A Time to Mourn...A Time to Rejoice

Willow looked around warily. Walking home from the Bronze by herself was perhaps not, in retrospect, the smartest thing she'd ever done. Still, Giles had been saying only that morning that there seemed to be a drop off in vampire activity, so she should be okay. And she was probably just imagining that sound behind her. No, no she wasn't. Willow began to walk faster, then broke into a run. She remembered something Xander had said once - just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not after you. Yep, there was definitely something following her. Willow's insides start to feel shaky and cold, and she tried to hold off the panic that was threatening to overwhelm her. Seeing her house, she gave a sigh of relief...

***************

It was raining outside the church. The day was cold and gloomy, with a storm forecast for the afternoon. There hadn't been a funeral - with no body, it was kind of difficult. They had never found any trace of her. Giles, Buffy, and the others figured it must have been vampires, although it seemed unlikely that Willow had been turned. It was nearly six months since she had disappeared, and had she become a vampire she would no doubt have come after them already. No, Willow was dead.

They hadn't taken it well. Willow may have had some objections to being the group's reliable dog geyser person, but it was true that they had all depended on her. Buffy had lost true and unswerving friendship and support, Xander had lost his oldest and dearest friend and confidante, Giles had lost the one person who really shared his delight in research and knowledge, Cordelia had lost the eventual acceptance of a person who had been more of a friend than she could ever have imagined, and Oz had lost...everything. When they had all ended up in the library as usual the day after Willow disappeared, only to discover that she hadn't made it home, and her parents had no idea where she was. They had tried to find her, in desperation seeking out all the places where vamps congregated - Buffy had even hunted down Spike, but to no avail. Willow had vanished. Their lives would never be the same again.

PART ONE

"Ah, Ms Anderson. Going home, I see." He made it sound like an accusation. Mary got the feeling that he's just love to put her in detention...*detention? Where did that come from?*

"It's five o'clock...sir." He didn't notice her sarcastic tone. But then, he was an idiot.

"So it is, so it is." He was one of those really irritating people who repeated everything. "But we've got a job we'd like you to do. It's in California...It'll be a nice change..." He led her off in the direction of his office. Mary swore under her breath. She wasn't going to be home before seven.

PART TWO

Sunnydale, California. What a hellhole. It looked like some ghetto from the city, a dumping ground for everything that was bad about America. The streets were lined with the homeless, and the buildings that weren't in rubble looked derelict and dirty. If Mary didn't know better, she would have thought she was on some Hollywood filmset depicting the future of America, post apocalypse. From one of those really bad films where aliens have flattened the earth, or some ecological disaster has destroyed the world as we know it, or, ooh, that one that came out last year where the world's climate rose to such an extent that dinosaurs somehow came back to live and took over the world and...stop that! Mary never failed to amaze herself at the way her mind would sometimes run on, seemingly of its own accord. Looking at the buildings surrounding her, Mary checked the address she'd been given back at the office, then pressed the intercom. It was time to get down to business.

***************

There was a new prophecy. At first, years ago, prophecies had been something to fear; now, they were part of daily life. Giles discovered, they all researched, Buffy slayed. But there was no partying. Slaying had lost any of the fun it had once held. As a collection of twenty-six year olds, they were far too mature. The growing influx of demons over the years had been too much for them to handle. After Willow had died, Buffy had left Sunnydale for nearly a year, during which the Hellmouth had...widened. More evil escaped every day, and the remaining Slayerettes had been powerless to stop the damage being done. Eventually Giles had found Buffy and brought her back, but it was too late. They all did the best they could, but it was growing more and more difficult to stop the demons from going farther afield, infecting the rest of the world with their poison. Buffy, Giles, Xander, Cordelia and Oz had witnessed and caused too much death in their lives. However, this prophecy concerned Giles. He couldn't work out whether it was predicting the imminent victory of humankind over the forces of evil, or their equally imminent demise. Given the current trend of their lives, he plumped pessimistically for the latter. He'd had problems translating the bloody thing; it was as if he couldn't quite put the pieces together in the right way; something jarred. There was mention of "the one who will set free", but it was unclear what exactly this lucky person would be setting free. And he had absolutely no idea who the person was. Despite his worrying lack of knowledge as to what was going to happen, however, he still had to inform the others. As they entered the library, one by one, he started to speak.

"Either the world's going to end. Or it's going to be saved. Tuesday week."

"Gee, Giles, care to vague it up a little?" Notwithstanding the severity of their situation, Giles almost smiled. It had been a long time since Buffy had taken a crack at him. They were all unnaturally sober these days. Except Xander - he didn't seem to be able to do sober. But even he had lost the lightheartedness that had once characterised them all, and Giles mourned that loss more than he would have imagined possible. But back to the business at hand. He explained the prophecy - well, told them that there was a prophecy - and waited for any possibly helpful comments that they might make. None were forthcoming.

"There's nothing to go on, Giles," complained Buffy. "There might as well not be a prophecy if that's all it's got to say." Xander interrupted suddenly, "I wish Willow was still here." They all went quiet, as they did whenever their old friend's name was mentioned.

"Yes...well," started Giles, then he relented: "I wish she was, too. She'd have been able to figure it out, I have no doubt."

"I still miss her," Buffy admitted quietly. She felt guilty about Willow. They had argued that night, and Willow had gone off by herself. Remembering the time that Willow had told that storming off doesn't work when the other person follows, Buffy had left her alone. The funny thing was, she couldn't even remember what they had been arguing over. The silence continued a little longer, then the group seemed to galvanise themselves, and they hit the books in a system perfected after over ten years of fighting evil together.

PART THREE

**Author's note: I'm presuming here that the high school was destroyed a la "Graduation", and Snyder is still Principal, and Giles is still librarian with all his books. Sadly in the UK we're only part way through the second series, so I have no idea of what the situation actually is at the beginning at the fourth series.**

Mary had finished work for the day at the computer company in Sunnydale. However, when she had gone down into the car park, she had discovered that one of her tyres was flat. Usually resourceful, Mary had discovered that when your rental breaks down with no jack, not to mention no spare tyre, and you have no idea where the nearest garage (or the nearest phone book) is, there is really only one thing to do: walk home. So, at nearly nine o'clock that evening, Mary was walking back to her hotel. She was not happy. Not only had she spent an unbelievably unproductive day at work, but she really didn't feel comfortable walking through the streets of Sunnydale after dark. She told herself that it was merely the run down aspect of the neighbourhood that put her on edge, but something inside her was screaming at her to be careful. Her fears were justified when she heard someone walking behind her.

Looking around her, Mary realised that she was about at the furthest point from... well, anywhere. And her friendly night time stalker was getting closer. She was getting a weird sense of deja-vu that she had been in this situation before, a fact that didn't really reassure her. Mary started to run. She didn't really know where, but anywhere away from whoever was following her seemed like a good move. She was too late. Whoever it was was upon her, spinning her round, and clawing at her face and throat. Acting on instinct, Mary kicked him in the groin, and then, almost involuntarily, stabbed at his chest with a tree branch casually strewn on the ground nearby.

He disappeared.

Mary was left standing in the middle of a deserted street, clutching the branch in her hand. Everything was quiet, a few fallen leaves shifting with every gust of wind. Her attacker had disappeared. Not run off disappeared, or fallen to the ground disappeared, but vanished disappeared. Mary had no desire to labour the point, but it was fairly major. Man. Disappeared. Her attention was drawn to her trusty branch. A stake through the heart. Yeah, right, it wasn't like he was a...

Vampire. The word had a familiar ring. She wrapped her tongue around it a couple of times. Vampires. They didn't exist. The whole idea was ridiculous. But then there was her disappearing attacker. Stake through the heart and dust a vampire. Dust. The word sounded technical. Game face. Blood delivery to a hospital. "Gangs on PCP" as an excuse. The Master. The Anointed One. The Vampire Slayer. Discovering she spoke Latin had nothing on this. More importantly, it suggested an interesting amount of knowledge about things which weren't supposed to exist. Was it possible? Could vampires and demons exist? Mary slowly turned to walk back to the safety of her car, then changed her mind. After all, she'd killed one of the...whatever they were. They didn't seem to expect much resistance-and there wasn't much point in staying in her car all night. She set off in her original direction, on towards her hotel.

PART FOUR

The following evening found Mary at the local high school library. The librarian at the pathetic excuse for the main Sunnydale Library had seemed amazed that anyone had wanted to read about the occult-or about anything, for that matter-and hadn't been able to help her, but had mentioned that there seemed to be an awful lot of books on that sort of thing at the high school. Hence her visit. She had contacted the Principal, and although a more annoying and obsequious man she had never before spoken to, he had given her permission to visit the library. Entering its portals, Mary was struck by its familiarity. The same feeling she had felt on entering the school itself. In fact, a feeling of familiarity which seemed to be growing the longer she stayed in Sunnydale. After accustomising herself to the organisation of the library, Mary settled down in an alcove to research the supernatural.

She sat for hours, amazed at the sheer volume of demons and ungodly things that seemed to proliferate. There were several references to the Slayer, a human girl who hunted and killed vampires-and anything else that might come along. Briefly considering the option that she was the Slayer, Mary decided not. The books spoke of supernatural strength, something Mary knew damn well she didn't have-she had problems getting the lid off a jar of peanut butter. At about midnight, she decided to call it a night. Fascinating as all this was, she had a job to do, and it wasn't going to impress her boss much if she turned up at her assignment at the Sunnydale office completely incapable of coherent thought.

As she stood to put away the books she'd been reading, Mary heard the sound of the library door opening, and people coming in. Who on earth would be using the school library at this time of night, she wondered, then amended that thought to include 'except me'. It might be some hardworking student. Then again, it might be a bloodsucking demon. Mary decided to plan for the latter, and ensconced herself more discreetly into her alcove, hoping that whoever it was wouldn't notice her, and go away.

Giles wandered into the library, followed by Buffy, Xander, Oz and Cordelia. They were all glum. Another day struggling with the prophecy had failed to elicit any enlightenment on Giles' part, and Buffy hadn't been able to get anything out of the vamp she'd tortured. And no further information had been supplied by any of Giles' other books. As they approached the centre, Giles stopped abruptly, and, ignoring the muffled complaints of Buffy, whose face was buried in the back of his tweed jacket, suddenly started quoting random Latin phrases which seemed to please him greatly. Buffy and Xander watched their old mentor with thinly disguised impatience.

"Giles." He ignored her.

"Hey, Giles!" Xander fared no better. Giles continued doing the Latin thing, then his smile suddenly vanished, and he sat down heavily.

"It's Willow," he announced shortly, before falling silent. Buffy sat beside him. "What is?" she asked gently.

"The key. To the prophecy. There was another text; I'd forgotten about it. It speaks of a messenger, a conveyor of spirits and information and virtue; one who can show goodness to the world. A witch who can speak to the whole world at once and reclaim humanity. A soul forged by fire, and lit with a flame of purity. It waxes lyrical for quite some length, but from the description..." he trailed off.

"But it could be anyone, right? I mean, just because it sounds like Willow, it doesn't mean she's the only person with..all that." Xander wasn't particularly impressed with his own argument. After all, he knew better than anyone that there was only one Willow. Apparently Giles agreed with him.

"I'm afraid not, Xander. It mentions Oz-oh, not by name, but by description. And...it just feels right. The translation, I mean."

"And it would be...if Willow wasn't dead."

PART FIVE

**Author's Note: Incidentally, I now know that the library, and I suspect Snyder, were destroyed at the end of the 3rd season. However, I can't be bothered to re-write my entire story to fit around that somewhat alarming development, so, as with most things I don't like, I'm just going to ignore it.**

Mary sat in her little alcove, listening avidly to everything that was going on below her. She'd chucked the evil demons of the night idea once she'd heard them start talking, but she was curious as to who they actually were. The Vampire Slayer was her guess, and the older man her watcher. Watchers were apparently mentors, who guided the slayer in the work she had to do. The man in the tweed jacket seemed to fit the image very well, right down to the spectacles he was swinging round in one hand. As for the people with them, Mary wasn't entirely sure. There was no mention in the books she'd read of more people hunting vampires. That is, there was, but they didn't hang round in a little group. The voices continued, but lower, as if the speakers were moving away. Then came the sound of the swing doors opening and closing, and retreating footsteps, and Mary decided it was safe to come out.

***************

As Oz left the library to go to the job he had managed to arrange for himself at the local record shop, the others stood around silently. The mention of Willow was always guaranteed to send Oz off - he had never got over the disappearance of his girlfriend. As Giles shuffled papers dolefully, and Buffy took a disinterested swing at the punching bag which just happened to be in the middle of the library, a noise was heard from up in the stacks. The remaining friends froze, then took up a fighting stance as they awaited whatever it was lurking on the upper level.

As whatever it was stopped lurking and started to come down the steps into the central part of the library, Buffy went into her "Kill, maim, destroy" mode and grabbed whatever it was around the neck. The whatever it was, oddly enough not being used to being treated in such a manner, gave a strangled shriek, then began squeaking as loud as she could with Buffy's hand round her throat. Buffy, engaged in sqeezing the life out of whatever it was, wasn't paying much attention, but Giles, who was slightly less bloodthirsty, heard the words "not" and "vampire", and decided that it might be a good idea if Buffy loosened her grip. Having voiced this opinion, Buffy reacted accordingly, and they got their first proper look at the whatever it was.

It wasn't an obvious demon, being a young woman, probably in her mid-twenties, who seemed to the onlookers to be faintly familiar. That didn't rule out the prospect of her being a vamp, but frankly now that she had stopped trying to kill her, Buffy realised that she wasn't getting any feedback from her spider - or vampire - sense. While this helpful little accessory to being a slayer hadn't exactly been, well, used much when Buffy was younger, age and experience had honed it to the point where Buffy could tell almost immediately whether someone was a vamp or not. And all the signs pointed to the woman being placed squarely in the "not" category.

"Who are you?" she demanded. Age and experience had also taught her that when dealing with things that lurked in dark corners of high school libraries, it was always a really bad idea to engage in the social amenities.

"Mary Anderson," replied Mary Anderson. As answers went, it wasn't exactly bursting with fun-filled facts, and Buffy made a threatening move towards her. Mary, realising that Buffy wasn't exactly satisfied, hurried on, spilling out information in a way that would make a professional police informant stand back in awe. "I live in Pennsylvania, but I've come to Sunnydale because of my job I'm a computer technician I was seconded to the California office to help upgrade all their new software and I was walking home last night and was attacked by a thing well I call it a thing but I'm pretty sure it was a vampire so I went to the library to see if they had any information..." Mary was interrupted at this point by Giles' grunt of derision. His opinion of the Sunnydale public library had never been high, but in recent years it had dropped to previously unparalleled depths.

"...but they didn't but the librarian suggested that I come here because there's an awful lot of stuff on the occult and that sort of thing." Here Mary paused to take a breath, before rambling on, "and then I was reading about vampires and did you know I hadn't the least idea that there were so many things out there, I mean it's quite scary if you think about it but I suppose if you're the slayer an' all you do think about it, that is you think and do and, well, slay I suppose and don't you get tired of it all, can't you find someone else who can, you know, help out?" Mary realised she was doing the going-off-on-a-tangent thing when Buffy did the growling-and-threatening-step-forward thing. "Anyway, that's it," she finished off, rather lamely.

"Vampires? What on earth are you talking about?" Giles' attempt at denial fell on stony ground. To be honest, he hadn't had any high expectations that it would actually work - there was something about this woman that was fairly screaming intelligence and common sense - but he had always felt that damage limitation was one of his duties. He was rewarded with a scornful look, not only from their guest, but also from everyone else in the room. It was at this juncture that Xander got tired of being ignored, and stepped forward.

"Hi. I'm Xander Harris. You can call me Xander."

"Um, thanks." Mary shook his hand. Xander reminded her of someone. Steve - he reminded her of Steve. How funny. She shook off the similarity, and turned to the woman standing beside her newest acquaintance.

"Cordelia Chase. It's nice to meet you."

"Well now introductions are over, you should probably be on your way home, Miss Anderson," interrupted Giles. "If you like, I'll give you a lift - this isn't a neighbourhood to be walking anywhere after sundown." The others looked at him, unimpressed.

"She could help." Buffy was unequivocal. "Let's face it, none of us have ever been much good at getting anything out of the computer, and we need all the help we can get with this phophecy. I mean, we're going to have to find some way around it now that Willow..." she trailed off. "You know."

With Mary nodding her head in agreement, Giles heaved a sigh and gave in. The odds on his winning an argument with Buffy were minimal - there really wasn't much point in trying. They all sat down, prepared for a long night's research, and Giles explained the prophecy to Mary.

"So this Willow, she's..."

"Dead. Yes."

"Are you sure? I mean, she wasn't turned into a vampire or anything?"

Giles shook his head. "No. It's been eight years. She'd have been back by now. Actually, you look a little like her. Now, this prophecy is quite detailed..." Giles carried on, swept away by the ingeniousness of the prophecy, totally oblivious to the fact that Mary wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to what he was saying. Eight years. Eight years ago Willow Rosenberg had disappeared, never to be seen again. Eight years ago Mary Anderson was found in a run down district of Pittsburgh, wandering around with no money and no memory. While the odds of this being unrelated were quite high, Mary knew that they were connected. Closely connected. It explained so much - why she understood Latin, why she hadn't been more surprised when she was attacked by a vampire, why Sunnydale had seemed so familiar, why she had felt so close to Steve - he was almost identical to Xander. It was all too much - she couldn't cope.

Giles started when Mary stood up abruptly. She looked shaken, and he felt sorry for her - discovering that boogy men were real was bound to come as something of a shock.

"I have to go now. Go home...well, back to the hotel. Um, I'll be here tomorrow afternoon. To help." With that she left the library, almost at a run. Giles watched her go, then returned to the periodical he had been reading.

As the door slammed behind her, Xander's head poked out from the stacks. She had reminded him of Willow. The way she had poured out all that information, looking scared stiff, yet ready to face whatever came at her. Her arrival had brought back how much he missed his old friend. He went back to his reading, with Willow's face in his mind's eye.