by Cynamin

Author's Notes: This story has nothing to do with any of my other stories, for once. Isn't that nice to hear? As for where this story came from - An e-mail signature line, a renaissance faire, and one of my strange dreams. (All of my friends who’ve heard about “Han Solo: Giant Multi-Colored Slug” are cringing now.)
Disclaimer: Buffy, Giles, Willow, Xander, Anya, Angel . . . etc. They’re not mine, never were mine, never will me mine. What I do own is any characters you don't recognize, such as Corliss, and this very odd plot. Any comments are not only welcome, but begged for!

The day was deceptively beautiful, blue sky and green hills reflected in the lake's mirror-calm waters. A solitary figure stood in a small boat at the center of the lake, a lone tribute to the battles raged here today. The boat was only barely afloat, a good sized hole in the bottom continuously filling it up with water faster than it could be bailed out. That is, if the occupant of the boat were bailing it.

She wasn't. Standing at the front of the boat, weary and soaked to the bone, she focused fully on the water around her. In one hand she clasped a wooden pole, crudely sharpened at one end into a makeshift spear. It had been one of the oars at the beginning of this day. She didn't know how she'd get back to shore when this was done, but at the moment she didn't care. She had a duty to fulfill here today, a monster to kill, a world to protect.

She was the Slayer.

Granted the strength and skill to fight demons by the Circle while still in her mother's womb, trained from birth in what was her only purpose in life, the young noblewoman did not think beyond the moment. Cursing the unfortunate luck that had her teetering on a sinking boat, she watched for the telltale rippling of the waters that would reveal her foe's approach. She only hoped that it would not surface beneath the boat again. That was what it had done on its first attack, and its spiny back had caused the hole threatening to capsize the craft. This would be its last run, she knew, as she had already wearied and wounded it to the point where it could not last much longer. Now it would only be hoping to take her with it.

Alert for any disturbance, she watched as one of the creature's many spines broke the lake's perfect surface a ways in the distance. Quickly, it came towards her, just under the surface of the water, the ripples forming in a wake behind it. It was going to ram her boat and take her to the bottom with it. The Slayer knew this, and stood ready, spear clenched in her fist.

The moment before the creature's impact would have thrown her in the water, she landed in the water of her own accord. Leaping from the boat and deftly avoiding the spines, she landed on the lake creature's back, still clutching her weapon. It dove beneath the water, trying to shake her from its back. Holding her breath and holding on, she would not be moved. It surfaced again, thrashing wildly, and she raised her weapon high, bringing it down viciously into the center of the creature's massive forehead.

Erupting from the water, the creature convulsed, throwing her off and into the lake. For a moment she thrashed as her voluminous skirts dragged her beneath the surface, then she rose back to the air and breathed deeply in relief. The creature's death throws had destroyed what was left of her boat, and as she watched both creature and boat sank, leaving waters still once more.

In the dream's wake, Buffy Summers awoke with a start. For a moment she was disoriented, images of another time and place still playing in her mind. The dream dissipated as she awoke and Buffy found herself back within her own room, in her own bed, not in some distance place fighting a lake monster. She sat up, straightening out the blankets that had fallen off as she tossed and turned in her sleep. For a while she lay there, thinking about what she had seen.

The dream images confused her. She was used to having unusual dreams, because she was the Slayer. Sometimes, she dreamed of what was going to happen, or could happen. Sometimes her dreams gave her messages. Sometimes, like tonight, she dreamed of past Slayers, glimpsing their lives and deaths. But she always knew when the dream was more than a normal dream, when it was supposed to mean something more to her. Like tonight. The only thing was, she had no idea what it meant this time. There was no clear warning to be found, no clear message, just an endless turn of events.

Buffy was tired. She hadn't slept well the last several nights, though this was the first time she'd remembered the night's visions. Tossing a bit until she was comfortable, she tried to return to sleep. Facing the window, she watched as the sky lightened, the day returning.

Sighing, she rose from the bed, the dream temporarily forgotten.

On to Part One

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