[buffywantswillow]THE LAST DEATH (5/?)

[Jessica Cioffi <cioffi@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

Disclaimer: Yancy, Doran and Willow .. oops, did I say Willow? I mean,
Yancy and Doran are mine *damn*. Willow *sigh* is not. In a perfect
world she would be but ... that's beside the point. Joss, lucky boy,
has the fortune of having Buffy, Giles and Willow *sigh* (but, *evil
laugh* he has to put up with The Council too!)

Title: The Last Death (5/?)
Author: JD
Archive: Sure. Lemme know where I can find it ...
Spoilers: Nada.
Notes: I don't know Gaelic. If anyone does and thinks they can help
with the translation, please let me know.

THE LAST DEATH (5/?)

... "Who did you hear my name from?" Yancy implored.

"I - I -have to go. Perhaps we will meet again, Slay ... Yan." Doran
quickly moved into the brush.
_________________________________________________________________________________

"Don't get me wrong, Dorian," Buffy interrupted, "psychic ability
isn't anything that we haven't seen before."

Dorian smiled and glanced at Giles. "I'm right, Giles. Do you see
it now?"

Giles nodded his head in affirmation.

"Buffy, I knew about you from the moment I laid eyes on you. I knew
you were the Slayer." Dorian was trying to summon the words that would
make Buffy understand that this was no case of simple mind-reading. "I
knew about you because ... how do I say it? ... because I know you."

Buffy's eyebrows pushed together in confusion. Willow, trying to
figure out where she fit into the scenario, watched Buffy intently.
Meanwhile, Giles had moved closer to Dorian. Closing the distance
between them made him feel like he was showing support for his long lost
friend.

Dorian let out an unsure laugh. "You always get the good ones,
Giles," she said. She turned her attention back to Buffy, "just be a
little more patient. It will all be clear."

Buffy strained not to look at Dorian. Her curiosity wouldn't let
her avoid meeting Dorian's eyes. The blue haze captured Buffy and she
now wanted nothing more than to understand. A deep resolve was thrust
into her being that, no matter how many stories she had to listen to,
she would make herself understand.

"So much alike," Dorian whispered. "Buffy, listen to me and don't
misunderstand."

Buffy's eyes widened as every fiber of her being concentrated on the
words coming from behind those eyes.

"Don't try so hard."
____________________________________________________________________________________

The night sky, in which millions of stars could normally be seen,
had a white underbelly. The low laying clouds threatened to open and
wash the autumn leaves to the river. The rock chimneys from the stone
homes in the village belched dark grey puffs into the pristine lightness
of the sky. The light breeze, ruffling the brittle leaves on the
ground, broke the silence.

Patrol was getting boring for Yancy. Often, she would diverge from
her route to stand at the old oak. Perhaps she hoped to see her
mysterious stranger again. Perhaps she just had a feeling about that
old tree. There was something that drew her there nearly every night.

As she neared the tree, the hairs on her arms stood on end. Her
eyes, narrowing in concentration, scanned the area surround the tree.
She could hear a low, but urgent, mumbling.

"Please, I beg of you ..." The voice was pleading, "let me be."

Yancy looked around her, hoping to find the person to whom this
distressed voice belonged. The more she looked, the more she realized
that she was standing alone next to the tree. She moved closer,
reaching out her hand to touch the bark.

"Did you say that?" Yancy asked almost under her breath, afraid she
might be going crazy.

Leaves fell from the branches quickly, as though a squirrel or bird
had moved quickly through the tree. Branches swayed under an unseen
weight as it moved higher.

"Hello?" the Slayer cautiously called out. "Let me help you."

A soft voice fell with the downward drifting leaves, "you can't help
me. Please Slayer, leave me to my demons."

Yancy felt hope jump into her chest. "But demons are what I'm about,
please, let me help you."

"Even the Slayer can not save me." The voice was louder now. Yancy
could almost see the figure hanging in the thick branches. It was
slowly moving closer. "Go before trouble finds its way to you too."

The face was taking shape. Stormy blue eyes glowed against speckled
ivory skin. Within moments, the figure was upon her, and then, quickly
moving past her. Yancy, whose reflexes had become so acute that it
seemed like she knew in advance where to place herself, grabbed the hand
of the fleeing girl.

"Stay." She said, as she pulled the hand toward her. Once the girl
was turned around, Yancy placed both hands on her arms. "I can't let you
go just yet. You know my secret ... " she began.

" ... I won't tell," Doran promised with tone so serious it was
severe.

"To be sure, " Yancy explained, " tell me yours. We'll be even."
____________________________________________________________________________________

Doran was always the special child in the family. She was the only
daughter in a four son household. She was also the only female in the
family. Her mother passed while gathering water at the river. Raised
only by her father, she had a gentleness that could not be explained.

She was fair in a family of dark-skinned people. Their chocolate
eyes grew wide when, at her birth, she opened her tiny lids to reveal a
blue that rivaled the clearest spring day. Her father gently caressed
the small patch of curly, auburn hair that rose from her tiny head. His
own straight hair was nearly black and he wore it tied with a leather
string. The youngest of her brothers, who was 3 years older, would run
his small finger over her peachy skin and try to touch every reddish
brown speckle. He thought, for some reason, it would bring him luck.
He had never seen anyone with skin like hers.

Her appearance, while most obvious, was not what set Doran apart
from the others in her family. Her gentleness and odd behaviours often
caused her father and older brothers to grow impatient with her. While
her brothers would roughly jam the sheep into the yard, Doran would
politely lead them with her voice. She watched from the ground as her
brothers scaled the tall apple tree to pick their breakfasts, yet she
would simply touch the rough trunk and whisper gently and a large, ripe
apple fell for her every morning. When she was supposed to be inside
doing her chores, she was most often found outside in the grass, nodding
happily in agreement with nobody.

Her father had seen behaviour like this before and it frightened
him. He was afraid he would lose his only daughter. He had already lost
so much when his wife died. By the time she was seven, he began
punishing her for any behaviour he thought odd.

Frightened by her father's threats, Doran fought to be like her
brothers. She learned how to deftly and quickly climb to the top of the
apple tree to grasp its ripest, sweetest apples. She grew stronger and
swifter so she could herd the sheep like her brothers. While she seemed
to adjust well to her restrictions, the light was gone from her eyes.
She would wake in the middle of the night, fearing her father would
punish her for what she had dreamt. Her brothers teased her about being
a queer child, but she had no recollection of it. She filled her memory
with rembrances that would be acceptable to her father.

In the winter of her fourteenth year, her father and brother spent
an entire morning readying the house for winter. Her three eldest
brothers had married and moved away to start their own lives. During
the winter, the men left Doran to tend the house and barn while they
went to sell wool. They never sent Doran because they thought, as a
girl, she would be taken advantage of in the marketplace. They also
feared men on the main road who might see her as a target. She was,
after all, still a young girl.

The first night alone always frightened Doran. The bare stone walls
gave her no comfort. She sat uneasily in her father's large wooden
chair, looking into the fireplace. She watched the smoke rise into
familiar images. She told herself to remember to do this with clouds in
the summer. Sleep had just begun its descent on the young girl when she
was suddenly startled awake.

"Who's there?" Doran's eyes grew wide with fear. She ran to the
cold, stone wall and walked along it for protection. She saw no one.
"Whoever you are, you must go away. My father will be home shortly from
hunting... with my brother."

"They are not hunting, child. There's no need to lie." The voice
drifted to her ears.

"Wh-wha ... they could be hunting!" She shouted. "Leave me alone!"

"I will leave shortly, I promise. But I need you to do something
first." The voice was tender and warm. "Don't be afraid of me."

Doran's mind raced. What would her father do to her if he saw her
speaking to thin air? Would she be locked in the barn again for two
days? Would she be given the hide for 20 strokes?

"I understand, child. You do not fear me as much as your father's
ignorance." The voice soothed Doran. "You have nothing to fear. I
know the situation and have learned only to come to you in his absence.
Go to his room."

Doran tried to clear her head. Her legs moved involuntarily toward
her father's small room. She peeked through the crack between the wall
and the heavy wooden door. The only light came from the room behind
her. His bed, far too small for his long, muscular body, was perfectly
made. His candle was nearly burned to nothing at his bedside. A small
light, no bigger than a firefly, appeared under his bed.

She crept into his room and knelt by his bed. She had not been in
his room since she was a small girl, frightened by dreams of monsters.
She pushed herself onto the cold floor in search of the light source. It
had grown fainter as she approached it. Her eyes were distracted by a
golden gleam.

Reaching under the bed, her hand landed on something quite massive.
It was rough and hard, but she could not make out what it was. It
looked like a wooden box with a leather covering. She pulled it out
slowly, pulling a trail of dust along with it. The golden glint came
from the clasp on the item, a humongous book.

: A' Beannachtai ab a' Bandia a' Claiomh Bean agus a' Draiocht
Bean: was written in golden calligraphy across the cover of the book.
Scribbled in black on the bottom corner was an upward pointing triangle
with another triangle inside it. Next to that was another symbol that
resembled a downward pointing triangle and nearly illegible name.

"Moira," Doran read aloud. "This book was my mothers ... " Her ears
perked up to listen to the softening voice. It was getting more
distant. Doran grabbed the book and followed the voice. It was that
night she met the Slayer and laid her mother's book before her.
____________________________________________________________________________________









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