Dark Moon: Pt One - Waxing Moon

“Buffy,” Faith moaned, covering her head with a pillow, “Can’t you get your goddamned dog to shut up?”

“Freckles, go lay down!” Buffy yelled sleepily, turning over.

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. The familiar scratching and whining certainly did sound as though is belonged to Freckles, but Freckles didn’t live in Sunnydale.

Freckles had been hit by a car when Buffy was twelve.

“Faith, I don’t have a dog,” she said in a shaky voice.

“Faith sat up, put a hand to her pounding head, and groggily said, “But it keeps scratching at your bedroom door. Can’t you hear it?”

Buffy looked at her fellow Slayer with wide eyes and nodded her head in affirmation.

Faith’s eyes got wide in response, and they both watched the bedroom door with a certain degree of apprehension. The scratching and whining continued from the other side.

“I don’t know about you, B,” Faith said, rising to her feet, “But I’m not about to let whatever is on the other side of that door catch me in my nightie.”

“Good plan,” Buffy replied, pulling on a pair of jeans, then trying to rouse Willow and Amy from their sleeping bags.

Neither Willow or Amy moved. They only sign that they still lived was the gentle rise and fall of their chests as they inhaled and exhaled. Buffy grabbed Willow roughly by her shoulders and shook her, but elicited no response.

“Willow, wake up!” Buffy whispered loudly, trying to make her voice heard over the insistent scratching, but not so loud that whatever was out there could hear her. Willow did not respond to the increasingly violent shaking, with her head falling from side to side as Buffy desperately tried to wake her up. She only stopped when Faith put a hand on her shoulder to get her attention.

“Look, she and Amy are both alive, and that’s something to be thankful for,” the younger Slayer said in a wise voice, “At this point, I think this is how it’s supposed to be. We’re being called into our destiny.”

“God, Faith,” Buffy replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “You sound like such an adult.”

Buffy kissed her sleeping best friend’s brow, then let her face harden with the resolution that stirred within her. She opened the hope chest that sat at the end of her bed and removed several items; a handful of sharp wooden stakes, her silver dagger, a crucifix, three small bottles of holy water, and her crossbow with a dozen bolts. Each item she packed into her duffel bag, with the exception of the crossbow, which was too large. Faith already carried similar items in her overnight bag, which she lightened considerably by removing the excess clothing it contained. Within minutes, the two girls were as ready as they could hope to be.

The door loomed before them as though it was something alien. What it hid from their view was unknown, and that prospect terrified them both. Finally, Buffy reached out and placed her hand on the door knob, grasped it firmly in her shaking hand, and turned it slowly. As the door swung inwards, Buffy dreaded what lay beyond. In her mind’s eye, she saw a demonic three-headed dog, drooling blood from wickedly fanged mouths, watching her with glowing red eyes.

Instead, she was greeted by a small white terrier, happily wagging his tail and panting, as though he was smiling at her.

Freckles.

Faith shot Buffy a glance that clearly said, “This is what we were afraid of?” Buffy was more than just a little unsettled by the site before her. The small dog quickly bounced towards her and sank his teeth into the cuff of her jeans, pulling on it in a manner that was once one of Freckles’ favourite games.

Buffy only looked down helplessly, not knowing what to do. Every little detail of the dog screamed the name ‘Freckles.’ He was the same size, had the same floppy ears that could perk up when he was listening, was covered with the same wiry white coat flecked with grey in a pepper-like formation, and even possessed the same expressive liquid brown eyes.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a new friend, B,” Faith uttered with a hint of a smile on her still dishevelled face.

“An old friend, I think,” Buffy mumbled softly, as she instinctively reached down to stroke the head of the dog she hadn’t seen in six years. The dog who seemed to be Freckles released his hold on her pants momentarily, licked her hand in appreciation, then resumed his previous task of pulling on her cuff.

A sudden realisation hit both Faith and Buffy at the same moment, as they exchanged knowing glances.

“Hekate,” Faith whispered, “Do you think this is part of the prophecy?”

“I kinda expected something a little bigger, a little meaner, but this is nice too,” Buffy replied, taking a step toward the door with her duffel bag slung over her shoulder.

Faith grabbed her own bag, and quickly followed Buffy, who was being guided by the white terrier trotting before them. Down the stairs he ran, through the kitchen, then sat underneath the kitchen table and barked. On top of the table, written in Joyce’s familiar scrawl was a note that read:

“I’m off to the gallery for a couple of hours. I hope you girls slept well, and that you manage to sleep in a little. I’ll be home around four. Love, Mom.”

Buffy folded the note neatly, and put it in her pocket, as though it was a piece of her Mother that she could take with her for protection.

After all, wasn’t that what Moms were for?

Buffy then grabbed a handful of garlic heads from the decorative bowl on the table, and added them to the contents of her bag. Faith, on the other hand, was busy grabbing a plastic container that contained half a dozen Danishes.

“A girl’s gotta eat if she’s gonna fight,” Faith mumbled pointedly through a mouthful of pastry, “You want one?”

Buffy wrinkled her face as she declined the offer. “I never eat before Slaying; it upsets my stomach sometimes,” she replied.

“Your loss, B.”

“I can live with it.”

Freckles was rapidly losing his patience with the bantering between the two girls, and began barking again, quickly grabbing their attention. He then trotted to the door, and waited for Buffy to open it, so he could lead them further.

The sun was already high in the sky, and the heat was near unbearable. For being just slightly past noon, the day already confirmed earlier promises of being hot and muggy. Faith, for one, was not pleased, as she felt her hair rapidly become a sticky mass on the back of her neck. Fishing into her bag, she quickly located the rubber band that held her stakes together in a single mass, removed it, swept her hair up with one hand, and fastened it into a ponytail with the other hand. Buffy, on the other hand, had put her hair up before leaving the house, as she disliked being distracted by her hair when she was trying focus on the task at hand.

Freckles trotted happily on, oblivious to the heat.

“Do dead dogs even feel heat?” Buffy wondered as she and Faith made their way down the street.

It soon became very apparent as to where they were heading. In the distance loomed the temporary barriers that segregated the remains of Sunnydale High School from the rest of the world. Most of the school grounds beyond the front gate were freely accessible to the public despite the large signs that said otherwise. However, the main building was hidden behind a combination of chain-link fences and plywood boards to them to hide the destruction contained within. When Freckles quickly slipped under the plywood barrier, Buffy and Faith quickly scaled it, and both stopped short at the sight before them.

Little, if any work had been done to remove the debris that had once made up the school. Piles of rubble lay everywhere, with very little being recognisable. Freckles hopped over jutting pieces of tile and steel garters as he moved into the centre of the destruction. It was Buffy who recovered first, and followed him, with Faith at her heels. The two girls had more difficulty moving among the remains of stone and wood, and as Freckles stopped in the middle of the wreckage and began to bark, they increased their pace to reach him. As they got closer, Freckles began to wag his tail happily.

“You silly dog,” Faith scolded playfully, “You’ve only got us out here to help you find rats, haven’t you?”

“Now what?” asked Buffy as she closed the gap between herself and the dog.

“Beats the hell out of -” said Faith, who was abruptly cut off by a load creak. The two girls froze in their tracks. From the rubble surrounding them, the earth shifted, and groaned again.

Then the ground fell out from underneath them.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Faith, are you ok?” Buffy asked, trying to breath through the thick dust that surrounded them.

“Ya, I’m ok,” she coughed, “You?”

“Peachy,” came the reply, “Although I do sorta feel like Alice in Wonderland.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” quipped Faith with a grin.

Light flooded through the haze from the surface above, and at the edge of the hole they had created, Freckles wagged his tail happily and smiled in a ‘doggy’ sort of way. The surface was only a few feet above their heads, and it looked as though they had landed in an extension of the school’s basement.

“If I didn’t know any better,” said Buffy as she studied her surroundings, “I would swear we’re in the bezoar’s lair. Of course, the bezoar is dead.”

“What the hell is a bezoar?” asked Faith as she stood up and dusted herself off as best she could.

“Long story,” replied Buffy, “Let’s just get this thing over and done with, and I’ll fill you in another day.”

“Cool.”

Buffy examined her crossbow, and after deciding that although it was scuffed, it was still serviceable, she passed it over to Faith, who grinned at having her favourite weapon in her hands. Buffy also tossed her the bolts, then pulled out her dagger and tucked it and a couple of stakes into her belt.

The two girls proceeded into the darkness that lay beyond.

They walked side by side, with ever nerve of their being attuned to their surroundings. Buffy could almost swear that she could smell the Vampires.

What if the Vampires could smell her too?

A small dart of fear struck Buffy’s heart. She had no idea who many Vampires she and Faith would be facing, and for the first time in a long time, she was knowingly stepping into a major situation without the Scooby Gang behind her.

It was just her and Faith.

Suddenly, Faith stopped her, and motioned to the tunnel ahead of them. There was movement. Faith readied the crossbow, and let a bolt fly, hitting its mark dead on. The Vampire that had been there was now gone, dispatched into dust without making a sound.

“Sentinels,” Buffy whispered.

“They must be expecting us,” Faith replied.

Faith lead the way deeper into the tunnel, with Buffy keeping a strict eye out for movement behind them. Faint echoes of music and laughter travelled down the tunnel to greet them, but it was still too far off to know exactly what it was, or what was going on.

As they slowly creeped closer, the noise grew louder, and the dirty stone walls of the tunnel almost seemed to vibrate with it. Voices could be heard... many voices.

“I think we’re going to be seriously outnumbered,” Buffy whispered, gently distracting Faith by placing her hand on her arm, “Do you want to keep going?”

Faith turned to Buffy, her face set with determination. “We knew what we were getting into when we left your house this morning. Let’s just get it over and done with,” Faith said, “Because I feel like going home and gettin’ lucky tonight.”

With that, Faith broke into her typical grin, a kind of half-smile that betrayed her perpetually mischievous behaviour. Then she started moving deeper into the tunnel again. A pale white glow from behind Buffy caught her attention, causing her to pause, and reach out to stop Faith again.

“There’s something behind us,” she whispered, noting how quickly the light seemed to get brighter and how whatever was carrying it was getting closer. Dozens of visions flashed through Buffy’s mind of who it could be.

It could be other Vampire sentinels.

Or some sort of Demon.

Or... it could be the Giles, Willow, Xander, Oz and Angel, looking for them.

The light, though still fairly dim, finally entered into the tunnel where Buffy and Faith could see it. The light itself was not emitted by what someone was carrying, but by that someone itself. Buffy and Faith exchanged startled glances as they recognised who it was.

Dressed from head to toe in a flowing white dress, her dark hair tumbled down in dark curls around the pale skin of her face and throat.

It didn’t appear to be Drusilla, although it could be the result of her mind tricks. Buffy tightened her grasp around one of her stakes, although her heart screamed out in hope that it was who it looked to be.

The glowing apparition before them appeared to be Ciorstaidh.