Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are the property of Joss Whedon and various other entities, but I like to play with them from time to time.

A/N: An incredible thank you to SandyS who made the banner and personalized it for this story and to Spikeslovebite for her readiness to beta just about anything I throw her way (and lately I’ve given her some strange tales.)



*banner by Sandy_S*

She had been getting images in her dreams for the past few days, but she hadn’t considered them of any major importance. The images always seemed like crude finger painted drawings on white paper. They were crude in the sense that any kindergartener would have done a much better job. They bothered her at first – the strange, two-dimensional, violent drawings. However, she dismissed them without discussing them with Giles, thinking that she was perhaps remembering something from her childhood in a new way.

However, as of tonight, she now knew those simple, crude drawing-dreams had only been precursors to tonight’s major Slayer dream fest.

Buffy recognized the desert – that same wretched place where she had first accidentally met the First Slayer after the Uber-Slayer mojo. She never did figure out that bizarre Cheese Man. The second time she had visited this place, Buffy had received the portentous mantra – “Death is Your Gift” – straight from her ancestor’s yellow-teethed mouth. The last time she entered this desert she had met those men – the Shadowmen, the ancestors of the Watchers – who had attempted to rape her with more Slayer demon. That last time, her sister Slayer had been nowhere in sight.

This time everything was different.

As Buffy stepped across the sands barefoot, she felt the grains pass between her toes. Its warmth was slight, but it didn’t burn. A movement to her right caught her eye. Oh great, here we go again. How many times does it take for her to learn not to fight me? Bracing herself for the usual sudden barrage associated with meeting the First Slayer, Buffy was surprised when instead her ancestor slowly approached, walking fully upright for the first time ever. While her predecessor still remained garbed in her typical tattered, gray rags and war paint, Buffy noted that her demeanor was entirely calm. In fact, it was wigging her out.

Buffy stayed as still as possibly could, yet kept braced for a fight, alert for any sudden moves just in case. You never knew with the First Slayer. The primitive slayer tilted her head to one side, strangely reminiscent of a certain snarky vampire that Buffy missed terribly. Her elder tapped her chest in rapid succession, opened her mouth and roughly spoke one word, “Senaya.”

Startled, Buffy relaxed her stance a little. Then, she repeated the name aloud, receiving a nod in reply. Smiling a little, Buffy then tapped her own chest and said her name. Senaya’s mouth turned down as if she had just swallowed a few lemons, and then she laughed. Buffy could never remember in any of her Slayer dreams where “Senaya” had displayed any emotion besides that of an aloof, surgical hunter determined to either kill her or drive her insane with the cryptic talk.

“Hey, my mother gave me that name,” Buffy responded, affronted by her elder’s laughter. Then Buffy remembered saying the same thing to Spike one night. That was twice in a very, short time span that this contact with Senaya had conjured memories of Spike. Did it mean something?

Senaya immediately sobered her expression and held out her hand, motioning for Buffy to take it. Buffy did, and together they began to walk hand in hand across the desert.

Just like her dream when they first encountered each other, the landscape began to subtly change. The scant presence of trees soon began to appear as if a rough crayon had drawn the copse of trees; the sun turned into an actual, Crayola-yellow circle, complete with yellow rays. Then Buffy found herself, along with Senaya, in a hospital watching a girl with brown hair coloring vigorously, vivid pictures depicting demons and vampires.

“She’s one of us?” Buffy questioned.

“She does not understand who she has become,” Senaya answered.

Even though the doctor present in the room could not see them, the girl quickly turned her haunted eyes their way. The confused girl locked eyes with Buffy. Suddenly, flashes of what had happened to the girl as a child played out like a short film in Buffy’s mind. The horror of what had happened to the poor child made Buffy want to scream in pain and outrage. She felt violated and abused. Fortunately, Buffy felt a comforting squeeze from Senaya bringing her out of the girl’s past. The scene unexpectedly shifted again.

However, Buffy found that they were still with the same girl. The girl was now alone in a padded room, the walls covered with grotesque drawings, some of which Buffy recalled from her previous dreams. This time, the girl was oblivious to their presence. Before she could verify that the drawings on the walls were in fact the same as she had dreamed, another brief shift in time occurred.

This time, Senaya was no longer by her side. Instead, Buffy saw Senaya standing beside the troubled girl.

Senaya caressed the girl’s hair. “She does not understand what she sees.”

“She’s been getting our visions?”

“She relives us all,” Senaya cryptically voiced.

Within the room, a “window” opened, like a viewing screen. Another time. Buffy recognized her fifteen-year-old self in bed, apparently experiencing a nightmare. The room seemed vaguely familiar, and then it came to her. She was in her home in Los Angeles, before she learned of her calling. With a touch to her temple from Senaya, Buffy remembered the disturbing dreams she had dreamt prior to meeting Lothos. In each dream, she was the Slayer – she understood that now – fighting vampires, until Lothos arrived and killed her each time.

“Stop!” Buffy recalled that those visions had differed from those involving her and the Master. In the “Master” dreams, she knew that she was really battling the Master. The Lothos dreams, she realized, she had relived from each previous Slayer’s experience. With some clarity, Buffy turned damp eyes to Senaya. “That girl has been reliving all of our experiences? Every single one of us?”

Gravely, Senaya nodded. She seemed about to add something; however, she shook her head. Once again the desert reappeared, but they were no longer alone.

“Tara?”

As before in her first coming to this desert, Tara stood before her wearing the beautifully crafted sari. “I’ve been granted this time by the Powers to give you some wisdom of the things to come,” the vision of Tara spoke.