Author's notes: First of all, thank all of you who read, and especially those who review! I respond to every single one of them, I really appreciate you taking your time to let me know what you think!!! :)

FYI since you'll encounter the term Acheron in this chapter... In Greek mythology, it's one of the five Underworld rivers and is sometimes called a lake. The Acheron is the River of Woe.

Beta'd by Dawn, Lis and Mabel, the most wonderful ladies in the world!

Enjoy!!!



Banner made by nmcil.


Chapter 6


Alone amidst the infinity of the woods, Buffy blinked repeatedly in an attempt to climb her way out of the cotton wool her brain was encased in. An owl hooted in the distance. A flickering glimmer of the moon glared at her from above the treetops. Cool wet grass chilled the skin on her back and legs as wisps of a breeze brushed against her shivering flesh, causing goose bumps to erupt on her skin, her hair damp and dirty from lying on the ground for God knew how long.


Trembling, Buffy sat up, frowned and hugged herself. A twig snapped. She faced the direction of the sound, her heart beating faster.


She was not alone.


A shape moved through the shadows around her. She stood up on shaky legs, turned around and peered into the night, trying to catch a glimpse of the figure.


“Who is there?” Buffy's question echoed off into the abyss of the night.


A man stepped out of the shadows and into the Buffy's line of vision.


“I see you're finally awake. So glad you could make it to this little soirée.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand and continued, “I must confess I have been waiting for this moment for months.” The man was tall, lean, with broad shoulders and long dark hair framing his gaunt face. His black cloak brushed the dirty soil beneath, billowing in the wind. He stepped closer.


Now that Buffy was close enough to see him better, she could see the dark circles of fatigue under his eyes, magnified by the contrast of his almost translucent skin, the visible tension in the muscles of his face and the sneer on his lips.


“W-who are you?” she asked in a timid voice, slowly backing up and away from the barely concealed hatred in his black eyes.


Suddenly he lunged for her and as Buffy tried to evade him, she stumbled and crashed into the tree behind her, the rough trunk chafing the skin of her back.


He trapped her against the tree with his arms on both sides. His eyes alone would have kept her frozen to the spot. Anguish, hatred and torment flickered across his features. She could practically taste his insanity on her tongue. Bitter and sour.


“A simple question, isn't it? Who am I? Do you mean my name? Am I human? Am I a demon? Am I the harbinger of your death?” He caressed her cheek with his left hand, his long cold bony fingers brushing against her skin, but she kept quiet, knowing that he didn’t really want an answer.


“I came here to finally find the rest you took away from me. To unravel the sorrow that's devouring me from the inside. I'm nothing but an empty shell waiting for that last second in time, the last moment that keeps me away from her.” His voice carried a deep yearning coupled with a passion she wished she could feel.


“You know,” he said in a conversational tone, as if they were old friends on a casual date, “you're not what I expected. Not what I wanted to find. I've been wishing for this moment for a long time, and now that I have you here, at my mercy, it's almost disappointing. I expected you to be more...” Leonard took a step back and looked her over; not in a sexual way, but in a way that reached beyond her flesh, straight inside, to the very depths of her broken soul. “...alive.”


Buffy shivered and hugged herself.


“I've craved to destroy you, to make you suffer, to hurt you as much as you hurt me. But how can I destroy something that's already been broken?” The low cadence of his voice carried his sorrow and rage.


Buffy furrowed her brow in confusion.


“How,” Buffy cleared her throat and continued in a raspy voice, “how could I have hurt you? This is the first time I’ve seen you.” Buffy looked at him and winced. She waited for a blow for her obvious insolence, for daring to speak to him in such a manner. It never came. Instead, Leonard chuckled. It was humourless, interlaced with pain.


“There are so many different ways to hurt someone.” Leonard whipped out something from beneath the collar of his shirt, grabbed Buffy's hand and shoved it into her palm.


An antique locket with a gold chain cooled the flesh of Buffy’s palm. She opened it, and suddenly understood. He must have seen it too, for he nodded and took it back, clasping it back around his neck.


“You took Jillian away from me. My childe; my love. She was everything to me and I failed her. I couldn’t get there in time to stop you from ramming that stake into her heart! But I could feel it, that moment when the link between us severed.” His voice broke and Leonard turned away from Buffy.


“From that moment on the only thing left worth living for was vengeance. Killing you. So here we are, at the beginning of the end. Yours. Mine.” He looked back at her, pinning her in place with the intensity in his stare.


She should run, should try to fight him, to escape. But she didn't. Where would she go? Would she go home to her parents and pretend that everything was all right? What would she tell them? That she'd been pimped out like a whore? They would try to make her go to a psychiatrist, like when she had told them who she really was. They'd force her to go, to help her heal. So that she could pretend they were a happy family and that she was the same girl that had disappeared five months ago. The girl her parents wanted her to be. More lies.


“Let me ask you something first. Have you ever loved someone so much you couldn't breathe, so much you couldn't bear the thought of not being close enough to reach out to them, to touch them? Have you ever felt that feeling, when their lips touched yours, that the whole world could burn up in flames around you and you wouldn't even notice? Have you ever felt a passion so consuming you felt like you were burning inside and out from the sheer pleasure of it, that feeling of belonging, of being one, not knowing where you ended and they began?” Leonard said, the passion, the intensity making his voice tremble. Tears filled his narrowed eyes, ready to spill over. He grabbed Buffy by her shoulders and shook her.


“Have you?” he hissed.


“No.” Buffy couldn't do anything but shake her head, her own tears blurring her vision.


Leonard let go of her abruptly and looked down at her, nothing but the crazed emptiness in his eyes.


“I was going to enjoy breaking you before the final blow, seeing the life putter out in your eyes before your heart stopped beating. There's barely any life left in you at all. But it doesn't change anything. I'm still going to kill you,” he continued in the detached voice filled to the brim with the suffering he carried with him everywhere he went. Molding to him like the heavy cloak he wore.


Leonard took a step closer to her, leaving merely inches between them, his fangs extended, his senses magnified beyond the possibility of human perception. Yellow eyes of a killer gleaming in the darkness of the woods, riveting into Buffy's soul and making her heart speed up.


So this was it, she was finally looking into the eyes of death. The moment of facing herself was here at last, the eternal question that was plaguing her for far too long.


'Am I truly ready to die?'


On impulse, she made a decision. Buffy shoved him away as hard as she could and glimpsed the surprise on his face before she turned and ran. Death was at her heels, and she didn't want it to catch up to her. She didn't know why, maybe Leonard's passionate speech had stirred a yearning in her, maybe it was just a reflex, self-preservation telling her to run as fast a she could, to live, no matter what.


The only thing that mattered was staying alive.


Nothing could stop her. Not the wind crashing against her face and making her eyes water, not the loud pounding of her heart drowning out the sounds of the forest and the pounding feet following her, not the harsh intakes of shallow breath burning her lungs, and not the fragments of rocks and splinters embedding themselves into the vulnerable flesh of her bare feet.


Buffy ignored the tree limbs slapping her face, the bushes and broken twigs scratching at her legs, leaving cuts in their wake. She was a blur amidst the darkness, a natural predator made a prey. She tried to break through the barriers of her limitations and fly through the night, free and safe.


Buffy felt the adrenaline, the fear pumping through her veins like a liquid drug, but it was never enough, she couldn't hear anything, couldn't see anything. Still, she couldn't stop. If she did, she'd die.


She ran at full speed for what felt like an eternity, the seconds passing by as swiftly and irretrievably as the scenery flashing around her in a blur of darkness and shapes. So far, she managed to avoid crashing into the trees or stumbling and falling down, but her energy was beginning to subside and Buffy didn't think she could keep running forever.


The trees started thinning out and after a few wheezy inhales, Buffy found herself in a small clearing. She stopped running and glanced behind her. Buffy couldn't see Leonard, nor could she hear any crashing noises announcing that he had caught up to her. She gasped and coughed, holding her side and finally noticing the strain in the muscles of her legs as they started to shake. Her knees buckled and she fell to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been cut.


A small lake called to Buffy like a siren’s song. Its murky depths just a few feet away. She crawled towards it, dipped her hands in and splashed the water onto her face, her eyes closing in rapture.


She was about to lean in and drink from it when a hand gripped her hair and tugged her head upward in a violent motion, tearing out a few strands of her hair in the process. Buffy let out a yelp and struggled to break free.


“You can't outrun your destiny, slayer. You have to die!” Leonard snarled and tightened his hold on Buffy's hair, using it to yank her to her feet. Before she had a chance to defend herself, he shifted the hand away from her hair and started squeezing her throat. Leonard lifted Buffy off the ground, her toes barely brushing against the grass beneath.


Buffy's vision blurred, she couldn't breathe, couldn't dislodge his hold on her. She clawed at his hands in desperation, but he just laughed, that manic indifferent sound chilling Buffy to her very core. Her vision started to darken around the edges, sound seemed to come from afar , unreal and unimportant. She stopped struggling and slumped into her murderer's arms.


******


Leonard could feel every struggling of her heart beat echoing within his own chest, every weakening thump pushing him closer towards his relief, closer to the end, closer to Jillian. The slayer finally stopped fighting and sagged against him. Her heartbeat was barely there so he tossed her face-down in to the lake to seal the deal. Leonard stood there watching her, listening as her heart fluttered and stopped.


Her pale skin was stark against the blackness of the night, her long hair floating in the water. She looked like a fallen angel. Her wings made of chains dragging her further down into the waters of Acheron.


Leonard shook himself and turned away from the sight, heading towards the trees. He picked up a fallen branch, rough heavy limb reassuring in its meaning. The only thing standing between him and Jillian. He lifted it in both of his hands like a ritual dagger and thrust it in one sweeping motion into his chest. Never wavering or hesitating. The sharp point of the branch penetrated his ribcage and went straight into his heart.


A relieved smile appeared on his face as he slowly disintegrated, his dust falling to the ground.


******


Willow peered through her fingers at the scene before her. She’d been about to go take a swim in the lake, when a girl dashed out of the woods on the opposite side of the trees, soon followed by a man. Willow hid behind a tree and watched the horror unravel, her eyes getting wider and wider as she watched.


She desperately wanted to run, maybe go and find help, but her feet were rooted to the ground. Maybe she could pretend this never happened, but she couldn't. Could she? Willow bit her nails, trying to decide if she should run away or go to the rescue of the poor girl. But look at her, she was a teeny tiny high school geek. She rarely took initiative, let alone saved anyone. Even though she did scare Jonathan last week after her rant about the necessity of recycling and throwing garbage into the trash can, not next to it. She even compared him to a mouldy banana rotting on the ground!


As she was arguing with herself, the man tossed the girl into the lake and walked away. Away, and in her direction.


'Yikes! Now what? Just breathe Willow, in and out, don't move!'


Then the man lifted a branch.


'Okay, what is going on here?'


The man rammed it through his chest and Willow had to stifle a gasp as she watched him turn into dust right in front of her eyes.


'Huh? Wha...?'


She shook herself from her stupor, snapped her jaw shut, filed what she’d just witnessed away for the future reference and looked in the direction of the girl. This time Willow didn't hesitate, she jogged towards the lake and crouched down when she reached it, wetting her hands and knees on the humid earth. The girl had her head and shoulders in the water, her hair floating, and the rest of her body lying uselessly on the grass.


Willow grasped the girl's shoulders and turned her around, then dragged her away from the chilly water. The girl's face was pale, her lips parted and tinged with blue, the skin beneath Willow's hands was cold, icy even. She felt for a pulse, but couldn't find any. She was starting to go into the panic mode and her right eye twitched.


Trying to recall how to do CPR, she drew in a shaky breath and put on her resolve face. She tilted the girl's head back, pinched her nose and breathed into her mouth as deeply as she could, two times. Willow put her hands on the girl's chest and started pumping, but nothing happened. She put her lips on the girl's cold ones and breathed into her again, then proceeded with the pumping.


The girl snapped her eyes open and started to cough up the water that was in her lungs. Willow squeaked and jumped up, then sat back down again and rolled the girl onto her side so she wouldn't choke.


Buffy was torn out of the abyss, the last thing she remembered was the feeling of floating, further and further away from her consciousness, straight into oblivion. She had tried to struggle, to fight off the darkness, but couldn't. And suddenly here she was, coughing her lungs out and shivering in the wind.


Something dark and familiar stirred within her, making every hair on her body stand up. Power. For a moment she could feel and hear everything around her. The sound of the wind as it whipped the leaves, every lap of the water and every rapid thump of a heartbeat that wasn't her own in deafening clarity. She tampered the strange alertness down.


Buffy looked up at the girl sitting next to her, her wide eyes filling Buffy's vision.


“Who are you?”


“Who are you?” they blurted out at the same time.


What happened? And who is this girl? Buffy felt strange, she felt heavy, like she was wearing a costume that didn't belong to her, too loose and too tight at the same time.

Buffy sat up and drew her knees to her chest. The breeze wasn't cold, it was mild, but it chilled her nonetheless.

“H-hi! I'm Willow.”


Buffy stared back at her, Willow's nervous grin and jerky motions captivating her attention. And was her right eye twitching?


Willow didn't know what to do. What was socially acceptable after you witnessed an attempted murder, saved the victim and then saw the attacker commit suicide with a wooden stick?


Willow looked at the girl and noticed for the first time the she was very, very naked. And she had been touching those naked parts with her hands.


'What if the girl thinks I'm some kind of pervert that goes around groping naked breasts everywhere I go?'


Willow could feel the blush creep into her cheeks and she was sure it matched her hair right now. Her right eye started to twitch again.


“I was just going for a breast—for a swim! And then I saw you running and then the man, and he tried to kill you, which I'm sure you know, but he didn't because I used CPR, and he used a stick to kill himself and went poof, and have you ever seen someone going poof? Because I haven't, and is it even anatomically possible, I swear I'm not crazy, and I'm not a perv!” By the time Willow finished her face was shining bright red.


Killed? She had been dead? She had been nothing but a body lying in the puddle of water, cold and empty, just a mass of cells and innards with no soul inside? Buffy felt as though she might vomit. She managed to regain her composure and turn her attention back to the babbling Willow.


“I'm Buffy.” She stared at Willow like she was some kind of alien.


Buffy had never seen someone so... twitchy. It was very disconcerting. She looked at the girl, at her shoulder length red hair, her fluffy lilac sweater, orange pants and right down to her sneakers with little flowers on them. The girl, Willow, she didn't look like she could manage her own clothes, let alone save someone's life. She was so normal, so alive. She was so far removed from Buffy's world it was making her dizzy.


“So, umm... Buffy. What's happened to you?” Willow peered at her with interest and concern.


Buffy couldn't quite put her feelings into the words. What had happened to her? The question was what hadn't happened to her? How could she possibly explain to this girl the horrors she'd been through, the things that had been done to her in cruelty? Willow was so innocent, so nice and carefree. How could Buffy invade her sheltered world, where the monsters in the closet were just a child's nightmare, not the harsh reality? How could she do that to this girl that had saved her life?


Buffy decided to lie.


“I'm not sure. I was going to go for a swim too...and then the man appeared and he...he tried to kill me. And you have saved me. Thank you.”


Buffy hoped her story would come across as believable, not made up in a moment of inspiration. She still wasn't sure if she was grateful for the fact that Willow had pulled her away from the brink of death either. Anyway, she had to convince this girl to go home, and to safety, which meant away from her.


“Oh, okay then. And I hate to point his out, but you're lacking in the clothes department.” Willow looked at her expectantly and Buffy looked down at herself.


“Clothes?” Buffy frowned as she tried to mull over the question. She hadn't seen any kind of clothes for months. Didn't have the luxury to cover herself, to hide her vulnerability behind anything.


“Yes... Has someone stolen them? O-or maybe you just like walking in the woods without them?” When she noticed Buffy's eyes tearing up, she hastily tried to put it right.


“N-no, don't cry, I'm sure we can figure something out. Not that there's anything wrong with your nakedness and stuff, because there's not. I don't mind seeing you naked, not that I'm a voyeur that gets off on watching nude people or anything!” Willow blushed and tucked a stray hair behind her ear.


“Here, let me lend you something. I know it's not much, but it's better than nothing right?” Willow stood up, shucked out of her baggy sweater, revealing her blue tank top beneath, and handed the fuzzy thing to Buffy, who followed her lead and also stood up. She took the fluffy sweater with trembling fingers.


“Thank you,” Buffy whispered and stared at the article in awe.


She clutched it in her hand and hugged it to herself. She noticed Willow looking at her with worry, so she quickly put it on. It covered her bottom, the material smelling like flowers and another human being, it was warming and comforting. She didn't even know how much she had missed that feeling of not being on display, her body and soul for everyone to ridicule and torment. Such a simple thing-- a sweater, yet it was more than anyone had given her in so long. It was another reason why she should spare this girl the world beyond the veil of false perfection and safety.


“I should probably go home, my mom will be worried,” Buffy lied and hugged her torso.


“Yeah, me too. Oh, I go to Sunnydale High and you're probably new since I've never seen you before, so I guess we will see each other. Unless you go elsewhere, or go to the college...or somewhere else?” Willow looked at Buffy for confirmation.


'Sunnydale? Where am I? What am I doing here?'


“Right, Sunnydale High...um, I'll see you. And return your sweater. Maybe if you could just point me to the nearest road, that would be…” Buffy's head was spinning with confusion. She had no clue where she was going to go. Maybe she should just tell the truth and let Willow help her, let someone take care of her. Except, she knew she couldn't. Couldn't risk getting this sweet girl into danger on her behalf.


“It's actually right behind the trees. And I'm going to introduce you to Xander... a-and Jesse. They are both so nice, I'm sure you'll like them.” Willow continued on about school and her friends, but Buffy didn't pay that much attention.


The only thing she could think about was the fact that she was alone, without money and clothes in a strange town. Willow had insisted on walking her home, and they were walking through a suburban part when the idea struck Buffy. 'Just lie to her.'


“So, this is me, the house right there. So, I'm gonna go. Thank you for everything, and I'll see you at school.” Buffy faked a smile, turned and headed towards the house she had pointed out to Willow.


Meanwhile Willow was torn between staying and making sure Buffy entered the house and going home herself, as fast as she could. She decided for the latter.


“Okay, bye, Buffy!” Willow waved at her, and Buffy looked over her shoulder, waving back.


When Willow rounded the corner and disappeared from view Buffy slumped to the ground, dropping the mask she was afraid Willow would see through, and once again let depression flood her system. She'd forgotten how hard it was to pretend. To put on a mask of someone else, to live a double life, trying to please everyone but herself.


She let a few tears trickle down her face and tried not to panic. Buffy stood up, the soles of her feet burning and aching, leaving smudged bloody footprints as she trudged along. She stepped from the sidewalk down onto the road, not hearing, nor noticing the approaching car.


******


Spike was pissed. When the sun had gone down and he could finally leave the alleyway, he'd gone straight to his car and drove to the nearest mall to acquire some clothes that would scream Big Bad, not a ponce. After that, he had tried a different demon bar and finally got a lead on the Slayer. But by the time Spike found the underground lair, it had been too late. That pompous git, Lukas, had told him that the Slayer was off the menu. The bloke had looked at him like he knew him, had that knowing glint in his eyes, somehow mocking, and when he noticed Spike staring at him, he immediately went back to his high and mighty self. He was trying to hide something from Spike. However, the only useful information Spike got out of him was that Lukas had sold the Slayer off to some bloke in Sunnydale.


So here he was, driving through the streets of Sunnydale and cursing his misfortune of nothing ever going according to his carefully thought out plans.


'Need a smoke!'


Spike growled when he couldn't find any, so he took his eyes off the road for a moment and fumbled in the back seat, one hand holding the steering wheel steady. After he found the pack hidden beneath a ratty blanket, he drew one out and tossed the pack back on the seat. Spike lit it with his lighter and dragged the nicotine into his lungs. His expression was that of a pure bliss.


'Now this is more like it!'


Spike focused fully back on the road, and his eyes widened. There was a girl crouching in the middle of it. A petite, half-naked, blond girl. He managed to swerve the car to the side just in time to avoid the collision, the cigarette dropping into his lap.


He stomped on the brakes with all his might, narrowly avoiding a mailbox on the sidewalk. His head bumped against the windshield as the car slewed to a stop. Spike touched his forehead and his fingers came away bloodied. Then Spike noticed the burning cigarette in his lap and he hastily brushed it away, a string of colourful curses passing his lips.


'If I hadn't been pissed before, I sure as hell am now!'


Spike yanked the doors open and stepped outside, ready to scream blue murder at the daft cow that had almost put a dent into his beloved baby, but had caused a lump on his head and the waste of a perfectly good cigarette. He growled. The bint would be dead before she managed to plead for her miserable existence!


Spike strode towards the girl, who had her hands covering her head in a protective gesture. He stopped short when her blood reached his nostrils. It was leaking freely from the soles of her bare feet, staining the asphalt.


The demon inside him snarled, ready to break free and claim this creature in every way possible.


'What the fuck?'


Her blood was calling to him, sweet and strong, like honey ready to melt on his tongue. The demon wanted him to sink his teeth into her jugular, but not to kill. To mark her, to make her his. To possess her. That violent hunger warred with an unconscious need of his inner William to go to her, to hug her, to stroke her hair and kiss her brow.


Spike almost staggered from the sheer force of it, struggling to keep the rein on his demon and his inner ponce while trying to sort through the myriad of emotions at the same time. He'd never felt such a strong feeling of possessiveness before, and it scared him.


Spike took another whiff of the blood and his eyes widened in recognition.


'The Slayer!'


TBC