her mind—the laughter they shared, the way he looked into her eyes as if she were the only one that mattered, the promises he had whispered to her…
Buffy knew all too well that men often manipulated women for their own gain. It was a cruel reality she had witnessed countless times, but somehow, she had convinced herself that being the Slayer made her immune to such games. At the end of the day, though, she was still just a girl like any other, with the same vulnerabilities and insecurities as everyone else. A lingering part of her didn't want to accept that harsh truth, but she couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment as days passed with no word from Parker. If he genuinely cared for her, as he had claimed, why hadn't he reached out? Was there something so inherently wrong with her that it made him want to go ghost? The questions swirled in her mind, leaving her feeling more unsettled than ever.
What terrified her the most was the haunting realization that this wasn't the first time she had been left alone after an intimate encounter. Each experience felt like a replay of a painful script, filled with fleeting moments of passion followed by chilling abandonment. A bitter truth lingered in her mind: she had a notoriously bad history with men, marked by a series of brief romances that left her feeling increasingly isolated and hollow afterward. The memories of her time with Angel and now Parker faded into echoes of regret and a gnawing sense of worthlessness. She couldn't escape the feeling that those moments of closeness were nothing more than illusions, quickly dissolved by the harsh light of reality.
The sun had finally set below the horizon, casting long shadows over the rows of weathered tombstones as she arrived at the cemetery for her nightly patrol. The cool air carried a sense of lingering melancholy, accompanied by the rustling leaves overhead.
For several days, she and Giles had tirelessly scoured ancient texts, desperately trying to locate the secret underground crypt rumored to be hidden beneath the cemetery's oldest graves. The Gem of Amara was said to rest within that crypt, untouched for a millennium until a highly annoying and bothersome bleached-blonde vampire decided to dig for it and claim it for himself. In Spike's hands, this powerful artifact, which could grant immunity from sunlight and death, would be a recipe for disaster. Knowing Spike and his oddly obsessive fascination with Slayers, Buffy feared she would be the target of his wrath. Spike had already caused her enough problems without the gem. She didn't know what she would do if he became unkillable. She internally shuddered. One thing was for certain: Spike, and Spike alone, had the power to get under her skin in a way that no other vampire had before—not even Angel.
Buffy had gone to Willy's earlier that day to gather more information, hoping he could tell her the location of the crypt. Unfortunately, she found no answers. It seemed likely that Spike already had the gem, and their search for the crypt would become mootville. Shaking off that chilling thought, she continued with her patrol.
Buffy staked four vampires and defeated a grotesque, gooey red demon before doing one last sweep of the area and calling it a night. As she exited the cemetery and glanced down, she grimaced at the sight of her brand-new BCBG pants, now ruined by the demon's goo. Ugh, there was no way she could get that stain out.
Buffy was almost at the cemetery entrance when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Something didn't feel right. She turned around and squinted her eyes, noticing a tall, hooded figure darting behind a tree. Buffy frowned, pondering how long it had been following her without her realizing it.
Without hesitation, she quickly ran after it. When she reached the tree, she looked around but found no one. Just as she thought she had lost the figure, she saw it dash out from behind another tree before her and take off in a full sprint. Buffy chased after it, but it was fast—faster than her. And she was fast. It was almost too difficult for her to keep up. Almost.
Buffy spotted a large tombstone ahead, leaped off it with an extra burst of speed, and landed on the figure before her—either a demon or a person. They both crashed to the ground, and Buffy rolled several times before quickly recovering and jumping to her feet. She narrowed her eyes as she examined the hooded figure sprawled beneath her. The inside of the cloak was pitch black, and it appeared to have no face.
Taking a few steps closer, Buffy hovered over the unmoving figure cloaked in black, checking for any signs of life. After several moments of silence, she rolled her eyes in frustration.
"Do you really think I'm dumb enough to fall for your play-dead routine?" she asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow.
As she spoke, she noticed a finger twitch from the leather-covered hand. Buffy was running out of patience; all she wanted was to go home, draw a hot bubble bath, and forget about the last two days of her disastrous love life. She considered staking the creature below her, but she wasn't sure whether it was a vampire, a demon, or a human. She had encountered too many evil human beings in Sunnydale to take the risk of simply staking it. Even if it were human, Buffy still refused to take their life. She bent down to look closer into the gaping hole of darkness.
"I really don't have time for this, you know," she huffed, moving her hand closer to its black hood, ready to pull it down and reveal what was underneath. "Hot chocolate and James Bond are calling my name right now, so if you could just get on with the fight so I can—"
It all happened so fast. Buffy gasped as a hand suddenly lunged forward and grabbed her ankle, tugging it harshly and causing her to fall to the ground with a loud thump. Her head hit the ground hard, and she groaned at the impact. As she glanced up, she saw the black form hovering above her. Buffy tried to move, but she couldn't. Her eyes dropped down, and she noticed a black magic binding encircling her leg, creeping up over her stomach and onto her arms, holding her hostage. Her other leg was still free, and she attempted to kick at the figure above her, but it was all pointless; she was trapped.
The figure stretched its arms wide, palms facing outward, and a mesmerizing swirling orb of black energy began to take shape. The luminous sphere pulsed and swelled, growing to nearly match Buffy's length. She strained against the shimmering black tendrils that coiled around her like a serpent, desperately attempting to break free, but it was a futile effort against the binding magic that held her captive.
"I'm going to make you pay for this when I get free," she said through gritted teeth as she thrashed back and forth.
The figure remained silent as Buffy observed the black energy orb expanding. At that moment, she felt a sense of helplessness for the first time since Giles had injected her with poison last year, taking away her powers.
At last, the pulsating orb stopped expanding, and the hooded shadow looked down at Buffy with an aura that sent shivers down her spine. Her eyes widened in shock as the luminous energy surged forward, wrapping around her in a cocoon of light. A piercing scream escaped her lips as the blinding brightness flooded her vision, consuming her thoughts. Instinctively, she squeezed her eyes shut, and in an instant, she felt the unsettling sensation of free fall as if she were plummeting through an endless expanse of air. A familiar feeling tugged at her stomach, reminiscent of a roller coaster ride. Then, without warning, a heavy darkness enveloped her, swallowing her whole.
Chapter One
Romania
October 1901
When Buffy regained consciousness, she found herself floating in a vast and open expanse of darkness. Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl, and an eerie silence enveloped her like a shroud. How long had she been trapped in this void?
As that thought flickered through her mind, she began to perceive subtle movements and faint sounds swirling around her—distant echoes and whisper-like murmurs that were vague and incomprehensible. Suddenly, she felt a sharp tug from behind, pulling her away from the darkness.
She flew backward and crashed into a nearby tree. Groaning from the impact, she rolled over, unaware that she was on a hill, which caused her to continue rolling down for several paces until she finally stopped. The moonlight was bright compared to the pitch darkness of the void she had just come from, and its intensity left her retinas burning. She tried to open her eyes, but spots danced in her vision. Clutching her eyes shut again, she covered them with her arm, hoping to ease the burning pain. The world continued to spin around her. She needed to rest; she was so exhausted… she just needed to sleep, even if it was only for a little while…
That was her last thought before she drifted off into a deep slumber.
The air around her was filled with indistinct noises, but she could not identify any particular sound. Her head throbbed painfully, each pulse intensifying her disorientation, and everything felt muffled to her still-ringing ears. The air carried an earthy smell that lingered in her senses; it was a familiar odor reminiscent of barns and the musky scent of animals and livestock. A sense of uneasiness tightened within her.
After a few moments of silence, Buffy heard a muffled voice. The voice was like an electric shock to her nervous system. She moved her arm away from her face and slowly opened her eyes, still feeling a slight burning sensation. Blinking, she noticed an older man standing above her, staring down with wide eyes as if she were an alien. She watched his lips move, but her ears were still ringing, so she couldn't understand what he was saying.
"Wha... what?" she managed to cough out, frowning in shock at the raspy croak of her voice. She grabbed her throat; it felt scratchy and dry like she hadn't used it in years.
The man spoke again; Buffy could hear more clearly this time as the ringing in her ears gradually subsided. However, she soon realized that she didn't understand a word he was saying. It sounded like a different language; one she was unfamiliar with.
"I-I can't understand you," she said, slowly attempting to sit up while groaning at the ache in her muscles.
The man frowned and stepped back, giving her space to stand.
He seemed to concentrate before speaking again. "You... ahh... do speak English?" he asked slowly, his voice heavy with an accent and his English somewhat broken.
Buffy nodded. "Yeah... I speak English." She looked around and realized they were in an open field. There were no sounds of traffic nearby, nor the usual background noise of distant sirens that filled the air in Sunnydale. There was no music, no voices—just the wind rustling through the trees and the man beside her shuffling his feet.
Although she didn't know where she was, she realized it had to be far away from home. Something was seriously screwy, and she needed to get to the bottom of it.
"Where am I?"
"You are in Romania," he replied, sounding confused. "Are you lost?"
Buffy simply stared, feeling the wiggins start to creep up her spine. Romania? Why the hell would she be in Romania? Out of all the places and Hell dimensions that strange thing could have dragged her to, why here?
She glanced at the pale man and noted his appearance—he wore dirty, torn beige pants and a loose, equally dirty white shirt topped with a black vest. A hat sat atop his head, and he carried a wooden axe-looking thing. Buffy considered questioning the weapon, but he didn't seem dangerous; perhaps he had been chopping tree branches or something similar. And her intuition was almost always right.
"I... I honestly don't know," she replied, wishing she knew the answer to his previous question. Then she asked, "What year is it?"
The man looked at her strangely. "The year is 1901."
Oh great. Buffy was trapped in the past, in a foreign country that she didn't understand, with no help and no way to return. The worst part was that Giles had no idea where she was or what had happened to her. They would not know how to find her or where to start searching. She was totally screwed.
"This way is my home," the man pointed ahead. "I have supper and firewood if you want some food and warmth."
Just then, Buffy felt goosebumps rise on her arms and shivered as she realized how cold it was. She was definitely not in California anymore. She contemplated his offer; he didn't seem evil, but she could never be certain. She could try to find her own way around, but it was cold, her stomach was gnawing at her, and she felt weak and tired. She really had no choice but to accept his offer. He was being kind, and if he tried anything, he would face the wrath of the Slayer.
"That sounds nice," she agreed.
Buffy followed behind him as they walked out of the field. Moments later, she noticed a bridge ahead that led into a small village. As they crossed the bridge, she took in her surroundings. Homes lined each side of the brick road; they were single-story, rectangular wooden structures with roofs that appeared to be made of straw and grass. Other buildings resembled markets for food and clothing. Nobody was outside, presumably due to the hour and the cold weather.
Eventually, they reached his home, and Buffy suddenly realized she had never asked for his name.
"I'm sorry, I completely forgot to ask," she said as they stepped inside. "What's your name?"
"My name is Marius," he replied, taking off his hat and placing it on a nearby bench. "And yours?"
Buffy froze as she considered how to respond. She thought the name 'Buffy' might seem strange in this time and place. However, since he knew she spoke English, she could explain that Buffy was a normal name where she came from. Ironically, it wasn't a common American name at all. She tried to think of a more traditional name to fit the time period. What was the name of the Queen of England again? Oh, that's right!
"Elizabeth," she finally answered. "My name is Elizabeth."
Marius nodded. "And you are from England?"
"Oh no," Buffy shook her head. "I'm American."
Marius's eyes widened. "American? I have never met an American before."
"Well," she smiled as she followed him into the kitchen, "now you have."
The first thing she noticed was how low the ceiling was in the house. Intricately carved patterns adorned the walls, window frames, and doors, giving it a distinct style, unlike the traditional American homes she was accustomed to.
She sat at the wooden kitchen table while Marius cooked her meal. Marius resembled a slightly older and unkempt version of Giles, which might be why she felt so at ease in his presence.
She also noticed how well he spoke English.
"Your English is pretty good," she commented.
Marius glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Thank you. I learned it when I was younger but haven't spoken it in a long time. Please forgive me if my grammar is often poor."
"No worries," she shrugged. "I'm American and even my English can be a bit wonky sometimes."
He gave her a look at that but chose not to comment further. Instead, he continued preparing her dinner. After a few minutes, he turned around and set down what appeared to be bean soup and a biscuit on the table.
It definitely wasn't a cheeseburger and fries, but it would do for now. Her stomach was already gnawing at her, so she didn't have much of a choice. She dug in.
"What is this?" Buffy asked, surprised at how delicious the bean dish was.
"Iahnie de fasole," Marius replied. "It is inspired by Turkish cuisine."
She quickly finished the rest of her meal. Marius took her dish and placed it in the sink. "How did you come to be in Romania?" he asked.
"Um," she hesitated, searching for a believable explanation. "I wasn't supposed to be here. I was on my way to visit my cousins in Switzerland when my luggage was stolen and I lost my way. I don't have a very good sense of direction… and somehow, I ended up here."
She held her breath, hoping her story didn't sound too insane. She knew the Watchers Council had quarters in Switzerland, but she wasn't sure if they were operating in this time period. England felt too far away, and although she wasn't great at geography, she suspected that reaching their headquarters on foot would take over a year—perhaps even longer. She really didn't have a year to waste. Switzerland was closer; if not there, she knew they also had quarters in Germany. But could she even trust them? She thought they might still be as terrible as they were in her time, even in this era. Yet, she quickly realized she didn't have many options. Who else could help her get back home if she couldn't rely on them?
"Switzerland is quite far from here," was all he said.
Buffy could tell he didn't entirely believe her story, but she was grateful he chose not to ask further questions. After cleaning the dishes, he led her to a guest bedroom.
The room was small, featuring a bed in the center and a small dresser beside it. A window overlooked the village outside. After she expressed her thanks, Marius left the room, gently closing the door behind him. She felt a sense of gratitude that he was the one who found her instead of a thief, rapist, or demon. So far, he seemed nice and hadn't given her any reason to distrust him. Still, she knew she couldn't stay there for long; she needed to figure out how to get home.
Buffy sat on the bed, took off her shoes, and laid on the hard mattress. Her body ached from head to toe. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this sore—perhaps it was after that fight she had with Sunday when she had thoroughly gotten her ass kicked.
She sighed and pondered her next move. Trying to reach the Watchers Council's quarters would be difficult. It was cold, she had no money, couldn't speak any language but English, and was terrible at following maps. If she had struggled with a basic map in her own time, there was no way she could have attempted to reach Switzerland on foot by herself. Although Marius had offered her a place to stay for the night, she assumed that would be the extent of his help. Not that she was complaining; she was grateful for the gesture.
She truly wished she had been dropped somewhere more familiar—anywhere in America or even Canada would have been more manageable than this. Even England, where the Watchers Council headquarters were located, would have made her situation easier.
The next thought that crossed her mind was about the strange entity that had brought her back to the past in the first place. Who—or what—was it, and what were its intentions? Questions began to swirl in her mind. Did it have something to do with the Gem of Amara? Had Spike sent it after her? It wouldn't be the first time the annoying pest had ordered others to do his dirty work for him, like when he had sent the Order of Taraka after her. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, fueling her determination to uncover the truth and thwart whatever dangerous game was being played. If Spike was behind this, Buffy was so going to kick his ass when she got back—if she ever got back.
She turned onto her side, the worn fabric of her blanket enveloping her as she sought warmth against the biting chill that seeped through the walls of her tiny room. The night was still, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves outside. Despite the quiet, her mind buzzed with thoughts racing through the day's events. She wanted to stay awake, to sift through her feelings and make sense of everything, but her eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment. The soft lullaby of her breath mingled with the cool night air, and before she realized it, she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep, the weight of fatigue finally pulling her under.