Title: Walk Through the Fire.
Point of view: Buffy.
Time
frame: During Episode 10 “Over
the Hills and Far Away”, Episode 14 “Hotel California”, Episode 15 “Black Hole
Sun”, Episode 16 “Rescue Me”, and Episode 17 “Crouching Tiger, Hidden
Were-Lynx.”
Spoilers: Major Spoilers for BtVS Season
7, numerous episodes.
I didn’t get a chance to tell the Scoobies
about my phone conversations with Jocasta for quite a while. There was that whole thing to go through with
Spike’s chip misfiring, Giles totally wigging about me having it taken out,
Xander and Anya’s crazy idea that Giles was the First, and the usual day-to-day
crap that goes with living on Hellmouth Central. There was always something more urgent. It was getting the letter from the bank that
spurred me into actually telling everyone.
Not that everybody listened. These days I just have to say the phrase
“There’s something important I have to tell you” and half of them just zone
out. Which I don’t
deal with well. It used to be all
about Buffy. The
Still, at least some listened. Spike would listen if I just read out the
telephone directory. Anya perked her
ears up as soon as I mentioned money.
Giles was genuinely interested.
He’d spoken to Jocasta already, but she hadn’t told him everything, and
had found out more since.
I told them about there being seven Slayers, about the
prophecy, and about the First having done to one of the ex-vampire Slayers
pretty well what it had done to Spike – the Manchurian Candidate bit that is,
not the torture and the blood-draining bit.
Then I told them about the money.
I had totally missed the significance when Jocasta
told me about the Slayer having been paid up until the Council had stopped
paying Teresa in 1810, when she gave up on slaying vampires to slay the French
instead. I mean,
three shillings a day up to age eighteen, seven shillings a day after that,
just didn’t sound a big deal. I only had
a vague idea what a shilling was, but it sure didn’t sound like much until she
put me straight. Most of the gang
reacted the way I had at first – impressed, not much.
Later there had been the shock. The relief, the pleasure, the
anticipation. The retrospective
anger, thinking about the struggle to survive last year; the grease-traps at
the Doublemeat Palace, the smells, the constant
tiredness, Spike’s stupid demon eggs scheme to try to get money for me which
had brought Riley briefly back into my life and made everything so much worse;
all of which could have been avoided if I had had an income. But none of that had come until I’d realized
how much it was in today’s money.
Spike was first to catch on. “This was in 1810?” he asked. I nodded, and he whistled. “Two pounds nine shillings
a week. That’s twice what we paid
our servants in 1880, and I bet it was worth a lot more seventy years earlier.”
“Give the vampire a prize,” I grinned. “Jocasta tells me that
seven shillings a day was exactly the wages of a lieutenant in the British Army
at the time. So that’s what they are
going to pay me. Twenty
two thousand, five hundred and eighty seven pounds - thirty-six thousand
dollars – a year. Three thousand dollars a month. The first installment hit my account a couple
of days ago. And there will be back pay
too, but if they give it to me in one lump the IRS will take too much, so
they’re opening a bank account for me overseas with it.” I paused for dramatic effect. “ A quarter of a
million dollars.”
Which is when the falling off chairs and coffee
exploding from mouths happened. Dawn’s mouth stayed open for a
whole two minutes, and then a smile spread across her face. “We are so going to hit the mall!”
We were in the middle of an argument when the
contingent from
Major wigging time. There were all
those her trying to kill me, my mother and sister held hostage, body swapping,
boyfriend shagging, other boyfriend poisoning, me trying to kill her twice,
issues. Then suddenly I realized that I
didn’t hate her any more. There was that
big confident front, but under it I could see that she wanted to be friends and
was scared stiff I’d reject her. We’d
been friends once. It had been way
better than being enemies.
Anyway, it’s not as if that sort of thing was anything
unusual among my so-called friends. Anya
had screwed my boyfriend too.
I gave her a hug.
Good procedure anyway, she’d been clinically dead for a while during her
coma – which is responsible for two of the seven current Slayers – and so she
could be impersonated by the First. But
that wasn’t why I hugged her. I meant
it. “Nice to have you back, Faith”, I
told her.
She hugged me back, and there were tears on her cheeks
as she said “Then you don’t hate me, B?”
Big reconciliation scene building, spoiled by glare
from Dawn accompanied by mutter of “Does she have to stay here? Because there's some nice hotels that welcome
tried-to-kill-your-sister types”. It was
probably just as well that the doorbell went again at that moment.
After a minute of trying to talk in the crowded living
room I gave up. I suggested we relocate
to the basement. ‘We’
meaning Slayers, Watchers, Scoobies, and Robin. Spike was already down there. I made a point of not mentioning Andrew, but
I knew he’d come down anyway and if I stopped him he’d give me one of those
‘hurt puppy’ looks.
I didn’t specify Roxy by name. I didn’t think I had to. However Kennedy hadn’t been paying attention
when I told everyone about the English group.
She hadn’t realized there would be a test later. She saw a girl younger than herself, in
shorts and a Linkin Park T-shirt, and thought “Potential
Slayer”. So she tried to stop Roxy
coming down to the basement, and told Rona to show her to a free sleeping
berth.
Roxy stared into Kennedy’s eyes, and said “And who are
you?”
“Kennedy.
Potential Slayer, and I’m in charge of the
Potentials here. Which
includes you.”
Rude. I felt like slapping her. I often felt like slapping Kennedy, and
probably would have done if it wasn’t for
Roxy just said “No, I don’t think so,” and continued
to follow us to the basement, so Kennedy grabbed her shoulder and tried to pull
her around. Roxy brought her hand up
over Kennedy’s, made a half turn, and Kennedy flew across the room to land on
her back. I couldn’t help it; I grinned
all the way across my face. As, I
noticed, did all the other Potentials.
Kennedy lay there looking up at Roxy, who said “Well, Kennedy the Potential
Slayer, I’m Roxy the Vampire Slayer and I’m going downstairs with the real
people,” and turned and walked down the stairs.
I wish I’d had a camera handy. Not just for Kennedy lying there like a
stranded turtle.
Manuelita, who really was a Potential, stayed upstairs, and
offered Kennedy a hand up. “Buenos tardes, amigos, I am Manuelita,”
she said, looking around at the other girls.
“Who would like to hear all about Roxy?”
From the enthusiastic reaction, I could tell Kennedy’s position at the
top of the Potentials had just taken a major hit. I felt like giving Roxy a high-five.
“Nice move, Rock,” Faith commented to Roxy as we all
went down the stairs. “Brazilian
ju-jitsu?”
“Right,” Roxy confirmed. “Teresa is just the best teacher.”
“Maybe she can teach me some, if you’re all here long
enough,” Faith suggested.
“Me too,” I added, smiling. I looked directly into Teresa’s eyes for the
first time since they’d arrived and saw something there that shocked me.
Hatred.
There was a lot to tell each other. The First wanted us all to die horribly, and
pooling information and ideas was a good step towards that not happening.
We’d been embarrassingly slow to bring in a
touch-before-believing rule. They’d been
much quicker on the uptake than us.
They’d also hit on a good way to kill Ubervamps
first time they met one. At least it was
by luck, and they had been in a place where spears were close at hand. I hadn’t had the same opportunity in
Sunnydale.
Major news: D’Hoffryn wasn’t
against us. He might not have been
altogether on our side, but he wasn’t working with the First, and he’d assisted
the African shaman in setting up the tests that the other group had undergone. I could see the sense in that; not much work
for Vengeance Demons in a world under the control of the forces of
darkness. The attempts on Anya’s life
had seemed a bit feeble coming from such a powerful figure; now I knew
why. They’d never been meant to succeed, he’d only been chasing her under our wing.
On the negative side, there was the stuff about the
Djinn and the Lord of Smoking Mirrors teamed with the First. Three big bads working together. I knew about the Djinn already, and we’ve
been wary of the ‘W’ word for a long time here in Sunny D, but the other one was
new. Ruler of
vampires. Presumably
supplier of Ubervamps to the First. Not much we could do about him, except kill Ubervamps and try to avoid blood sacrifice. Which we were doing
already.
And the Soul Eaters. The things
that turned mummified Pharaohs, bound for eternal life, into shambling monsters
lurching along the corridors of pyramids.
Not fun for souled vampires either, it seemed.
The totally creepy news that there was another Bot. Buffy-Bot
V2.0, or perhaps April-Bot V3.0, except this one was
called Jenny and seemed to be a big step forward from the ones I’d met. She even went to school, and had a boyfriend
in her own right rather than being built as a girlfriend by a psycho geeky
loser. On our side, so good news, but
still gave me the wiggins.
And there were the Rings.
Of course Andrew came out with a stupid comment. “Cool!
I sort of feel we should have a hobbit.”
“We did have, but you killed him, remember?” I couldn’t help snapping at him. I’d always liked Jonathon. He might have worked with
Andrew gave me the ‘hurt puppy’ look. The very hurt puppy,
and tears came to his eyes. I felt
horribly guilty. He was doing his best
to redeem himself. It wasn’t his fault
that he was basically useless, nor that he saw everything in terms of a
story. I couldn’t hold his killing
Jonathon under the influence of the First against him, not when I had absolved
Spike of all responsibility for the nine people he’d killed – sired – while he
was under the First’s control. Still,
why couldn’t I be a hypocrite occasionally?
Why should Xander have a monopoly?
It was still cruel, and wrong, and we’d dealt with it
the week before anyway. “I’m sorry,
Andrew.”
“I do miss him, I am so sorry,” he sniffed.
I was within arms’ reach of him, so I gave him a
little hug. “I know, Andrew. I know.”
We’d been through this before, we so didn’t need to bring it up again in
front of our guests, I just hadn’t been able to hold
the comment back.
And talking of snide comments, what was with Teresa’s
crack about my name? Not that I’d
understood it until it was explained to me, we don’t have Anne Summers’ sex
shops in the States, but I’d been meant to understand it. Definitely hostile. Why was someone I’d never met before so
against me?
Rings all round.
Well, nearly. None
for
I had been expecting Anya to get one. The prophecy seemed to fit her; but no, seems
like it was someone else. Someone I
hadn’t seen for five years, and in fact the last time I saw her I was ripping
her arm off and hitting her with it. Ampata. Inca Mummy girl. Another friend of mine who’d tried to kill
me.
We could deal with that later. As far as I knew she was still in bits,
stuffed into the ventilation ducts in the museum. She wasn’t exactly going anywhere, she could
wait.
There was a ring for me, of course. To make me stronger, faster
than I was before. We have the
technology. Well, the magic.
A ring for Dawn. To give her control over being the Key. Sometimes I think that if I hear her say
“Cool!” one more time I’ll throttle her.
Major humiliation for both of us that ancient Inca priests, a thousand
years ago, had known about Dawn’s little stealing habit and put it in the
prophecy.
A ring for Spike, that would
allow him to walk in the sunlight. As
soon as it was on his finger he was racing up the stairs. I ran after him, the others following, and
saw Spike leap out the front door and race round the garden, spreading his
duster out like wings, then throw himself down on the grass and look up at the
sun.
Dawn was laughing.
Then she chopped it off short and turned it into a glare.
“Jack held his fingers out first, with me standing by
with a water bottle. Then his hand, then
he stepped out slowly,” Jocasta said from beside me. “Angel more or less the
same.”
“Spike’s – well, different,” I told her.
“I can see that.
I like him,” Jocasta replied, laughing.
“You like a vampire? Are you sure you’re a Watcher?” I teased her.
“I more than like one vampire, I’m going out
with him.” She looked at me and laughed; I suppose I
must have looked pretty stunned. “Not
long ago that would have got me drummed out of the Watchers’ Council, but
things are a little different now.”
“Yeah,” I said slowly.
“I guess they are.”
Most of the Potentials had joined us outside, or
gathered at the windows, to watch Spike running around in the sunshine. As we trooped back in, the Potentials went
back to what they had been doing; sitting in a circle listening to Manuelita. Except
Kennedy, who was nowhere around. She’d
either gone out or gone upstairs.
And also except for Chao-Ahn,
who was plaintively calling out in Chinese, presumably demanding to know what
was going on; pointlessly, as none of us spoke any Chinese except Giles, who
spoke the wrong kind of Chinese.
Teresa turned to her and spoke in what was presumably
the same language. Chao-Ahn’s
eyes lit up, and she poured out a torrent of words. I didn’t understand a word of it, of course,
but Teresa obviously did. She spoke
commandingly, stopping Chao-Ahn’s flow off short, and
asked a question. Chao-Ahn
replied, and Teresa addressed the gathering as a whole in some other language,
which sounded more European. A
coffee-colored Potential, I think her name was Nellie or Nella
or something like that, replied in the same language. Teresa gave her some instructions, and then
the girl started speaking to Chao-Ahn – who replied!
“Looks like our Chao-Ahn
lack of communication problem is solved – but how?” I
asked.
Teresa had moved too far from me to hear, but Spike
was right behind me and he explained as we went back down to the basement. “Seems our Chinese girl speaks Portuguese, pe- Buffy. Must be from
“Don’t say that, Spike,” I told him gently. “You’ve done a lot for us, and we should have
thought of making more use of you in other ways than as muscle. It never occurred to me that you speak other
languages. It should have done, I
remember Giles telling me that you could talk to him when he’d been turned into
a Fyarl demon, and I know you’ve spent time in a lot
of foreign places. How many do you
speak?”
“A lot,” he replied dryly. “Apart from English – real English, not
bloody American – I speak French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, German, Czech,
Yiddish, Romany, Swedish, Greek, Fyarl, Miquot, and Lei-Ach; plus enough Polish, Russian,
Hungarian, Serbo-Croat, and Swahili to order a beer
and ask the way to the Gents. Always regretted not learning any Chinese while I was out there,
but most of the locals were a bit too busy trying to kill the Foreign Devils to
get into much friendly conversation.
Oh, and Latin and Ancient Greek, but I’m not that likely to bump into
any Romans or Spartans or whatever round here.”
“Wow. Like, wow.” I
wigged. Me, I speak English and a little
California Spanish. I came out of French
at Junior High with a vocabulary of ‘le chat’ and – well, I’m sure there was
something else. Spike made me look like
a total moron. Not fair. He’s supposed to be just this punk
bruiser. I knew he spoke some demon
languages, I knew he’d wandered round Europe for a long time, and I knew he’d
spent time in Brazil with Drusilla – but Latin and Ancient Greek? “Spike – I never thought you were so
educated.”
“There’s a lot of things you
never knew about me, Slayer,” he said, sounding hurt, and walked away from me
to the other side of the basement.
What, so I’ve made him feel hurt now, just because I
didn’t know he had an education? His own fault. Acts
like a punk, talks like one – not educated English like Giles – and is hurt
because I take him at face value?
Although I suppose his mentioning that his family had servants before he
was turned should have given me a clue. Stupid vampire.
Stupid, annoying – I should apologize to him. Explain.
I was going to go across and join him, then I
felt unfriendly eyes on me. I looked
around. Xander was glaring at
Spike. He hated it whenever I had a
civil conversation with ‘Bleach Boy’.
Giles was looking at Spike too, but he looked more apologetic, perhaps
even respectful. I scanned further, and
saw where the hostile gaze was coming from.
Teresa.
This was starting to piss me off. What the Hell was up with her? I’d never met her before today. She’d called Spike ‘William’ on the phone,
but he denied knowing her and I really didn’t think he’d lie to me. I resolved to have it out with her soon.
Not yet, there was a bit more of the big group thing
to go. Most of the rings had pictogram
thingies on them showing who they were for, but the nine Watcher’s rings just
had an eye. Probably there were more
than nine people who could wear them, it was just a
case of finding them. Unfortunately the
bomb in the Watchers’ Council building took out most of the obvious choices,
and the Bringers have been busy getting rid of the ones who weren’t there. So Jocasta and James were
having to search for likely prospects.
Only when all the rings were being worn could Sally, the oldest Slayer,
fight on our side without the risk of her turning into a were-creature which
could eat Oz’s wolf form alive and would.
Or anyone else within reach, regardless of which side they were on. Which would be Bad.
So it was trying on the rings time, like glass
slippers. Of course the reward wasn’t a
handsome prince, it was getting a bit of heightened perception (good) and also
a slot at the top of the First’s shit list (bad). Then again, all the gang were
pretty high on that list anyway, so none of them were put off.
Robin seemed an obvious choice, what with him having
been brought up by a Watcher, but we tried the others anyway. Xander, Anya,
The ring did fit Robin, sure enough. Then things went a bit wacky. It started hurting him, and Spike’s started
hurting him!
“Bloody buggering Hell!” Spike swore, ripping off the ring. “What the sodding fuck is going on?” Robin was pulling his off at the same time,
only with less colorful vocal accompaniment.
“Fascinating!” said Giles, taking off his glasses and
polishing the lenses. “The prophecy
called us a Fellowship. I suppose you
can’t have a Fellowship with members hating each other, and the rings react to
that.”
“What, a sort of built-in anti-Boromir
spell?” Spike asked.
“Precisely,” Giles replied.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Dawn interjected. “I hate Spike, and there was no problem with
my ring.”
The look on Spike’s face made me want to die. “Maybe, Nibblet,
but I love you like a sister,” he told her sadly.
“Maybe that’s why there was no ring for me!” Xander
exclaimed. He had been bitterly
disappointed at being left out of the whole ring thing, although I had a hard
time picturing Xander as a Watcher. “Me and Dead Boy Junior hate each other’s guts, so none for
me until he’s dusted.”
“I don’t hate you either, you daft pillock,” Spike
snapped. “I even thought you were my
friend, that summer.” Which
meant the summer I was dead. “I
don’t blame you for hating me, and I still think you were a wanker walking out
on Anya, but I don’t hate you. Just
think you’re an annoying tosser.”
Xander looked abashed.
“Okay. And maybe, as evil dead
things go, you’re not all that bad. No
ring for me just cause I’m not cut out to be a
Watcher.”
“Look on the bright side, whelp. All that research you’re not going to have to
do.” Spike grinned at Xander, and,
amazingly, Xander grinned back.
“Maybe the hate has to be both ways,” I
suggested. “I get the feeling Teresa
hates me, but I don’t even know her, so no ring problems. Just what is it you’ve got against me,
anyway?” I asked, with a sudden flare of annoyance. “What have I ever done to you?”
“Not to me, Buffy.
To William, and others,” Teresa replied.
“I won’t go into it now, and I can hardly criticize you considering the
total fuck-up I’ve made of my own life.
But you should at least have gone to the wedding.”
“Wedding?” I asked, blankly. I felt as if I’d walked into a movie in the
middle. “What wedding?”
“Hank Summers and Linda Teresa Guttierez,” came the reply.
“Your father and the descendant of my mother’s brother. I’m your step-aunt, several generations
removed.” She gave me a smile without
any friendship in it, just malice. “I
know he offered to send the money for you and Dawn to go. So why didn’t you?”
I just stared at her.
I didn’t say anything. Dawn was
staring at her too, and she was struck dumb as well.
Teresa was about to say something else, but James
spoke up to stop her. “Enough,
Teresa. Speak to Buffy in private
later if there’s something you want to say to her. We have a problem with the rings to sort out,
and we need to do it quickly. There’s a
girl trapped in a Hellmouth to rescue.”
“Sorry,” Teresa muttered, hanging her head. James had spoke
little so far, and I hadn’t taken that much notice of him. He’d seemed pleasant enough, but a bit
wet. There must be more to him than I’d
thought, though, seeing the way Teresa obeyed him so readily.
Spike and Robin played around with the rings for a
while. It soon became clear that either
one of them could wear a ring, but not both.
Also that no-one could remove the rings from their fingers other than
the wearer, and the same applied to all the other rings, except that Dawn could
remove anyone’s ring. So no crispy-fried
Spike if someone pulled the ring off when he was in the sunshine, the way I’d
pulled the Gem of Amara from his finger when we were
fighting. Interesting, but not really
getting us anywhere.
“You are going to have to resolve your differences,”
Giles told them firmly.
“Sod off, Watcher – oh, bloody Hell, all right
then.” Spike faced Robin. “Principal Wood, I’m sorry I killed your
mum. And I’m sorry I said she didn’t
love you.” He actually sounded sincere.
“That doesn’t make me feel much better,” Robin
replied. “And I still feel like killing
you. But I’ll admit to being wrong
trying to do it now, when we’re all fighting on the same side, and I’m sorry I
lied to you to get you into a trap and didn’t fight fair.”
“Not as if you could beat me in a straight fight,”
Spike said. “Don’t blame you. And it did work out all right,
made me face up to what the bloody First had done to my head.” He took a deep breath. “Look, about your mum’s coat. I know you want it back, and I sort of feel
you should have it. But I’m more use
wearing it. Reminds me of my greatest
victory, helps me feel like the Big Bad.
I’ll give it to you once we’ve stuffed the First, okay?”
“Keep it,” Robin told him. “It fits you.
I don’t need it to remember her by.”
“Thanks.” Spike
held out his hand to Robin. “She was a
special lady, your mum. Had spirit.”
“You don’t have to tell me that.” Robin took Spike’s hand, and they shook. “Let’s work together to beat the First. Then see if we still feel like killing each
other. Maybe we won’t.”
“I don’t any more.
If you still want to kill me, I’ll hold still for the stake.”
“I think the monster that killed Mom is dead
anyway. Can’t ever see
us being friends, but you saved my life the other night. I won’t be coming after you again.”
“Good enough for me,” said Spike, and put his ring on
again. Robin did the same, and they
tensed in anticipation of the pain. It
didn’t come.
Seeing Ampata again was one
of the strangest experiences of my life, and that’s saying something. It wigged out Willow and Giles too. Xander more than anyone,
and it hurt him. Ampata had been in love with Xander, and had expected to
return to life loving him still – but he’d changed. She was still the sixteen year old girl she’d
been before. Xander was twenty-two,
looked older, and had – you have to say it – put on a lot of weight. It was a shock to Ampata. She almost cried. There was nothing there between them any
more. Which was a relief in a way, as
Anya would have gone nuts.
Or perhaps not. She hadn’t
seemed anything like as wigged at the prospect as I would have expected, in
fact she seemed to be bitching almost out of habit, and had moved away from
Xander to place herself next to Giles from the moment she heard about Ampata’s forthcoming return.
Anya and Giles? Surely not. But there
had been that time when they thought they were engaged during Willow’s memory
loss spell, and they had made a perfect couple.
As had Spike and I that same night, as ‘Randy’ and
‘Joan’, and also when Willow made us plan to get married with that other
spell. So not going to go there – oh,
who am I kidding? It had felt
right. If we’d actually gone and done it
things might have been so much better. But enough of that.
Another wig-out moment was when Ampata
asked who Dawn was. Dawn remembered Ampata staying with us; Ampata
remembered me being an only child. No
sister. The monks’ spell must have missed
out on her, what with her being dead at the time.
But it all sorted itself out. Ampata was a bit
overwhelmed by all the crowd at Revello Drive, and
volunteered to go to Pittsburgh with Jocasta’s lot for the big rescue. Suited me. She could have been useful back-up for me, as
she was very strong – stronger than me, even, although not as fast – but not
vital.
Dawn had to go with them, of course. Only she could open the Pittsburgh Hellmouth and close it behind her. I wasn’t wildly enthusiastic about letting
her go without me, but I couldn’t go unless we took the whole circus. Of course as soon as Spike found out Dawn was
going he declared that he was going too, to protect her, and I was happy to
hear it. Not that I didn’t trust Jocasta
and James, and two Slayers plus a revived Mummy made a pretty formidable force
who would be looking out for Dawn anyway, but Spike would place Dawn’s safety
above anything else.
Which is not the way Dawn saw it.
“He’s not coming!” she announced, determinedly.
“He is going, and that’s that,” I told her, just as
determinedly. More so. Channel that inner Slayer. We were in my bedroom, about the only place I
could get any privacy.
“How can you do this?
He tried to rape you, and you’re trusting him
with your sister. I don’t understand
you.”
We were back to that again. I cursed Xander, not for the first time, for
his interference. Why couldn’t he have
kept his big mouth shut about something that was nothing to do with him? “Dawn, it’s not that simple.”
“Seems simple enough to me. He said he
loved you, but he tried to rape you. He
can’t be trusted.”
“He loves me, and he can be trusted. What he did was wrong, and he knows it, but
he’d never harm you. He’d never harm me
again.” Dawn sniffed pointedly, and I realized
that she’d never understand unless I told her the full story.
“Dawn, do you remember my birthday party, when you
made the wish and we couldn’t leave? Do
you remember the way Spike looked? The cuts, the bruises?”
“Of course I remember.
He’d been fighting demons or something.”
“No. That was
me. He hadn’t even done anything. He was trying to help me, but he made me mad
and I beat him. He didn’t even lift a
hand to protect himself, and I just got madder and madder and hit him harder
and harder. I nearly killed him. I left him in an alley, unable to move, and I
didn’t even think to make sure he wasn’t lying where the sun would kill him
when it rose. That was a week before the
party, and he still hadn’t healed. He
recovered from what Glory did to him faster than that.” I could feel tears running down my
cheeks. Dawn was looking horrified.
“And all the time I was calling him a monster. But it was me that was the monster, not
him. Yet he forgave me. All through last year I was treating him
horribly. That was the worst, but I did
lots of other bad things to him. He
always forgave me. Then just for one
minute he cracked, and he hurt me, and this is supposed to be so bad that I’m
not allowed to forgive him?” I was
openly sobbing by now.
“Dawnie, I don’t know if
I’ll ever be able to make things right again between me and Spike. But I want to try. And one thing that I have to put right is you
and him. He loves you. He promised me he’d take care of you until
the end of the world, and he’s trying to do that. But you won’t let him, and it’s tearing him
apart. Do this for me, Dawnie. Please. Just let him watch over you.”
There were tears on Dawn’s cheeks too. “I never knew,” she breathed. “I – I’m sorry. He can come, of course he can come.”
“Don’t tell him I told you,” I told her, weakly, as I
wiped my eyes.
“All right,” she agreed, and slipped out, leaving me
sitting on the bed repairing my face.
A minute later there was a knock on the bedroom
door. “Who is it?” I called. The door opened slightly.
Teresa put her head around the door. “Can I talk to you?” she asked. She didn’t sound hostile, and I had to talk
to her eventually, so I reluctantly agreed.
“I overheard you,” she confessed.
“I was looking for you, I was just outside the door, and I have very
sharp ears. I’m sorry.”
“What do you want?”
“To apologize – and to explain, if you’ll let me.” She sat down
on the bed beside me. “It’s a long
story. It begins in 1880, in London.”
Which, I knew, was when Spike became a vampire. “Go on,” I
told her. “I’ve got time.”
“We often used to spend time in England. Me, and Gabriella, and
Rosa. We were vampires, but we
were Slayers too, and in England we always acted just as Slayers. Rosa had heard that Jack, her on-off
boyfriend, was there, and we went to London in 1880 looking for him. We didn’t find him, but we heard that three
of the worst vampires in Europe were in London, and started hunting them. Angelus, Darla, and
Drusilla. We were hot on their
trail, and they were going to be dust in a matter of days.”
“You seem very confident you would have won,” I broke
in. “Those three were very formidable.”
“So were we.
Rosa was the finest swordswoman in Europe. I was never half as good as her, and I once
killed sixty men in ten minutes with my sword.
Gabriella is the greatest gunfighter the world has ever seen. I’m good with a gun, good with a sword, and
better with my hands. We would have
killed them. No doubt about it. But we were told not to.”
“Told?” I asked her.
“Who by?”
“Slayer dreams,” she answered. “If we killed them, or prevented them from
siring the victim they were going to take, it would mean the end of the
world. So we just watched. We knew who the victim was going to be, and I
wanted to find out more about him. I
wanted to know what made him so important.
He was going to be at a party at a society hostess’s house. We were wealthy, and beautiful, and it was
easy to get an invitation. So we went
there, and saw a young man named William.
A gentle, kind, loving man. A poet. Not a good poet, and
they mocked him terribly. He ran out in
tears. Straight into
the arms of Drusilla.”
“William? Spike? He told me
he’d always been bad.”
“Bad at poetry, perhaps, but apart from that the worst
you could say about him was that he was a bit
unworldly. Rich enough
to be sheltered from the harsh realities of life. Sensitive enough to be
tortured by the mockery of his so-called friends. One of them said that his poetry was so bad
it was like having a railway spike driven through your ears. So he stumbled out, and stumbled upon
Drusilla. And she took him. Drained him, and turned him. And as she did it I was just across the
street. Watching. Forbidden to save him.”
There was a terrible sadness in her voice. “We could have killed her in seconds. Gabriella had two Bisley
Colt 45s in her bag, and she could hit a swallow on the wing at a hundred yards
with them. She could have blown
Drusilla’s kneecaps off, and Rosa and I could have been on her and staked her
or cut her head off before she could have done anything to resist or flee. But we just watched. Later we heard that the party guests who had
made fun of William had been murdered by having spikes hammered into their heads,
and we knew we had seen the creation of a monster.”
She stopped for a while. I urged her to go on. I was fascinated. Horrified, and sad, but fascinated.
“I knew there had to be more to it than what I had
seen. After I lost track of William, and
Angelus’ little group, I prayed. I
begged the Powers to let me see what happened to him afterwards. And my prayers were answered. I had dreams.
Not often, but enough to follow his career of death and
destruction. I came to believe that the
Slayer dream had been a lie. Until a few years ago, when I saw him join with you to defeat
Angelus and Drusilla, and save the world.”
“That wasn’t the end of the dreams. They came more frequently after that. I saw him captured, saw him implanted with
the computer chip, saw him start working with you. I began to realize that not saving him had
been for the best, although cruel and painful.
In fact I began to feel romantic about him. And then I saw him fall in love with you.”
“I saw him tortured for you, and hold out under
incredible torment for your sake. I saw
him try to save Dawn, and fail. I saw
him reunited with you when you came back from the dead. And I saw you treat him like dirt. Worse than that. And I began to hate you.”
She quoted my own words to me, spoken in that alley
the night when I lost control. “You
don't have a soul! There is nothing good
or clean in you. You are dead
inside! You can't feel anything real! I could never be your girl!” She choked back a sob. “I heard that, and saw what you did to him,
and I resolved that one day I’d come here and do the same to you. And then Linda got engaged to your father.”
“Your mother’s
brother’s descendant, you said,” I broke in.
“How did you keep in touch with your family for two hundred years, with
you being a vampire?”
“It wasn’t hard,” she told me. “I never did anything wrong in Spain or
Portugal. Many of my family know about
my vampire state. In fact for most of
this century all the girls in the direct line of both the Dos Santos and the Guttierez sides of the family have been given the middle
name of Teresa, specifically so that if they died in infancy I could use their
identity later, without my having to adjust to a new name. I’ve watched over them, protected them, rebuilt the family fortune.
I am a family secret, but they don’t regard me as a dark secret.”
“And you were at my father’s wedding?”
“Not the wedding itself. I was still a vampire then. I could go into churches. It was uncomfortable, but I could do it. But it was Spain, in the summer, and there was
too much sun. I was at the evening
reception. I even danced with your
father.”
I was fairly wigged out, but still fascinated. Also I could tell that whatever hatred Teresa
had felt for me was gone. “What was it
like, being a vampire?” I asked her hesitantly.
She looked directly at me, and I could see tears in
her eyes. “I was happy. That’s the most terrible thing about it. I had good friends, and I looked after my
family, and I fought evil, and there was no guilt. It never even occurred to me that I was doing
evil. I regarded the French in the same
way as I regarded hostile demons or vampires.
I regret nothing that I did in the war in Spain, nor in Mexico, or
Vietnam, or Algeria. But I killed perhaps
twenty thousand people outside those wars, for nothing more than being born in
the wrong country. And I saw nothing
wrong with it, until I became human again.
Then all the guilt hit me at once, and I can hardly live with it.”
I put my arms around her and held her, trying to give
her some comfort, and she held on to me.
“I’m sorry for what I did to Spike,” I told her softly. “I’m trying to make it up to him.”
“I know. I
heard what you told Dawn.”
“Don’t hate me,” I entreated her. “I’d like to be your friend.”
“More than a friend. Family,” she
said, with a sniffle and a heart-breaking little smile.
“Okay, family,” I agreed, “- Auntie.”
I limped as I made my way to the phone. I would have used my mobile from the
hospital, but I didn’t have the numbers programmed in and I’d had to return to
the house to find them. The house was
almost empty. Giles was there, the only
one capable of any real defense. At
least I was there now, and I’d brought Vi, Chao-Ahn, and Nella with me. They’d done well, in so far as anyone could
be said to have done well, in the catastrophic defeat we’d suffered.
Andrew was there, terrified, and a few of the newest
Potentials who hadn’t been ready to go into battle. Willow and Anya had deserted them and rushed
to the hospital as soon as we rang and told them about Xander. It was wrong, and stupid, but I couldn’t
blame them. I couldn’t blame anyone but
myself.
I’d led us to disaster. We’d been beaten. Destroyed. Molly was dead, and two other Potentials whose
names I hadn’t even learned yet. Rona
had a broken arm. Faith and I were
beaten black and blue. Robin had lost
teeth. And Xander had lost an eye.
“How bad is it, Buffy?” Giles asked.
I told him the grim tale as I searched for the
Pittsburgh number, then dialed, waited, and eventually spoke to the ex-soldier
called Jon. No luck. Jocasta and party, and Anita and Drake, were
still inside the Hellmouth. No immediate prospect of getting Spike back,
or Ampata, or – preferably – the whole lot of them,
including Teresa and Roxy.
I thought of Angel, then
remembered that he was involved with that crazy cult that had started up in Los
Angeles. Involved to
the point of being totally unreachable.
“What went wrong?” Giles wanted to know.
“You told me I needed to be a general, Giles. Well, let me tell you, as a general I
suck. I’m like that guy in the Civil
War, whatshisname, who Lincoln said could snatch
defeat from the jaws of victory. Or like
General Custer. That crazy preacher,
Caleb, just smashed us. It was like
fighting Glory all over again. I was
ready for humans and Bringers, and I got in over my head and got a lot of
people hurt. Killed.”
“Don’t blame yourself, Buffy,” he said
comfortingly. “You had two Slayers. How could you know you were facing something
strong enough to resist that force? No
demon could take on you and Faith together and hope to win.”
“I should have known,” I said bitterly. “We didn’t get a Slayer dream to warn us,
because we should have known. It’s the
same as Jocasta’s crew met in Uganda.
They met a crazy preacher, the one with that ‘Lord’s Resistance
Army’. Caleb’s the same thing. Not a normal human. Enhanced in some way. Faith stabbed him in the kidney, and it just healed. Straight away, as soon as
she pulled out the knife. Just
like the one in Uganda.” A memory
surfaced. “Giles, is there any chance at
all of us rebuilding the Buffy-Bot?”
“Not a hope, I’m afraid. What few pieces I salvaged I took to
England. There’s nothing at all left
here. Why do you ask?”
“We need the Jenny-Bot.” I
put on Resolve Face. “Jocasta said the
preacher they met ignored bullets. He
swatted Donna like a fly, and she’s the girl who defeated a lion. Then the Jenny-Bot
hit him, just once, and took his head off.
We need her. Right
away.”
I looked up the phone number in Whitby. “It’ll be early in the morning there, but
what the Hell. He’s a vampire. Hey, maybe he could come, too. Let’s see how that psycho serial killer likes
facing the Shadow Warrior, enhanced strength or not.”
The phone was answered, and an anxious male voice
spoke. “Cass? Thank God you’ve called. We need you back here as soon as possible.”
“It’s not Jocasta,” I said, as soon as he gave me a
chance to speak. “It’s Buffy
Summers. Is that Jack Robson?”
“Aye, pet, that it is.
I was really hoping it was Jocasta.
We’ve got trouble.”
My heart sank.
“So have I. Big
trouble. People killed and
seriously injured trouble. In fact I was
hoping you could come to help us.
Jennifer particularly, but hopefully you too and maybe Sally.” Yes, please, Sally, I thought viciously. See if the bastard can deal with having his
head bitten off.
There was a heavy silence. My heart sank even before he spoke. “Sorry, pet.
No chance.” I could feel the
blood draining from my face as he went on to explain. “Sally’s missing. Drugged and kidnapped, we think. There was a grenade attack on Jenny’s uncle and
aunt. He’s dead, she’s in Intensive
Care, and Jenny’s in shock. We’re trying
to find Sally, but we’re groping in the dark.
What’s happened where you are?”
“We ran into a crazy preacher called Caleb. I was stupid.
He must be the same sort of thing as the one you ran into in Uganda, but
I didn’t realize. I thought he was just
a normal human, and led us all into a trap.
He killed three of the Potentials, broke another’s arm, and gouged
Xander’s eye out. He was too strong for
us. Me and
Faith are pretty beaten up, although no permanent damage. We couldn’t hurt him. I think he’ll be coming for us soon.” I was thinking as I talked. The Jenny-Bot in shock because of the attack on her creators? A robot with emotions?
Hard to believe, but then Willow had told me that the
Buffy-Bot’s ‘feelings’ for Spike had kept coming
back, no matter how hard she’d tried to change the programming. And April had seemed to have emotions. She’d been jealous of Katrina, jealous of
me. And she’d been so sad while her
power was running down. I’d sat with her
and comforted her as she ‘died’, and she’d seemed so human that I’d cried for
her. Suddenly an idea struck me.
“Oh, Jack, I wish I could offer some help, but we’re
in too bad shape.”
“Same here, pet.
We’ll have to wait for them to get back out of the Hellmouth.”
We said goodbye, and I put the phone down, then turned to Giles.
“April,” I said.
“What did Warren do with April?”
“I’ve no idea,” Giles confessed. “Perhaps he rebuilt her as the Buffy-Bot?”
“No, I don’t think so.
You never saw April, but she was six inches taller than me. I don’t think the body would have been
reusable. He might have used some of the
circuits or whatever. God, I hope
not. Still, processors are way more
powerful then than now, and I’m not exactly short of money.” I wasn’t going to accept defeat on this. Whatever it took, I would do.
“Are you thinking we might be able to find and
reactivate her?”
“It’s a long shot, but I can’t think of anything
else. If she found out that Willow
killed Warren we’d have a big problem, but we can worry about that later. First we have to find her. I’ll start off at the basement of Warren’s
parent’s house. Hey, maybe Andrew might
know something. Ask him, would you,
Giles? Then he could help Willow fix her
up and reprogram her.”
“A good plan, Buffy.” Giles smiled
at me. “You are a general. I’m so proud of you.” I gave him a weak smile, and he took off his
glasses and cleaned the lenses. “The Fergusons’ ‘learning from experience’ program,
that they used for Jennifer, would help.
I’ll call them if we find April.”
Oh shit. His friends from University.
He hadn’t heard.
“Giles … about Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson …”
FIN
BUFFY THE VAMPIRE
SLAYER ©2002 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All Rights Reserved. The Buffy the
Vampire Slayer trademark is used without express permission from Fox.