White Sands, New Mexico
Moonlight tricked her as she hurried through the woods, calling to the gods to help her feet move silently against the leaves and debris of the forest floor. It made her see things in the shadows that weren’t really there…or so she sincerely hoped. She implored the trees to shelter her in their branches, she prayed to the animals to help keep her safe, to bear their teeth at the enemy that stalked her through their home and brought evil into their safe haven. And above all, she called upon Yolaikaison, the goddess of the moon, to watch over her family should the stealthy pursuers be too quick for her. As she jumped swiftly over fallen logs and ducked under low tree branches a tingling crept up her spine. In the distance she heard Coyote’s mournful cry and the sound of it caused her throat to seize. Danger was much closer than she had anticipated.
She increased her speed, knowing that once she made it through this heavily wooded area she would come to a clearing, and there she would no longer be protected by nature. If she could make it to the bluffs…perhaps then she could outwit her opponents and contact someone for help.
If she could make it.
Gritting her teeth she hunkered down and picked up more speed. She would make it.
The trees began to thin and the eerie white-blue glow of the moonlit field ahead was soon visible. The forest was silent. Animals hid in their homes, the vibe of a predator evident in the thickening night air. She noted this with no more than a flickering thought as she sped on, determined to secure her safety.
She could hear them behind her now.
They were gaining on her.
Fear was slick on her brow as the thinnest bead of perspiration trickled down between her eyebrows and down over her nose onto her cheek. The tingling in her spine, a feeling she was becoming accustomed to whenever danger lurked, increased.
Coyote called again and she knew it would be over soon.
The cliffs were just ahead and her heart all but burst as she poured on the speed, fear now her prime motivator to reach their rocky foothills and scramble to possible safety in the many caves and deep caverns. Black hair swinging around her she leapt up the first few feet, hands scraping over the jagged rocks as she ascended, her feet sending rocks scattering to the bottom.
They would reach her.
The moment she felt the bony hand clasp around her ankle she renewed her desire to live. Kicking back at the black-robed nightmare she turned to face her foe… Having made it up only a few feet she easily returned to more solid ground and spun, fists ready, stance determined. The way she was being taught to handle herself. The way that would save her life…she hoped.
Her deeply tanned skin, a clear indication of her Navajo heritage, glistened with sweat and her dark eyes flashed angrily as she ducked the swing of one of the enemy while twisting to kick at the other. Her heart clenched in her chest as she saw the first pull out a giant knife, its blade glistening under the moon.
Sucking in a breath she kicked out again, dancing around the attackers. The third, appearing from behind her, was a complete shock. His cloaked arms shot around her waist and he held her arms as his brethren advanced. Coyote howled, drowning out her scream, as the knife sunk into her flesh.
*~*~*
In a small prison cell in the Los Angeles City Correctional Facility, Faith woke with a start, choking down the scream that had almost pierced the night. Breathing heavily she wiped at the sweat on her brow and swung her legs over the side of her bunk, connecting them solidly to the ground. Thrusting her head down between her knees she fought the urge to vomit.
So much blood…the girl had screamed…and the coyote…and there was so much blood.
Closing her eyes Faith forced her breathing to slow until the panic that raged in her gut was reduced to a silent yowl rather than the blinding force in which it had first arrived. Third time. Third dream. Third girl.
What the hell was going on?
*~*~*
A hundred miles away Buffy Summers sat bolt upright in bed and clamped a hand over her mouth to catch the scream that half-escaped. She listened momentarily over the sound of her haggard breathing for any sign that she’d once again woken her sister or her roommate. When no one came to her aid, she relaxed enough to let down her hand.
Another one dead.
Three in all.
And she was no closer to an answer than before.
Testing her legs she pushed off onto the floor and opened her bedroom door, peering out to be sure she hadn’t woken Dawn or Willow with her new recurring nightmare.
Was it recurring if the girl and the situation were always different?
She pushed the thought to the back of her mind as she closed the door and opened the top drawer of her desk. Removing a pad of paper and grabbing a pen she hurried back to her bed and sat, cross-legged, flicking on the bedside light as she went. Quickly she recounted the dream in her pseudo dream-diary, a notebook she used to recount the details of possible prophetic dreams. The details of the two other gory deaths she’d witnessed in her mind filled the top half of the page. Istanbul, Germany, and now New Mexico…all three murdered by people/demons in robes…all three with the same knife…all three at night.
Only two of the girls had fought back.
Everything in her being said these girls were really dead. She’d been right--there were more of them out there. And they were dying while she sat back and watched in full Technicolor gore.
Well, not anymore.
*~*~*
“The next time you need help, can’t you just say you need help?” Angel groused as he parked his car in the underground garage of the Hyperion hotel.
Lorne opened his door and stretched his long legs. “Sweetcakes, they had guns to my head. What was I supposed to do?”
“We need a better code phrase than, ‘Make sure Fluffy’s getting enough love.’”
“Agreed.”
“But still, you guys,” Fred gushed. “Vegas! So fun.”
“Most fun,” Gunn chimed in with a grin. He thumped Angel on the back. “Told you last year, man, Vegas is the only way to go.”
Something caught in Angel’s eyes for a moment, but it was quickly gone and a chagrined smile played on his lips. “We’ll listen to you next time we plan a trip.”
“This wasn’t a vacation!” Lorne cried as he took matching luggage out of the trunk. “I was being held hostage by cartels! They were forcing me to perform nightly shows with an extremely bad band and some of the worst dancers I’d ever laid eyes on. They brought new meaning to the term ‘legging it out,’ and I mean that in the way of most of them had more than two. And let’s not get me going on the costume changes.”
“Well, you’re home now,” Angel reasoned. “And I think you’ve learned a valuable lesson here.”
“What’s that again?”
“Never look a gift demon in the mouth,” Angel said simply.
Lorne frowned. “How was I supposed to know Jimmy would someday decide to make good on my promise to headline his club for the rest of my life? I mean—who honestly believes open-ended statements like that?”
“Teach you to run off and try to get a life of your own,” Fred grinned as she lugged one of the demon’s suitcases into the hotel lobby.
Gunn picked up the suitcase for her. “Family’s coming back together. Now we can get back to some serious detective work.”
Angel’s jaw stiffened with determination as he closed the front door behind him. “And find Cordy.”
“Job numero uno,” Lorne agreed, taking off his jacket. “As soon as this guy washes the sin city outta his hair.”
“Uh…guys?” Fred asked, turning questioning eyes to her friends.
They glanced back at her. “Yeah?” Gunn asked.
She pointed to the front desk where Cordelia and Connor were perched, watching the foursome carefully.
“Cordelia?” Angel managed, tossing down Lorne’s suitcases and taking the steps two at a time to cross the room.
“Watch the Samsonite!” Lorne objected, then followed Gunn and Fred’s flight to their friends.
“Cordy!” Fred cried, reaching to embrace her friend.
“Where have you been, girl?” Gunn asked, getting to her first and plucking her off the counter in a giant hug.
Cordelia squealed as he spun her around. “Put me down!”
Gunn smiled and obliged her, placing her directly in front of Angel. The vampire’s face was etched with concern. “Cordy,” he murmured, reaching for her hand. “Are you okay?”
Cordelia turned and shared a look with Connor. “These the people you were telling me about?”
*~*~*
“I don’t know what’s going on, Will, but something bad is coming. I can feel it. In my Slayer-bones. These dreams…they’re real. I don’t know if it’s stuff that just happened, or stuff that’s going to happen…maybe I’m seeing it as it happens. But it’s freaking me out.”
On the other end of the phone, Willow nodded. “I know, Buffy,” she began, her voice crackling over the speaker. “It’s part of what brought me back here. I can feel it too. It’s in the ground, in the air. Remember how I said everything’s connected?”
Xander smirked from his seat on the other side of Buffy’s desk. “Is this going to lead to some jungle animals and a circle of life?”
“Go over it again, Buffy,” Willow encouraged. “I’ll take some notes and try haunting the ‘Net for a while today.”
“Are you sure, Will?” Buffy asked doubtfully.
Over the line Willow gave a short laugh. “Not like I’ve got a lot of other things going on.”
Xander met Buffy’s eyes with concern. “You’ll start school next semester, no problems.” He was answered with a small sigh.
Nodding with the go-ahead, Buffy continued. “Okay…there’s been three girls. First one, Istanbul.”
“How long ago did you dream this?” Willow asked, scribbling frantically.
Buffy chewed on the end of a pencil thoughtfully. “About…three weeks ago. Thrown off a roof by guys in robes, then stabbed with a big knife. Second one, about a week later, this time in Germany. This girl fought. The first one just ran. She had some pretty good moves…Germany-girl, I mean. But they got her in the end. Again, stabbed with the big knife. This one talked to me, though. She turned her head and looked right at me and said, “From beneath you it devours.”
“And then we had the Tremors-experience, minus the Kevin Bacon,” Xander added with a shudder. “Maybe that’s what she was talking about.”
Buffy shrugged dubiously and continued. “The third,” she said, closing her eyes and picturing it. “I think she’s Native American. New Mexico. I got this Southwest vibe from her--like turquoise jewelry and dry-heat and stuff. Anyway, she’s running through woods, scared to death. She tries to climb these cliffs to get away but they grab her ankle and pull her down. She starts to fight but there’s a third guy she didn’t know about, and he holds her from behind while guys one and two stab her.”
She paused, her expression stoic as she recounted the nightmare. “That’s when I woke up.”
Xander squeezed her hand in support. “So…what do the rest of us do while Witchy Drew investigates?”
A knock to her door had them both glancing up to find Principal Wood looking in. “Uh…we go back to work,” Buffy stammered. “Gotta go Will…I’ll call you later.”
She hung up the phone as her new employer opened the door. “Buffy…and friend,” he acknowledged Xander, “I was hoping to speak with you a moment, but if you’re busy…”
Buffy smiled nervously at her boss. “Oh…no, really. I just brought Xander in for help on a case—on a hard-case I’m having with one of the students. Thought some male perspective could help me out.”
Xander picked up the story smoothly. “Yeah, I spent enough of my high school career getting pummeled…it’s sorta like I’ve got the insider’s point of view.”
Principal Wood smiled benignly. “Of course. No problem getting some outside help, Buffy. I like a person who knows when to ask for assistance.”
Buffy nodded enthusiastically. “Right. Go team!”
“And on that note, I really need to get back to my crew. Science Building foundation’s being poured today,” Xander excused himself and headed for the door.
Principal Woods moved to let him by. “I’ll be out later to see it for myself. It’s pretty exciting.”
“Yup…nothing like watching cement dry,” Xander quipped and hastily left as Buffy threw him a glare. When he was gone Buffy turned back to Principal Woods.
“So, you wanted to see me?”
*~*~*
“Will?” Buffy called, opening the door for herself and Dawn later that afternoon. “You here?”
“In here,” came Willow’s response and the girls wandered into the kitchen to find the redhead leaning over her laptop.
“Find anything?” Buffy asked, setting down her bag as Dawn headed to the fridge for a snack. “Eat light, Xander’s making hamburgers tonight,” she ordered her sister.
Dawn nodded with a roll of her eyes. “A girl can’t even get a yogurt anymore…”
“Ok,” Willow cut in, “I think I found your girls…or two of them, at least. Nothing on the one from last night yet…but if it works the way the other two have, she’ll be reported missing first and that might take a little longer to come across.”
Buffy leaned over her friend’s shoulder to read Willow’s notes. “This looks like they happened the same night I dreamed about them,” she murmured sadly.
Willow nodded, gulping. “Yeah…I think you might have been seeing it as it happened.”
“But why? I mean…if she can’t stop it, why have her dream about them?” Dawn asked, spooning yogurt into her mouth.
“Sometimes my dreams aren’t always about the future,” her sister informed her quietly her green eyes scanning the printouts. “I’ve dreamt of the past before.”
Dawn’s eyes moved to Willow’s, and with an imperceptive shake of her head, Willow told her to dismiss the comment. “The first girl was found dead in the streets, stabbed like you said. The second was found in the back room of a club in Frankfurt.”
“Stabbed?” Dawn wanted to know.
Willow nodded. “The authorities wouldn’t, of course, have made the connection, but judging from the police reports it looks like the same knife you described.”
The girls were silent for a moment as Buffy continued to read. “The first girl was sixteen. The second was seventeen,” she murmured. “The third girl couldn’t have been any older.”
“The police have no clues or suspects,” Willow added.
Buffy sat the papers down and ran a hand through her hair. “They didn’t see what I saw. These girls are connected. There’s something about them—I just can’t put my finger on what.”
“Like when the word you’re looking for is on the edge of your tongue?” Dawn asked, licking her spoon.
“Exactly like that. It’s nagging at me.” The Slayer rubbed at her shoulder and turned to leave the room. “I’m going to patrol tonight, see if there’s any news about this stuff around town.”
Dawn followed her out of the kitchen. “Are you going to see Spike?”
Buffy shrugged. “Don’t have any plans to go to the school basement, so probably not.”
Dawn nodded. “Just wondering.”
Buffy met her serious eyes. “Like he’d be any help to me these days anyway.”
*~*~*
“Girl doesn’t know who she is or why she is, so why should I be able to figure it out? And don’t you tell me different. I know. I heard the song. It’s everywhere. I can hear it now, in my head, in my head, in my head, dancing around doing a two-step with that chip.”
Spike prowled the length of his room deep in the mysterious Sunnydale High basement, his fingernails bleeding as he ran them up and down the cement walls as he paced.
“Everyone wants a piece of me, except of her…she doesn’t want that piece anymore. And no one wants the chip…or this…this thing they put in me!” he howled, thumping at his scarred chest. “Shoulda warned me shoulda warned me shoulda warned me.”
He stopped as if listening to a voice inside his head, then carried on. “Gonna get a bit tonight though, gonna get it. Get it then rest, just like she said we could. Go get me something nice to eat and gonna get it, just for her, just for her,” he rambled, having the sense of mind to grab his duster off the back of a filing cabinet as he headed for the stairs. No matter how the walls of the basement may move, he seemed to always find his way out.
The night air was crisp but it made no difference to him. “Soon it’ll be candy and costumes and fun times for everyone but Spike. Things to be the way they were, the way they were when I was better, when I was me, the real me, not this thing that’s in me now, not that person again. Can’t be that person again. Doesn’t matter to her who I am, it’s never me, it’s never me,” he ranted as he walked.
Suddenly he stopped and sniffed the air. “It’ll be the thing in the ground, won’t it pet?” he whispered. “The thing that rumbles beneath our feet, waiting, waiting for mother to come home and say it’s time to play. Rumble, rumble toil and tumble…and then where will you all be with your bouncy hair and your fresh-washed faces? You’ll be like me, luv, just like me.”
He stood for a moment longer before blinking suddenly. Glancing around he shook his head during this moment of clarity. “Well then…let’s have us a drink, Spike old boy, before the sun comes up.”
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