She buys a ticket cause its cold where she comes from
She climbs aboard because she's scared of getting older in the snow
Love is a ghost train rumbling through the darkness
Hold on to me darling,
I've got nowhere else to go

Ghost Train - Counting Crows

Bergen, Norway

July 15, 2000

5:46 PM

She tripped over a large root. Her hands came up automatically to break the fall, and with a jolt, she hit the ground. For a moment she lay stunned. Mud seeped into her clothes, rain soaked her already wet clothes, and her hair hung around her head in messy disarray, but for a brief moment she stayed very quiet. Her breath was coming out in short bursts, lungs rapidly trying to breath in much needed air. Her heart was pounding, her skin disturbingly pale.

But for just one moment, the world seemed still.

Maybe if she just stayed there…maybe if she lay very quiet, he wouldn't find her. She would lie on the hard ground, breathe very quietly, and all of this would go away. Then she would slowly rise, and find a phone, and call Giles and everything…everything would be alright. She would be alright.

The air pulsed with magic, causing her Slayer senses to tingle with awareness. A shiver ran up her back, and she choked back a sob, forcing herself to her feet. Legs trembling in absolute protest, she pushed her broken body for everything it had, calling upon strength that shouldn't exist, and started running again. Branches and trees brushed against her arms, leaving scratches and cuts dotting her skin. She could feel blood running down her legs in tiny rivulets – hundreds of little tiny places, all of them throbbing like their own versions of Hell, but she ignored them and kept running, and she didn't look back, and she didn't dare think too much.

No…she mustn't think at all.

She stumbled again, and this time she felt something on her stomach give a very sharp tug of pain. Damn. She had pulled another stitch. She willed back the tears. Not yet. She could cry all she wanted when she got out of this, but not yet. There was no second chance for her. This was it.

He was chasing her. She could feel it. She could feel it with every fiber of her being, and he was angry. God, he was so angry – seething.

A twig snapped somewhere behind her and her heart gave a jolt. No, please no. Her legs picked up their unsteady pace. She no longer registered what direction she took. She just ran. Running became her life, her sole purpose. Running became everything that was ever important because she must get away. She couldn't stay in that place any longer…she wouldn't stay in that place longer. She would rather die then stare into his eyes for one more second, then listen to his cruel laugh and cold voice, then feel his hand slide over her face – hard, cruel, and punishing.

There was a clearing, just ahead…a break in the trees. Salvation. Freedom. If she could just reach that area, everything would be okay. It was so close, so very close. And then she was there, standing at the edge and then plunging into its center, moving swiftly to the other side, and…freezing—

It was a cliff – a dead drop off. Two hundred feet below her, water hit the side of cliff, its waves churning and deadly. But this couldn't be. This couldn't possibly be. She was stuck. She was trapped, and there was no time. She felt the tears prick her eyes, a lump forming in the back of her throat, a sob escaping past her trembling lips.

There was a loud pop behind her, but she didn't turn around.

"You're a clever girl, Elizabeth." He sounded gleeful and why shouldn't he be? He had won. She was stuck. She had had her chance to escape and she had failed. The Slayer had failed. Her feet felt leaden, her body lifeless, and her mind accepting. She glanced down at the rolling waves, seemingly hypnotized. Turning slowly, she met his eyes with a piercing calm and clarity. He was hideous…evil personified—his eyes sunken and dark, his hands large and thin, his body tall, but disgustingly skeletal. "I'm going to break you. I'm going to make you scream, and cry, and beg for death," his voice was low and dangerous, and her body shuddered, remembering the pain, remembering the taunts, remembering the promises.

She wouldn't let it happen again. Wetting her chapped lips, she shook her head slowly. "It's too late for that, Voldemort." For a moment, he looked puzzled, and the Slayer reveled in the small victory.

But then she was turning and running and nothing else mattered. The Dark Lord watched with growing anger as his latest protégé leapt into the air, plummeting from sight. He stood, shocked and tense, straining to hear the inevitable.

It never came.

There was no splash.

Stairway to Heaven

By Wittyninja

And she's buying a stairway to heaven

Sunnydale, California

May 3, 2000

10:31 PM

"It's not a concert Giles, it's the concert, the concert of a lifetime!" The sixteen year old waved her hands wildly in the air.

Rupert Giles massaged the bridge of his nose and warily met his Slayer's eyes—eyes that were currently focused solely on him, wide and innocent and pleading.

"Buffy, Pink Floyd is the concert of a lifetime. The Beatles are the concert of a lifetime. Bob Dylan is the concert of a lifetime. I can assure you, Mighty Mouse is certainly not—

Buffy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, blonde hair drifting off her shoulders to rest against her back. "Yes, I'm sure Mighty Mouse lacks stunning musical talent, but Modest Mouse certainly doesn't and to my generation this is the concert of a lifetime, my concert of a lifetime. C'mon! Weren't you one of those music-concert-marijuana smoking guys who—

"I did not smoke—

"Fine! Magic dabbler or whatever. Either way…Giles, it's one concert! For one night! I'm not asking to take a vacation to the Bahamas. I just want to see a band play with my friends for one night." Her lower lip jutted out in a classic pout meant to break down his steely resolve. But Rupert Giles was immune to her ploys. He knew this girl and it was his duty to make sure she hunted the forces of darkness and saved the world from its utter and complete destruction.

The lip jutted out a little further and Giles sighed, removing his glasses quickly and avoiding eye contact.

"Giles! Oz has backstage passes. Do you realize what that means?"

He placed his glasses back on his nose. "I would imagine something about going backstage."

"I would get to meet the band!"

"That's not exactly guaranteed—

"Do you know what the lead singer looks like?" she squealed, reminding Giles that yes, she was only sixteen years old. He slowly removed his glasses again and took out his handkerchief, absentmindedly rubbing the glass.

"Buffy," Giles said seriously. "Patrol has been heavy lately. You know that." He watched as the girl's smile faded. "I can't have you running off to Los Angeles when things are this tense." He tried not to meet her eyes, not wanting to see the hurt. "I'm sorry, but you can't leave right now. Sunnydale needs you here."

Buffy stared down at her shoes, kicking her foot against the floor in frustration. "But it's just one—

"I'm sorry Buffy."

Desperate now, she said in a rush, "Willow and Xander and Oz and Cordy are all going and my mom said it was okay and we were going to take Oz's van down and it would be really safe and I'm sure there are vampires in LA. I can just fight the forces of darkness there for a night." She smiled hopefully at him. He stared back at her sadly.

Buffy nodded in resignation. "Fine. I get it. Buffy can't take a night off. Buffy can't do something she may never get to do again. Buffy has to go out and possibly die instead." Angrily, she walked over to the libraries counter and grabbed her backpack. Without saying goodbye, she stormed out of the library, the doors swinging long after she was gone.

Sometimes Giles hated his job.

"I mean it's not fair!" Buffy cried out in frustration. "It's like he wants to destroy any possible chance I have of maintaining a social life!" She punctuated these words with a hard punch to her reluctant listener's nose, and was rewarded with a very satisfying loud crack. "Would it be so hard for him to say, 'sure Buff, you've been working mega hard lately, take a break, kick up your heels, stop and smell the god damn roses?' Would that be so hard?"

"Um, no?"

"I know! He's so unreasonable!" Her attacker made the foolish choice to rush her at this point and Buffy tripped him with ease. The vampire lay sprawled out on the ground, staring up at her, ridges drawn and yellow eyes blazing. Did all slayers talk this much?

"He's like a Nazi! A Nazi in tweed!" Seemingly pleased with this assessment, she focused on her opponent, driving a stake quickly through his heart and watching with wavering interest as he exploded into a cloud of dust. She stared at the ground for a couple seconds and mumbled to herself with little emotion, "And the world will live to see another day…go me." Dusting off her new pair of jeans, she glanced around the cemetery to see it utterly deserted. The night had been slow, Buffy only seeing two fledgings that she disposed of easily.

With a weary sigh, she turned and headed for the gates, mindlessly humming "Yellow Submarine" under her breath, all the while cursing Xander who had been singing it all day at school. Her friends were leaving at six the following morning. They would be staying with a friend of Oz's who lived in what he described as a loft.

A loft.

She had never even seen a loft.

And they would be in Los Angeles, a place she was quite intimate with. Her childhood home, the place that her dad still lived…

This thought gave her brief pause. Her dad. Her father—the man who had held her in the night when she woke up screaming, dried her tears when Tyler broke up with her, read her stories at night, and given her a kiss on the cheek when he saw her report card. Or well, probably not that last one.

Her dad.

Okay, yes, maybe that was the crux of the issue. Buffy conceded with reluctance that although her love for Modest Mouse was indeed genuine and her desire to meet the lead singer of the band severe, the chance to see her father for the first time in months was more appealing than she cared to admit. He had stopped coming to Sunnydale. He had stopped calling. Hell, he had even stopped sending checks to her mother. He had become the typical absentee father and she hated how much it was hurting.

She just wanted to hate him.

Hate was simple.

With a heavy sigh she turned onto her own block, her house coming into view. Reaching the door, she wearily slipped in the key and walked inside, shedding her coat and draping it over the living room couch. Stomach rumbling, Buffy walked into the kitchen and began searching the freezer for the last of the Ben and Jerry's ice cream.

She was halfway through the container when she realized something was wrong. Pausing from her perch on top of the counter she glanced around the room, which suddenly seemed much darker. There was something in her house. She felt it with every fiber of her being. The silence became deafening, the darkness engulfing, and the draft from the open window freezing. Something was very. wrong.

In a flash she was off the counter and running up the stairs. "Mom?" she called out. When nobody answered her heart began to beat louder, faster until she was sure it would beat right out of her chest. The door to her mother's room was open. Inside there was a very dim light and off in the corner –

"Who are you?"

The man in the corner smiled, his lips curling into something that looked hideous and evil.

"Hello, Miss Summers," He hissed. "I must say it's a pleasure to finally meet you." He seemed to ponder her a moment, his eyes running up and down her body. "I imagined you'd be taller, but you're so deceptively…fragile looking."

"Well if you'd like, I can show you just how fragile I'm not," Buffy said, eyes flashing dangerously.

"So much confidence for one so young."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed. "I'm mature like that. Big on the old confidence scale."

"Confidence is deadly."

The Slayer blinked. "Right. Okay. Death to confidence."

An awkward silence descended upon the room. Buffy's hand fell to the pocket of her jeans where she still held a stake, its presence comforting. Attempting to be discreet, the Slayer allowed her eyes to dart around the room, desperately searching for any signs of—

"You're looking for your mother," the man stated.

Buffy's eyes narrowed. "Where is she?"

His eyes drifted over towards her mother's bathroom. Buffy followed his gaze, her heart beating quickly, her breath coming in short pants. Very calmly she walked over to the door of the room and pushed it open, the hinges creaking eerily. The body that lay on the floor looked like it had been there for hours. Her mom's eyes were open and lifeless. For a moment Buffy just stood there in shock. This was not real. Her mother could not be dead. With sudden clarity she dropped to her knees and began to shake the body in front of her. "Mom," she spoke loudly. "You have to wake up now. You can't…" She was crying. When had she started crying? "Mom?" she said weakly. "The floor is cold and hard and you have to…you have to get up."

Nothing.

"Mom, please…"

She shook her harder, desperate, scared, and so very alone.

"Mom! MOM!" She let out a choked sob. "Oh god, oh god, oh god," she muttered, her voice sounding weak. She was shaking.

"Mommy?" Tears ran down her cheeks. This was. not. real. "Please don't leave me alone…"

"Don't worry Elizabeth. You won't be alone."

The man was standing directly behind her. He placed her hand on her shoulder and Buffy's entire being rebelled at its presence. She jerked away.

"What did you do to her?" she whispered brokenly.

"I killed her."

No no no no no no no no. This was not happening. She needed…she needed her mom. She needed Giles. She needed somebody to pinch her tell her that everything was going to be okay. Oh god. She felt sick. Everything was becoming hazy. Bile was rising in the back of her throat. Tears ran down her cheeks like rivers. Was the world spinning?

She looked at the lifeless body on the ground and at the man above her and then she doubled over, heaving, gasping, her lungs desperate to suck in air. The bile that had been building in the back of her throat was suddenly pouring out of her body, until she was puking up blood and acid.

Where was her mom?

"Who are you?" she demanded with little emotion in her voice.

The man bent down to her level and smiled. Buffy's stomach churned. "My name is Lord Voldemort." He reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "You and I are going to get to know each other very well, Elizabeth."

And then he was muttering something in a language she didn't understand. The world began to fade around her.

She welcomed the darkness.