FIC; The Dying Of The Light

[Jim_D_Means@xxxxxxxxxxx]

Attend, fellow talespinners and listeners;

Again, your humble bard comes before you with the latest installment of his tale. Come hear 
again bold words and true, as I speak anew of the trials and terrors of our stalwart heroines, 
Buffy the Mighty and Willow the Valiant. Together with Giles the Wise, Xander the Brave 
and Anya the--Damn Annoying.

Hope you enjoy, and Feedback, Feedback, Feedback! Plus, see if you can spot the in-
joke! :-)

Oh, BTW, there's been some debate on whether Buffy is her birth name. I had read on 
several fanfics that her real name is Elizabeth. I can see how 'Buffy' can be a corruption of 
'Beth', and called her accordingly in earlier chapters. If I'm wrong, I'm sorry. My bad.

Also, there is a high school in Spokane called Shadle Park, of which I am a happy graduate. 
To my knowledge, there are no admistrators there who resemble Mr. Snyder, so if you're 
from Shadle, don't flame me. 

Keep on Slayin'

Kirayoshi


Disclaimers; 
It's Joss Whedon's world, I'm just playing with it. If we all play nice together and put the toys 
back where we found them, everything will be lovely. 

This story's rated between a PG and PG-13. No explicit sex, some sensuality, some 
language, normal levels of slayer-ish violence. Nasties attack, Slayers slay, wackiness 
ensues. And if the thought of two women(Buffy and Willow in this case) being in love with 
each other wigs you out, then what are you doing on this web site anyway? Spoilers up to 
and including "Hush". 

Archives; Let me know, and I'm liable to say yes. 

Feedback; give me a happy, and I-mail me at Kirayoshi@xxxxxxxxxxx

Synopsis; One year into the future, the Hellmouth is wide open and the vampires have taken 
over the Earth. A maimed Buffy travels back through time to stop the unholy bargain which 
was responsible for her world's destruction, and help her younger self face the truth about her 
feelings for Willow. 


The Dying of The Light
Written by Kirayoshi 



Chapter 4
A Pleasant Walk, A Pleasant Talk

"Hey, Wills," Buffy's voice called over the cell-phone she carried on her patrol. From the 
light tone, Willow imagined that it was her Buffy, the one with both the arms she was born 
with. "Buffy and Buffy reporting in as scheduled."

"Hey back, Buff," Willow answered on her own cell-phone. She had the prescience to carry 
hers with her, which became their primary link with the patrolling Slayers, since Mrs. 
Summers' phone would be tied up with Willow's websurfing. "Any signs of skanky evil?"

"Quiet as an audience at a Xander Harris standup routine," Buffy answered. From "We've 
been heading toward the old schoolgrounds, and turned up nada. The closest we got was a 
pair of goths at the corner of Swanson and Perry. They matched the vampire profile so we 
trailed them for a few blocks, only to see them duck into The Old Spaghetti Factory on 
Sutherland."

"So?" Willow asked. "Maybe they're Italian vampires?"

"Will, remember when I treated you to dinner at the Spaghetti Factory for your birthday, and 
you said you liked the food, but it had a little too much--" she paused for a beat, waiting for 
Willow to supply the end of her sentence.

Willow complied, amazed that she had overlooked the obvious. "Garlic, of course. My 
bad."

"Don't worry about it. How's Research Girl?"

"Currently, more like Stuck-In-Download-Hell Girl. Your mom's laptop doesn't have quite 
the speed of my computer at the dorm. I'm trying to hack into Snyder's personal records, 
trying to find some connection with this Belial whatever. So far, the encryptions are pretty 
tough."

"If anyone can do it, it's my favorite Wiccan-slash-hacker."

"And how many other Wiccan-slash-hackers do you know, Slaygirl?"

"Love you, Wills," Buffy smiled slightly at the teasing tone in her friend's voice. "I'll call back 
at the half-hour. Bye."

"Bye, Buff," Willow hung up her cell-phone and tried to concentrate on the screen. 'Love 
you, Wills,' she had said. If only...

"Hey, how's the research?" Joyce's greeting interrupted the young witch's wandering 
thoughts. The voice, along with sweet baking smells, drew her attention.

"Slow and steady," Willow answered. 

"Here," Joyce put a plate beside the computer. "I baked some chocolate chip cookies."

"Wow, that was fast," Willow commented as she reached for a cookie.

"Actually, it was store-bought cookie dough. I just thought that you could use a break from 
staring at the computer screen." Joyce glanced at the screen herself and asked, "What are 
you looking for in particular?"

"I'm waiting for a download from a high school in Spokane, Washington," Willow answered 
as she nibbled on her cookie. "Apparently Mr. Snyder's last known position before 
transferring to Sunnydale. It may take a while. Don't worry though, the web server's a local 
call. No phone bills."

"Willow," Joyce sat beside Willow as she spoke in a comforting tone, "my daughter is out 
there putting her life on the line on a regular basis. If it will help her, I'm not going to fret over 
phone bills." Willow smiled at Joyce's assurances. She remembered how hard Buffy's 
mother had taken it when she learned about her daughter being a slayer. Her initial reaction 
had been to practically kick her out of the house. Since then, she had made her peace with 
Buffy's life. Willow knew that Joyce would never be fully comfortable with Buffy's calling, 
but she at least understood it a little better now.

"Willow," Joyce started, then stopped. She was afraid of the question she knew she had to 
ask. She munched on a cookie for courage, took a deep breath and started again. "Willow, 
there's something I need to ask you. About Buffy."

"Fire away," Willow said absently, as she took a bite of her cookie.

"How long have you been in love with her?"

Instantly a shower of half-chewed cookie bits was expelled over the laptop screen by the 
force of Willow's spit take. Willow immediately fretted, rubbing the sleeve of her sweater 
over the screen. "Ohmigod, Geez, Mrs. Summers, I'm sorry, I'll just clean this up, get some 
gayper-PAPER towels, we'll get this straigtened out, just like me and Buffy. Straight. Yep, 
that's us, straight as the Nile, except for that crooked bit where it branches off into the delta, 
oh God, help me, I'm trapped in a recursive babble loop."

Joyce placed her hand on Willow's, offering her support, while at the same time, fighting the 
urge to giggle at her display. "It's okay, Willow. Xander and Anya are in the next room, 
AND THEY HAD BETTER BE FULLY CLOTHED," she raised her voice and craned her 
neck toward the hallway, setting off a distant thud of someone falling off a couch, "and I 
promise that anything you say won't leave this room."

Willow looked at her hands, the computer screen, a particulary interesting corner in the 
room, anything but Joyce's face. She was surprised, not only that Joyce knew the depth of 
her feelings for Buffy, but also that she seemed cool with it. "Well, Mrs. Summers," she 
stammered meekly, "we met in our sophmore year in high school, which was three years ago, 
so I guess the answer would be," she finally looked Joyce in the eye, "pretty much all of my 
life. Just how did you figure it out?"

"Well, seeing my daughter's counterpart kiss you when she came too was a big hint," Joyce 
admitted.

"Hey," Willow protested. "I didn't start that kiss."

"You didn't stop it either," Joyce teased. "Hey, I'm not mad at you about it, nor would I be 
mad at Buffy if she announced that she loved you. Or, judging by Alt-Buffy's performance, I 
should say when she announces it. A mother knows these things, even one as seemingly 
oblivious as myself." She patted Willow's knee. "It was some kiss, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Willow admitted. "Remember in 'The Princess Bride' when Buttercup pushed The 
Dread Pirate Roberts down the hill, and he shouts out 'As you wish', and she realizes that 
The Dread Pirate Roberts is really Wesley, and she follows after him, and they kiss each 
other?" She illustrated her babbling with rapidly waving hand gestures, then self-conciously 
stopped and put her hands in her lap. "Well, it was definitely in that catagory of kiss." She 
grinned at the illicit memory. "But Buffy--your Buffy, the two armed one, she hasn't said 
anything to me, and I don't think I can tell her. I don't want to screw up our being best 
friends. Besides, I wouldn't want you to kick her out of the house or anything like that."

"Willow," Joyce half-laughed, "I made that mistake when she dropped the Slayer bombshell 
on me. Not the highlight in my career as a mother. Don't worry, I won't judge you, and I 
won't interfere, except to say this." Joyce turned Willow's face to face her own. Her voice 
became soft, hushed, as she expressed her deepest mother's heart to Willow. "From the day 
when Buffy first told me she was a vampire slayer, my greatest fear for her was that she 
would die young and alone. That no one would ever understand who and what she was and 
that no one would ever love her or want to make a life together with her. Obviously, there is 
such a person, who also happens to be a pretty wonderful young woman herself, and anyone 
would be lucky to have that woman love her. If you are the one who can make her happy, 
and if she wants you to be that one, I can't think of a thing that could please me more." She 
stood up, smiled at Willow and finished, "And in the immortal words of Forrest Gump, 'that's 
all I have to say about that'."

"Thanks, Mrs. Summers," Willow wiped back a tear as she turned to the screen. "Uh, about 
those paper towels..."

"I'll get them," Joyce answered, breaking the spell of bonding that had occured between the 
two women. Willow turned back to the screen, just as the download was completed. She 
somehow felt less like a freak for being in live with her best friend. And Buffy's mother was 
okay with it. Wow.

With those thoughts in her head, she unzipped the files and, once the screen was wiped of 
cookie crumbs, started to read.

-------------------------------------------------------

It had become a running gag around the Scooby Gang that Rupert Giles was a notorious 
technophobe. Willow had on occasion called him a Neo-Luddite, and Buffy once exclaimed 
that he would have told Gutenberg not to rock the boat with that movable type press of his. 
While it was true that most of his experiences with computers were spectular failures, Giles 
refused to give in to the continual jibes that he was accosted with by the Slayerettes. The fact 
was that he had rather prefered the printed page to the electronic age. As far as Giles was 
concerned, a simple, portable book was worth all the e-mail and web sites that the proposed 
paperless society promised.

Nevertheless, he was glad that Willow was so well versed in computer hacking; the 
information that she could discover had often spelled the difference between victory and 
defeat. At this time, she was looking for files on Mr. Snyder while he looked for anything 
concerning Belial. Once again, he was amazed at the amount of arcane lore and esoteric 
knowledge he had been able to dig up at the UC Sunnydale campus library. Presumably the 
result of Sunnydale being governed for most of its history by one immortal man obsessed with 
becoming all powerful, even over the corpses of those whom he governed. Any unholy 
information he could discover to further his own warped goals.

Once he had navigated through the computerized card file(a far less painful process than he 
had anticipated) he located the corresponding texts. Several books that hadn't been opened 
in years, some, Giles would have wagered, not opened during his lifetime, were strewn over 
the table where Giles was reading. The first two books yielded nothing that Giles hadn't 
known; Beliel, like the classic Satan or Lucifer, was a powerful demon, but one of subtlety 
and finesse. Preferring to do his mischief through underlings and unwitting dupes, Belial 
would tempt certain people, particularly those who desired control above all else, and 
promise them control. In the end, however, it was Belial who would control his victims, who 
gladly signed away their souls, only to lose all that they desired. They became no more than 
puppets for the demon master Belial.

The book he was reading now, the title translated into "The Codex of Taliesin the Lesser", 
was a particularly rare book, and had seldom left its space on the shelves; the spine protested 
with creaks and groans as Giles opened it, indicating that it hadn't been opened for nearly a 
century. The book written by a medieval mage, circa the first half of the 14th century, who 
fancied himself the incarnation of Taliesin, alias Merlin, the mentor of England's legendary 
King Arthur. Giles scoffed at the author's assertations, which seemed to color the content of 
the book, but his knowledge of Belial's ways had proven more enlightening than anything he 
had read before this. He came upon one page, covered with ornate Celtic knotwork designs 
and entangled animal and human forms, framing a text. The text was written in one of the 
more archaic uncial forms of the Celtic language, one with which Giles had to struggle mightily 
to completely translate. Once he did, the finished paragraph chilled his bones to the marrow;

"These be the words of Taliesin the lesser
The words you needs must read and ponder in your heart,
Unwise be he who would dice with Belial on such a night as this;
In the final days before the closing of the Thousand Years, 
Will Belial come to one who seeks to govern all.
A deal will be made, one which shall seal the doom of all men,
Unless the Chosen One and those who follow her 
Do battle with Belial--
Two Chosen shall face Belial and 
Shall one only remain."

The implications practically jumped off the page and shouted at Giles. "The closing of the 
Thousand Years" clearly meant the end of the millenium, which was indeed near. Although 
the millenium didn't actually end until December 31, 2000, the prophesy made sense, it 
clearly alluded to the present day. Likewise, "the Chosen One" was obvious to Giles; the 
Chosen One, the Slayer, Buffy. "And those who would follow her"; the Scooby Gang.

Finally, "two chosen". Two slayers. Buffy and her counterpart from the future. "Shall one 
only remain". He didn't pretend to understand time travel, but he had enjoyed the adventures 
of "Doctor Who" as a child in his native London. It made sense that the displaced slayer, 
once she had changed her timeline, would cease to exist. But what if he was wrong?

He wrote down the translations of the pertinent texts, and left the library for the Summers 
residence. Armed with this new information, he hoped that he could shed some light on 
Belial's plan, before it was too late for Buffy. Either Buffy.

He was already worried about Alt-Buffy. It was clear from her initial display, hugging her 
friends and family fiercly, so that even with one arm she could squeeze the wind out of his 
lungs with her embrace. And her desperate apologies to Willow. Why Willow? Giles had 
been keenly aware of the depth of friendship between the Slayer and the Hacker, and while it 
bothered him that Buffy's calling had exposed Willow, along with the other Slayerettes, to a 
great many dangers, he came to realize that she owed her continued existence and her 
success as this generation's Slayer to those bonds. Where the Watcher's Council believed 
that such bonds were a fatal weakness, Buffy had made them her strength.

But this older Buffy, she had lost those bonds, as her loved ones were turned. She clearly 
blamed herself for her world's demise, just as the Buffy he knew blamed herself for taking 
Angel's soul with her act of love, leaving behind the vile Angelus. All the pain and misery 
Angelus caused, from murdering Jenny Calendar and Kendra to the summoning of Acaltha 
and the near death of Willow herself, Buffy had hoisted upon her shoulders like Atlas carrying 
the heavens. No wonder she ran away to LA after Angelus' death. Her counterpart, 
however, felt an even greater guilt, and Giles was worried that she would do whatever it 
takes to stop it. Up to and including sacrificing her own life. 

He only hoped that she wouldn't end up sacrificing all she loved in the process.

-------------------------------------------------------

The two Buffies strode quietly through the clear Sunnydale night, their almost supernatural 
senses attuned to any undead or demonic traces around them. So far, their patrol had been 
quiet. This disturbed them both; if the vampires weren't out and about, then it was likely that 
they were gathering their strength and their numbers. 

Buffy looked at her older counterpart, and tried to read her expression. She seemed wary, 
always looking around like a cat at night. Simple Slayer behavior on patrol, she thought, but 
there was something else. Some form of energy, a coiled spring wating to be released. The 
older Buffy looked at her sibling and asked, "Something you want to share?"

"No, not really," Buffy answered. "Just trying to figure you out. You're so much like me, yet 
not. I guess I find it kinda freaky."

"Hey," Alt-Buffy answered, hiking up her tote bag to keep if from throwing her weight off 
balance. "I'm the one from out of town, this isn't exactly Normalsville for me either."

"How does it feel?" Buffy asked.

The older Buffy shook her head, trying to explain what she could barely grasp. "I feel that 
this is what my entire life as a slayer was building up to. Like win or lose, it's my last battle. 
In fact, I know it's my last battle; from my contact with the Scepter of Hermes," she patted 
the side of her bag with her hand, indicating that she still carried the scepter with her, "once 
we whup Belial's ass, I have to cast a final spell. Otherwise, all my changing history will be 
for nothing. Kinda like the when I wrote that ten page essay on King Lear..."

"...and forgot to hit 'save' and the whole thing was erased before I could print it for class," 
Buffy finished for her. "God that was a bitch." The slayers laughed together at the shared 
memory. The younger Buffy then fixed her gaze on her twin, as she asked, "But doesn't it 
bother you knowing that one way or another, this is it? I mean, you change everything, you 
stop being--man, trying to think like this is making my hair hurt! You'll simply stop existing?"

"But I'm not," Alt-Buffy tried to explain to the other Slayer. "I'm simply erasing a part of my 
life that never should have happened. I'll still go on, because you're me. You're alive, so I'll 
be alive. And the others will be alive. Mom, Giles, Willow, the gang, they'll be alive!"

"Uh, that sorta kinda brings me to my next issue," Buffy said. "What's with you and Willow? 
I mean, that was some serious smoochies back there."

Alt-Buffy looked at her with a slight smile playing on her battle-scarred face. "I love her. 
Always have. As you know."

Buffy stepped back from her partner as though she were thrown off by an electrical field. 
"Whoa, time out, instant replay, be kind, rewind! Love? As in, Angel was right about 
Vamp-Willow? She is kinda gay?"

Alt-Buffy rolled her eyes at her younger self's outburst. "The hammer lands on the knee and 
the foot rises into the air. Buffy, look at me. This is not just someone who knows what it is 
to be you, this is you. And you know in your heart that what I'm saying is true. You saw the 
shy looks she's been giving you since she lost Oz, the way she got over-protective when you 
first started noticing Riley. She loves you. And you love her." 

She turned her face away for a second, then screwed her courage to face Buffy again. A 
glistening tear tracked its way down her cheek. "I know you do, because I am you. And I 
love Willow. She's my center, my source of strength. It destroyed me when I had to stake 
her, because she was as much the reason why I kept fighting the good fight as any. It was 
always her, not Angel, not Riley. It took me too long to realize that. Please, Buffy, don't let 
your chance slip away. She loves you so much.

"She's your salvation, Buffy. She's the light in your life. Don't let that light go out. You won't 
be able to survive the darkness that would follow."

Buffy tried to speak, to rebut her twin's charges, but the words wouldn't leave her throat. 
Somehow, slowly, Alt-Buffy's words sunk in, and with them the realization that her life, 
whether they won or lost tonight, would never be the same. Buffy looked back at those 
same hazel eyes that greeted her in the mirror, only older and wizer, and realized that she was 
telling the truth. Her entire world, her heart, her soul, her strength, her whole purpose in life 
became distilled into three simple words; Willow loved her.

And she returned that love.

"This reminds me of a Dylan Thomas poem I was reading the other week in my Lit class," 
Buffy recalled. She started to recite the first lines; " 'Do not go gentle into that good night...' "

" 'Old age should burn and rave at close of day;'," her twin concluded, and the two of them 
finished the stanza together; " 'Rage, rage against the dying of the light'."

This revelation about her and Willow hit like a body blow, and she had to back up to 
recollect her scattered thoughts. "Whoa," she whispered. "Look, I just gotta get used to 
having this running around my head. I mean, I never considered myself gay or anything, but 
now..."

"You're not gay," her older self consoled her, "you're just in love with Willow. It's not about 
what tickles you below the beltway, it's about who is your other half."

Just hearing her other self say these words, Buffy realized that she was hearing nothing that 
she didn't already know intuitively. "Yeah, I guess that helps when you put it that way, Buffy. 
I'm going to have to talk to her once this party's over. Thanks."

"Hey, what are alternate future counterparts for, if not...shh!" She dug her hand into her 
duffle bag, fishing out Mr. Pointy. "Undead skanky evil at eleven and three o'clock."

The warning was unnecessary. Both Buffies stood back to back, their stakes in hand, their 
bodies as tightly wound steel springs ready to be unleashed. "It's a dead man's party," Alt-
Buffy commented.

"Who could ask for more?" her younger self finished the thought. Low howls could be heard 
behind the bushes and trees around them. The two Slayers stood poised, ready for any 
attack.

As one, a small army of vampires lunged out of the darkness, fingers bent into claws, fangs 
bared, ready for the kill. Buffy high-kicked her first attacker, and lunged her stake into its 
heart in half a second, then worked her way through the growing mass of undead. A simple 
methodical pattern goverened her movements; kick, stake, repeat. "Yo," Buffy called to her 
partner. "How you doing?"

"Good enough," Alt-Buffy answered. "Mostly newbies, foot soldiers."

"Yeah," Buffy added, "but who's their general?"

Before she could continue that thought, a vampire got close enough to slam his fist against the 
back of her neck. Suddenly they were all over her. She struggled against the horde, but their 
sheer numbers overwhelmed her. "Buffy!" she screamed, "get out of here! Don't let them 
take us both! Call Giles and the Scoobs, have them--" Another sledgehammer fist ended that 
sentence as Buffy was knocked unconcious. Alt-Buffy broke away from the crowd of 
vampires, staking as many as she could, before diving behind a bush, preparing her escape.

Before the vampires could pursue her, a car pulled out in front of them. From her vantage 
point, Alt-Buffy was able to see only a little of what was going on. She saw someone step 
out of the car, and address the vampires. "Don't kill her," he demanded. "I want her alive. 
To witness what her rebellion against the Watcher's Council has brought her. And throw that 
bag aside. We don't want her to have access to her weapons."

Alt-Buffy was stunned as she heard that voice. The voice of the one human she hated as 
blackly as any vampire. The man who forced her mentor Giles to betray her, for the sake of 
some Slayer's test that nearly killed her and her mother. The man who expelled Giles from 
the Watcher's Council for the unforgivable crime of caring about his Slayer.

Quentin Travers.

Quentin ordered the vampires to drag Buffy into the trunk of his car, and then said, "Well 
done. Now, meet me at the remains of Sunnydale High School. And no midnight snacks 
along the way. When this is over, there will be plenty of blood for all of you, and no slayer to 
get in the way. Now go!" He spoke with authority, and the vampires followed. Clearly he 
was their general. 

After the car pulled away, Alt-Buffy gingerly stepped out from behind the bush, disbelieving 
what she saw. Quentin Travers, head of the Watcher's Council, working with vampires? He 
had betrayed the council, and now was planning to punish Buffy for her desertion of the 
Council. He had to be behind the destruction that she had witnessed first-hand. He was 
making a bargain with Belial and mankind's future would be forfeit.

Not on my watch! she thought grimly.

She ran to the discarded duffle bag, and checked its contents. She found the cellular, still 
whole despite the impact with the street. Buffy placed the phone on the ground, and started 
to dial with her one good hand. She prayed that she could reach Giles and the Scooby Gang 
in time.

-------------------------------------------------------

Giles had returned to Joyce Summers' house with the information he had gathered from the 
library. He was now comparing notes with what Willow had discovered while hacking. 
"Here we are, guys," Willow announced as Joyce, Giles, Xander and Anya peered over her 
shoulder at the laptop monitor. "I think I've found the connection between Snyder and 
Belial."

"They're both scuzzbags?" Xander guessed. Anya slapped him on the arm, indicating that it 
was time to serious up.

"According to this file," Willow continued, "Roland Snyder was the principal of Shadle Park 
High School in Spokane Washington for three years, before his resignation. That was his last 
recorded position before his tenure as principal of Sunnydale, otherwise known as the Reign 
of Terror. He was honored by the local school district for his compassionate leadership, and 
his willingness to work long and hard with the students and teachers to excell."

"Well," Xander piped in, "you obviously have the wrong file." Giles nodded her head, 
adding, "I have to agree with Xander. The Snyder I remember didn't care whether his 
students lived or died."

"I thought I took a wrong turn too," Willow admitted, "but look at this picture." She pulled 
down a jpeg picture of a man posing with the football team, proudly wearing the green and 
gold of the Shadle Park Highlanders. "Yep, that's Snyder," Joyce announced, "I'd know that 
ferret face anywhere."

"But it's not Belial," said Anya. "Even from a photo, I'd be able to sense Belial's presence in 
a human host."

"Well, according to this file," Willow continued, "just before he left Shadle Park, he was 
mugged and severely beaten by three members of the football squad that he was forced to 
expel for repeated steroid abuse. Just after their expulsion they ganged up on him, and beat 
the dog snot out of him. He left Shadle two days later, and their vice-principal had to take 
over. He fell off the map for three years after that, until he showed up at Sunnydale."

"Yes," Anya admitted, "that would be when Belial took over. When Snyder was mugged, he 
must have felt as though he had lost control. That's when Belial strikes. He offered him 
control, but ended up in control."

"And that's just what Mayor Wilkins wanted from his principal," Giles added. "That's why he 
was hired after Rob Flutie died. And so from a caring compassionate admistrater... "

"He became that smirking, locker searching, test fixing, Buffy expelling creepozoidus rex we 
all know and wish we didn't." Xander finished Giles' sentence.

"But why did the mayor eat him at graduation when he became a demon dragon?" Joyce 
asked.

"Maybe because he became aware of Belial's plans," Anya answered. "Belial's a subtle one. 
He was probably waiting for Wilkins to finish his Ascension, then wrest the power he would 
wield away from him. One thing a demon hates is competition from another demon."

"So Bill Gates is a demon?" Willow asked innocently. Giles started to refute her 
observation, but found himself thinking about it.

Then the phone rang. Giles grabbed the cell-phone and anwered. "Summers residence."

"Giles! It's Buffy--the other Buffy."

"What is it, Buffy?" Giles could hear the tension in her voice.

"Vampires got her. A whole army of them. Quentin's giving the orders, they--"

"Hold it. Quentin? Quentin Travers?"

"No, Quentin Tarantino!" she shouted. "Of course Quentin Travers! He said something 
about punishing her for turning her back on the Watchers' Council! They're holding her at the 
site of Sunnydale High. Round up the posse, I'm heading that way, I'll meet you there." Giles 
heard a click, and the line was disconnected.

Giles was suddenly a flurry of activity. "Buffy's been taken. Quentin Travers is behind it. 
And if the prophesy of Taliesin the Lesser is correct, he'll be making a deal with Belial, that 
will lead to what the older Buffy lived through."

"So we meet Buffy of Future Past at the school and kick vampire ass! Let's go!" Xander 
headed out the door, followed by Giles and Anya. 

Willow turned toward Joyce and said, "Don't worry, Mrs. Summers, we'll bring her back, 
and stop all this." She gave Joyce a brief, comforting hug, although Joyce knew that the 
young woman needed comforting as well. Then Willow followed the Scoobs to Giles' car. 

As she sat shotgun alongside Giles, she made a silent prayer to whatever God or Goddess 
was listening; Please, let me be strong enough and fast enough to save the one I love.



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