The Shoe was Lost

The Shoe was Lost


She heard the voices in the back of her head. They were talking about her. Chastising her for being so careless. The voices sounded vaguely familiar but she blocked them out. She decided to open her eyes. So she did.

And found herself staring into the most gorgeous pair of green eyes she had ever seen.

“So you’re awake.”

“Where am I?” asked Buffy resisting the urge to touch the spot on her forehead that was itching like crazy.

The green eyes looked behind him no doubt deciding whether or not to tell her.

Buffy sighed. She was sick of this.

“Look. You can save all the ‘oh look I’m normal crap’. This is not normal. Your house is glowing for pete’s sake.”

“Glowing?”

Buffy raised her head to look at the speaker. He was a tremendously aged man, dressed in long flowing robes and a pointy hat.

She gulped. She’d always had a problem with authority and the way he stood practically screamed authority.

“Glowing. The house is glowing. A bright fluorescent green.”

“So why did you drag yourself to this house?”

“In my experience, glowing green things are good.”

“And what experience may that be?”

Buffy smiled. She was feeling better already.

“You first.”

The old man smiled also.

“My name is Albus Dumbledore. I the headmaster of Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This young man here is Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. And you, are currently residing on a couch in the home of one Mr. Draco Malfoy.”

Buffy stared. She coughed. “I see.”

“And you?”

“Wait. Witchcraft and Wizardry? So you’re a wizard?”

“Yes.”

“And you can do magic?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

“You seem to be taking this rather well.”

“It’s nothing. My best friend’s a witch.” She pretended to ignore the surprise in the eyes of the men.

“She’s pretty powerful too. Almost ended the world once. Would have too.”

“I see.” Dumbledore said.
He stared at her.

“Oh right. My name is Buffy Summers. I’m the Slayer. Actually, I’m a slayer now that there are millions of slayers all around the world. Willow did that. She’s my best friend, the one who’s a witch.”

Harry and Dumbledore just stared.

“I see. Harry, will you be so kind as to fetch Mr. Malfoy and tell him to ready a room for our guest.”

Buffy rested her head back on the couch. She felt herself drifting off to sleep.

When she woke up, she was in a large bedroom. It was heavily furnished with large bookshelves and desks. Buffy groaned. The three pluses were the wall-length window, the floor-length mirror and the adjoining bathroom. She snuggled deeper into the covers. She was freezing. She sneezed. She grabbed her stomach. It still hurt to sneeze.

The door opened and a plump redheaded woman appeared carrying a tray of food. She put it next to Buffy and told her to eat up.

Then Dumbledore, Harry ,and the man Buffy assumed was Draco entered.

Dumbledore offered Buffy a cup of coffee, which she took and drank. She felt lightheaded and shut her eyes.

“What is your name?”

“Buffy Anne Summers.”

“How old are you?”

“26”

“Where are you from?”

“Los Angeles.”*

“How did you get here?”

“I fell through a crypt.”

“What were you doing on top of a crypt?”

“I was running from the vampires.”

There was a pause as the three men processed this information.

“Why were you running from vampires?”

“Because they were chasing me?”

“Why were they chasing you?”

“Because I’m the Slayer.”

“Ah yes. You said before you were only a slayer. How is that?”

“How about you get me home and we can forget this ever happened?”

Dumbledore sighed. The truth potion had worn off. *

“I’m afraid we can’t do that Miss Summers.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have two cracked ribs, a minor concussion, and a horrible gash on your knee.”

“What?” Buffy sprang up in bed.

She slammed her head back on the pillow. She heard the door shut, but she could still sense a presence in the room.

“Why are you still here?”

“What?”

She turned to look at the man and suddenly couldn’t think of anything to say.

He looked amazingly like Spike. He had the same hair, though his looked natural and was cut different, the same expression on his face, he even had the same accent.

The only differences were the builds. This guy was more athletic while Spike had always been lankier. And his eyes were silver. Spike had always had blue eyes.* She couldn’t help but stare.

“Huh?” She said.

“This is my house. I have every right to be here.”

“Okay.” Buffy said. She had no desire to talk to this person anymore.

He just blinked at her. He stalked out of the room.