“Damn it!” Buffy yelled in frustration, slamming shut yet another book. “None of this is helping.”
“No?” William asked, looking up from his own dusty tome. Lunchtime had come and gone, Drusilla had offered her help for an hour, but it was nearing the end of the school day, they’d made their way through countless books, and had yet to have their “eureka!” moment.
“Blah blah alternate realities exist blah blah the tiniest decision can alter the fabric of time and create a new dimension blah blah there’s a world for everything, like a world without shrimp probably exists somewhere. Fascinating. Except, you know, boring..”
“I’m having a bit more luck than you, but not much,” William confessed, turning the page in his book. “I found a few personal accounts of inter-dimensional travel, but nothing about how they accomplished it. I do wish you could remember the name of the book this supposed spell was from.”
“Supposed spell,” Buffy mimicked brattily. “Well, it was a black book. And leather. I honestly wasn’t listening.”
“At least I’m not the only Watcher you ignore,” William smirked.
“Cute,” she sighed.
“I know you keep resisting this idea, but I really think we should do a bit of research on possible demons that cause hallucinations, or spells that impart memories, just to cover our bases.”
Buffy opened her mouth to protest, then snapped it shut again quickly. “Fine. Okay. You can do that.”
“I’m so glad you’re giving me permission to do my bloody job,” he mumbled as he walked to the book cage, grabbed a new volume, and returned to his seat next to her.
Buffy stared down at the book in front of her, the words swimming in front of her eyes. A tiny pinprick of pain started in the center of her brain, and she shut her eyes tightly in the hopes that it would dissipate. With her eyes closed, she began to see flashes of images. Xander and Giles and Spike and Willow and Drusilla and Angel all swirling about in the black abyss behind her eyelids. She suddenly found it hard to breathe, and clutched the edge of the table so tightly she could feel the wood start to give way under her super powered grasp.
“Aren’t you a little young to be my Watcher?” she asked abruptly, snapping her eyes open.
“Well, not really,” he said in surprise, glancing at her over the top of his glasses. “I’m twenty seven.”
“How long have you been my Watcher? Did I just get called? Did I have a Watcher before you?” Questions suddenly began rolling lightning quick off Buffy’s tongue. “Did I ever fight the Master? Was I born here? Where’s my dad?”
“Buffy, Buffy, slow down,” William waved his hands in front of him as if to protect himself from the onslaught of her inquiries. “One thing at a time, yeah?”
“Okay,” she sighed, trying to slow her racing heart. “It’s just…I don’t know anything, I just had this sinking feeling right now, and, well…”
William took in her panicked state and instantly moved to action, reaching out and stroking her back softly. “I’ll answer any questions you have, pet, okay? Just try and calm down.”
She nodded and took a deep breath, centering her thoughts, trying to meditate, like Giles had attempted to teach her a few weeks ago. It didn’t help, but the soft, repetitive circles William was stroking on her back did. “Okay. Buffy better.” She finally said, surprised at what a calming affect his touch was having on her.
“Alright then,” he said quietly, reluctantly removing his hand. “You used to live in Los Angeles, your parents are divorced, I don’t believe you speak to your father anymore. You were called when you were fifteen, and originally had a different Watcher—“
“And then I burned down the school gym and got sent here?” William nodded. “Okay, at least all that’s the same. And then you became my Watcher?” He nodded again. “You really are super young, though.”
“Thanks, I suppose?” He laughed. “And yes, you did slay the Master.”
“Did I die?” From his shocked expression, she accurately determined, “Guess not.”
“Anything else you want to know?”
“How’d you get the nickname Spike?”
“And we’re back to researching.”
The two shared a quiet laugh and turned back to their books.
“Okay, it’s really very simple,” Drusilla said, drawing a circle of sand around her. “It’s a spell called tirer la couture.”
“Rotate many foodstuffs?” Buffy frowned, frantically trying to remember the last time she’d actually gone to French class.
Dru giggled. “No, it means pull the curtain back. I’m putting myself in a trance, kind of, to see spells.”
“That’s not dangerous, is it?”
“No, no,” the dark haired girl smiled. “I can do it.”
“Drusilla is bloody brilliant, actually,” William said, causing her to blush. “It’s true, you’d put any of those Council witches to shame.”
“Thanks,” she said happily. “Really, it’s not hard, just takes a lot of concentration. And, I altered the spell a bit, weakened the effects, so it should only last about five minutes. Why don’t you two go into the office so I can do it out here, then I’ll come to see you, Buffy, and see what’s going on.”
Buffy nodded nervously and followed William into his small, cluttered office. He shut the door behind her and settled himself onto the couch, while Buffy paced back in forth in the tiny room. The school had emptied out for the evening, the sun was setting, and once again a spell was being cast in the library. She was antsy.
The smell of incense came wafting under the door just a few minutes later.
“Nervous?” William asked as he watched her.
“Did the pacing give it away? I thought I was hiding it so well.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “This’ll tell us something at least, narrow it down, yeah?”
“Yeah,” she sighed, then sat stiffly next to him, her leg bouncing.
William reached out and stilled her jitters with his hand. “Calm. Down.”
“Calm, so calm,” she lied. “Calm like…something calm. I don’t know.”
Just a second later, a tentative knock sounded on the door. Buffy froze in place, staring at the door with wide eyes, and William leapt up to open it.
Drusilla entered, swaying lightly, her knee-length white dress swirling around her delicately. Her eyes were slightly unfocused, her jaw slack. She surveyed the room slowly, starting left and moving right, until she found Buffy.
It felt like an eternity as she stared, and Buffy could hardly stand the intensity in the girl’s dark gaze.
“There’s nothing,” Drusilla whispered, her voice lilting, as if she was singing. “There’s no spells. No ties that bind.”
“But...but there has to be—“ Buffy started to protest, when Drusilla raised one hand and silenced her.
“Wait…your eyes…” she moved closer, until they were nearly nose to nose. Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath. “I can see into you, into your eyes. There’s a gate. The stars, they sparkle back at me…there’s nothing there. They go down so deep. There’s nothing there. Except what you want there to be.”
She blinked, her eyes warmed back up, her face shifted imperceptibly, and she was normal Drusilla again, or at least for this reality. The shock of seeing her like that, exactly like the vampire from her nightmares, caused Buffy to stagger back against the wall, flatten herself there, and just stare in horror.
“Buffy, are you okay?” Drusilla asked, her voice higher, friendly again, concerned. “Did I scare you? I’m sorry!”
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she shook her head, shaking slightly. “That was just…anyway. I’m sorry, what did you see?” She tried her best to seem calm, normal, collected.
Drusilla stared at her, puzzled, but just said, “Well, there’s no actual spell around you, nothing to indicate created memories, or…or something like that. But I saw something in your eyes, it was strange, they were…bottomless?”
“What do you think that means?” William asked, still watching Buffy, still checking to make sure she was as okay as she claimed.
“I don’t know, really,” Drusilla wrinkled her forehead in thought. “I guess it would support the…the reality of Buffy’s other reality? If her eyes were so deep I couldn’t see the bottom, then maybe that means…she comes out on the other side?”
“That makes sense!” Buffy exclaimed. “I mean, doesn’t it?”
William nodded, and said slowly, “That’s good work, Dru. I would say you’re probably right.”
The girl let out a sigh of relief, “I’m glad the spell taught us something, I’m really sorry if it scared you, Buffy…”
“No, no, it didn’t,” she insisted. “And see, I told you I’m not crazy.”
“No, you’re not crazy,” William said quietly, looking at the small blonde girl in front of him. “You’re just…not quite you, I guess.”
Buffy could feel their eyes appraise her, inspect her, look for some difference they hadn’t noticed before.
They found none.
“Okay, well,” William coughed, tearing his eyes away from the Slayer in front of him. “I guess we could get back to researching, see if—“
“No,” Buffy said. “I...I have a headache, I think I’m just going to take a walk. I’ll see you at home. Thanks, Drusilla, for the spell.”
She hurried out of the office and grabbed her bag before running out of the library, the school, and into the muted light of dusk. She ran until she reached the edge of campus, then slowed down and leaned against a parked car.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to block out the fear that seemed to cloud around her, clawing at her skin, trying to dig its way into her heart.
“Buffy?” An all too familiar voice said from in front of her.
“Hi, Angel,” she said without opening her eyes. When she finally did, he was standing awkwardly in front of her, a concerned expression on his face.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“That seems to be up for debate,” she muttered, then managed to look directly at his face and say, “Drusilla did her spell, so I’m all different Buffy, not your Buffy. So, you were wrong. You were all wrong.”
“Oh,” he frowned. “So you really…you really don’t know any of us?”
She shook her head forcefully. “I’m sorry if I’ve been rude, though…I didn’t mean to be. You just…who you are to me is really, complicated I guess, and you being here, but not…I’m talking in circles all the time, and I know I’m not making sense, but—“ She took a deep, shuddering breath.
Angel put his hand on her arm awkwardly, in what she assumed was supposed to be comforting. It shocked her that his touch felt nothing like her other Angel’s, that his heavy palm on her skin just felt...like Xander’s would have. “It’s okay, Buff…Buffy,” he corrected himself from using the friendly nickname. “I’m sorry I was kind of a jerk. I’ll help out, okay?’
“Okay,” she smiled tensely and pulled away. “I’m just…I need to be alone, right now? But Dru’s still in the library, I think, I’ll see you all later.”
She walked off quickly, a destination in mind, relishing the setting of the sun.
She needed to kill something.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
In retrospect, this chapter really should have been combined with the previous one, but alas, it was not. Enjoy, and please, let me know what you think! Chapter title from a song by The Perishers.