Prologue - Death Is Her Gift
Buffy turned back around to face Dawn as the dark haired girl continued staring at the portal. Tears welled up in Dawn’s eyes.
“I'm sorry.” She told her sister.
“It doesn't matter.”
Dawn tried to run past Buffy but was stopped when a pair of hands grabbed her. Dawn looked up into Buffy’s worried face.
“What are you doing?” Buffy asked sternly, but she couldn’t help the worry from showing.
“I have to jump. The energy…”
“It'll kill you.”
“I know.” Dawn replied softly, and Buffy stared at her, fear gripping her heart. “Buffy, I know about the ritual. I have to stop it.”
“No.”
The tower shook underneath them, making them both stumble.
“I have to. Look at what's happening.”
More lightning crackled, even larger than before. Buffy looked up as a huge dragon appeared from the portal and buzzed the tower, flying away as they watched.
“Buffy, you have to let me go. Blood starts it, and until the blood stops flowing, it'll never stop.” Buffy stared at Dawn in anguish. Dawn continued tearfully. “You know you have to let me. It has to have the blood.”
Realization sank into Buffy’s overloaded brain, and Dawn noticed the widening of Buffy’s eyes. For her inner eye, Buffy saw Spike as he looked at her fatally.
“Cause it's always got to be blood.”
Her memory flashed back to the hospital, and the image of herself, putting her hand to her wound, before pressing it against Dawn's bloody hand.
“It's Summers blood. It's just like mine.” She heard herself say out loud. She remembered what she had said only a while before, as memories continued to flash through her brain.
“She's me. The monks made her out of me.”
“Death is your gift.” The first slayer had told her.
“Death...” she mumbled, and Dawn’s face expression turned anxious. Buffy frowned and turned around slowly. She looked out where the platform extended into the air. In the distance, holes seemed to be opening in the sky. The sky was growing lighter as the sun was trying to rise.
A look of peace washed over Buffy’s features. She turned back to Dawn, who stared at her, wide-eyed.
“Buffy... no!”
“Dawnie, I have to.”
“No!”
“Listen to me. Please, there's not a lot of time, listen.”
Buffy held Dawn by the upper arms as she continued her speech. Dawn began to cry as lightning continued to crackle behind them. Buffy stroked the side of Dawn's face before she kissed her on the cheek. Dawn only continued to cry.
Buffy turned. Everything seemed to be happening in slow-motion, as she ran down the platform. Dawn stood back, crying, knowing there was nothing that could be done now.
Buffy swan-dived off the end of the platform, and into the portal.
Dawn could only watch, sobbing as Buffy fell into the portal and hung there motionless, expressions of pain contorting her features.
“Dawn, listen to me. Listen.” Echoed in the mind of the teenager, as she stood back alone. Sobs were wrecking her body. “I love you. I will always love you. But this is the work that I have to do.”
The portal shrank to nothingness and disappeared. The sun began to rise.
Willow and Tara, holding each other up, walked forward, Giles behind them. Xander was holding Anya in his arms as they all walked forward, staring at the sight in front of them.
“Tell Giles ... tell Giles I figured it out. And, and I'm okay.”
Buffy's lifeless body was lying amid the debris. In the background Spike was trying to come forward, falling to the ground as the sunlight hit him. His face was bloodied.
Tara held on to her girlfriend as Willow began to cry.
“And give my love to my friends.”
Anya lowered her head to Xander's shoulder, as they both looked at Buffy.
“You have to take care of them now.”
Giles looked equally sad, if not crushed, by the sight of his slayer, the daughter of his heart, lying dead on the pavement.
“You have to take care of each other.”
Giles began to cry.
Spike was sobbing where he sat back in the shadow, his hands covering his face as he gave himself up to the pain.
“You have to be strong.”
Dawn slowly descended the stairs, holding her sides. She spotted the others.
“Dawn, the hardest thing in this world... is to live in it.”
She began to cry again. The image of her sister was still clear in her memory.
“Be brave. Live. For me!”
The girl’s eyes fluttered open to look up into four worried and excited faces, warily. She shot up into a sitting position, but was pushed back softly, into a cushion that was immediately placed behind her back. Her head spun around, scanning the room that was unnervingly foreign to her.
“Now there, miss. I’d want to slow down if I were you; your fever is running a steady 98 degrees.” One nurse smiled at her warmly, before turning to one of the younger ladies. “I think it will be in order to fix a plate of those potatoes we served this afternoon, and put a piece of chicken on the heat as well. This girl is but a slip of a thing. She hasn’t had solid food in three days, and who knows how long before Mr. Hayden brought her in. Shoo now.”
Two of the nurses hurried out of the room to fix their patient a meal, as the first turned around to face her again.
“Alright miss, dinner will arrive shortly. I am Nurse Spencer, but you can call me Marjorie. I apologise for having to intrude on your healing, but I need to ask you a few questions.” The nurse looked her in the eyes and she nodded, in a confused manner. “Alright, firstly I need to know if you remember anything, or know where you are.”
The girl thought for a second. She then shook her head slowly, and earned a sympathetic glance from Marjorie.
“I’m sorry darling. Do you at least remember your name?” she asked, and received a confirming nod. “Well?”
“Buffy… my name is Buffy Summers.” She croaked, her voice hoarse from lack of use. Just then, the dinner arrived and a tray was sat in front of Buffy in the bed. She looked up at Marjorie, who seemed to be the head nurse.
“It’s alright, you can eat.” She told the girl. “Buffy… that’s an unusual name. What about your date of birth?”
“January 19th.” Buffy told her. She was scared. Everything seemed so foreign to her, and she had to concentrate hard just to remember her name. When she closed her eyes, familiar faces appeared before her, a grown woman with light honey-brown hair and a friendly smile, a young girl with long dark hair, a grave-faced man with glasses, a redhead smiling shyly, a dark-haired boy wearing a goofy grin, a broad man with dark hair and sad eyes, a…
“What else do you remember?” Marjorie asked, pulling Buffy out of her reverie.
“I-I don’t remember anything.” She cried hopelessly, tears welling up in her eyes. “There are… faces? But I don’t know their names, I don’t remember.” Marjorie shook her head regretfully, and put a hand on Buffy’s shoulder.
“Well, I can tell you that you are in the casualty ward of Sunnydale. You have been here for three days, since Mr. Hayden found you in his fields and brought you in. No one knows how you ended up there, but besides a fever there should be nothing wrong with you. How do you feel?”
“Tired, hungry. I’m a little cold…” Buffy answered insecurely. She didn’t like what the nurse was telling her. She slowly ate her food. The petroleum lamps set up around the ward flickered involuntary as a light draught drew through the room. She shuddered inwardly and turned to face Marjorie. “I’m kinda embarrassed to ask this, but… what year are we in?”
“Oh you poor thing. The year is 1878, and the date is April 27th.” Buffy nodded, but stared blankly ahead of her as she received this piece of information. Nurse Spencer walked away from her to see one of the other patients who was shaking violently in his sleep in one of the other cots.
The girl with the golden hair was the talk of the town, and had been since three days ago when she had been carried into the casualty ward by Mr. Hayden. He had found her lying naked and freezing just by the fringe of his fields, and he suspected she had been attacked and left there by some of the trouble-makers that he knew travelled around in the area. He had wrapped her in a blanket and had immediately brought her to the hospital.
No one had seen the girl before, and there were no clever theories on how she had come to lie in Mr. Hayden’s field.
When Buffy awoke the next morning, it was to see a new face sitting beside her cot, smiling down at her. When she woke up he quickly took off his hat and introduced himself as Mr. Charles Hayden. Nurse Spencer came over when she noticed that the girl was up.
“Mr. Hayden has come to see about you every day Miss Summers; he’s been very persistent in looking out for you.” She told Buffy, who smiled slightly. The man seemed to genuinely have worried about her health, and she nodded at him in appreciation. He smiled back, but was then puffed back by Marjorie. “We’ll have to take your temperature dear, see if your fever is gone.”
It almost was, and Buffy had to admit she felt better than she had the night before. But with the fever retreating, more pressing matters came to the front of her mind, as for example the one of what she was going to do once she would be out of the ward, where she would go and how she would earn her living. There were so many questions surging around inside her skull. How had she gotten here? Who did the faces she kept seeing in her head belong to? Who was she?!