“Must be because instead of getting any actual rest, I’ve been reliving Love in the Time of the Bubonic Plague,” Buffy muttered to herself. That was the real kick with Slayer dreams. It seemed like every time she had one, she woke up more tired than she’d been when she’d gone to bed.
“Day off from the Palace of the Doublemeat?”
Buffy jumped, startled, then realized it was just her sister coming home from school. “Oh, hey Dawn. Yeah.”
“I figured, since you’re here and you’re making with the chores. And what’s with you being all jumpy Buffy? Not so big with the Slayer senses today?” Dawn said, leaning against the entryway to the living room, her bookbag slung over her shoulder.
Buffy rolled up a pair of socks and tossed them with the other folded laundry. “I just haven’t been sleeping too well. Weird dreams.”
“Slayer dreams?” Dawn asked, concern obvious on her face.
“Maybe. I don’t know. They’re just…” Buffy sighed, not sure she really wanted to share the story of Isobel and Edmund with anyone. “They’re just weird.”
“Are you eating ice cream and pizza before bed?”
Buffy laughed softly. “No. But they’re still there, every time I close my eyes. Even when I try to nap.”
Dawn frowned at that. “They aren’t like, coming of the apocalypse dreams, are they? Because I really don’t like it when you have those.” She shivered.
“No, they’re…” Buffy blushed slightly, an image of Isobel and Edmund writhing on Edmund’s bed popping into her mind. “They’re not apocalypse dreams. It’s more… It’s more like the ones I had before I was Called. Where I’d dream about Slayers from the past.”
“So it’s like a nightly history lesson? That does suck.”
“That part isn’t so bad. Except for the whole Bubonic Plague in Technicolor Smell-o-Vision thing.”
Dawn wrinkled her nose. “Okay, ew. God, I’d be popping No-Doz like candy if I was dreaming about that. Yuck.”
Buffy shook her head and chuckled. “I’ve been handling that part, too. It’s just…” She sighed, wondering if maybe she’d feel better if she just got a little bit of it off her chest – even if she’d never in a million years give Dawn all the details. “I don’t know why I’m having them. They feel like Slayer dreams, only I always have Slayer dreams for a reason, and these make no sense to me at all. I keep getting little snippets of the same story, and none of it is fitting into place for me.”
Dawn dropped her bookbag and came over to the couch, moving Buffy’s laundry basket to the floor before sitting down beside your sister. “Well, let’s see if we can figure it out then.”
“I don’t think that’s really necessary, Dawnie,” Buffy protested.
“No, it’ll be cool,” Dawn insisted. “I’m taking psychology as a social studies elective this semester, and we’ve been doing all this stuff about dream interpretation. It’s fun.” She cleared her throat and sat up straight. “So you said it’s about a Slayer from the past, right? Do you have anything in common with her?”
Other than the fact they were both banging the undead? “Nope,” Buffy replied. “I mean, besides the whole we’re both Slayers thing. We’re nothing alike. She’s all big with the praying and…stuff. She’s like a nun.” Who has really hot vampire sex…
“So what’s she doing?” Dawn asked. “Other than being all surrounded by plague and praying? Any Big Bads?”
“Just one vampire,” Buffy replied, looking down.
“So maybe that’s it,” Dawn said. “Maybe there’s some really old vampire coming to town and the Powers are trying to warn you.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” Buffy said with a shake of her head. “He doesn’t really seem…” Buffy trailed off, her eyes widening. Maybe that was it! Maybe Edmund had become all bitter from Isobel’s rejection and now he had a vendetta against Slayers. Maybe he was going to come to Sunnydale and try to kill her.
That would make sense…
She dumped the unfolded laundry from her lap to the couch and jumped up. “I have to go, Dawnie. Thanks.”
Dawn sat on the couch, blinking as Buffy ran out of the house. “Um, you’re welcome?” she replied to the slamming of the door.
“Well, that was quick,” Spike said from his chair as Buffy came bursting into his crypt. “Only made it five hours this time, did you?”
“Shut up, Spike,” Buffy snapped as she stormed over to him, arms crossed over her chest. “I’m so not here for sex.”
“Come to beat me up then?”
“If I have to. I need information.”
Spike sighed. “God, is that all I am to you? Your sex slave/informant?”
“And again, I say, shut up. I’m looking for a vampire that might be in town. Named Edmund?”
Spike frowned, as if were thinking hard for a moment before he replied with, “Yeah, Edmund. I heard of him. Killed Isobel.”
Buffy gasped. “He did?”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Hell if I know, but that’s the completely cryptic bit of shite you threw at me when you were ‘breaking up’ with me this morning.”
“Okay, first off, take the breaking up out of air quotes, Spike, because it was completely for real. And secondly, stop being an asshole. This is serious.”
Spike jumped out of his chair and threw his arms in the air. “What’s bloody serious, Slayer? Fuck, I thought you were crazy before, but this… You’re making all of no sense. Who the hell are Isobel and Edmund, and why are you looking for them?”
“I’m not. Well, okay, I am looking for Edmund. But not Isobel, because she’s dead.”
“Because Edmund killed her…”
“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know. But I’m sure she’s dead. It could’ve been the Bubonic Plague, though.”
“The…” Spike blinked. “What the hell are you on about, Slayer?”
“Look, I don’t want to get into this, okay? But I’ve been having these Slayer dreams, and I didn’t know what they were about, but then I was talking to Dawn, and she said maybe they were warning me of a new Big Bad, and the only vampire in them is this one named Edmund, so I thought maybe he was in town.”
“So what do Isobel and the Bubonic Plague have to do with anything?”
Buffy sighed. “Isobel’s the Slayer in the dream. And…and it’s during the plague.”
“And Isobel’s hunting this Edmund?”
“Uh huh,” Buffy replied.
Spike may have believed that was all there was to it – if her response hadn’t been so damn chipper. He knew what it meant when Buffy suddenly got so perky and her voice went up to that ear-piercing level.
She was hiding something.
“You’re not telling me the whole story, Slayer. Spill.”
Buffy wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “No.”
“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”
“Look, they’re Slayer dreams, Spike. And since you’re not a Slayer, you aren’t privy to them.”
A slow grin spread across Spike’s face. “Oh, I get it. This Isobel bird’s been shagging Edmund, hasn’t she?”
“No!” Buffy insisted, though the blush on her cheeks said it all.
Spike threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, this is rich. You’ve been having naughty dreams about a vampire and a Slayer. I love it.”
“They are not…” Buffy lowered her voice down to a whisper, “naughty dreams.”
“Please,” Spike replied with a snort. “Although really, makes sense some other chosen chit would’ve wanted a good rough and tumble with a vamp.”
“You know, I’m not even sure they’re Slayer dreams,” Buffy snapped. “They could just be… Something else.”
“Just your subconscious reminding you how hot vampires make you?”
“See! This is why I hate you! This right here!”
“Yeah, heard that one already, Slayer. I’m not impressed. So what’s up with Isobel and Edmund, huh? You said this morning he killed her, but…”
Buffy sighed in resignation. “I thought he did. But then I took a nap, and apparently he just bit her. She’s fine. Or at least she was in 1353. Somehow I doubt she’s still alive and kicking.”
“And what makes you think ol’ Eddie’s out to get you now?”
“Isobel dumped him.”
“Yeah, and?”
“Maybe he’s all bitter and wants to kill Slayers?”
Spike shook his head. “I don’t think so. If there was some vamp who had it out for Slayers since 1353, I’d know. Trust me. I was the only one of my kind daft enough to actively hunt them for sport.”
“Gee, thanks for that little reminder,” Buffy said with a frown.
“Look, Buffy,” Spike said, taking a step closer to her. “Maybe this isn’t about a new baddie in town at all. Maybe the Powers are just trying to let you know you’re not alone.”
“Huh?”
Spike sighed. She could be so bloody slow sometimes… “Look, here’s another Slayer who slept with a vampire, yeah? And I assume this Edmund wasn’t all soul-having like your poofter ex?”
“No, he’s not,” Buffy admitted.
“So then maybe that’s the point to your dreams, pet. Maybe they’re trying to tell you that it’s a little more normal for a Slayer to want a vampire than you’ve been led to believe.”
“That would be the spin you’d put on it,” Buffy snapped. “But you’re totally off base. If anything, they’re trying to warn me before I make the same mistake Isobel made.”
“Buffy…”
“No. God, I never should’ve come back here. All you ever do is try to twist everything into a reason why I should sleep with you, and…”
Before Buffy could say anything else, Spike was on her, his mouth silencing her latest tirade. She fought him for a moment, but Spike held fast, and Buffy soon gave in to what they both wanted.
Spike swept her off her feet and carried her downstairs to his bed.
For three days, Isobel hadn’t seen a sign of Edmund. She continued her nightly hunts, though she stayed away from the keep.
While dead bodies continued to pile up in the village, no one reported anyone dying from strange marks on their necks and the body drained of blood. As far as she could tell, there were no signs of Edmund at all. It was almost as if he’d never been in the village.
She may have been able to believe that if her body didn’t still bear the memories of his touch…
Isobel was coming to the conclusion he’d left the village completely. It was the only logical thing to do, really. Despite what had…transpired between them, she was still a Slayer and he a vampire. Vampires with any sense at all left villages that had a Slayer in them.
It would be for the best if he had gone. This village would be safe and she would not longer have to hunt for him. As much as she was loathed to admit it, Isobel wasn’t sure she’d be able to bring herself to stake Edmund, even if he had bewitched her in order to rob her of her purity.
She had to know for certain if he was gone, and Isobel knew the only way she could do that would be to finally enter the keep. If Edmund was still in the village, then that was surely where he’d be.
Isobel reached the keep only to stop in front of it, pacing back and forth for quite a while as she debated whether or not she should really do this. What if Edmund wasn’t gone? What would happen if she entered the keep and found him still there? Would she succumb to his spell again?
Only of course he wouldn’t be there. Why would a vampire lock himself away in a keep for days? He was already off, tormenting some other village. She’d simply enter the keep, find no signs of him, and be done, ready to return to her Watcher.
With a deep breath, Isobel stepped past the door of the keep, frowning when she found no lit torches. She followed the cool, stone walls with her hands, remembering from touch where Edmund’s bed chambers had been.
Light peeked out from beneath the closed door, and Isobel’s breath caught in her throat. Surely he wasn’t…he couldn’t be! He must’ve simply left a candle burning. For three days.
Her hand shook as it rested on the wooden door, her mind providing all sorts of pictures of what could be on the other side. If Edmund were there, would he finally kill her? Would he give her the death she most assuredly deserved for her wicked behavior?
Would he attempt to seduce her again?
Her heart thudding madly, she pushed the door open and peeked inside. Isobel gasped at her first view of Edmund. He was lying on the bed, his skin even more pale that usual. He looked…ill.
Could vampires suffer from the plague? Isobel certainly hoped not…
Everything else forgotten, Isobel ran to Edmund’s bedside, her warm hand brushing against his face. “Edmund? What’s happened to you?”
He turned to her, his brow wrinkled as he studied her face. “Isobel?”
“Yes, it’s Isobel.” She cleared her throat and asked again. “What’s happened to you, Edmund? Are you hurt?”
“Only my heart.”
“What?”
“You left me,” he whispered. “I finally found you, and you left me.”
“Found me?” Isobel asked, confused. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I’ve been alone for a century, Isobel. Alone and dead. Then I met you, and it was if I could touch sunshine again. You’re so warm, so alive. I need you…”
In an instant, she forgot everything she was.
“Oh, Edmund, you silly vampire,” Isobel said gently as she sat beside him on the bed, taking his hand into hers. “Have you been here this whole time, grieving over me?”
Edmund nodded.
“You look terrible. Have you not even fed?”
Edmund shook his head. “I knew you’d be quite upset with me if I did. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore.”
Looking at him now told Isobel there had been no spell, no bewitching. If anyone had been bewitched, clearly it had been Edmund… “You didn’t hurt me, Edmund,” she assured him. “It’s all right.”
“Is it?” Edmund asked softly.
“Yes.” Isobel let go of his hand and brushed her dark brown hair away from her neck, exposing what was left of the marks he’d put on her neck. “Here, love. Drink from me now and regain your strength.”
It was wrong, Isobel knew. Feeding a vampire must be the ultimate betrayal to her Calling. But it felt so right. He felt right. For the first time in her life, she could look into someone’s eyes and know she belonged.
He accepted her offer, sank his fangs into her neck, and she no longer cared if she were damned.
Isobel had never imagined a vampire bite could be gentle. But as Edmund held her against his strong chest, sipping from her neck, she knew there was no other way to describe this one. It was a kiss of the deepest kind, a bond forged that Isobel now knew nothing could break.
Her Calling, her duty, her vows… None of it mattered now.
There was only them.
There was only love.
In the darkness of his crypt, Spike woke to the sound of Buffy’s soft tears…