Prologue

Disclaimer: The characters contained here-in from the Buffy the Vampire franchise are the property of Joss Whedon et.al. The characters from the Anita Blake book series are the property of Laurell K. Hamilton. If the character cannot be described as such, they belong to me. No infringments of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission. No profit is being made from this story.


Author's Note: This story disregards all Buffy canon after the seventh season and all canon after the third book of the Anita Blake book series. As this story takes place in an Anita Blake AU, some of the facts may be twisted. If something is incorrect that you believe should not be, feel free to contact me.




Prologue

The night was, contrary to most nights in Buffy Summer's life, calm and uneventful. Not one of the newly deceased residents of Washington D.C. seemed inclined to rise, and Buffy was well on her way to perpetual boredom as she drove between potential vampire victims. Tapping a stake against a jeans-clad thigh as she exited her car once again and headed for the new graves, Buffy grimaced. Maybe she could look into alternative slayers to station in the D.C. while Carmen had her vacation. Even with the seductive closeness to Dawn at the North America headquarters, this was quite honestly getting boring. There was bound to be some young girl somewhere who needed an area like this to get used to her new gift.


Buffy scuffed her foot over the fresh earth covering Nicolas Smith and looked around as she waited for some indication that Smith would rise. Experience said that the presence of a slayer sped up the rising of a vampire, but it didn't make the process of waiting any more fun. But this was what slaying was these days - ever since all Potentials had been awakened and the First Evil thwarted, there had been less and less disasters that needed her attention and thus, nightly patrolling of local graveyards was as much her every day as it was a newbie's.


Smith remained silent and Buffy headed for the next grave, stuffing the stake into her back pocket. Maybe she could go visit Angel for a while after finding a replacement. Or maybe not. Their situation was still as impossible as ever, and Buffy was quite frankly not willing to expose herself to the heartache attached anytime soon. Which probably meant staying away from dating completely, she admitted to herself in the silence of the graveyard where there was no Dawn to protest. All of her boyfriends since Pike had come with heartache and bad break-ups and the possibilities of domestic happiness seemed to dwindle rapidly as the years passed.


Perching herself on the stone marker of the grave beside her next suspect, Buffy let her thoughts wander, turning idly towards that very first serious relationship she'd had. How long had it been since then? Fifteen years? Sixteen? It seemed so far away. It was hard to remember Pike's face these days, and Merrick's was little more than a blur. She could barely even remember her first vampire kill anymore.


Trying to remember that first night in the graveyard, Buffy wobbled on her stone. While the details of the encounter was fuzzy, she was fairly sure she remembered the general circumstances and the more she thought about it, the more strange it seemed. The image her mind supplied her with; there were no game-face, no demonic taint, no animalistic snarling - from what she could remember... She frowned. Looking back, it almost seemed like what she had fought then was far from what she called a vampire today. In fact, that kind of vampire she could only remember from the point where she moved to Sunnydale.


"...the hell?" she muttered under her breath, sliding down the stone until she was leaning against it rather than sitting on it.


"You might say that," a voice agreed and Buffy gritted her teeth. She knew that voice.


"Whistler," Buffy stated, turning around to glare at the demon. "Long time no see. Fortunately."


Whistler tsked at her, shaking his head. "I'm saddened by your distrust," he said genially, tipping his bowler hat towards her. "You should be glad to see me."


Buffy stared back, eyebrow raised. "Sure I should," she said. "It's not like you are usually the harbinger of bad news or anything."


Whistler scratched the back of his neck idly. "It's not like I decide the news I carry." He caught the look Buffy gave him and held up a hand. "No, really. I'm bound to the Powers that Be as you are. Just a messenger, slayer."


Buffy retrieved her stake, lifting it slightly. "Want to get to the point?" she asked.


Whistler glanced at it, shifting a little. "Yes, yes," he said, twiddling with something in the pocket of his jacket. "Do you want to go anywhere to talk?" Buffy raised her stake slightly. "Or not. Slayer, I'm just here to answer your question."


"Then answer it," she suggested, crossing her arms. "You have five minutes, then I'm out of here. I still have graveyards to visits, vampires to slay - you know, all that."


Whistler gave the stake a last look, then straightened. "So be it," he said, then met her eyes. "You were wondering about the vampires you killed in Los Angeles."


"Yeah," Buffy agreed. "You've got a point?"


Whistler gave her an annoyed look. "If you would close your nattering mouth for a second," he said and waited until she waved at him to continue. "The reason your memories tell you things were different back then, is because they were."


Buffy tensed. "What do you mean?"


The demon looked at her. "You're not from around here," Whistler told her plainly. "When you were Called, you lived in a neighboring dimension. After you defeat of Lothos, the Powers decided you were needed more in this dimension than the one you were born in."


Buffy felt as if he had stunned her. "What?"


"The dimension of your birth had no need of a slayer," Whistler said, continuing on as if she had never spoken. "This universe were in grave need of one. You know how it goes: few if any slayers before you lived to see their eighteenth birthday. In the dimension where you were born, a slayer is only called when the need is grave. Lothos created that need, you were the one to answer it. Only you showed a potential the world had never seen before. Even the Powers were taken by surprise."


And just like that, Buffy knew where he was going. "They wouldn't let me go."


"They couldn't," Whistler corrected her. "Not when someone like you were needed so badly."


Buffy gritted her teeth. "What is it then? Have all my life been a lie since I came to Sunnydale?"


"No," Whistler replied. "Everything was, is very much real. To you, the dimensions were identical up to that moment. It was merely a question of switching you and your counterpart in this dimension."


"And what of the other me?"


Whistler shook his head.


Buffy ignored the sudden tightness of her chest and fought to keep her voice form shaking as she spoke. "You want me to return there."


"I'm sorry for what it's worth," Whistler offered. "Your work as a slayer is over. Maybe this other dimension can offer the peace you've been looking for."


Buffy shook her head, blond strands that she didn't bother pushing away settling in her face. "Don't," she said, mind frantically trying to figure out what to do. Grasping at straws, she said: "Do I get to say goodbye?"


Whistler's face went blank and he looked away. Buffy froze, a possibility suddenly in her mind she didn't even want to consider. When he looked at her again, all joviality was gone from his face and only shadows and stone remained. "You have already been transferred." He reached into a pocket, withdrew a thick package. "All you need it here."


He tossed it at her; she didn't bother to catch it, moving towards him with narrow eyes. With a look in his eyes Buffy had never seen before, Whistler batted her away before she even had the chance to attack and she slammed into a tree, struggling for breath as he walked away. Just before he disappeared through the high gates of the graveyard, before she had gathered herself enough to follow, he turned towards her. "Don't try to find someone to move you through the dimensions," Whistler warned. "The Powers will not allow it."


The he was gone and Buffy was left on her knees, fingers digging into fresh earth and eyes staring at nothing in a world she never knew she had left and did no longer know.

TBC