Turning Back Time

Turning Back Time Chapter 2

Galway, Ireland, 1751

The mother and daughter stared at the stranger and watched her with interest at her bizarre behaviour as rigorously she paced back and forth.

"This can't be happening… This can't be happening…" Buffy mumbled repeatedly to herself.

"Mama?"

"Yes, lass?"

"Why is she dressed so funny?"

The mother's eyes scanned over Buffy's modern clothing. She wore a white, dirt stained knit sweater, with a pair of grey slacks, and black boots.

Buffy twisted around to the women. "Am I dead? Why couldn't have died like before? Why am I here? God, it was so much easier then." Buffy said to herself.

"Miss?" The young girl carefully tried to interrupt Buffy's rapid thoughts.

Buffy looked at the girl with a distraught expression. "What am I going to do?" Buffy's eyes lit with a revelation. "There has to be a reason, right? Okay… What is it? Why would I be in Ireland in 1751? There's has to be a reason. Yea, know?" Buffy looked at the girl. The two women stared at her baffled by her unusual babbles.

"Perhaps, she's mentally ill, Mama." The girl whispered into her mother's ear.

"Ugh, well…" The mother stood speechless unsure how to answer her daughter.

Suddenly, Buffy spun around to them with wide eyes. "Angel." She said the name in a soft breathless whisper. "He's here."

"Angel?" The girl repeated with confusion.

"Who is Angel, love?" The mother asked.

"Um, uh, does he live around here?"

The mother wiped her hands using her apron. "Who, lass?"

"Oh! Uh, crap what's his name now…?" Buffy racked her brain trying to desperately think back to that one time she and Willow read the Watcher's Diary entries about Angel. "Liam! That's it. Does a Liam, I don't know his last name live around here?" Buffy asked again.

The mother's friendly smile dropped and was replaced with a deep frown. "Liam O'Connor?" She raised a brow.

"Yes, that's it! Liam O'Connor."

Buffy watched the older woman's pleasant expression darken. "No need to be accompanying yourself around that dreadful young man." She picked up the basket of picked flowers and nodded for her daughter to start making their way toward the farm house up the hill. The mother looked back over her shoulder to Buffy. "Aren't you coming, dear?"

Buffy looked down the dirt grass then around herself to see only the green hills of Ireland. She hesitantly nodded her head and followed the women up the hill to a quite cottage with smoke coming from the chimney.

Buffy couldn't get the prospect of seeing Angel again from her head. When she fell into step with the two women, Buffy asked, "But you do know him, right?"

"Oh, dear, how could you be so tiresome? You're much too good for that scoundrel. How do ya know of 'im?" The mother looked at Buffy holding up her skirt at she hiked up the hill.

Buffy's brows pinched together. "A friend of a friend of a friend… It's from a long line of friends…"

The mother's brow raised knowingly. "Hm, I'm not surprised. That Liam has a habit of making 'imself known to handsome young girl's. He's quite a boozer. Oh, pardon my manner, lass. What is your name, dear?"

"Buffy." Buffy answered then noticed the confused expressions dancing on the women's faces. "That's my name, Buffy Summers."

"Mrs. MacCale and my daughter Haley. We live up this dreadful hill. Where might you be staying?"

Buffy looked around the vast countryside then back at Mrs. MacCale. "I, uh…"

"You'll just stay with us. And no question about it." Mrs. MacCale smiled. Haley gawked at Buffy with curious eyes. Mrs. MacCale took notice in her daughters fascination. "What is it Haley? Close that mouth, lass, we are not a codfish."

Haley smiled nervously as she roamed her eyes over Buffy's attire. "Oh, Mama, it's just - Miss. Summers, you are wearing very strange attire." Buffy looked down at herself. She was still wearing the white knit sweater, grey slacks, and black boots from when she dived off the tower. "Where are you from?"

Buffy's head shot up looking at the Haley like a deer in the headlights. "America."

Haley looked surprised which turned in a wide dreamy grin. "The new land?! Oh, how exciting!"

Mrs. MacCale eyed Buffy with a high brow. "Well, at least it explains your - What are those?"

Buffy followed the older woman's finger pointing at her slacks. "Pants."

Mrs. MacCale tilted her head to the side with a thoughtful expression. "Well, ya Americans seem to be two centuries ahead of the rest of the world."

"Imagine that." Buffy smiled with a false politeness.

The three women walked the pathway towards a tranquil, rustic farm house surrounded by grass fields a wood short fence.

An older man in his mid-fifties with greying hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and a tailored cutaway brown coat with matching breeches approached them. He fiddled with cravat as he walked toward the women.

"My ladies, how was your stroll?" His smile dropped notching the peculiar looking stranger with them. "Who is this?"

"Papa, this is Miss Summers. She's from America." Haley smiled wildly, holding Buffy's hand.

Mr. MacCale tilted his head to the side then nodded with a small welcoming smile. "Miss Summers."

"Buffy, please."

Mr. MacCale took an interest in the strangers oddity. "Miss Summers, will you be staying with us?"

"Yes, she is." Mrs. MacCale answered before Buffy. "We have the guest room, she can stay in." She suggested.

Mr. MacCale held his hands behind his back and nodded with certainty. "Very good. Lass," He looked at Haley. "why don't you go find where your brothers ran off too." He patted Haley's cheek lightly and waited for her to run off before addressing Buffy and his wife. "Ehem." Mr. MacCale cleared his throat. "We were told your were going to be arriving."

"What are you talking about?" Buffy looked between the husband and wife confused.

"The Powers that Be informed us of your arrival." Mrs. MacCale explained with a gentle smile. "You are called, Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer. You came here after you saved the world by closing an inferno portal. You sacrificed yourself for your family, a sister. In that world, it was the year 2001."

Buffy stepped away from the couple obviously freaked out. "What are you?"

Mr. MacCale smiled at her question. "I am a man and she is a woman. You were sent here for a reason. You are the only one who would know that answer. Something brought you."

"And you don't have any idea what that could be?"

"Not a clue, dearie? I believe it may have something to do with your sacrifice." Mrs. MacCale adjusted the basket on her hip. "We created a story for you when people ask who you are." Buffy ran a hand through her hair utterly confused by all of these cryptic messages.

Mr. MacCale began to pace back and forth in thought. "That's right. You are from the Colonies. American is not what you know it as now. The revolution has not begun yet. Your father is an old fellow of mine. You are here for a visit."

"And with that in mind, I suggest you learn the customs of this society." Buffy looked at Mrs. MacCale wearily not liking the sound of that. "This is 1751, lass. A different world from what you know, dear. Welcome to the 18th Century." She took the Slayer's hand leading her up to the guest room to teach her the rules of a colonial society.

Mrs. MacCale opened the bedroom door and closed it behind her. She watched Buffy slowly eye the room with a fascination. Mrs. MacCale, Buffy was not used to this traditional sort of living. "You are a gentlewoman now Buffy." Mrs. MacCale's voice broke Buffy's thoughts. "You must learn how to play such a role."

"Gentlewoman?" Buffy turned from the window.

"Now put theses on. Come, come, I will help you." Mrs. MacCale held out a white shift, stays, a brunswick petticoat.

Buffy slowly undressed feeling a but apprehensive about the entire situation she was thrown into. But the thought of seeing Angel soon made the butterflies she had lost when he left fluttered in her stomach.

He was human now. Which meant, everything that had happened between them, had never happened. It was a blank slate. A do-over. She wondered what he was like in this time. Angel was never forthcoming about his past. From her own sneaking around in the library and through Giles' Watcher Diaries, Angel was not exactly a boy-scout. Would he even like her now? Buffy's mind raised with the scattering thoughts, she forgot to listen to Mrs. MacCale's and whatever she was talking about.

What was going to happen now?

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