Character: Buffy Summers
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1293
Setting: pre-Pilot

A/N: For the purposes of this fic, all s0 books and comics (which includes the Origin comics and Tales of the Slayer) do not exist and neither does the movie. I took a few very general ideas from them, and also took some names, but this fic should be viewed as if absolutely none of that was written (in other words, I am not rewriting scenes from them, I'm making them up; this includes dates). I'm only considering canon the stuff directly from the show (including, by s5 continuity, Dawn being in s1-4). We're starting in late August 1996, because that makes more sense than the gym fire happening in May during prom. If anybody cares, I can include my revised time line, so PM or drop a comment requesting it and I'll tack it onto another author's note somewhere down the line.
Also, we're going to stay pre-Pilot for awhile, but we'll get to the actual show eventually.
Finally, the format of this fic is inspired by BeshterAngelus' X-Files "Seasons" fics. Any fan of TXF should check those out.

"So, gave Tyler the boot, then?"

Buffy nodded, crunching noisily on a carrot pulled from a hole she'd ripped in its little plastic baggie. "It was time."

"What happened?" Tisha asked, glancing at her from behind her compact.

She shrugged, tucking hair behind her ear. "Spark was gone, you know?"

Titters of agreement. They all knew.

Tisha finally put away her make-up.

"Who's new then?" Emily asked, taking a bite of sandwich.

She glanced around. It was quiet in the cafeteria today, almost empty. She wasn't sure she wanted anyone else to hear. She leaned in, and five other heads craned with her. "Well, not new, exactly," she said, voice hushed, "but has anyone seen Justin?"

"Tall, dark, and gorrgeous?" Tina said, adding an extra 'r.' She wasn't quiet. "No."

"I've seen his butt," Tisha offered.

"Mm," nods of agreement all around.

"Well," Buffy said, "I met him at the field after practice. Major hotness."

A hiss of jealously. Everyone leaned back again.

Tisha looked delighted. "Sparkage?"

"Much sparkage."

"Gonna hook-up?"

She glanced around again. There was no one here except them, and light was streaming brightly from the window in the door. Far away, something hummed. "Tomorrow," she said, grinning.

Tisha hooted.

Tina was nodding sagely, "My sister hooked up with his brother, you know, before he graduated. Hotness is in their genes."

"And he is a junior," Morgan added.

"Ooh, what if he took you to the prom?" Carrie asked.

"Please," Tina shook her head. "Nobody goes to that."

The humming seemed louder, closer. Buffy rubbed her ears, but no one else seemed to hear it.

"Melissa went to the prom," Carrie pointed a chip at Tina.

"And who talks to Melissa?"

The silence was punctuated only by the humming, which seemed to be vibrating from beyond the walls. And then it was broken, "Well, I don't know."

"No one," Tina asserted. Tisha was nodding. "Trust me, no one goes to the prom. It's the party they go to."

"I don't think she went to that," Carrie said.

The humming was louder. Like a subway or a train.

"Ex-actly," Tina said.

"Besides," Tisha added, "Justin is way too cool for that. Hell, I think he's the one who hosts the party."

"Really?" Carrie asked.

"Yep. Right, Morgan?"

Morgan nodded. "Totally."

Carrie asked something else, but Buffy didn't hear it. The humming was so loud now that it roared, and the walls were shuddering as dust was shaken off the ceiling. It floated down onto their heads, almost like snow.

But no one seemed to notice.

"Can't you hear that?" she shouted over the din.

Her friends were still talking. She couldn't hear what they were saying anymore, and they didn't hear her.

You...

She froze, glancing back. The voice had been here, in her ear, but there was no one there.

You must come...

"What?" she said.

No answer.

"Come where?" she tried again.

You must come...

"What are you talking about?"

Sunlight was streaming brightly from the window in the door, and in it she could see the dust dancing. She suddenly realized how dark it was here, and that the roaring was gone. It was completely silent

She looked around again. Her friends were still talking, or their mouths were moving, but they weren't saying anything, and in the darkness she could hardly see them.

She stood.

You need to know...

Again she tucked her hair back. She was afraid, but she didn't know why. "What do I need to know?"

"Buffy, where are you going?" a closer, more human voice asked.

She paused. She'd been walking toward the door and the bright, bright light. "Out there," she said, pointing.

Tisha glanced that way, then looked back. "Why?"

"Because..." she murmured, but she didn't finish the thought. She approached the door, then pressed her hand to the cold steel.

You need to know...

She didn't ask what this time.

The door opened silently, and she walked out into the desert, squinting in the light. She was barefoot, and the sand was cool on her feet. She seemed to sink into it as she walked.

You must come...

Her skirt swirled around her as she made her way forward. The mountains were at her back and on her left, but she moved away from them, heading into the open. Far away, she could see something, a speck, but as she approached she realized it wasn't a speck or a shadow; it was a woman.

"I'm here," she said, stopping just short of her.

The woman studied her. She was wearing a black, hooded cloak that masked her face, and it was rippling softly in the wind. After a moment she pulled down the hood, still staring at her solemnly. Her hair was long, bright copper, unbound and curly. It was being tossed around by the wind, coming into her face, but she ignored it. She was on the low end of twenty.

"Who are you?" Buffy asked.

The woman said nothing, but looked away, out at the sunset. Dusk was on the desert, and the sky was red.

"It's your time to walk here," she said finally. Her hair was darker than the sky, almost purple.

Buffy's brows creased. "Walk where?"

"You are not ready yet."

Questions didn't seem to be getting her anywhere, so she said nothing.

"You will be."

They stood like that for a long time, the woman never looking away from the sun and the blood red sky. The wind was still tossing around her hair and her cloak.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, and Buffy looked at her, realizing she too had been staring at the sky.

"Sorry?" she repeated, "Why?"

The woman groaned in response, dropping to her knees. Blood was dripping onto the sand, and her hand left a red mark where she'd caught herself

Buffy knelt beside her, fear twisting her gut. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry," she said again. One of her hands was pressed to her stomach, the other curled in the sand. "But it's passed to you."

"What?" she didn't know what to do, so she grabbed the hand that wasn't clutching her belly. It was sticky with blood, but she pressed it between both of hers. In that moment they felt desperately like sisters. "Why are you sorry?"

Blood dribbled down her chin. Her teeth were red when she inhaled. The sunset seemed to be bleeding out of her, the red brightening and intensifying as the woman paled. Her grip on Buffy's hand faltered, and she collapsed into her.

"Soon, you'll know," her breath made odd clicking sounds, and she choked. Her hair and her cloak were still rippling in the wind.

"What will I know?" she asked, fighting panic as she tried to stem the flow herself. Her hands were coated with blood. She could almost taste it.

The woman didn't speak, or couldn't. She was still breathing, but her eyes were closed.

The sun was setting, the sky darkening.

"You must see," the woman whispered. She reached up for her, then ran two bloody fingers down her eyes, "You are chosen."

Buffy touched one of the marks, but her hands were too coated in blood to feel it. When she looked down, she realized the woman was dead, and the sky was black, and the red was chasing the sun below the sand.

She was alone.