Summary: A slayer barters with a demon to rescue her lover, and finds herself unwittingly projected nearly three hundred years into the future with no memory of the life she left behind.
It was quite possible her first instinct was off the mark.
“Obvious?” the streetwalker demanded incredulously. “You call that obvious?”
“Who’s William?” demanded the man with the weapon, his eyes not meeting Elizabeth’s. “Is this a drill?”
He kept aiming the muzzle of the musket-replica at the demons around them. Not that a musket would do much good, but it was better than nothing. Elizabeth found she was woefully lacking in the stake department.
“A what?” she repeated, perplexed.
“A drill. Sergeant Nichols said we’d be doing drills.” The man swung his musket around until it was pointed square between her eyes. “Identify yourself.”
“Xander, put that down!”
He whirled around again. “Stop calling me that!”
“It’s your name, isn’t it?”
He seemed to balk at that, blinking rapidly as though to unify two completely different trains of thought. “Well…yes. But I still don’t see how—”
“I’m your friend,” the redhead insisted. “So is Buffy.”
“Who’s Buffy?” the man called Xander demanded.
Elizabeth raised her hand. “That would be me.”
The streetwalker waved dismissively. “He doesn’t remember who he is,” she said by way of explanation. Then she grew silent, sizing up Elizabeth with slanted speculation. “Wait a second…do you remember who you are?”
“Of course I do. I’m Elizabeth Travers. Or Buffy, if you prefer it. Though I’d like to know where you heard that name.” She paused. “Do you have a name?”
The answer obviously wasn’t the one the redhead expected. The frown on her face attested as much. “I-I’m Willow. A-and I think we should—” She gasped and ducked as a small blue goblin scrambled up their way. Not that ducking would do any good, seeing as goblins were about two feet in height and the best way to avoid them was to go up rather than down.
The musket dealt with the goblin accordingly, but the swarm of demons wasn’t thinning.
A fact seemingly not lost on her strange companions.
“—I think,” the streetwalker continued shakily, “we should get inside.”
“And away from the demons,” Elizabeth said in agreement, turning her eyes to the bizarre creature moving at a frighteningly speedy pace up the road. She’d seen her fair share of evil creatures; never before had they sported lights and been on wheels. “Have demons grown…larger since I’ve been away?”
Xander and Willow exchanged what could only be a dubious glance.
“Is this woman insane?” the man asked.
“She’s from the past,” Willow explained.
Well, it seemed the redhead was far more in tune to what was happening than she was. Elizabeth couldn’t remember much past the last ten minutes, let alone the life she was allegedly to have led since her deal with Paimon.
Paimon…who evidently had yet to collect his payment.
“And you’re a ghost,” Xander said, staring at the streetwalker.
“Yes!” the girl exclaimed. “Now let’s get inside!”
The man pursed his lips and swallowed hard. “I just want you to know that I’m taking a lot on faith here.” He nodded. “Where do we go?”
“To Buffy’s,” Willow insisted.
“I live here?” Elizabeth repeated incredulously. She was certain she would recognize the warm air if this was true. The air, the ambiance, the strange-looking cottages and the demons on wheels. Quite obviously there was much missing from her memory. She just needed to decipher what.
“Yes,” the redhead acknowledged hurriedly, attempting to grasp her wrist. Her fingers waved through her skin as though made of nothing, and a chill raced down Elizabeth’s spine. “Erm,” Willow said, shaken. “I need to…not do that.”
The path they took was very much not familiar to her, nor was the house the redhead was adamant upon entering. However, seeing as she was very much out of her element until someone filled in the gaps, Elizabeth was not in the mood to argue. She filed in obediently behind the ghost-girl and stepped across the threshold and into the unfamiliar home.
The one which was allegedly hers.
“Hello?” Willow called tentatively. “Mrs. Summers?”
The use of her old surname struck Elizabeth like a proverbial slap across the face. She’d heard Kenneth refer to her birth parents once, maybe twice, but never as anything more than cursory acknowledgment. She’d never once been called Elizabeth Summers, even if that was how she entered the world.
Wherever she was, her mother was still here.
Still alive.
Elizabeth sniffed hard with a sudden incursion of unwanted tears. She didn’t enjoy showcasing weakness, especially among strangers. And yet there was no hiding the surge of emotion storming her insides. Her mother. The woman she’d never known, but had loved all her life. Her mother was here.
She would see her. She would see her mother.
“Good, she’s gone,” Willow said quickly, earning a sharp glare which went entirely wasted.
“Where are we?” Xander asked, shutting the door behind them.
“This is Buffy’s place. Now we just need to—”
A sharp knock at the door made the walls explode with sound. Xander immediately turned to investigate.
“Don’t open it!” the ghost exclaimed.
“Could be a civilian,” Xander replied reasonably.
“Or a mini-demon,” came the just-as-reasonable retort.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and turned her attention to her home. It was comfortably furnished, if not compact with devices and objects she didn’t recognize. There was a large box in front of what she could only assume was a modern settee. A fireplace stretched the wall, and a staircase led to the bed-chambers above, or so she concluded. There was a dining area and small portraits encased in glass on practically every fixture.
Her eyes settled on one. It was a rendering of herself and the two people with her.
Only she looked different. Very different. Her attire resembled the streetwalker’s. Her hair was short and light. There was no hint of unfamiliarity on her face. She looked, indeed, to be in the company of friends.
“It’s us,” Willow said softly, startling Elizabeth out of her skin. Not that she’d ever admit it. She whirled around quickly and met the other girl’s imploring gaze. “We are friends, Buffy.”
She licked her lips and nodded. “And…the year?”
“1997,” the girl replied. “Why? What year is it…for you?”
The answer nearly knocked her over. Air was suddenly very thin. Her heart pounded furiously against her chest. All feeling abandoned her body. She was numb. Cold. Very cold.
Now this felt more like home.
“Buffy? Oh God, she’s gonna faint. Xander!”
“No,” she answered quickly, waving hard at the approaching man. She didn’t think she could stand to have anyone touch her. Not now. Not someone she didn’t know. “I’m…I’ll be…I will be…fine.”
It was nearly three hundred years in the future.
Three hundred years.
Perhaps she wasn’t going to be so fine after all.
“Buffy? Talk to us.”
Without warning, Elizabeth found herself plopped into the nearest chaise, the redhead in the streetwalker clothing kneeling in front of her. Xander kept vigilant at the nearest window, peering at whatever lurked outside.
“What year is it for you?” Willow asked again.
“Seven…oh Lord…” She was very dizzy. “1701.”
Xander tossed her a curious look. Willow’s eyes widened considerably. And Elizabeth felt inexplicably and utterly alone.
Thankfully the moment didn’t last too long. A crash exploded through the air as the glass pane of the window shattered. Xander was thankfully alert, as Elizabeth felt about as prepared to slay a demon as she did to attend a church service.
“Not a civilian!” Willow screamed.
He aimed at the glass hole with the musket. “Affirmative!”
“Hey! What did we say?!”
Sound boomed as he activated the trigger. Willow winced. Elizabeth found herself covering her ears. It seemed to last forever, but was likely over in a matter of seconds. Long, endless seconds.
Whatever modifications had been made to muskets in the past three hundred years, she fully approved of.
And she wanted to get her hands on it now more than ever.
The sound of a screaming woman pierced through the calm aftermath of the musket’s firing. And before Elizabeth could prepare for whatever was about to attack them next, Xander swore and fled out the front door, slamming it closed behind him.
Uncomfortable silence settled around them. Willow tossed Elizabeth an awkward glance.
“So,” she said. “1701, huh?”
Elizabeth waved dismissively. “We can discuss that later. Right now, the important thing is finding William.”
Willow’s eyes slanted with incredulity. “Uhhh. I think the important thing is ending this spell so the craziness goes away. You with the…eighteenth century mumbo jumbo. Xander, who’s all with the…” She winced. “Gun. A-and me…” She waved at herself. “Dead.”
“You don’t understand. I’m here to find William.”
“No…you don’t understand. You’re Buffy Summers. You live in Sunnydale, California, and we don’t know anyone called William.”
“Are you a vampire?”
Willow blinked. “Am I what?”
“A vampire.” Elizabeth frowned. “Oh…no, you must…you must not…know.”
“No, I know!” the redhead countered, her voice shrill. “I so know. The…thing. With the Slayer. And the Calling. And the…once every generation? You just…I’m not a vampire. I am so not a vampire. If I was any less a vampire, I’d be…well, something that’s not a vampire.”
“A human?”
“That’s right.” Willow nodded hard. “No, you’re the Slayer. You’re the Slayer, we’re the slayerettes. We help you…and stuff.”
Well, that was certainly a shocking revelation. Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath, her mind racing with flashes of knowledge. A clash of absolutes. The Slayer was alone in this world. She didn’t have companions or…or slayerettes. She wasn’t allowed close friendships. She wasn’t allowed anything other than a Watcher.
She wasn’t allowed anything.
She hadn’t been allowed William, and that was the reason Kenneth had taken him away from her.
“I have…help?”
Willow nodded eagerly. “Lots. Or…erm…however much we can…we can give you. I-I mean, Xander’s just…Xander and I’m…I’m good with computers a-and…well, you wouldn’t know what computers are, but I’m good with them—”
“I’m sure you are.”
“And—”
The door flew open again, making them both to jump. Inward came Xander once more, this time accompanied with the strangest looking woman Elizabeth had ever seen. She appeared to be dressed in a long, one-piece strip of thin fabric, with makeshift cat-ears attached to her head and what appeared to be painted whiskers stretched across her face.
“Cordelia!” Willow exclaimed.
Evidently, this living cat-person was someone else that she was supposed to know.
Times had certainly changed.
“Wait a…” The cat-person’s facial features contorted into something almost comical. “What’s going on?”
Willow jumped in hurriedly. “Okay, your name is Cordelia. You're not a cat, you're in high school, and we're your friends.” She paused and added as an afterthought, “Well, sort of.”
“That’s nice, Willow. And you went mental when?”
“You know us?”
Elizabeth fought off another eye-roll. That much seemed more than obvious.
“Yeah, lucky me,” Cordelia retorted dryly. “What’s with the name game?”
“A lot’s going on.”
Another piece of knowledge which seemed more than obvious.
“No kidding,” Cat-Woman replied. “I was just attacked by Jo-Jo, the Dog-Faced Boy. Look at my costume!” She gestured to the torn fabric dangling from her strange attire. “Do you really think that Partytown's gonna give me my deposit back? Not on the likely.”
A smile tugged on Elizabeth’s face. She admitted a growing, albeit begrudging fondness blossoming within her chest. Friendship was something she’d never had before—and while she didn’t know these people from Adam, she would have to assume them to be genuinely good and well-intentioned, especially if they took the existence of demons and vampires at face-value.
She wanted to get to know them.
Not as much, however, as she wanted to find William. She needed to find William. He had to be here. If she was here and it was nearly three hundred years in the future, he had to be here, too. There had to be a reason she was here now. That she knew without a fault who she was. Not Buffy Summers, though the name did have a particular ring to it that she could see herself growing to like.
William was somewhere out there.
Perhaps he was just as confused as she was.
God, perhaps he was looking for her.
Elizabeth swallowed hard. She needed to get out of here.
“I need to get out,” she said. “I need to find William.”
“Who’s William?” Cordelia demanded.
“Don’t know,” Xander replied, assuming his place beside the window, the musket prepared to fire through the broken pane if necessary. “Don’t really care.”
The suggestion that William and by implication their love could be anything less than real made her chest swell with a fury of outraged grief. “He’s real,” she all but growled. “He’s very real.”
Willow suddenly looked like a small animal about to be trampled. “A-and a vampire, apparently.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said testily.
“Oh!” Cordelia exclaimed. “Are we talking about Angel?”
“Angel?”
“Y’know—the mega-hottie who you tried to convince me was a vamp so I’d back the hell off and let you have free-reign over all that salty goodness?” She arched a perfectly-shaped cat brow. “Is he William in this bizarre-o universe you’ve created around yourself?”
“Whoa!” Willow screamed, throwing her hands up. A sound Elizabeth barely registered as a growl split through her lips, her feet carrying her toward the Cat-Woman—whom had just slid considerably down her list of nice people—with a mind to hurt. The redhead tried to situate herself between them, which did little good as she was presently a ghost. “This is completely not the time to anger the Slayer who has no idea who you are, Cordy!”
Cordelia blinked stupidly. “She doesn’t?”
“She doesn’t,” Elizabeth confirmed, still growling. “And unless you want to explain yourself, I suggest you run.” A pause. “Now.”
“I-it’s like amnesia,” Willow explained quickly. “They don’t remember who they are.”
“I remember exactly who I am,” Elizabeth interjected, her eyes narrowing. “And yes, while I…while my memory is lacking in certain areas, there is absolutely no doubt as to who I am or who William is. Or who we are to each other. Therefore…if you don’t mind…” She inhaled sharply. “William is—”
“Suddenly very much here,” Cordelia said breathily, her eyes shifting to a shape behind her.
It was a very strange feeling—going from absolute bliss to the lowest form of disappointment in less than a second. The instant the words left the Cat-Woman’s lips, Elizabeth experienced an inflation of happiness she had never expected to reach again. All at once she could feel William’s hands on her body and his lips at her ear, whispering that her nightmare was finally over and all would be right again. The dream was so vivid she could practically taste it, but it left her just as quickly. William’s presence was one inherently familiar to her. One she could identify if she was blindfolded and surrounded by vampires. Even the first time their eyes met, her body had sparked in such a way she knew without fault that he would change her life forever. Undeniably. One way or another.
The person Cordelia had identified as William was not William. Not even close.
He was, however, a vampire.
Elizabeth’s eyes darted to the nearest slice of wood. There was a piece of furniture which hosted a strange looking vase with a shade topping its head and another device of modernity that she couldn’t identify at all. The legs of the stand were wooden. The lack of alarm on the faces of those around her—alongside the absence of snarling—lent her pause.
“Angel!” Willow said, relief pouring into her voice. “Oh thank God. Can you…can you keep Buffy from killing Cordelia? I need to get to Giles.”
“Why is Buffy trying to kill Cordelia?” the vampire replied, more than perplexed. “Does this have anything to do with the chaos outside?”
Elizabeth turned around slowly, her eyes confirming what her heart already knew. The vampire was not her William. He was nothing like her William. His voice was roughened with an American accent. His frame large and bulky compared to the wiry strength her William possessed. His hair was oddly resistant to gravity. His eyes were chocolate brown, not blue. And while he looked at her with a sense of affection and longing, there was nothing recognizable about him.
William was still out there.
“God, I hope.” The redhead shook her head heavily and turned to face the wall. “Just…keep everything together.”
The vampire’s eyes flickered to the man standing attentive at the window. “Why does Xander have a gun?”
“Hey,” the musket-wielding man barked indignantly. “That’s Private Harris to you.”
“Angel…I don’t…” Willow trailed off helplessly, her eyes filling with tears. “I don’t know what’s going on. All I know is I was a ghost for Halloween, and now I’m a ghost. Xander was some military guy…and now…”
“And Buffy…”
“She dressed up for you.”
Elizabeth’s nose wrinkled. “I did?”
“She thinks you’re a vampire,” Cordelia said by way of explanation, rolling her eyes.
“I am a vampire.”
The girl’s face went comically blank. “Say what?”
“I’m going to find Giles,” Willow repeated. “He can…well, he can make sense of this. I hope.” She pointed at Angel. “You. Keep Cordelia and Buffy from killing each other. Or…rather, keep Buffy from killing Cordelia. A-and you.” She whirled around, aiming her point at Xander. “Don’t shoot at any demons. Scare them, sure. But that’s still a little kid in there.”
“In there?” he repeated incredulously. “Whatever you say, lady.”
“Just…don’t shoot them, ‘kay? We don’t know who’s a demon and who’s not.”
“They all look like demons to me.”
“And I look—erm—I feel like a ghost, but I’m not! I’m gonna get this fixed.” Willow turned back to Angel and implored him with a look. “Please…make sure everything stays reasonably…sane here?”
“Uhhh…”
“I’m not staying here!” Elizabeth announced. Her outburst was aimed at Willow, but the girl had vanished through the nearest wall, evidently overeager to get out of the house. Frustrated, she turned to the vampire and Cordelia, neither of whom thought she was in her right head, judging by the looks on their faces. “I’m not staying here.”
Angel reached for her, which, as he rapidly learned, was a mistake. She seized his arm and tossed him over her head, his thunderous body making the walls tremble with the impact of his crash.
Cordelia blinked. “Whoa.”
“Holy cow,” Xander said shortly, his eyes wide. “She’s like…a fourth your size, man.”
“I’m going to find William,” Elizabeth said resolutely. “And none of you can stop me.”
Angel stared up at her as though she’d started speaking in a foreign tongue. “William?”
“I’m leaving now.”
“We’re not stopping you,” Cordelia agreed, her hands coming up. “Observe the not-stopping-you of us.”
Xander nodded his accord but didn’t say anything. Angel just looked at her.
Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath, encouraged.
William was out there. She didn’t know where. She didn’t know how she was going to find him. She just knew he was out there.
And if she knew him, he was probably worried out of his mind over her.
It was time to find him and absolve those fears and concerns. They would be together now. Forever.
They would have the forever Kenneth had stolen from them.