"Get up, Izzy! I'm serious, get up!" The mattress creaked and complained beneath the figure lying there, half asleep.
Isabel fought off her desire to drift back to sleep, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. "Caro? What's going on?"
"We have to get out of here. Someone's found us!" Carrie's voice was dire.
"Who's found us? What are you talking about?"
"These people, they were talking to-"
"Isabel?" came a voice from the doorway. Anne. "There's someone here to talk to you."
Carrie's head jolted around, her eyes scanning behind Anne for the visitors. "What's wrong, Carrie?" she asked.
Carrie's eyes opened wider, as if she was waking up. "Nothing, just waking the sleepyhead," she said, painting on a smile. She kissed Isabel lightly on the cheek, held her head close a few seconds after, and whispered, "Don't tell them anything." Then she got up and walked out the door.
"Where are you going?" Anne asked.
"I just need some fresh air." And she was gone.
Anne shook her head, then turned back to Isabel. "They're waiting in the common area, if you want to talk to them."
Isabel flashed a groggy thumbs up, squinting her eyes.
The common area was quite a cozy place, despite the wear and tear of the furniture. Around the room were scattered shelves of old VHS' and board games. Covering the windows were curtains adorned with purple and yellow flowers, that wouldn't have seemed out of place 50 years prior.
Faith had claimed an armchair, old and brown, that had released a cloud of smoke around her as she'd sat down. Close to her sat Angel, having found a wooden stool he now slouched on, looking down, having forgotten to leave his brood at home. Around the room sat a selection of shelter teens, reading, watching TV, or having quiet conversations.
Anne entered the room. "Isabel will be out in a minute. A bit of an erratic sleeper," she said.
"Wait, A, what if we've got it wrong? What if she's not a slayer, but a vampire ?" Faith fluttered her fingers dramatically at Angel.
He sighed, her smirk impossible to miss, even at the corner of his eye. Anne eyed them with interest. He took note of this, and for a moment, they locked eyes, then quickly broke off.
Anne fidgeted with her hands. "You want some soup while you wait? I think the kitchen crew is done."
"We'd love that!" Faith said, not giving Angel a chance to respond.
"Faith, we're not here for soup."
"Look, man, that stuff smells wicked. If wanting that in my mouth is wrong, I don't wanna be right."
Angel raised his eyebrows at her, then turned to Anne. "None for me."
Anne's eyes betrayed exhaustion, but she seemed less tense than before. "Don't worry about it. There are always leftovers, your lady friend won't make a dent."
"She's not-" He cut himself off, having noticed the sudden suspicious lack of blondes in the room.
"Smooth," Faith said, leaning back in the chair she'd claimed. "And I thought you didn't have a history."
"Don't you start."
Angel tapped his fingers rhythmically against the armrest of Faith's chair, his eyes travelling aimlessly around the room. "You could have gotten your own, you know."
He looked at his hand guiltily, then pulled it towards him, letting it rest on his leg. "Sorry," he mumbled.
"Angel, I'm kidding. You need to lighten up." She shook her head and turned away, a smile creeping on to her lips.
The door creaked open, and a young man with messy brown hair walked in, balancing several bowls of soup on a tray. Nearly stumbling at every step, he made his way through the room, placing bowls on convenient surfaces as he went. He attempted to place one of Faith's armrest, but within seconds it tipped over, only saved from falling by her slayer reflexes. A small bit had landed on her sleeve.
"Awfully sorry," he said.
"Eh, I've had worse, uhm-"
"Vincent," he filled in.
"Jeez, come from a Mafia family or something?"
"No, it's just… my name." He looked at his feet.
"Well, consider it a career option, if soup bringing doesn't work out for you."
Vincent looked at her quizzically, then moved along. Through the now open door stepped a half-asleep Isabel, her brown hair in a lazy bun. Angel rose from his stool and walked over to her. "Hello. I'm Angel."
"You're a what?" Isabel said, picking sleep from her eyes.
"No, I- I mean, that's my name."
"If you're already asking questions, we'll be here all day." Faith had gotten up and walked to Angel's side, startling him as she spoke.
Isabel looked at her, almost as if recognising her from somewhere. "And you are?"
"Faith. Faith Lehane. And I was a slayer before it was cool." She looked off to the side for a moment, then locked eyes with Isabel again. "Oh who am I kidding? It was always cool."
Isabel's eyes opened wide. "You- you're- you're a slayer?"
"Genuine article, baby. Join the club." She threw out her hands, presenting herself.
Isabel stared, dumbfounded. "What do you mean?"
Faith turned a playful smile on. "You mean you haven't been noticing changes? Hair in weird places? Strange, new desires?"
Angel chimed in. "She's kidding."
"Gee, ya' think?" Faith said. "Look, sis, here's the deal. Little while ago there's a big bad evil, like, real apocalypse level stuff. So to make sure everybody doesn't go bye bye, me and some of the people I tolerate got this juiced up lesbian witch to do some big ol' mojo, and bam , every girl with the magic slayer gene or whatever gets superpowers. And I'm thinking you might fit the bill."
"I guess I have been feeling stronger lately… My mom has talked about the slayer thing, but I never believed her." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "How many of us- them are there?"
"I'unno, couple thousand? Number crunching isn't really my deal. Point is, not a coincidence."
"I'm really- I- this is big. My mom knew a slayer once. Always telling me stories. I'm all dizzy." She stumbled to a chair close by, and sat down.
Faith found herself a chair next to her, Angel still standing where they'd just been, shifting his feet. "I'm with you, you know. When my watcher laid this down on me, I was freaked to high heaven. But you're gonna get something I denied myself."
"And what's that?"
"Community."
Isabel leaned forward in her chair. "Look, this is a lot to take in. I'm not sure I'm ready to be a part of something this big."
"I get that. Still, I want you to know that we're here for you." Faith put a hand on Isabel's shoulder. "Being a hot young banger with wicked punches is sweet and all, but you got yourself a lot of enemies the day that spell was cast. And a lot of friends. Isn't that right, A?"
She looked at where Angel had been standing, but found no sign of him. "Hold on a sec, Izzy." She got up from her chair, and stepped out into the hallway. Standing near the entrance was Angel, a black phone to his ear and a nasty expression on his face.
"No, I told you, call it off!" He got quiet for a moment, looking down. "I... understand. Tomorrow." He sighed and hung up, then knocked the back of his head against the wall behind him.
"What was that?"
"About a client. Let's leave it there." He put the phone in his pocket and stepped closer to Faith.
"You missed a great little monologue in there," she said.
"I'm sorry. Work doesn't let me off the hook much."
"I noticed." She shot him a half frown.
To break the silence growing between them, he walked back into the common area, gesturing her to follow him. When they entered, Isabel was nowhere to be found.
From the other side of the room, Vincent noticed their confusion. "She's smoking out back," he cried.
Faith drummed her fingers against her arm a few times. "We should probably leave her alone, right now. She's got a lot on her mind."
"I think you're right. This might not be something we can help her figure out yet."
Faith smiled. "So dramatic."
They looked at each other, then chuckled for a while.
The alley was getting darker by the minute, and in it, four figures stood, talking quietly. The tallest of them - a man in his mid-twenties - finished his cigarette, then stubbed it against the brick wall.
"What's going on?" he said. His large, calloused hands grabbed a black ski mask from his pocket, then pulled it over his face.
"She's alone. Ripe for the picking," answered a younger, female voice. She extinguished the light from the orb floating a few centimeters over her open palm, then put it back in her pocket. "Leon's going to love us."
"Alright, we're moving. Let's get this demon bitch while we have the chance," he said.
She sighed. "Let's do it," she said, already on the move.
The others followed close behind, and were soon all headed for the intersecting alley, that made its way through a large swathe of the neighborhood, and past the backside of the East Hills Teen Center.
