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Buffy closed her eyes, stretching her body as she gripped sweet smelling earth in her hands.
She frowned, opening her eyes as she looked upwards into a cloudless blue sky, rustling corn above her, the ears nearly bursting with their golden treasure.
Buffy slowly sat up, looking about her, confused. How did I get here?
She jerked in surprise, suddenly hearing the sound of a guitar playing in the distance.
She smiled, closing her eyes as the sweet rhythm of the instrument made her feel warm, safe…in control again.
She slowly stood up, walking towards the sounds as the corn leaves brushed against her clothes.
She paused, coming to a sudden break in the seemingly endless waves of corn.
She looked around in surprise, noting an old fashioned water pump, a tree with a tire swing lazily swaying in the breeze, and the old house where a pleasant looking black woman sat, contently strumming on her guitar.
She looked up as Buffy came into the yard, a bright smile breaking her lined, ebony features, her thin body looking like it couldn't possibly support the guitar it was holding. She's old…
The old woman laughed out loud as if hearing her thoughts, “You're the little girl sent to fight the dark ones…?”
If it had been anybody else, Buffy may have bristled at being called a little girl, but her voice was kind, comforting…like her mother's hot chocolate. “Yes…I am the Slayer…”
“Buffy, is it? Come closer, child…I don't think I've seen myself a true-blue Californian before.” She drew out the I in Californian, giving it an `E' sound that made Buffy smile as she came closer.
“You needn't blame yourself, child…this wasn't your fault. These here be events that have been turning since before you were born the first time.”
“Events? What events?”
“You needn't worry yourself about that, little girl…this isn't your fight. Not this time around. They'll be a time when we'll call on you…you and your man, to once again take up the fight…but for now, consider yourself retired…”
“Angel? He's still alive?” Buffy asked eagerly.
The old woman laughed softly, “Yes,” she said, but Buffy caught a faint tone of sadness in the voice, but she was too eager, anticipating Angel's arrival. He would help make things better…
“Now, you all come and see me, you hear? They calls me Mother Abigail…I'll be waiting for you all…”
Buffy was about ask her what she meant, and where she was, but a sudden cold wind enveloped her and her Slayer senses kicked it.
She whirled, then screamed as a black being with flaming red eyes descended on her…
Buffy woke up with a jerk, her entire body shuddering with fear and loathing of the dark creature she had envisioned in her dream. Who is he?
pike opened his eyes and he could feel Buffy's pulse pounding rapidly against his chest, "What is it, pet?"
She jumped, almost forgetting that Spike was there, and his arms tightened around her slightly, "Just...dreams," She shook her head, trying to will away the uneasy feeling the dream left with her. "I think Angel's alive." Spike tensed behind her, and she tilted her head to the side to look up at him, "What?"
"Nothing, luv," his tone implied otherwise, and he let her go to get up and pull on his jeans, "That's just great for you."
She stared at the tense, hard muscles of his back, frowning as she stood up, "I'm going to take a shower, okay? Then we have to find the others and get ready to find Angel."
She headed upstairs as Spike swore beneath his breath. A handful of surivivers on the whole bloody planet...and my soddin' Sire's one of them...doesn't my luck just fuck the proverbial duck?
Folks call me Mother Abagail...
Buffy shook her head, as if trying to clear the disturbing dream from it as she turned on the water, shuddering as she stepped beneath the cold spray, waiting for it to warm up.
She wasn't ashamed about sleeping with Spike, and she doubted she ever would be. However, she hoped he knew it was strictly a one time thing. She just needed to forget everything for a while.
The dream still lingered with her, and she tried to dispel the image of the black creature that had rushed her, but she was unable to do so. Mother Abagail...maybe Giles can tell me what it means...
he winced instantly, thinking of her former Watcher.
Giles sneezed as quietly as he could into a hankerchief, but four heads swiveled towards him. He was unable to meet Buffy's eyes as he turned back to his books, "The disease...does not seem to be coming from the Hell Mouth...in fact, it did not even originate here..."
"But wasn't California the first place struck down?" Willow asked, "I mean...maybe a hell mouth opened up somewhere else..."
"It does not work like that," Giles shook his head with a sigh, "This is the last active Hell Mouth in the world..."
"So, Trips isn't Hell Mouth related...then how do we fight it?" Xander asked, grinning, sure that they could find a baddie to slay and save the world. That's the way it always worked.
"I don't think we can," Giles answered, closing his eyes, "I seriously do not believe there is a thing we can do..."
Buffy watched as the water boiled merrily in a pot, distantly aware of the coughing and hacking coming from the bedroom. She finally poured the water into a mug and dropped in a tea bag, watching as the clean, pure water turned a murky brown.
She dumped in sugar and cream before setting it on a tray. She had to take several deep breaths before she could steel herself enough to pick it up and walk up the stairs.
She could see a small, emaciated form huddled on the bed, covered by several blankets.
Once proud Giles was now a pile of mucous and bones, unable to breathe or even eat. Buffy worked on auto-pilot, almost convinced that the small things like cough syrup, chicken soup and tea would bring him back to her, convince him not to leave her alone.
"Hey, Giles," She could hear the sound of unshed tears in her voice as she sat on the edge of the bed. She was almost unable to look him in the face, unable to face the haunted, blank look in his eyes, and to see the horrible, black swelling of his neck. "I got you some tea...not the herbal crap either, the good, English stuff you love so much..."
"Jenny...Jenny, you know rugby is better then football..."
Buffy closed her eyes, swallowing heavily, "I'm Buffy, Giles..."
"You Americans...real men don't wear pads! Jenny...why'd you leave? I'm so sorry...I shouldn't have let you go...I'm sorry..."
"Shh..." Buffy leaned over him, placing her hand against his searing hot forehead, "It's all right, Giles...everything's all right..."
"Buffy? Buffy, is that you?" He blinked, trying to focus on her through bleary eyes, "Buffy...Buffy, don't leave me too...Buffy..."
"Giles, I'm here..." Tears were pouring down her face unnoticed as she squeezed his hand, Oh God...he's so hot....please...someone help him..."I'm not leaving you, Giles."
"Buffy," Giles smiled up at her, "Jenny, did you see her when she fought the Mayor? She was so brave...and against Angel...I'm so proud...I'm sorry for that horrid test I particpated in, Jenny...but I had too! They made me...what if she doesn't forgive me?"
"She forgives you," Buffy assured him, "And she's proud of you too...you're the best Watcher I ever had."
"Buffy..." Giles reached for her face, the heated skin brushing against her cheek, and she clasped it, burying the side of her face in it, "Buffy, you be careful! Don't let Angelus get to you!"
"No, I won't," She closed her eyes in pain, "I won't, Giles..."
"Tell Jenny I'm right about the rugby...bloody Americans...I'm not Americanized!"
"No, you're not," She smiled slightly, "You're not a bit American..."
"Buffy...I love you...you're like my daughter...Buffy..."
A harsh sob ripped from her throat, "I love you too, Giles...Oh God...Giles, please, get better..."
"Buffy...don't leave me.."
"I won't," She told him once again, trying desperately to pull herself together, "Just eat some soup and you'll be fine...right? It's good for you..."
She picked up the bowl, but Giles suddenly started thrashing and screaming, "NO! NO! LEAVE HER ALONE, YOU BASTARD!" He knocked the soup from her hand, his eyes widening as his mouth opened wide in a guttral, heartstopping scream as he shot up in bed, "NO! NO! BUFFY! STAY AWAY FROM HIM! BBBBUFFFFYYYY!"
"Giles!" Buffy jumped to her feet just as he fell back on the bed with a hacking wheeze, his eyes closing.
Buffy watched in silence as his chest stopped moving, beginning to hyperventialate, "Giles? Giles...wake up..." She reached towards him, feeling his swollen neck, her eyes closing when she couldn't get a pulse, "Oh God...Giles...please...don't....not now...I need you..."
He lay still in death and Buffy stepped away from the body, body...he's not even human anymore...just a shell...
he whirled suddenly, rushing out of the bedroom and out of the house.
Time didn't matter to Buffy. She could have been running for seconds, minutes, or even hours, and it would have been the same to her.
Her feet slapped against the pavement, her eyes squeezed shut as she blindly sprinted, tears pouring down her face from the closed lids.
Everything in her screamed and screamed, begging to be released. She wanted her mom, she wanted her Watcher...dead...they're all dead...
he tripped when the heel on her boot snapped off, and she hit the ground, skinning her hands and knees, the sudden flare of pain bringing everything back into almost dizzyingly focus.
She stared at her hands, where blood ran down them, and she could see the bits of rock and other debris embedded in her skin.
She slowly lifted her head to stare off into the distance, where the night sky was bright, and she could see the thick, black smoke raising into the air. Smoke that stank of human flesh and burning disease.
"Bring out your dead!"
She remembered that line from a Monty Python Movie.
"I'm not dead yet! I feel healthly! I feel healthy!"
Buffy stared at the smoke, her palms and knees throbbing with pain, and opened her mouth.
For nearly twenty minutes, Buffy screamed and screamed.
Part 3: Survival of the Fittest
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