Buffy sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Nothing. I…I should go.”
“No. Come on, kitten, talk to me,” Spike prodded. “Did you have another dream?”
“I’m not talking about this,” Buffy snapped. “It’s late, and Dawn’s alone. I have to…”
“Stop using her as an excuse,” Spike said sharply as he sat up in the bed. “You running out of here doesn’t have a sodding thing to with Dawn. It’s all because of you being unable to cope.”
“I never should’ve come here today,” Buffy muttered as she got out of the bed, searching the dark crypt for her clothes. “And did you steal my underwear again?”
“Ripped ‘em,” Spike reminded her. “They’re useless now. Wherever they are. But c’mon, Buffy. Just get back into bed, and we’ll talk about things.”
“We do not have a talking relationship,” Buffy replied as she pulled on her jeans.
“We used to.”
There was a sadness to his voice, but Buffy refused to let herself be softened by it. She was too much of a jumbled mess to try to figure out anything with Spike right now. The last dream had changed everything in an instant. She didn’t just see the events – she felt what Isobel felt. She experienced the moment when Isobel had let the wall fall down around her heart and allowed Edmund in.
And it terrified the hell out of Buffy.
Spike was calling her name as she ran out of the crypt, but she didn’t stop, didn’t listen. She had to get away, needed to find a place she could breathe.
She needed to know if the dreams were real…
Buffy knew there was only one way for her to figure out if they were actually Slayer dreams or if she was simply losing her mind. Giles had left behind several books he thought might be of use to her when he’d returned to England, including a written log of the Slayers of the past. If she couldn’t find a mention of a Slayer named Isobel who had lived in the mid-1300’s, then she’d know it was nothing but her brain making with the crazy.
But if there had been an Isobel…
Buffy decided not to dwell on what that could mean until she actually saw it. Until then, she’d hold out hope that there really had never been an Isobel the Medieval Vampire Slayer.
The Magic Box was dark and deserted when Buffy arrived, and she entered quietly through the back door before going down to the basement where Giles had left the books. She dug around until she found the large, leather-bound tome, and then cleared a spot off on a table to set it down.
Her hands trembled as she flipped through the yellowed pages, her eyes scanning lists of exploits of Slayers from long ago. Some entries consisted of mere dates, while others included a brief description of battles and accomplishments.
However, one line seemed to jump from its page.
Isobel (b. 1338, c.1352, d. 1353)
Nothing else. No elaboration, nothing to make her anymore than a footnote in history. As if she’d never accomplished a thing.
As if she’d never been loved…
Buffy slipped down to the ground, covering her face as her tears fell. Isobel had been real. Her dreams were real.
And Isobel was going to die… Soon.
Would Edmund be the one to do it? Somehow, Buffy didn’t believe he would be.
Much to her surprise, Buffy found her heart aching for both of them. If her rejection of him had brought Edmund so much pain, what would Isobel’s death do to him? How would he cope with the loss?
Was Edmund still around? Or had he caught the first sunrise after Isobel’s death?
And why did she care so much about what happened to a vampire?
Buffy was exhausted. For months, everything had been too much for her to handle, and now this, too? She looked up to the ceiling and yelled at the Powers That Be. “Why are you doing this to me!” she demanded to know. “If you have something to tell me, just fucking tell me!”
She got no answer but silence. She hadn’t really been expecting anything else.
Every piece of her aching, Buffy pulled herself up off the ground and started for home.
Isobel bit her lip to fight her laughter. She knew her heartbeat would give her away, but she didn’t need to make this even easier.
“I can smell you, Slayer,” Edmund announced, sing-song. “You can’t hide for long…”
Isobel closed her eyes, counted to three, and then burst from her hiding place, running down the hall of the keep and past Edmund – without a stitch of clothing on.
“You witch!” Edmund bellowed, though his laughter was not far behind. “I will capture you, strumpet.” He ran after her, then came to an abrupt stop when he realized her trail had stopped. He closed his eyes, searching for her scent.
Suddenly, he was tackled to the ground by a giggling Slayer.
“It appears as if I have caught you,” Isobel informed him with a proud smile.
“And I suppose you expect a reward?” Edmund asked with an arched eyebrow.
“Yes, and I shall have it,” Isobel replied before sliding down his body.
A moment later, Edmund groaned. “Wouldn’t that be my reward, Isobel?” he asked between pants.
Isobel slid her mouth up his cock and kissed the tip. “No. Definitely my reward,” she replied before engulfing him again with a moan of pure indulgence.
“Christ’s blood, Slayer, you’re too good to me,” Edmund informed her as he threaded his fingers through her thick, dark hair.
She hummed in response, and Edmund was all but undone. He dragged her up and positioned her over his cock. “Like this, dove. I want it like this.”
Isobel smiled, all vixen now. In the nights they’d spent together, he’d banished the uninformed virgin, replacing her with a woman who was more his equal than any other he’d ever known.
And to prove it she sank down on him, letting him fill her completely. Within moments, she was riding him at a hard, unforgiving pace, her impossibly strong internal muscles squeezing him until he thought he’d burst.
She threw her head back, her long hair tickling his legs, and Edmund knew he was already close. He held on, wanting her with him when he fell…
Suddenly, her head snapped up, her eyes almost completely black. She lunged forward, grabbed the flesh of his neck between her teeth, and bit down as hard as she could.
Edmund called out, came, and lost himself completely to her.
Every night when Isobel finally left the keep, Edmund would beg her to run away with him instead. He knew it would only be a matter of time until someone in the village discovered what she was doing and all would be ruined for them.
Isobel had insisted his fears were nonsense. The priest hadn’t questioned her once when she’d returned from her supposed hunts and no one in the village came near the keep anymore out of fear. Things were fine for the time being, and she was free from the careful eye of her Watcher as long as they were there.
Truth be told, Isobel was afraid to make that last step. Afraid to truly turn her back on her Calling completely in favor of a vampire.
No matter how wonderful that vampire made her feel…
She didn’t understand his fear that they would be separated. The village was too preoccupied with the plague to possibly care about the comings and goings of one girl. Furthermore, she had the protection of the Church. As long as she could convincingly remain in the village “hunting for vampires,” then nothing could touch them.
By the time Isobel realized Edmund had been correct, it was too late.
A crowd had gathered outside the church, the flames of their torches brightening the night. Isobel approached with trepidation, her heart thudding rapidly. When a villager turned towards her, she froze, her blood chilling with fear.
“She’s come! The Devil’s whore!”
Isobel gasped, the world seeming to spin. Suddenly, people were surrounding her, pulling at her limbs and hair, dragging her towards the church. They threw her at the feet of the priest, and Isobel looked up at him, tears in her eyes.
“Father, please protect me. You…you know who I am.”
He sneered at her, his dark eyes cold. “Yes, I do know what you are, witch. You have lain with the Devil. Did you not think I would see his stain upon your neck?”
“Please, Father… I’m not a witch. I…”
The priest kicked her, making Isobel stumble backwards, her lip bleeding. “Silence, filthy creature! Your lies cannot sway me. You have brought pestilence to this village with your unholy ways, and you will pay for your sins.”
“No! I haven’t!” Isobel insisted, though the heavy feeling in her heart told her perhaps she had. Had she cursed this village even further by straying from her path, by allowing herself to be corrupted by Edmund?
Yet, she didn’t feel corrupted. She knew Edmund was a vampire, but everything he did to her had felt so right, and nothing like a sin.
“Your fate has been decided,” the priest told her. “You have been found guilty of the crime of witchcraft, and while I will attempt to wrest a confession from you, whether you offer one or not, you will be put to death for your crimes tomorrow.”
“No!” Isobel sobbed. “Please, Father, no! I am innocent!” This couldn’t be happening to her. What would Edmund do if they killed her? She couldn’t leave him. She couldn’t. “Please…”
Her pleas for mercy were cut off when she was grabbed by two men who began to drag her towards the church. She pushed them off, using the full might of her Slayer strength, but the attacks just kept coming.
There were too many of them and, Slayer or not, she was just one girl.
Buffy ran from her bed to the bathroom, vomiting up the meager contents of her stomach. She’d known things were going to end badly, but this…
She flushed the toilet and leaned back against the bathroom wall, tears in her eyes. Isobel hadn’t deserved this. Buffy had seen it all with her own eyes, and the other Slayer had committed no crime.
All she’d done was fall in love…
A knock at the door cut off Buffy’s train of thought and she looked up when her sister’s voice came through. “Buffy? Are you all right? I thought I heard you in here yakking.”
Buffy stood up on shaky legs and opened the door to face Dawn. “Hey. Yeah, I was, but I’m all right.”
Dawn frowned at the sight of her sister. “No offense, Buffy, but you look like hell. What’s wrong?”
“I had another dream,” Buffy admitted with a sigh. “The Slayer – Isobel – she was accused of witchcraft. It…it wasn’t pretty.”
Dawn put her hand to her mouth and gasped. “Oh no! Did you…did you dream about her dying?”
“No,” Buffy replied, shaking her head. “But it’s coming. I know it is. I…I looked her up tonight in one of Giles’s books, and she’s going to die.” Tears welled up in Buffy’s eyes again. “Edmund won’t be able to save her.”
“Edmund?” Dawn asked with a frown. “Who’s Edmund?”
Buffy paled as she realized she’d said too much. “Nothing, I should go back to bed.”
Only if she went back to bed, if she started to dream again…
She’d have to watch Isobel die…
“Are you sure? You look pretty upset, Buffy.”
“I’m fine,” Buffy insisted. “I’m just really tired.”
“You don’t look fine,” Dawn said. “Are you sure you don’t need to talk to someone? If…if not me, then someone else. Maybe…” Dawn took a deep breath. “Maybe Spike?”
Buffy’s eyes grew wide. “Spike? Why would you think I’d want to talk to Spike?”
Dawn shrugged. “He’s a good listener. And I’ve seen you around with him a lot recently. I thought maybe you guys were, y’know, talking about stuff?”
Buffy laughed nervously. “No way. That’s funny, Dawnie. Me talking to Spike about…stuff.”
Dawn looked at her sister skeptically. “Okay. I just thought I’d offer. Are you really sure you’re going to be fine?”
“Yeah. I will be. I’ll just have to make myself dream about…something happier.”
“Yeah, all right,” Dawn said, though she clearly didn’t believe her. “You’ll call me if you need anything, right?”
“I will. Go on back to bed.”
Dawn gave Buffy one more skeptical look before giving up and going back to her own room.
Buffy got back into bed and wondered how long she could fight sleep.