Chapter Text
It had been a year since Sunnydale fell. One hell of a year as well -and not in the fun, cool way, more in the literal hellish way-
When they activated the Potentials, Buffy thought she would finally get a break, a chance for a normal life for once.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
It seemed as if her responsibilities had doubled over the past year (no, cross that, they hudre-fied).
Everyone was scattered around the globe, finding and recruiting Slayers and watcher’s for said slayers. Buffy and Dawn where settled in London with Giles, but things hadn’t been very peaceful actually. Everything and everyone was covered in this sort of tension that was palpable and yet ignored, the kind that tickled the air, made your insides uncomfortable and a knot on your stomach.
She felt like that year she came back: numb, just going through the motions, fighting the monster she was pointed to, training the girls she was assigned to, speaking to the people she was supposed to. Nothing felt significant, or exiting. She thought that if Spike was here, he would tell her she had a dead wish, and maybe it was true.
God, Spike.
She learned that he came back, and that he stayed with Angel in LA, only to be dusted again in some apocalypse Angel brought upon himself. And in all that time, he didn’t call, he didn’t came.
That hurt like hell (one of the few emotions that filtered through)
Up until that point, it had been almost a given that no matter what, Spike would always come back to her. She knew it, she was sure of it as much as she was sure that Dawn had taken her blouse again. Or so she thought.
When Angel had come with the news, she slapped him on his newly, self-righteous human face hard enough to leave a mark for months. She then proceeded to go to the nearest cemetery and beaten up every single thing in the place. She did such a throughout job that no slayer would need to come back to this cemetery in years.
And then she’d gone back home, locked herself in her room, and cried for the first time since…
I love you…
No you don’t, but thanks for sayin’ it.
She cried, cried, and cried a little more. Everything she’d been bottling for years came crashing down on her. She cried of outrage, she cried of nostalgia, and she had cried of grief. At first, she’d been so angry that he didn’t come, that he had come back and decided she didn’t have a right to know. Thing is, she didn’t, and that’s where the grief begun. All the things she didn’t say, all the things she did say to him burned in her mind, and her heart, and her soul. All the things she did to him, how she used him, humiliated him, hurt him in all the ways possible.
Beneath me.
There had been mistakes on both parts, terrible mistakes, but in the end, they didn’t owe each other anything, and that was the thing. Love wasn’t about owning and scores; it was about wanting and giving. And maybe Spike hadn’t wanted a life with her anymore, a life where he would constantly be pushed away, being subject to the scorn of her and her friends, a life of sacrifices for unrequited love.
And she got that.
Last week had been filled with what ifs, but the most persistent and forefront on her mind had been: What if I told him sooner? Would he had believed me? Would he have come back to me?
It was late at night (early by slayer standards) when she entered her room, and tossed her bag of weapons onto the floor.
“Another uneventful patrol, yay me!” she said dryly to herself.
“Glad to hear that”
She turned and got into a defensive position in the blink of an eye, full slayer instincts in place and ready to attack at the slightest threat.
“Hey! I come in peace!” the man in a funny hat and suit said, raising his hands in the universal sign of surrender.
“Yes, that’s why you made the obviously-not-sketchy appearance act in my room” she replied.
“Way easier to find you that way” he shrugged.
“You seem…familiar” she said after eyeing him carefully.
“And here I was hoping I’d made an impression. Hi, name’s Whistler. We’ve met when-“
“Angel” she interrupted, recalling her encounters with him years ago on Giles’ flat.
“Yes, the whole Acathla problem. Good job on that by the way, the Powers were very surprised”
She dropped her stance, but he could tell she was still on edge. “What do you want?”
“A nice drink would be nice, for one, but apparently you don’t have any” he said conversationally, sitting on one of the chairs in the room. She followed his example and sat on the chair in front of him glaring.
“Let me rephrase this, and don’t play cryptic guy with me. Why are you here?”
“Well, the Powers sent me to make a deal with you”
“With me? Thought Angel was their champion” she snarked.
“This concerns you, not him.” She eyed him suspiciously, but made a sign for him to continue.
“The Powers are seeing the paths that lay ahead of us. Nothing is certain yet, but everything is going wrong one way or the other. They want to fix it before is too late”
“Sounds like a regular Tuesday to me” she said offhandedly “What do they want me to do about it?”
“For you to go back”
“To the States? Didn’t know Cleveland was such a worry-“
“No, they want you to go back in time”
They stared at each other for a long time, and suddenly Buffy burst out laughing.
“Almost got me there, haty man”
“It is not a joke. They want you to go back”
Buffy sobered almost instantly. She looked at him, her mind running miles per hour, trying to understand what was being said to her.
“Why?” she finally managed to mutter.
“Apparently, the activation of the potentials created am imbalance, that will have to be paid sometime in the future, soon. It will be a terrible catastrophe, bigger than any May apocalypse.” Whistler said, trying to decipher what was going on Buffy’s mind.
“So, they want me to go back and change it”
“To put it shortly”
“This is not a joke”
“Not that I’m aware of”
A beat of silence.
“Can they actually do that? Cause I’ve been told that time travel and meddling with things is of the very bad”
“Consider it as a official trip, meddling will be okay, no consequences for you”
Another beat of silence.
“Why me?” she said, barely above a whisper.
“You are the only one who can do it, the best warrior we have” he said earnestly, and she looked up surprised.
“I… I’ll have to think about it” she mumbled, and he nodded.
“I’ll be back tomorrow” he announced, and disappeared of the room.
The following night Buffy was already waiting in her room, sitting on the same chair as yesterday, her different clothes being the only sign that she moved from that chair at all.
“I’ll do it” she blurted out before she could think of it. Way to play it cool, Buff.
“We knew we could count on you” he said, patting her head and receiving a glare in return “There’s a few rules the Powers would like to discuss”
“Oh, lucky me” she said with feigned enthusiasm, and Whistler looked at her amused.
“You’ll be sent to a point where no one can tell you are different”
“Am I doing a Marty McFly kinda deal?” she asked “Don’t interact with past me? Get zapped back when I’m done?”
“No, no and no. It’s more like a mind switch. We send your mind and soul to your old body”
“So…where’s the risk on when you send me? I’ll look that-time-Buffy anyway”
“Yes, but your” * cough * “charming personality might get you in trouble. We’re sending you back to a point where they won’t be able to tell the difference”
“What’s the point of them not telling me apart I’m going to tell them I’m future Buffy?”
“You won’t” he answered simply, and he looked at him as if he’d grown a second head.
“What do you mean I won’t? What’s the point of sending me back to change stuff if I’m going to be all secreto girl?”
“They have their reasons, and that’s the rule. Don’t tell people you are from the future, and change things to the best of your knowledge.” He stared at her, as to defying her to disagree, and she stared right back, challenging him to make a move.
“One person” she said.
“What?”
“I want to be able to tell one person. Just one, and I’ll be the gal for the job”
He looked up to the and entertained a silent conversation with… the ceiling? No, with the Powers you moron.
“Fine, they’ll allow one person, just one”
“Cool. When do I leave?” she asked with the same normalcy as when one asked when the time was to go to a party.
“As soon as you’re ready. The sooner the better though” he said, pointing to his watch.
“Well, think I’m as ready as I’ll eve be” she shrugged.
“You don’t want to say goodbye to anyone?”
“I’ll see them back there, won’t I?” she said sadly, to which he nodded and she stood up, resolution permeating her face.
“Okay guys, mojo me back”
As soon as the words left her lips, she felt herself yanked back, as if an invisible force was dragging her. The world spined and twirled and flashes of light surrounded and passed her by.
And then the movement stopped, and she was in total darkness, in a small space. She tried to move but found herself confined by… fabric? And wood? concentrated a little bit, and poked around. She felt her clothes, some sort of dress, and she listened, only to find silence. The smell of earth started to become overwhelming quickly, and on last look around confirmed what she feared.
“You have got to be kidding me”