This is a story I started writing a while back, but hopefully I’ll update soon
disclaimer- I don’t own any of BTVS
summary- Some changes are only in your head; some aren't.
spoilers- AU in the fifth season. Buffy's mom is sick, Riley hasn't left yet, but Spike has told Buffy he loves her (she just hasn't told anyone), and Dawn doesn't exist.
A/N- * are Oracles words
I beg for reviews
She woke up with pains on her body. Not that this was uncommon; fighting demons and whatnot amounted to heaps of scrapes and bruises in the morning. But curious thing was she had no bruising, had been in no fights lately, and in fact Sunnydale had been fairly quiet for the past week. And nor was the pain constant or all together. The main points causing this curious development were her feet, tailbone, ears, eyes, teeth, and shoulder blades. There was no swelling or redness to indicate an injury sustained. Buffy shrugged it off as stress.
You don't understand what you are, what's to come. You aren't ready yet.
She wiped away the lingerings of her dream. The same dream had sustained for a time, and while it might be a Slayer dream, Buffy hadn't mentioned it to Giles. In fact, she hadn't mentioned a lot; she just didn't care. Her mother had been sick, and she had cared, but not for long. Riley had been feeling useless lately, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Spike had announced he loved her. It had sparked an interest, but Buffy shrugged it off as a matter of course.
Spike. She had known he had been serious, despite what she had said about demons unable to love. He would learn what Riley was beginning to understand; she wasn't capable of loving, hadn't been for a long time. Fighting evil until it killed you didn't amount to white picket fences. She wanted to lay down and die, but forced herself to go through the motion, though she had long since forgotten why.
Grabbing her usual patrol bag, Buffy walked out the door. She ignored the shifting pains in her limbs, not understanding why she should pay more attention to them.
. . . . .
*She isn't paying attention, sister.*
*I know. She doesn't respond to our warnings.*
*If she doesn't tell her Watcher about the dream traceries, she won't be ready for the next step.*
*We need our warrior at full strength. Drastic measures must be taken.*
*I know, but to bring a mortal to our realm?*
*She must be prepared.*
. . . . .
The whole Scooby Gang was gathered at the Magic Box. Presence of friends that should have been comforting made Buffy want to patrol or do anything to get away from this surfeit of mortal idolatry.
A tingling shot through her spine. Finally, something that could be killed or fought. Something to drag her out of the dull monodrum her life had become. She turned to the source, finding nothing but a colorless abyss that quickly surrounded her.
The remaining Scooby Gang blinked the effects of the fading light from their eyes to see Buffy had disappeared. Nothing was spoken for a few stunned minutes.
Panic came shortly after.
. . . . .
First Slayer's Memories
Heat pressed against her body. The fires in the caves were hot; animals feared this thing the creature called man had discovered. The pack howled outside, they sensed a pack-sister in this place of man. She wanted to run, instead of attending what the wise men had called.
Outside and in, demons and humans were born and died. The balance had shifted.
. . . . .
*We brought you here for a reason; much the same reason as the dream.*
'Wonderful. I knew it was a prophetic dream.'
*Then why didn't you tell the Watcher?*
'What difference would it make? We fight the evil. We win, there's another one right after. We don't win, I'm..'
*Finished? Well that is what you wanted, isn't it?*
'When has it mattered what I wanted?'
*Fate is never kind to Slayers, this cannot be helped. But we offer condensation for all your struggles. Then when your time comes your spirit may be laid to rest, finished, at peace. All we ask is that you fight a little longer.*
'Yeah, fate is never kind. Putting innocents in harm's way, leaving the chosen alone."
*Warrior, you were never alone, not the way you mean. We have even brought the vampire to you to ease the future sufferings.*
'It's not like he'll get much out of it. I can't love him.'
*He doesn't expect a returned gift.*
*you can love him. Stop struggling and open your heart.*
*Look, listen, and understand. Time will heal all wounds.*
. . . . .
The entire gang had gathered to discover where Buffy had gone; even Spike, who claimed to hate the entire group and was only a step away from killing everyone. But Riley knew better. The night Spike had kidnapped Buffy claiming he loved her, Riley had followed them. He had expected she would kill him, or a least tell the others. But she had done neither.
Riley knew it would be useless to talk about it, as much as touching her in her sleep was. She didn't dream about him, didn't fantasize about him, and she never called out his name mid-orgasm. Riley knew why, it wasn't a warm body in her, always cold limbs and hidden fangs. He had made the mistake of using ice on her once; it had the same effect as when he bit her neck. Except for those times, he wasn't sure she hadn't faked every orgasm. Half-moaned names and dream mutterings littered as evidence.
'Touch me Sp- yess.'
Whatever love she might of had for him had long since faded. So he had discovered what pleasure the sin of the bite brought. It was a matter of time before she stopped playing and left. He knew that.
So why did he stay?
. . . . .
Spike leaned against the wall, trying to maintain an outward expression of cool detachment. But inside he was worried. His Slayer had disappeared from beneath everyone's noses.
And she was his, as much, if not more, than the Poof's. Many a night he had crept to her window. Long after Soldier Boy's attempts at pleasure, he had heard her mutterings in sleep. He grinned wickedly as Riley glared at him. Oh yeah, Cardboard had heard the same words. Must be a shame not to be able to pleasure your lover, even if they fantasize of another. At least he could make Dru scream in pleasure. What could Riley do, pant like the pathetic specimen he was?
. . . . .
There was nothing anymore, no voices, no noise, no surroundings. She floated in a wasted abyss. The percipience of change. The absence of past and future. More than numbing, it was terrifying. Change is like that.
*You have a choice. You can take the next step in your destiny. What comes after we cannot tell you. Or you can stay as you are. You have already been shown the results of that.*
She shuddered, images rushing back. Rains of fire and rivers of blood. Darkness crawling, taking life of jaded and innocent alike. Mothers calling for children that would never come home. Pain and ashes.
*You have made your choice.* Approval. *The way will not be easy. We can't promise absence of pain, but there will be healing. What comes after the change can't be told.*
'What will happen?'
*You will be reborn from the ashes of old. What you are inside will be shown to the world. You may even lose yourself.*
'Will I be alone?'
*No, from the beginning the vampire will be yours. As a guardian, teacher, friend, or whatever you choose.*
*Are you ready?*
. . . . .
Spike shifted in his stance, the wait maddening. Bored from watching Red mix herbs in the kitchen, he went into the living room where Giles was researching. He squinted at the center of the room where the air shimmered.
A bright light blasted into the room. It fit the Scoobies' description of the light that had taken Buffy. He hunched down, preparing to attack what came out. The smell was overwhelming. Fear and blood covered the acidic of power. Stunned, he stared at the small figure covered in afterbirth.
Giles stared as well, nausea welling up at the slightly mangled body before them. The feet, vaguely human, were shrunken. . The bone had formed its own shape, continuing until mid-leg. The shoulder bones had grown, barely a thin membrane of skin covering them, looking as if something had tried to claw its' way out. Ears had lengthened as well. He looked into the face, seeing changes there as will. Eyes that shone with fear wore slanted-feline pupils. Canine teeth had become small fangs.
But it wasn't these things that made him try to keep substance down. The being shrouded in birth trappings, was Buffy.