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F E A T U R E D F I C O F T H E M O M E N T
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“You, Buffy Anne Summers, have been chosen to fight the battle of good vs. evil, a figure of power that represents everything the human race stands for. You, Buffy Anne Summers, are hereby chosen to sacrifice your life to save those of millions. You, Buffy Anne Summers, are to be taken from your family to fulfil your chosen destiny as this world’s protector. You, Buffy Anne Summers, shall you live long enough, will be chosen to become an immortal on this plane of existence, eternally chosen to take the world’s future into your hands and forever secure it in the year 2054. This, Buffy Anne Summers, is your destiny, and you shall follow in the steps of your predecessors to victory of the demon scum that torments our lives.” The large man hovering over the small bed allowed his voice to echo in the large hall, screaming in the ears of the men who were in attendance. Some winced, others nodded while most of them sat stone-faced, unable to conjure a face of appreciation or agreement. The man performing the ritual towered over the velvet covered mattress, his voice’s echo finally halting. Silence reigned as the man finally raised a large hand. “I hereby bless you, Buffy Anne Summers,” he said softly, his coarse finger caressing the forehead of soft skin as he made the sign of a small cross. “May the Fates guide you until your final day.” A rough sob could suddenly be heard as a young woman threw herself at the alter, her fingernails clawing at the stone ground as she cried her pain. The pain of losing a child. The pain of the knowledge that her sweet daughter would someday cease to exist, whether that be in fifteen years or many centuries from now. The man didn’t look over his shoulder once, his eyes instead focused on the small baby sitting on the bed, completely nude and covered with holy water. The woman’s pained voice meant nothing to him, as it hadn’t when he heard it from others on other such occasions. Large men grabbed the woman and pulled her away as she kicked and screamed, all her maternal instincts screaming for her to take the young babe away from the harm she was sure to endure. “This, Buffy Anne Summers, is your destiny and you shall forever be tied to it and to your Masters. Never will you stray from your fate and this mark will always be there to remind you of such.” Holding out his hand, he barely winced as a burning cross was placed in his hands by the young woman who stood next to him, clothed only in a heavy cloak along with every other person in the room. Her face was hidden behind the hood as the large fire roared behind him, an invisible fire stroking it as the man poised the sharpened end of the cross on the baby’s arm. Her shriek was livid as he dug the large point into her left wrist, drawing a simple cross. “You, Buffy Anne Summers, shall bear this mark as a sign of loyalty and endless love towards your Masters. Never shall you stray.” The baby’s cries was like a knife in the woman’s gut and she shut her eyes as she took the burning cross once more, her delicate fingers clothed by heavy gloves. “So mote it be.”
Buffy Summers stared at the stake in her hand, studied the wood and it’s natural engravings, something she knew it had had before it was pulled so horribly from the Earth. She lightly touched the point of the stake with her finger, causing her sleeve to slide down her arm and reveal a shiny scar that had grown with her. It was now the size of the large candles that served as the only light in the room. She never stared at it too long. To the untrained eye, she looked like a simple girl standing in a simple room that had no windows and was shaped by hard rock. She looked like she had simply picked up a piece of wood and had let curiosity get the best of her. But unbeknownst to that same untrained eye was the moving shadow as it slowly approached her from behind, it’s body naturally curved in the ways of fighting. No one would ever know that Buffy could sense that being as clearly as she could sense the dank stone around her. As she could sense the hard wood in her hands. She knew that it was coming and she wasn’t afraid. As the shadow made it’s first attack, she was already in motion. As the air shifted around her, tickling her ears and causing her short blonde locks to suddenly trail behind her, she spun, grabbing the arm of her attacker and swinging him down to the floor. There was no sound except the silent thud of the shadow as it fell to the floor gracefully, rolling to stand once more. This time Buffy was facing it, her expression neutral and her emotions shuttered. Her body language spoke of surety and razor sharp confidence as she stood tall before her enemy. A soft growl could be heard in the darkness and her response was to cock her head to the side, letting the knowledge that there were at least ten more shadows in the dark wash over her. She felt no fear as she bound into battle, her fists flying in a blur as she lightly touched the tip of the stake against the shadow’s chest, turning around, not bothering to watch him fall to the hard ground. Her simple outfit of black pants and a black shirt followed her movements perfectly as she touched the tip of her stake to another shadow’s chest as they all bound from the darkness, her carefully calculated movements allowing her to not shove the stake into the shadow’s heart. She surrendered her body to the primal power that coursed through her body, her mind going blank except for her goal. To kill every shadow in the room and walk away victorious. With only her stake barely touching the shadow’s chests as she moved, putting only enough pressure to cause them to fall, she finally stood over the bodies, her breathing slightly heavy. Nothing moved as she scanned the area for more when a movement from the doorway caught her eye. “Well done, Miss Summers,” a man said as he strolled into the room. Buffy’s face remained emotionless as many more followed him into the room, fanning out around him. “Well done indeed.” Buffy didn’t move an inch as the bodies around her began moving. Her face was impassive as they all stood, rearranging themselves into a long line as if ready for inspection. “Now,” the man said once more. “Can you tell me which ones are the enemy?” “Yes, Master,” Buffy said, her voice hard as she turned around to view the men before her. She had already known which ones were which when they had attacked her. It wasn’t that bloody hard. Walking to the front of the line, she began walking down, merely reaching forward and touching the shoulders of some of them and while the others she left behind. Her heightened senses could feel the cold skin, even through the heavy material they wore. She finally reached the end and turned to look at her Master, her face triumphant. But he only looked on disappointed. “You forgot one, Miss Summers,” he said, his tone condescending as he motioned with his hand for the forgotten one to move forward. Buffy bowed her head, silently cursing herself. She knew which one she had missed. She always missed Him. “I am disappointed, Miss Summers,” Quinton Travers said, moving forward as he clasped his hands behind his back. Buffy didn’t lift her head once as he moved to stand before her. “Time and time again I tell you to reach beyond your simple knowledge and delve into your more primal senses, yet you still fail to locate the one I strive for you to center around. Have you learned nothing?” Buffy didn’t speak, only keeping her head bowed as she listened to him. He was right. She always failed when it came to picking Him out. Always. And she wondered if she always would. But below all her agreeing and self-doubt, she felt a righteous anger growing, as it had for the last twenty years. “Speak,” Travers said, “Tell me and the rest of us why you have once again failed to do as I told you.” Buffy lifted her head and stared at the man before her, the man whom she had lived with her entire life. “I don’t know why I can’t sense him.” Travers shook his head. “That’s not good enough, Miss Summers. You have failed to impress me once again. Three hours in the containment room where you shall spend your time studying what apparently cannot be taught verbally.” Travers than turned and walked to the door, his men following him. He waved his hand in dismissal to all the men whom had played her enemy before leaving. Buffy stood in the middle of the room, her fists shaking. All but one left. All but Him. She didn’t move as she felt the air shift around her and she knew that He was standing next to her. And still she could not sense his true presence. “He’s only training you to be the best.” Buffy’s head whipped around to glare at the speaker. He had removed his mask and was looking down at her with what she misinterpreted as pity. “I don’t really need your opinion, thank you very much.” Their eyes met and Buffy challenged him to say anything more that would seem even the slightest deigning towards her. But He said nothing. His face was passive and His eyes were black as the night, yet she knew them to be brown. He had shuttered his gaze when she had spoken and she felt slightly guilty. “Sorry,” Buffy said sarcastically, unwilling to let him know she felt sincerely regretful. But He heard it and Buffy could tell by the way one of his eyebrows rose. She narrowed her eyes. “What do you care anyway? You’ve been doing this for how long?” Angel simply stared at her. He never understood her attitude towards him. It had always been an unhappy characteristic between the two and he had no idea how to change the image she put him in whenever she saw him. He could understand her need to do such a thing, especially when Travers treated her the way he did when she couldn’t sense him. But that was why he was there. To be a trainer of sorts of the Slayers. He was special. A special being who had been put on this Earth of this certain job. He was a third demon, a third human and a third of something he hadn’t a clue about. When he had been called before the Powers That Be, he had merely been a lost vampire whom had regained his soul and now felt guilt for his actions. The Powers changed that. They gave him a reason to live and granted him the powers he now had, giving him the knowledge he would need in his fight with the Slayers. They had changed him as well. They had made him more human than vampire so he could walk in the sunlight, eat and maybe even conceive offspring. But he still had his power. He still had his fear of crosses and holy water. But then they added something he still to this day couldn’t understand. They had said there was new blood within him, blood that belonged to a great demon god whom had been forced to the light side of the fight only to kill himself on the alter where this very Slayer had been recognized with her destiny. And now he was a powerful being with the Watcher’s Council, whom they insisted upon being called Master whenever addressed by a Slayer. But Angel found that archaic and a waste of time seeing as how the Slayers could easily take over just as the Watchers did when they had made the first Slayer. Angel himself had been with the Watcher’s Council the day he was endowed with his new power, being planted by the Fates into this new world. It had taken him years to finally be accepted within the organization and years after that to be trusted. But that was three hundred and fifty seven years ago. He was now trusted and accepted among other things. He had a strong voice in the Council and an even stronger voice in the demon world. As their enemy of course but he still struck fear. He had trained many Slayers. Countless numbers of them. He had watched them on the alter, he had watched them grow, even looked at some as children and others as lovers, but only to watch them die. None of them made it to their twenty second birthday. No Slayer ever had. They all died, whether it was at a young age or a month within the moment that it was supposed to happen. None ever made it and Angel found himself grateful. The fight against evil still went on. And none of the girls had to endure the pain of living forever, or until their destined true death. It was a flaw the Council had planted in the system. A Slayer couldn’t live forever. It would ultimately disrupt the way things worked. If a Slayer was ever to be Immortal, then the instant they were given the “gift”, another Slayer would be immediately called, moving on to her tenure as Slayer. It was as if the Slayer who was Immortalized died. But she wouldn’t. Not for the appointed time, as was given by the Powers. They decided when it was time. But things had never had to go that far and Angelus was perfectly happy with that. He didn’t want to watch one of his Slayer go on to live for so long, having to live through the pain he did every time someone he was close to died, which happened to be on a regular basis. But this one, this Buffy Anne Summers, she was different. He could smell it in her blood. She had the potential to live that long. It was definitely there but he had to wonder at her disability to sense him. He was unique but once a Slayer was afforded with that extra bout to her power, she was ever the more powerful, able to stop demons without opening her eyes. Most of the Slayers before had been able to defeat this leap. They had taken the test, some had failed, some had done it almost immediately while it took the others a while to catch on. But right now, it was Buffy. It would seem that she was unable to conjure the power she needed to defeat this obstacle in her training and Angel wondered when it would ever happen. If ever. “Too good to talk to me now, Angelus?” Buffy asked sweetly, her naturally headstrong attitudeflaring within her. Half of it’s burn came from what Travers had said to her. While she played along nicely, inside she yearned for the chance to show them what she believed she was really capable of. He didn’t respond. “You weren’t trying, were you?” Buffy asked after a moment of staring. “When we were fighting. The others were born that way due to the fact that they were human and that’s how you tricked me. If you had actually been trying, I would have known it was you immediately.” Angel cracked a smile. “Yes. You would have. But this exercise wasn’t necessarily about that, now was it?” Buffy sighed in frustration. “Why are you such an asshole? Do you think you’re better than me?” Angel could see the wheels turning in her head. He saw the light jump into her eyes. “Do you think you can take me?” Angel hid his smirk, keeping his face completely blank. What an interesting question she posed. Did he think he could take her? He honestly hadn’t thought about it. His only assigned job with this Slayer was to sharpen her senses and she wasn’t doing such a great job in that area but her fighting skills were impeccable. She was brilliant when it came to improvising with the Slaying, far outshining her unsuccessfulness in the other parts of her power. Angel briefly thought about the fact that he hadn’t had to put up with this nonsense with most of the other girls. Most were nice but there had been there few bad apples, but never what it was like with Buffy. Though they were all different, there was something about the blonde Slayer that sparked pride and affection within him, something not unfamiliar, yet puzzling at the same time. Angel finally allowed himself to smile. He saw the flicker of rage in her eyes and he easily fell back into a defensive stance. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Summers.” Buffy growled at him. I have more than you think, she thought angrily as she too fell into a defensive stance and began circling him warily. He attacked without warning, his posture allowing Buffy to think that he was on the defense rather than the offense and she barely was able to move her head in time to miss the hard punch that would have surely left a nasty bruise on her jaw. The move had purely been instinct and she knew that if she had been even the most skilled fighter, she wouldn’t have been able to dodge that if it weren’t for the Slayer in her. Angry that she had let him surprise her, she immediately attempted to strike back. But her fist landed on thin air and before she could turn around to attack him one more, he had her in a headlock. Humiliation and rage built in her chest in an instant and she began squirming in his arms, but to no avail. His grip was incredibly strong and try as she might, she couldn’t break free. After several minutes of heavy breathing and failed attempts to break free, Buffy fell limp in his arms and sighed. “You got me... Happy?” “Hardly,” Angel said dryly as he released the current Slayer. It was amazing how she allowed herself to be so controlled by her emotions. Had the Council taught her nothing? Buffy stood and rubbed her neck gently before glaring at him. “Then what are you?” He once again didn’t reply and Buffy felt the urge to shout in frustration quickly building in her chest. “Am I not good enough for you or something? You are the only one who I don’t have to call Master and the only one I should be actually learning something from and you don’t say anything to me when I ask? When I actually want to learn something?” Angel shook his head. “That was the wrong question to ask.” “What’s that supposed to mean, oh wise one?” Buffy demanded. “Because obviously we aren’t on the same frequency here, wouldn’t you say?” Angel merely looked at her once again. Buffy met his eyes as she thought about his possible reasoning before her anger once again broke free. “How did you help all those other Slayers, Mr. Angelus? I don’t understand how they could have possibly benefitted from your seemingly endless... whatever the hell you have!” Angel waited to respond, watching as the blonde girl before him attempted to visibly calm, her hands clenching into fists. He sighed. “You allow your emotions to control you,” he said bluntly. Buffy stared at him. “My emotions give my power,” she replied in a calm voice, speaking from what she believed was correct. “They give me–“ “–They give your opponent, your enemy, a chance to hurt you.” Angel stared at Buffy. “You’re fighting techniques are some of the best I’ve ever seen, but you’re untried in the actual battle field. You would be killed in an instant.” Buffy pursed her lips, refusing to look at him as her posture stiffened and her hands tightened, her nails digging into her palms. “There is a reason you couldn’t sense me, Miss Summers,” Angel continued. “You wouldn’t last an hour, let alone a year, in the real world.” “And what reason is that?” Buffy snapped. “Why wouldn’t I last in the ‘battle field’?” Angel stared at her in disbelief, before fighting back his cold remark. Angel looked down before meeting her gaze once more. “You’re right, Buffy. Emotion gives you power, but that’s not always a good thing. Most of the time it can lead to your ultimate downfall if you don’t have what it takes to accept that emotional attachment can get you killed.” “So, what? You think because I happen to get angry at a few things that’ll get me killed?” Buffy scoffed. “You know what? In my opinion, I’m one of the best here. If you put me out there, I would kick anything’s ass so easily, including yours. So don’t come up to me with your infinite knowledge, ‘cause I don’t buy into all that bullshit.” Buffy began slowly walking backwards towards the exit, her eyes never leaving his in a challenging manner. “Sorry, big guy, but it just won’t work on me.” Buffy felt the intensity of his gaze on her back as she turned and left the room. Shaking her head in annoyance, Buffy turned to go to her rooms when she came face to face with her Watcher. “Miss Summers, I assume you remember your three hours in the containment room?” Buffy nodded her, her eyes not meeting his, never meeting his. “Yes, Master.” “Then off with you... in the opposite direction.” Buffy nodded and turned to leave only to be stopped by his deep voice. “And please do inform me of the next time you are left alone with Mr. Angelus,” Travers said, his tone odd. Buffy turned slightly and looked at him over her shoulder. “Why?” “It is not your place to question. Now continue on.”
Rupert Giles looked up as his Watcher counterpart entered the room. Scooting out his chair from where he had been leaning over a large book on an oversized table, he stood and regarded the man cooly. “And how is our young charge doing?” Giles asked. Travers crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against an overstuffed chair across the large library. “As well as expected,” Travers responded. “But she still has trouble responding to Mr. Angelus’ presence. She cannot sense him in the least bit.” Giles watched the man from across the room before shaking his head, as if to clear his thoughts, and moved to take his glasses off, producing a white cloth. “Well, we both know the reasoning for that.” Travers sighed. “Yes. And it saddens me a great deal that the woman who is supposed to carry this world on her shoulders to victory will fall to him.” “Girl,” Giles said, replacing his glasses and folding the cloth. “She is merely a girl in the world and what do you mean fall? Surely you can’t think that.” “Can’t I?” Travers asked, moving away from the entrance and towards the man whom he had once respected a great deal. “Isn’t that what she is destined to do? Fall to him?” “You make it sound like it will be her death,” Giles said, cocking his head. “Is that how you think of it?” “You’ve known for a long while how I’ve thought of it, Rupert. The minute we saw that prophecy, we both knew she was doomed. You cannot deny it.” “No,” Giles said thoughtfully, “No, you’re right. I can’t. But the way you speak of it makes her sound like she will purposefully throw herself off the cliff of this so called doom.” “Perhaps,” Travers nodded, “Buffy Summers’ destiny is... words cannot describe it.” Giles didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say to make Travers see what he believed Buffy Summers’ destiny was to be. He knew it, in his gut, that she would be the greatest, and her choices leading to that point would only make it more concrete. He knew... but her mentor didn’t and Giles felt sorry for that. They stared at one another for several more minutes until Travers sighed and turned away, once again crossing his arms over his chest. “As always, Rupert, you’re infinite wisdom is a treasure,” he said as he exited the room.
Buffy was swimming. At least that’s what it felt like. She was swimming, her body was moving along some current of liquidness that she couldn’t identify. But her arms were completely still. As were her legs. She was swimming. Buffy opened her eyes. Looked around. And furrowed her brow. She was laying down, moving along on what she could only assume was dream water as it carried her to some unknown destination . She was completely surrounded by blackness... everything was so black. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t do anything but lay there as she was carried swiftly through the eternal blackness. She tried to move her head. She tried to look around, but only saw the black. Laying back down, wishing she could pinch her arm to see if she was in fact dreaming, she waited. And waited... And waited... Buffy squinted as a small white light seemed to break through the blackness. Buffy turned her face towards the light, instinctively seeking shelter within something she associated with goodness and safety. It grew, slowly but rapidly at the same time and when Buffy blinked, she was suddenly bathed in the glowing whiteness. Bringing her arm up to block the offensive penetration to her eyes, she realized that she could move. She stood and looked around once more. Now it was only eternal white surrounding her, glowing whiteness that went on forever and ever. Walking would be good, she knew, so she moved forward, intent upon making her way towards whatever it was that she sought, for she knew it was something big, whatever it was. She could feel it in her chest and was desperate to stop the horrible heartache that was associated with the feeling. She walked and never got tired and Buffy felt like she was floating suddenly as what she was could only describe as being lifted from the ground she couldn’t see. There was no ground... but then what had she been standing on? Buffy felt the height in her stomach as she continued to get higher and higher. She rose until she saw something dark in the lightness. Wondering if it was the offending blackness back, Buffy squinted until she saw the blur of three figures in front of her. Buffy cocked her head. Heavy shouts echoed in her dream state and she could soon see who the shouters were. Buffy attempted to bring her hands up to cover her ears, to block out the offensive shouting, only to find that she had no arms. Buffy was staring at her Watcher, Travers. He was dressed in an odd yellow suit and he was yelling rather loudly at the other two people. People whom she’d never seen before. “They are soulmates,” the two beings said in unison, their combined voice echoing in the large hall where she now was, floating slightly above the ground. “Their love will conquer all and be the key to your place of existence’s survival.” Travers shook his head. “She will die!” he yelled passionately and Buffy wished that he felt such intensity for her as he did for whomever he was shouting about, instead of the offhand way he always treated her. “Her death will be soon and this destiny which you have bestowed upon her will ruin her!” “You know nothing of what is to come, lower being,” the two beings said. “The map for her has already been drawn... there is nothing for you to do...” “NO!” Travers yelled. Buffy jerked as all three turned to look at her. The two beings bowed their heads and Travers wasn’t... well, Travers. A green demon with red horns stared at her, his eyes twinkling as he smiled. “Becoming what you are...” he said in a lilting voice before fading away. “Seeing what you are... Knowing what you are...” Buffy shook her head and mouthed ‘what?’, her voice lost. What was going on? Looking down at her hands, she realized that she didn’t have any and felt fear settle in her chest. Looking up once more, she was prepared to demand answers when she came face to face with a middle-aged woman. She looked tired and old as she stared into her eyes. But happy to see Buffy nonetheless. “My baby,” the woman said, reaching her hand out to touch her cheek. Buffy opened her mouth as the hand passed through her face. And then there were cookies. “Take what you are...” the woman said, her eyes suddenly full of life as she produced the plate of cookies. Buffy looked down to see plain sugar cookies with little chocolate chips on the top. On every cookie, the chips were in an intricate design of a strange symbol. Buffy narrowed her eyes as she tried to read it, understand what it meant, only to realize that it was a futile attempt. “What?” Buffy whispered. “My baby... take what you are...” The woman handed her a cookie and Buffy stared at her the offered sweets in the lady’s hand. Then she started fading away... falling away from Buffy’s view as the lady grew smaller and smaller, her hand still outstretched, holding the cookie. Buffy could hear the echo of her words as certainty settled in her chest. “Mommy?” Buffy’s eyes snapped open. Pulling herself into a sitting position, Buffy looked around her room before running a hand through her hair. “What a weird dream.”
It really was a futile attempt. Buffy groaned in annoyance as she once again attempted to draw the symbol she had seen. It had been so detailed and... beautiful, came to mind, that she couldn’t properly draw it, not without doing it justice. Every time she got close to it, it would seem... wrong and she would have to start over. “Dammit,” Buffy cursed softly. Giles looked up at her from where he sat across the table, another tomb so old that it was brittle, laid out before him. “How many times have you attempted to draw that, Buffy?” Giles asked distractedly as he turned back to the pages before him. “Enough,” Buffy snapped before turning back to her new sheet of paper, beginning once more with slow, deliberate lines. “Perhaps...” the man across from her said, “Perhaps it’s not as... serious as you seem to be making it out to be.” Buffy looked up to stare at him. “It seemed pretty important to me. Isn’t that enough evidence?” Giles shrugged, not bothering to look at her paper. Buffy Summers was known for having wild and eclectic dreams and after the first few times she had drawn or spoken of the silliest things, Giles had begun to dismiss them as such. Every now and then, rarely, she would have something that would be of importance and then he paid attention. But rarely. Several minutes passed before Giles once more heard her grunt of irritation and her fist hitting the table lightly. He smiled in amusement as he looked up at the clock. Then he frowned. “Buffy, you’re late for–“ “Miss Summers!” Buffy cringed as Travers walked into the room, his entrance a burst of drama as he opened the doors gracefully enough to keep them from slamming into the walls. She didn’t bother to look up at him as he made his way to the table. “Miss Summers, you are late.” Buffy nodded and looked up slightly grudgingly. “Yes, Master... I’m sorry.” “As you should be. Perhaps you will come with me for training and leave Mr. Giles to his... works.” Buffy nodded once more before standing, leaving her papers on the table. Travers looked down at them in curiosity for a brief second before pausing. Dread filled his heart and raced through his system like a wild fire as he stared at the symbol on the pages. It couldn’t be. It was too soon. Too soon for it to happen. Too damn soon. Travers looked up towards Buffy, whom had taken to staring at him oddly, then moved his gaze towards Giles, who was looking at the paper as well. They shared a knowing glance before Travers grabbed Buffy’s arm and dragged her away.
l be kind, rewind l back to top l
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