It was a way of life, a way of destiny and the cruelest joke of fates - to be a Slayer; to be far removed from humans, yet not be a demon, at the same time, to wonder what one was, and to worry of own future, because mostly...they had none. A Slayer was always alone, even when she was well handled; the solitude was petrifying - one mind could bare only that much. James was of no different - she never knew peace, yet she often imagined it to be beside her, creating own desirable reflection of what life should have been; hiding the pain of not knowing, pretending to never care. She was a Slayer, one of the many, and yet, she always considered herself to be alone. Trouble was, not once she heard of her Destiny, not once in her entire life, in the three years of battles, she discovered who she truly was, and why all those powers inhabited her vessel, when those of other hunters she had met were humans to the very last drop of their blood. Her Destiny was hers and hers alone, the blood dripped from body, the sweat fallen from the forehead - her deeds making the only difference there was to make...but, she was just a girl - petrified of fighting her own kind, of having a destiny of monsters...and of being one herself.
Water poured on her face, her shoulders, her chest; drop after drop, it caressed James's skin, pounded against her cheeks, touched her soul with comfort and pity. She closed her eyes to welcome the sight of peace that hid within - the rare moments when her thoughts were not occupied with battle plans and fear of monsters. Indeed, she yet feared the creatures, even if she was the Slayer...well, a Slayer, as it seemed to those knowing of the deed, yet escaping them was impossible, unreal. Putting slowly her both hands against the wall that stood ahead, the girl lowered her head, making dark wet hair fall upon her face, as her left foot made a slight step to the drainer. Every single second counted as a pause in her life, in the excruciating days, months and years of own sweat and blood; her body shivered at the thought of getting out of the shower, and the time slowed down as if by magic - every drop of water ran so slow, so carefully down James's arms, falling upon her forehead, cheeks and chin from the heavens. She would have prayed for it to never stop, if yet a sense of belief stayed within mind, but with each moment passed, the reality turned to desire, and she imagined herself being just a girl, a human child among all others; unspecial, unwanted, unneeded...
Ideas suddenly collapsed into rubbles, as an unfamiliar feeling was felt in her head - one for which she had no name; as if her brain was panged by a car, an echoing sound rezoning through the ears. James never felt this way, yet experienced the motion - each time it was at new, each day it was as no other. At one moment she wanted to cry, but no tears escaped her watery eyes, and only the desire to stop it all appeared - not her fate or her destiny, not her calling, but the images appearing in her mind; the faces of creatures, the bodies of undead, the torn apart humans and the future of what was to come - her dreams that were, in fact, visions.
Her feet slightly slipped on the floor, but the girl retained position and escaped the fall, yet was as if thrown by an unseen force, which made her elbowing hard against the tiles of the wall, creating a big crack in it, caused by the strength of her nature. The Slayer quickly tried to grip herself unto it, and even if there was nothing to hold on to, she yet allowed her body weight to press on, in fear to fall down. Her tiny fingers cringed slightly as her palms were positioned on the tiles, her legs trembled and her mind exploded - she saw all those images that simply had no place to be in her mind; crosses burning on the sun, darkness coming during daylight, people ripped apart... An unbearable pain, and a confusing message.
A moment later, as the strength of the vision passed, another wave came swinging by, and then another - a third, and then a fourth, bringing each time the same questions without answer, the same confusion, but creating much more damage than the last; with each new wave of prophesies, James's body crumbled more and more into the wall. Out of despair, she tried to hit the tiles in, yet the strength of the Slayer failed her, afflicting more pain to the body, and then, as the fifth wave came, the girl shattered her mind and with a delusional yell, fell out of the bath unto the floor with a loud pang, while her hand held in a tight grip on to the shower curtains, causing them to rip apart under the weight of the fall, crying out in pain and speaking to monsters that were not there.
"LET ME GO! LET ME GO!" She yelled, as if anyone or anything was present; her hands tried to escape from a something that did not touch her, that was not there, and yet she saw it, she felt it, she heard it.
It took James a good ten minutes to realize that reality and vision collided once more into her mind, that once again she fell victim to the powers of the Slayer, and yet, usually, her prophecies were not of such a strength, of such a force...not since she was first called to the job, anyway, and still...those very same images, without one single change, hunted her thoughts for a month already. Gaze quickly scanned the room for a presence, but she was alone, and there was no reason for anyone to even know where she was at all, but for some reason the girl suspected to be followed, to be stalked. As seconds passed, James began feeling her body more and more, the adrenaline rush slowing down in her veins; her arms and legs hurt, and bruises appeared almost everywhere on her skin - her stomach was as if torn by an angry animal, scratching its way through, and as the young Destroyer slowly got up from the floor, her eyes caught the huge black bruises on her back, mirroring in the glass above the sink. Pouting slowly the reddish lips of hers, as eyes expressed worry and confusion, James yet turned back to the mirror with her head pivoted towards her double on the wall, and slowly, without any hurry, stretched her arm in thought of checking the damage by herself, and once fingers touched the skin, a quite real and not at all imaginary pain ran through her nerves, forcing her expression to change into a grumpy look. Whatever it was that gave her the visions, whatever the reason for the images in her mind, and for the warning - now it shifted to affect her true self, her body in real time and place, before the battle ahead, as if she already fought and lost it.
"Tonight we fight for our lives." The girl muttered through her teeth, as a reminder to herself of what she was, and why she was doing it - a phrase often pronounced by the man that taught her everything she had to know - the man that in the future would be called her first Watcher, even if he was never of such in title, nor in knowledge. A few moments passed, and the young girl stepped out of the bathroom with her tower covering her body, while hands twisted her wet hair, in wish for them to quickly dry out. The room of the motel was of no different from where she usually spent her nights, while going from town to town in seek for a case and having, for the most parts, only herself to comfort the soul; a bed stood by the dark wall, a small table was positioned by the window, a sink and a refrigerator stood in a corner - nothing was of luxury when a barely grown up teenager, absent money and connections, kept running in deed to save her life. She was grown now, but life remained the same. It was as if James died inside - was turned to stone with each new kill, and per days, she often wondered if she was any different from the vampires that killed to feed, as she did - to survive. The Slayer kept a confused mind within, her worries only growing from hour to day, and, of course, she understood the mission, the danger that laid ahead, and the motions that were required of her in hope for future generations to live as free humans, and not slaves to demons, or corpses all together, but it was not fair that she was to sacrifice her own future for the sake of others. It's not fair - James thought aloud.
"Life's not fair." A familiar voice spoke out from behind, and the second James turned her slim body to the sound of the voice, she but saw a memory from her past. A black-haired young girl sat on a chair in the middle of a shadowy room, while a dark-skinned man in his thirties gave an impression of preparing a meal by an old stove; they both looked exhausted, and afraid, yet the man echoed a peaceful vibe through the room, one that allowed the teenager to calm slightly her nerves, in thought of never being harmed while he was around. The man was called as Rafe - a kind, supportive father figure to the child, one that always found words to appease the mind, and make decisions. James remembered quite well that day, for the day was the last of their encounter; it was one as no other, but the air screamed of pain and worry.
Giving a quick glance to James, Rafe continued his thought. "If life was fair and easy, what would be the point of it, tell me?" He smiled, even though there was no reason to give away a happy grimace, and still, the man found the idea to smile at the young one, as she watched him move and listened to him speak; swallowing all the words, all the thoughts he could offer. "Isn't life supposed to be..." James paused in her question, rolling her greenish eyes to the side, thinking through the words she wanted to continue with, as if searching for one fitting enough for the conversation. "...joyful?" She finally asked, and caused her friend to laugh a bit.
"Yes." He answered. "But not for those like you and me, Jam. You see, we have skills and knowledge simple minds don't have - we have skills and all of it gives us power, a power that can not be taken lightly." Approaching James, the man put a plate with some vegetables and a chicken wing on the table in front of the girl, then gave a slight kiss to her forehead, before finishing his words. "We find joy in using that skill for a purpose - to help people, to save them. If we don't do that, we shall find our lives empty by the end of the month. Now eat, sleep...we go back on the road in the morning."
"An empty life by the end of the month..." James repeated, remembering why she kept on fighting, why she would never be broken, even if she had to battle to the death.
Her thoughts would have continued, if it wasn't for the sudden interruption by someone's tock against the door of her room; taken by panic of it to be someone desiring her demise, James quickly dropped the towel on the floor, revealing her naked skin, her stomach, her breasts, and hurried to put on her jeans and a dark coloured green t-shirt, which she did in seconds, before, with quick steps, walking towards the wooden entrance, while fingers grabbed a long sharp dagger, which was situated on the little table by the window, and opened the door in a quick motion, yet hiding the weapon from sight.
The growl that escaped her throat at the view of no one was soft, but mind kept pushing motions and made her slightly step outside the room, creating a moon reflection on her skin. The Slayer raised her gaze to the skies to only notice that the night was of werewolves, before returning eyes to the ground and noticing a mysterious object - a white envelop by her feet. Frowning her eyebrows, the Little Loss once again scanned the area yet saw no one around - only an empty parking lot, and flickering lights of the outside, before picking up the object and returning in the room, with door shut behind. It was all the more strange, yet somewhat familiar. James brought her hand to the envelop and slowly opened it up, tearing apart the top, to be able to see what was inside; her tiny fingers delicately grabbing the small paper hid within and pulled it out, to only notice a white square, with black writing on it.
'Red moon shall rise. Worry not.'
Underlined and...and it was all there was to it. Without even realizing of her own deed, Kriet let out of the paper and allowed quick reflexes to take over by rushing her body outside the room. While hair tingled with wind, playing a sound symphony to the music of the darkness, the Slayer widened her both eyes, trying to see the deliverer of the message; of one of the many messages she has been getting as of later, ones that always were found out to be accurate, yet without name to the lips, and answer to the question.
The parking lot seemed empty, and the only shadows upon the ground were those of trees and the few cars parked near by. There was no one. Not one soul seemed to be hiding in the mystery of nature. A slight sigh escaped her pre-opened lips, brushing through her teeth, before hearing a voice beside her.
"The red moon shall rise." James whispered through shattered lips and broken skin. "I shall not worry."
Her tongue twisted a few times in her mouth, wishing to curse Jupiter for allowing such gifts to be spilled - the chains laid as if marble, not even trembling before her, as she appeared helpless in the deed. Her broken bones that were shattered into pieces just moments before began already appearing as one, while her skin yet allowed to witness her open and ripped flesh. Pain seemed unbearable, and yet her mind turned to other thought - the purpose of her presence; indeed, the only standing Slayer who was foolish enough to believe that destiny was hers and hers alone, to only receive a command of the Highest Power of those times - the Regent, and yet, she did not recall to ask for such a treatment. Bound legs and arms, head titled ahead, shoulders burning from the beatings, hair wet of sweat and blood; James was torn apart by those calling themselves 'good', given seat on a chair some place that was not hers, locked as a rat. James was no longer a welcomed friend - she was their enemy and treated as such.
"The red moon shall rise." The girl repeated quietly to herself, yet aloud, as strength was leaving her body with each passing moment. Did she know the meaning of the words? No, of course not, but whoever wrote them twenty four hours ago, knew very well what would happen, and thus, she believed, they would know that she would escape.
Worry not. And she shan't.
We were not built to be cruel - James thought as red of blood left eye witnessed a daggered body laying by her side on the cold granite ground. We were not born to be helpless, - mind pressed on, leaving place but to worry and the sore taste of blood within mouth. Yet somewhat... somehow, destiny forced all to swallow own feelings, the fear one could hold, the desires appearing in self, and push on what was supposed to happen.
"You really think that's what this is about? The master plan? I don't give a rat's ass about the master plan." Suddenly, a voice echoed through the slayer's ears, a tiny whisper that made her body shiver in the reminder of what has happened moments before. But she did not move. Not even head would pivot towards the noises made, to the pronounced words of the one that forced James Kriet to fear own self.
It was not the master plan that matted, but what was? What did?
Kriet allowed a smirk to appear on her reddish lips, blood flowing down her chin, dropping on her breasts and legs, and then she laughed, loud enough for all to hear, if they have desired. "Does it not?" She finally asked, minutes passing, rushing through the time. "What does then?" For a moment, James wanted to know - she truly did, so she turned around and watched the girl stand but two feet from her, before continuing, tired and alone. "What does matter to you? To any of you?" Gesturing with her left hand to the place; the cold and dark bricked hall they appeared to be in, as James herself was but a prisoner.
"Does life matter? Death, perhaps? Do you matter? Do I?" But the girl cut short the phrase, giving voice just as fast as it was silenced.
"I matter!" She said.
"You don't." James broke her words, cut deep into the soul, showing truth where lies were hidden. Standing up, slowly, allowing herself to finally face the girl as equals, she replied, once more. "You don't matter. None of you matter. I do. Buffy does. You don't. But you're too blind to see it - you're too small to understand that the moment you break own desires, you stop being needed. You don't matter one bit."
The last phrase was pronounced well too clearly, with each word shouting through the hall, with each syllable broken into pieces. And that was the last drop to the bucket of bullshit, the final insult the second slayer would have allowed James to pronounce, before raising fist and landing it on Kriet's face - shattering her skin in pieces and freeing blood from within. A smile accompanied the look of amusement that washed over the slayer's face, but a return was not awaited long as her own arm rose in anger and met the girl's jaw, crushing elbow against skull. She needed but a second to swiftly move own body around while brushing floor with shadow and stretching her leg to hit the villain's body off balance and force her to dive on the ground. The smile faded from James' face, yet anger still took place within spirit, stealing away the control of her motions, dropping herself on the girl and smashing face with own fist to the point of own life's essence drooling down the arm, from the cracks of the beating.
She wanted to kill her, to finish the deed by shattering the girl's skull against the hard stoned floor, but the moment hands moved towards it, she heard voices by the doors and, as soon as head rose to gaze upon them, James saw six women running to her, roaring as lions to their cause - a cause of death rather than life. Kriet knew quite well that those women were all slayers as well, granted with powers equaling hers, some - even stronger due to their training in the Organization, thus she had no chance to stand against them in a fight of honour, and if she were to remain upon place - she would die as a mouse within claws of a cat.
Letting free of the girl's head, all the same, smashing it one more time against ground, James stood in a quick motion and allowed feet to run as planed towards the huge dirty windows by the side of the wall - the glass breaking under weight, pieces of poisonous harpies jerking themselves to her skin, as greedy objects the sharp glass would transpierce James's skin as she jumped through the window and landed five floors down - on the ground, continuingly accepting pieces of sharp falling upon her, before fleeing from sight.
Ten minutes later, as door shut behind her and James embraced the darkness of the room, her greenish eyes flickered from window to window, before scanning what she could see, what sight would have allowed her to witness, yet she saw nothing, or to be more precise - no one. She was alone, as it seemed, alone - as she was used to be, and in such a case, relief brushed her mind. James was no fool and she knew that Buffy would have never allowed her walk freely, sending constantly her warriors after her, but this... this seemed something else, a mission completed with hatred and villainous grip - James was to die, yet not only - she was to suffer, kill, fear own shadow and depart from this world as a scared rabbit, rather than the lioness that she is. This was personal.
Another moment passed, followed by a second of despair, and yet Kriet feared for own life as she never had in the past, seeing what the one slayer she met was capable of, James was to swallow own honour and ask for help, yet never pleading. She approached carefully one of the phones that was hidden in the jacket by the bed, snatched it with her broken and bloodied fingers and dialled a number well known from before. Her eyes watched in the distance, targeting the wall ahead, yet seeing far beyond it as ears listened to the loud rings of the phone, the waiting of a voice that would answer, that would be the saviour or the murderer of own self, and when the rings broke silent and voice answered the same - only letting breath to be heard through the object, the Little Loss' eyes drove to the side in confusion.
"Angel?" She asked, her tiny womanly voice breaking the sore within throat, understanding that she had yet not eaten nor drank in twenty four hours or more, realizing that her voice hurt when she spoke. "Angel?" The Slayer repeated, absent the answer from the first time she spoke.