Rewind:
Part One
Author: Clarity
Disclaimer: Joss. Is. GOD. I just try to interpret his works.
Summary: To stop the First, Buffy, Faith, Giles, Xander, and Willow join forces--and take Sunnydale all the way back to the beginning.
Rating: PG-13 for language content.
Spoilers: Everything. Goes AU after 'Dirty Girls'
Author’s Notes: Still none. Huh.
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“Okay, so the camera’s going and everything, so just start talking and...you know,
whatever.”
“Thanks, Andrew. Um...okay, this is pretty bizarre, even for me, so how about we just
start off with ‘hi’?”
Xander Harris blinked in surprise at the TV screen in his basement. Whatever he thought
he might be expecting when he popped the video tape into his VCR, this definitely wasn’t
it.
Someone, some guy, who looked a hell of a lot like him except for being taller, way more
muscular, and--the most notable difference--with a piratelike eyepatch over his left eye,
was sitting on a couch somewhere, in what looked like a living room. He couldn’t tell,
since he’d never seen it before. But he had heard his own voice on tape before, and this
sounded exactly like it.
“Anyway, if I know you, and of course I do, because hey, been there, you’re probably
wondering what this is all about. If Willow does this thing, or, y’know, did this thing, I
guess, by the time you’re watching this, properly, you’ve probably got no idea how a
couple of video tapes can just sorta pop out of nowhere while you’re sleeping. If she
screws it up...well, you know what, I’m just going to do this on the assumption that she
didn’t, because otherwise I really have no idea what might have happened. She’s always
been the smart one. But then, hey, you knew that, too.”
“Yeah...” Xander agreed warily. “Still kinda not knowing who you are, though.”
“So I’m thinking you’re probably wondering who I am, right?” the guy on the tape
surmised, as though he’d read Xander’s mind. “Well, get ready for a big imagination-
leap here, ‘cause guess what, I’m you. A much older, sadder, less-in-one-piece you, but
yeah, I’m you in about seven years or so.” He paused for a moment. “Obviously, not
ecstatically happy seven years. Which, kinda the reason I’m about to send this thing back
to me. To you. You grew up into me, and now you’re sending this back to me when I
was you, only you’re me, and...you know what? I’m just going to stop talking and let
you...me...think about everything I...I mean, me, I, not you, I...oh, just take a minute,
come to terms with it, and move on, okay?” Obviously fed up with his own inability to
figure out pronouns.
Xander-the-scrawnier was, meanwhile, caught up in ‘coming to terms with it’, as
his-double?-had so ordered. Himself from the future? Didn’t seem possible. Although,
if anyone could figure out how to do it, it would definitely be Willow. Older, buffer
one-eyed him was right about that, at least.
“Look, how about this? We sleep outside every night at Christmas and we used to tell
Willow it was because we were looking for Rudolph, and then because it was ‘tradition’,
but it was really because Mom and Dad. Although Wills and Jesse both knew that,
so...the firetruck we didn’t get for our seventh birthday but then the house next door burnt
down, only Willow knew about that. And that...that secret crush we have, the one we’d
never never tell even Willow, let alone Jesse about? The one-” He cut off, with an
exasperated look, rolling his--well, his eye. Xander was still trying to figure that one out,
and also not to stare, though he couldn’t help but notice. “Andrew, I’m trying to have a
serious conversation with my past self here, but I’m not about to start blurting out my
innermost secrets with you standing there with that look on your face.”
“Hey, I’m just the cameraman.” It was that same, slightly whiny voice from before. “I’m
not even here.”
“Andrew, I don’t care if Willow is planning to erase the past six and a half years
tomorrow, I’m not telling you about my sixteen-year-old crushes.” He focused back on
the...well, the camera, Xander guessed, though it looked as though his future self was
staring straight at him. “You know who I’m talking about. Tall, gangly, dark hair, shares
your Babylon 5 obsession, has no clue what’s going on in your head, God forbid Dad ever
find out? Anyway, I can guarantee you no one has ever found out about that one. Not
that I don’t kinda wish I’d done something about it seven years ago, but...see, I’ve got this
really awful track record, relationship-wise. Which we can talk about once you’ve heard
everything I really have to say so the world doesn’t end. If, you know, you believe
me.”
Sixteen-year-old Xander winced.
Yeah. He knew who his older self was talking about, even if he’d barely even admitted it
to himself. And no one knew about it, no way anyone could possibly know about it.
Which pretty much meant future-him-guy had to be telling the truth.
“So, yeah, now that that’s all proven, you’ve got to be wondering how and why and all
that fun shit. The how, well, can’t really help you there--it’s a Willow thing. The why,
though...”
“Look, I know you’re not going to believe me. But then again, you haven’t turned off the
tape, so maybe you will, anyway. See, the world’s kind of going to end again, and it’s our
fault, and we can’t fix it any more, but since we caused it, we sort of figured that we
could change what we did and then it wouldn’t have to happen at all, and...gee, I guess I
do still babble, huh? And here I thought I’d grown out of it and all.”
Willow Rosenberg, sitting on the carpet at the foot of her bed, clutching her pillow,
winced at the older-looking her on her TV screen. Pretty, and wearing nice clothes, and
self-confident, and she was still doomed to Willow-babble forever? No fair.
“See, sending all these tapes back in time to ourselves--well, you-ourselves, not
us-ourselves, ‘cause what would be the point in that, and I’m babbling again--anyway,
that wasn’t technology or anything, it was magic. Real magic. I’m a witch, you turn out
to be a witch, a really, really powerful one. As in, end the world kind of power. Except I
sort of tried that once, and, apocalypse? Not such a great idea. We stop a lot of them.
Also, I can bring people back from the dead--well, one person, really, it didn’t work the
second time I tried it...” A look crossed older-Willow’s face that younger-Willow
couldn’t completely identify. She couldn’t imagine herself making that expression, not
with her eyes so sad like that, and angry and guilty and self-righteous all at the same time.
Whose death could hurt her that badly? Oh, no...Xander? No, not Xander, it couldn’t
be...she could save him, right? He couldn’t die. He just couldn’t!
“Willow, you can’t do it.” The infinitely-sad look had passed, replaced by an expression
of pure determination, seriousness, and almost angry. “You can’t bring Buffy back from
the dead, you can’t. If you do, the world’s going to end, and it’s not going to be my fault,
it’s all going to be yours. People die, and you can’t save them, and you can’t stop it, and
you can’t bring them back, so you should just...get over it. Okay? Get over it, Willow!”
It was bit off viciously, taking younger-Willow aback with it’s intensity. The computer
geek was a lot better at reading books than people, but she was smart enough to figure out
that future-Willow wasn’t talking to her any more, she was talking to herself. Well,
another of herself. Part of herself that didn’t exist yet, but would by the time she made
this video...if she made this video...which she wouldn’t, now, since it would change the
past. Or something. Stupid time-paradox theory!
Sure enough, a moment later, older Willow broke off eye contact with the screen to rub at
her eyes. “Damn it...oh, Tara, baby, I’m so sorry...I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault, I’ll fix it,
I swear, baby--”
“Willow, if you want to stop--” The voice came from behind the camera, the one
future-Willow had called ‘Andrew’. She shot a tear-stained, angry glare just beyond the
TV screen.
“Keep taping,” older Willow snapped, in a tone that brooked no argument.
Younger-Willow shivered. She couldn’t imagine ever talking like that, being that...that
confident. Then older-Willow looked back at her. “Don’t you dare let Tara die. You
can’t let Tara die. It’s your fault that she died, you were right there when he shot her, and
she was mad at you because of the magicks, so it’s your fault, and you have to not let it
happen. You have to. Give up the magic when she asks you to, give it up before she asks
you to, as soon as she starts arguing with you when Glory’s around, give it up, don’t fight
with her. You fight with her, you’re going to loose her, forever, and I love her.”
Somehow, fierce and angry Willow had given way to teary Willow again, in a way that
managed to bring younger-Willow near to tears herself. “I love her so much, and she’s
gone, and I know that’s not why we’re putting together these tapes, but you have to save
her, Willow. You have to.”
“You just have to. Okay? He’s going to be hot, and sweet, and mysterious, and the
greatest kisser, but...I promise, it’ll save you a ton of pain if you just don’t ever get
romantically involved with Angel. No matter how much you love him.”
The Buffy on-screen took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure, then managed a
small smile. “Seriously. If you can manage it, just...fall in love with Xander. He’s a
good guy, got a few commitment issues, but he’s been crazy about you from day one.
Or...you know, he will be crazy about you from day one. Or whatever.”
“Umm...um, actually...”
“What, Andrew?”
“Xander sort of...told his younger self not to fall in love with your younger self. He...he
said he should go after...someone else instead.”
“Really?” Buffy-on-screen sighed. “Well, there goes Mr. Normal. Anyway, I’m
supposed to be giving you advice on how to avert apocalypse here, just like you’re going
to do again, and again, and again, for seven and a half more years, and hey, if you’re
lucky, and really good, your reward? Is gonna be more apocalypses to avert. Alone.
Like every Slayer from the beginning of time.”
Buffy-in-LA winced. See, this was why she was retired. She didn’t want to spend the
next seven years averting apocalypse until her death. She just wanted a normal life!
“So, rule number one? The Slayer is always alone. You get lucky, Xander saves your life
the first time the Master kills you like it says in the stupid prophecy? You’ll get another
slayer, but you can’t depend on her. Not forever. And you can’t spend your life
depending on Giles to come through with exactly the knowledge you need to defeat
whatever is coming up, or Willow to cast a spell, or Xander to...well, to dive stupidly into
the middle of things and almost get himself killed, but to be there and save your butt from
the big bad anyway. They’re going to want to be there, but they can’t. Not always. So
the sooner you learn to stand, on your own, like every Slayer for the past God knows how
long always has, the better.”
On-screen-Slayer sighed. “It always comes down to the same thing. You try to push
them away, to keep them safe or just out of the way, Xander gets in your face and yells at
you for it, you tell him you’re the Chosen ONE, and then when it’s time to stop
uber-demon, he’s right there with you, just like Willow and Giles, and the four of you
save the day. Until the part where you’re the one who has to send your lover to hell,
because then you’re on your own in LA for three months. Or you’ve just been yanked out
of Heaven, literally, at which point it’s all wedding plans and flowers and Giles flying
back to England for good. Of course, they’re not there because you pushed them all
away, but what else could you do? You’re the Slayer, you’re just going to get them hurt.
Oh, sure, it’s all--” TV-Buffy grimaced. “God. Remember how Mom used to say ‘it’s
all fun and games until someone looses an eye’? That’s officially the most gruesome,
disgusting piece of irony ever.”
Real Buffy made a face. So, her future self was telling her not to make any friends at her
new school because they’d all get attacked by vampires again and again, and one of them
was going to end up loosing an eye. Suddenly she was wishing Mom had moved to
Cleveland.
“No, you know what’s worse? The part where, after everything, I still need them. I get
them hurt, get them killed...Tara got hit with a bullet meant for me. Always, the same
thing...the Slayers in training, all the kids at Graduation, Miss Calendar, Theresa, they all
died because of me. They all got involved with my job, and it got them killed. And half
the time, when it’s really important, I have to deal with it alone anyway. But I can’t let go
of them. I never should have depended on them in the first place. So, that’s what this
video is for.”
“More important than Jenny, however much I...you...love her. More important than the
entire mess I’m about to prattle on about in some detail. You have to make sure they
have each other. Buffy cannot function alone. She needs her friends, however much she
tries to push them away. You cannot let her. You can’t let her push you away. Either be
her friend, be her father, or be her Watcher, but pick one, and for the love of God don’t let
it be Watcher. Make sure she has people to lean on, and she’ll be a brighter sun than any
Slayer, ever. You’ll be so proud of her, Rupert.”
The tweed-clad Watcher sipped his tea thoughtfully on his couch, watching his own, far
more casually-dressed self, clean his glasses. The benefits of this...transmission were
invaluable. But so highly unorthodox! Slayers didn’t have friends--or fathers, for that
matter. They had Watchers, and they killed demons. Yes, he rarely saw eye to eye with
that prick Travers, but...play father figure to a teenage girl? A teenage American Slayer,
no less? Dear lord, could he do it?
“But then, I suppose that’s neither here nor there. The point of this is to avert another
impending apocalypse, not fix all our past regrets. Our mistakes make us who we are,
after all; I’d best leave you to make your own. The important part is Glory, Willow, and
that cursed revivification spell. Oh, yes, a little modern CPR after a brief drowning is
perfectly fine, but for God’s sake, if Buffy dies, please let her stay dead, Rupert. I know,
she will be like a daughter to you, she’ll worm her way into your heart whether you like it
or not, but if Willow manages to pull her back from the dead, to actually bring her back to
life, not a zombie but an actual human, three months from the grave...it can’t happen,
Rupert, it simply can’t. You cannot allow it. Willow will succumb to magickal
addiction, and she will tamper with forces that shouldn’t be touched, if you don’t stop it.
So do something to stop it.”
Oh, and just how was he supposed to do that? His future self certainly had a lot of faith
in him!
“Tell her about...I don’t know, tell her horror stories about Ethan and Eyghon or
something. And no, I don’t mean those stories, I mean the ones where Timothy got too
blasted dependent on the sorcery and ended up a pile of smoldering dust. Make sure she
understands what happens when magick is too powerful for the person wielding it. And
somehow...however you want to do it, get it through her poor, perfectionist little head that
the world can’t just be fixed with a wave of a hand. It isn’t meant to be, which is why
I’m not about to start listing lottery numbers or every demon we ever encountered.
People die. You have to make sure she understands it.”
“Or at least make sure someone else will, y’know? Yeah, the world’s looking pretty
shitty right now, but hey, better than Red sucking it into hell, that’s my motto right about
now. Besides from ‘want, take, have’, ‘course. Girl’s gotta have her priorities.”
Sprawled out on a crappy motel bed, Faith couldn’t help but smirk. So, fucked-up future
or not, she stayed a pretty decent smart ass. Good. And she did end up with the slayer
gig, even if it wasn’t as special as Marianne was always telling her it was. Yeah, she
could deal with that. Some of the other slayer’s pals sounded wicked cool, or at least like
they could be. And as to the whole ‘evil’ thing-yeah. As if! It freaked her out a little,
though, the whole serious, haunted look in her double’s eyes. So she’d make sure to not
stake any humans.
“‘Kay, we’ve covered...proving to you that I’m really you, the two people you’d sure as
hell better not watch die, not being all closed-door and prickly to B and her ‘Scooby
Gang’, and stopping the apocalypse. Plus, this is like a six-hour tape, so we’ve got a ton
of time left. Which means it’s time to get to the good stuff.” Serious Faith grinned
wickedly. “As in, taking down the demons you’re gonna face, and also the jerks you’d
better not date this time around.”
Fun.
“So, anyway, Kakistos? Don’t go up against him alone, or with Marianne. You and B
can take him out but you’ll need like a two-by-four to do it. The Jhe demons are wicked
strong, plus if the boytoy hadn’t plowed his car into that one I’d be toast, so, y’know,
watch your back around them, carry another spare knife more than usually. Um...late on
that year, like November or whatever, the wolf-man isn’t really getting out of his cage,
it’s some jerk pulling a Dr. Jekyl/Mr. Hyde type thing on his girlfriend. If Red’s vamp
double ever shows up all Dominatrix, don’t just stake first and ask questions later, the
Scoobies played dress-up and really fucked that situation weird. You getting this?”
“Also, Halloween of junior year? Fatigues from the military surplus store, toy gun from
the new costume shop, ‘Ethan’s’. But get Jesse like James Bond or something, not like
that walking skeleton or scariest-monster-ever he tries to top every year. You really can’t
let that one happen.”
“Oh! You can’t let Amy start casting spells, either, especially on Valentines Day, unless
you want to be totally throwing yourself at Xander. And don’t throw yourself at Xander.
Bad idea, lots of heartbreak, rusty rebar impalement, illicit smoochies, all around badness.
Find someone else. But not Angel. Also, don’t do any spells trying to grab lost necklaces
from alternate, hell-like dimensions. Evil twins are not fun.”
“Well, she wasn’t really evil, more like...weird. But she could be useful, so just... I don’t
know, power her down and shove her in a closet somewhere, if you have to fight Glory.
By the way, if you ever do? Stop the tape right now and get a pen and a piece of paper. I
mean it. Okay, ready? Ben is Glory. Glory is Ben. To stop Glory, you have to kill
Ben.”
“Now, don’t loose that piece of paper. Bloody well mount it, frame it, and hang it on
your wall, but don’t loose it, whatever you do. And make sure Angel knows it, too,
because if it ever comes to that you probably won’t remember anyway. Also, don’t ever
go out drinking with Ethan, depressed as you get, he’s likely to turn you into a Fyarl
demon. And I mean that literally.”
“Completely. No-sun-in-sky, fire streaking down, not like a figure of speech. But Wes’ll
handle it, just so long as Red has that spell to give Angel back his soul again. Which
brings us back to the boyfriends. It turns out you have pretty bad taste.”
“Not an unusual thing in Sunnydale, but seriously. You have never so much as kissed a
girl who has not at one point tried to kill you. Which is sort of disturbingly ironic, since
every guy you’ve ever dated has ended up dead. Don’t give me that shocked look,
Andrew, just because the gang never found out about them doesn’t mean I didn’t have a
couple of summer boyfriends, and don’t even think about saying anything to them,
they’ve got enough to deal with. And yeah, I did just say the b-word, it’s not that
terrifying, once you finally admit it to yourself.”
“I mean, there’s a lot of great things about being attracted to both guys and girls. It
doubles your chances of getting a date for the weekend, for one thing. I forget who first
said that, but I think it’s like a quote. Anyway, boyfriends can be nice, even though you
really shouldn’t go after Xander it’s a bad idea. And Kennedy’s really pretty great.
Except she’s not Tara, and she never will be, and no one is, and she’s the one, Willow.
The one, the only.”
“Or at least it felt like he was, until the whole curse-glitch. And after that...well, here’s
my list. Owen, death-obsessed and crazy, Angel, dead, Ford, vampire-obsessed and also
crazy, Angel, still dead, Scott, jerk, Angel, dead yet more, Parker, jerk, Riley,
vampire-obsessed plus married now, Spike, also dead, not to mention evil, and Principal
Wood, who’s your boss, only he fired you. Except it turns out he’s also obsessed with
death and vampires and revenge. I think I’ve developed a pattern here.”
“It’s really quite a disturbing pattern, really, what with Ethan coming back into town and
mucking up every single relationship from Jenny to Olivia to Joyce Summers. You really
do want to get rid of him, Rupert. You don’t have to kill him, but he’s going to keep
coming back until you either permanently take care of him, or give in and take him
back.”
“And trust me on this one, you really don’t want to take him back. Vin’s a jerk, make
him get over you. The nicest guy you ever did was the X-man, and I think he did half his
tape on how he should avoid all those girls who were ‘bad’ for him. Just...enjoy what you
get, and don’t go looking for long-term, smartest thing you could do.
“So I’m thinking I should probably wrap this up, huh? Okay, here’s the deal. Give the
other tape to Marianne tomorrow morning, soon as she wakes up. Tell her where you got
this one, how it’s you from the future and everything, and let her watch that one, without
you hanging around. It’s just some shit I needed to say to her, is all. After, when you’ve
both watched your tapes, you can watch each other’s together.”
“And you don’t get to watch it before you give it to him, either. You explain to Jesse that
I’m 22-year-old me, you give him the tape, and he decides if you can see it, like you’re
going to do if you want him to watch yours. I think maybe you should, since I-me am not
really going to be around to suffer the consequences, so I’m not afraid of saying the
things you should really be saying seven years ago to now. You’ve got that ‘don’t say
anything habit’ that I know so well.”
“And I know that means it’s going to be a little weird giving Angel the tape, especially
since you don’t really know him yet, but there wasn’t anyone else I really needed to talk
to...except Tara, and you won’t meet her for a couple of years...but Buffy would have
done Angel’s tape, only she had to say some stuff to her mom. And that hurt a lot, and
sending Angel a message would have hurt her even more. So the task of giving Angel his
letter-from-the-future falls to Willow.”
“And our tape goes to Mom. Yeah, I know, you don’t want to tell her about slaying or
anything, you want to keep her out of it, well you can’t. You can’t even pack her off to
visit friends, because she won’t go. She’ll just sit in the kitchen and cry and make juice.
But she loves you, and...I miss her so much. You don’t even have to say anything, just
give her the tape. I explained everything there, so you won’t have to.”
“After all, you hardly know Jenny yet, do you? Dear lord, that seems impossible, not
knowing Jenny. Loving her...missing her...that’s been part of life for so long. But I’ve
introduced myself, told her who and what and when I am, and I think she’ll believe me. I
knew her quite well, before...before she died. She really did love us.”
“Does love us. Whatever. Mother-we-never-had, huh? Anyway, make sure she gets the
tape. Boytoy, Red, B, and Jeeves all sent themselves tapes, too, so they’ll kind of know
you when they see you. If they believe the tapes, anyway.”
“And they should. I mean, Giles and Buffy are totally used to creepy stuff already, and
Willow’s going to be as weirded out as you. Tell you what, tomorrow, grab Wills and
Jesse, drag them into the Library, and shake up the British guy. Say something along the
lines of, we’ve got three more days until the Harvest, so we’d better get a- researching. If
Giles senior told himself anything at all about you, he’ll recognize you.”
“I mean, you are the only one to ever actually go in the library yet, aren’t you? And if
Xander pays attention to his tape, and he should, because older-Xander actually looks
kind of scary lately, he’ll know what you’re talking about. Buffy, well, she’ll show up the
day after tomorrow. Or tomorrow. Is it after midnight yet? Anyway, it’ll be the day
before the Harvest.”
“And that’s just the first of the fun you’ll have on the Hellmouth. Let the gang help with
this one, you can take out the Vessel yourself easy, and after watching Xander and
Willow the elders tell them all about the things that go bump in the night, they’re not
going to want to back down. You can press the issue later.”
“There simply won’t be time before the Harvest for proper training. Do be sure to
include it at some point for the Scooby Gang, though. I never did, at first they were really
just mere cheerleaders, and then they were holding their own more or less, so I thought...
but they will be fighting with you, so for God’s sake, Rupert, teach them how. And then
start fighting the Good Fight.”
“Yeah, it’s a cliché, but so what? It’s what we do. So go out and do it.” Mature Faith
shrugged. “Simple as that.”
“Faith, we’re down to five minutes.”
“Really? Wow, that flew. Guess I spent more hours rambling about exes and demons
and not killing humans than I figured. Thing is, I really don’t know how to end this
thing.” She shrugged again. “I mean, it’s like, there’s so much I could be leaving out.
So much I know, but you don’t yet. I want to be sitting here fixing everything, but I don’t
even know what to say, and anyway I’ve only got five minutes to say it in.”
“So say it already, then,” Faith demanded impatiently. “Come on, get to the point.”
“Yeah, yeah, I bet you want me to get to the point, huh? So I figure this is it. Don’t go
around taking shit for granted. Freedom, three squares, someone to watch your back...it’s
worth a lot. Hang in there. Don’t get evil, don’t get selfish, trust B, and you know,
maybe her pals. She actually meant it when she said she was on your side. And you’ve
got to know I’m on my side, so you can trust me when I tell you that, y’know? Anyway,
stick it out. You’re a survivor. One way or another, you’ll come out five-by-five. It’s
just some days, it doesn’t look like it right off.”
Serious Faith bent her head left and right, cracking her neck, then stood up, her face out
of the view of the camera. “Okay, I’m done, shut it off.”
The TV screen fuzzed into static.
To Be Continued!
INDEX
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