by Cynamin

Panting for breath, the Slayer struggled to remain afloat now that both her boat and opponent were gone. The battle over, she was consumed by sudden fatigue. It was all she could do to keep her head above water as her clothes threatened to drag her back down.

Not even the panic she was beginning to feel was enough to wake up her body for the swim to the shore. She would not - could not - give up, however, and so began what was to be a long and possibly fruitless swim home. It was too calm now, and she could not help but think that she might soon be joining the creature in the lake's darkest waters.
"Corliss!"

The voice broke through the silence. It was young, male, and near at hand.

"Corliss!" the voice came again.

"Over here!" cried the Slayer in response, sputtering a bit as water entered her mouth.

A rowboat glided slowly to her side, gently so as not to disturb the water too much. "You look like you could use some help there, sister," the boy said a touch smugly.

Corliss was in no mood to chitchat with her little brother. "Will you stop talking and get me out of the water, Gareth?" she said testily.

Without another word, he did so. A moment later Corliss sat in the boat, a warm, dry blanket wrapped around her. "So," asked Gareth as he rowed them both back towards the keep, "what were you doing out here?"

"Dragon slaying," Corliss replied dryly.

Her brother looked at her oddly for a moment, then said, "And in your festival clothes, yet. Mother is going to be furious."

"She'll understand." When her brother continued to look at her with questions in her eyes, she elaborated. "Let's just say we won't be losing anymore livestock," she said. "Or, at least their bones won't be washing up on the shore of the lake. As for any other bones the farmers may find . . . not my problem anymore."

They continued the rest of the way across the lake in silence.

One of the household's young pages was there to meet them at the small dock. He quickly got the rowboat tied up, then helped the tired Slayer ashore. "M'lady," he said softly, "your mother sent a message for you. She requests your presence in the courtyard immediately."

Corliss nodded in acknowledgment, then said, "Tell me, have her guests started arriving yet?"

"Yes, m'lady."

Corliss cursed under her breath. Her mother would not be kept waiting, and so she was going to have to appear in front of people strange to her while looking a total mess. Her mother knew what she had been doing, but she couldn't tell others about being the Slayer. She'd need a good excuse for her appearance.

Walking towards the keep's large courtyard, she thought on what she'd done and what she was going to do. She wished that she'd had time to change her dress before greeting anyone. But she did not have that option anymore, as the garland-strung courtyard became visible. Corliss' shoulders tensed as she saw the gathered people standing and facing in her direction, watching her approach.

"Mother," she said softly as she arrived. She was confused. No one was paying any attention to her - they were all looking past her. "What's-"

"Sssh," her mother hushed her.

"What's everyone looking at?" Corliss asked, stepping beside her mother and turning around.

"My dear, what happened? You're soaked!" her mother said suddenly, sparing a glance in her direction before returning her gaze to the distance.

Corliss sighed. "It's nothing, Mother. My . . . uh . . . boat capsized. I'll tell you later." She paused then, scanning the hills surrounding the keep and the lake. "What are you looking at?"

"Isn't it beautiful?" her mother whispered, pointing. A large, winged creature circled in the sky. "What do you suppose it is, some sort of eagle?"

Corliss watched warily as it circled above the keep, coming lower and finally coming to a rest in a small copse of trees just a short ways off. It moved oddly, not like a bird on the ground at all, and it was huge. As it wove its way through the trees, coming closer to the keep, Corliss saw that it was indeed not an eagle, for it moved easily on four legs. It moved like a predator, and Corliss' breath caught in her throat. "Mother, get everyone inside."

"What?"

"Everyone inside, NOW!" she demanded. "This is not an eagle. Move, Mother, please!"

Spurred to action by her daughter's forceful words, the lady of the keep began to gather everyone together, ushering them into the safety of the stone walls. Corliss hung back, once again a lone defender between many people and a monster. She watched as the creature approached - a gryphon, she saw now, recognizing it from a book the house mage had made her read once. It was huge, with the powerful body of a lion and a massive wingspan. The largest dangers she could see were its four, sharp talons and the wicked beak. Backing up slowly, Corliss scanned her surroundings for anything that could be used as a weapon.

The gryphon was coming closer, moving with deadly intentions. Hearing the doors to the keep close behind her, Corliss allowed herself to feel relief that all the guests were out of harm's way. In that moment’s inattention to her immediate situation, the gryphon came closer - and Corliss tripped over one of the fallen decorations, a large pole.

The breath was knocked out of her by her fall. Corliss found herself lying on the ground, getting a much closer look at the gryphon then she ever wanted. The sun glinted off its iridescent purple feathers with black markings as it stepped next to her, leaning down for a closer look.

Corliss began to speak, trying to lull the beast and divert its attention from her actions. "Pretty thing," she said softly, "so beautiful." Slowly she pulled the pole out from under her, preparing to use it as a weapon. "Beautiful," she crooned, all the while thinking come on, closer, closer . . .

It acknowledged her wish, stepping across her prone form. Corliss caught a glimpse of its unprotected underbelly, and quickly grasped the pole to plunge into its stomach.

A split second before the pole would have connected, the gryphon reared out of the way with an angry screech. Then, so casually it was almost in slow motion, it brought down one talon and pierced her stomach. Corliss screamed in pain, barely noticing as the gryphon launched itself into the sky, then faded into the distance.

As everything else faded around her, a voice spoke near at hand. "Hold on, Slayer, hold on." Then, darkness.

The streets were cheerful in the midday sunlight, holiday decorations intent on bringing some seasonal cheer to the last of the Christmas - or the first of the after-Christmas - shoppers. Street corner Santas and Salvation Army bell ringers added their joyful sounds to the ruckus of the shoppers.

Somehow, Buffy could not bring herself to join in the spirit of the season. She'd pretended as best she could this morning as she and her mother had exchanged presents. Try as she might, though, she just couldn't get the images from last night's dream out of her head. She tried not to think about it, because when she did she could still feel the death blow that struck her down in her sleep. Even though she thought the girl she'd been seeing in her dreams had been killed, somehow Buffy knew the dreams were not over. And so, on Christmas day, Buffy found herself at Giles's door.

The door opened quickly as Buffy rang the doorbell. “Buffy,” Giles acknowledges, clearly surprised.

“Merry Christmas, Giles,” Buffy said, smiling falsely.

“Merry Christmas, Buffy. Come in.” Buffy did so, closing the door behind her. “What brings you here this morning?”

“I, uh, brought you a Christmas present,” Buffy replied, handing him a parcel the size of a book, wrapped in red and green paper.

Giles opened it. It was a book, surprise surprise. “Thank you,” Giles said. He put aside the book and looked at Buffy seriously. “Not that I mind the company, but why are you here this morning?”

Was she that obvious? “I couldn’t just be stopping by to say hi and wish you a happy holidays?”

Giles just looked at her.

“Alright, alright.” Buffy stopped pretending, the smile fading from her face. “I had a dream last night....”

The ex-Watcher was instantly all business. “Do you think it’s a prophecy?”

“Well, no,” Buffy replied. “Kinda hard for it to be a prophecy considering it took place in the past.”

“How far in the past?”

“Like castles and stuff past. It wasn’t just a normal dream, though, Giles. It was like I was someone else . . . another Slayer. She was a Slayer . . . I died. Er, she died. In the dream.”

Giles nodded. “You’ve had dreams before about past Slayers, no?”

“Yeah, when I was first called,” Buffy answered in a *no duh* tone of voice. “This isn’t the same.”

“It’s not?” Giles was surprised. “How was it different?”

“‘Cause I don’t think it’s over.” When he looked at her in confusion, Buffy continued. “Yeah, I know she died, but it doesn’t feel like it’s over. And,” Buffy added, “this wasn’t the first dream.”

“It wasn’t? You’ve dreamed of other Slayers recently?”

“No, the same one. I’m like seeing her entire life. It’s weird.”

Giles frowned. “How long has this been going on? Why didn’t you tell me before this?”

“Because I didn’t remember the other dreams until today, okay?” Buffy replied testily. Realizing how she sounded, she sighed. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t sleep well, and . . . I mean, she died, Giles! I keep seeing it . . ..” She took a deep breath to erase the image from her mind for the moment. “I’ve been having these dreams for a couple of days, I think. I’m not sure. But I know it means something . . .. Do you have any idea?”

Shaking his head, Giles answered. “No, I’m sorry.”

Buffy brightened suddenly. “Maybe you could find out who she really was?” she asked. “There might be some reason I’m dreaming of her, right?”

“Well, yes, I could try,” Giles answered. “But without the council’s records, finding a Slayer from hundreds of years ago....”

“But you’ll try?”

“I’ll try.”

Buffy smiled. “Thanks, Giles. You’re the best.” She stood to go.

“Buffy,” Giles said, frowning, “I’m going to need to know more about these dreams if I’m going to find out anything.”

“Oh, right,” Buffy replied sheepishly, sitting back down. “My own personal dream advisor. Ask away.”

Giles got out a piece of paper and a pen. Buffy laughed slightly, unable to shake the feeling that she was in a psychiatrist’s office, but just shook her head when Giles looked at her questioningly. “Alright,” he said after a moment, “I don’t suppose this would be so convenient as if you remembered the Slayer’s name . . ..”

“Corliss,” Buffy interrupted.

“Pardon?”

“Her name was Corliss. She was like nobility or something . . . I mean, she lived in this castle-like place and all, and someone called her ‘m’lady’ . . . and she had a younger brother. Does that help?”

Giles looked at her, blinking in surprise. “Yes, yes that does. Um, do you have any clearer idea of when she was the Slayer? The time period?”

“It was a dream, not history class,” Buffy said with a frown. “I didn’t exactly stop at some point to look at a calendar.” After a pause she added, “Did I mention there were castles?”

“Yes, once or twice.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s alright, Buffy,” Giles said. “Perhaps this will be enough to go on. Do you remember anything else that could help?”

Buffy shook her head. “That’s it. Oh, maybe how she died. She was killed by this giant purple flying creature. I mean, it had wings, and it was huge. It, like . . . sliced her open.” Unconsciously, her hand slid to her stomach, where the creature had gored her in her dream. She shuddered. Standing to leave, Buffy looked at Giles one more time. “There was something else odd. I just thought of it.”

“What is it?”

“Her brother . . . and her mother, everyone . . . they seemed to know who she was. That she was the Slayer.” Buffy smiled. “Guess she’s a kindred spirit.”

“That is strange,” Giles replied.

“Yeah, well . . ..” Buffy could think of nothing more to say. “Happy holidays, Giles.”

“Merry Christmas, Buffy.”

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