Love's Serendipitous Path: Chapter Four
Sunnydale Side Up – St. Louis Side Down
The Potholes of Life
~~1~~
The following day
It was the phone that woke me up. I opened my blurry eyes and glanced at the clock and saw that it was ten am and groaned. Last night had been a late evening as well as an emotional draining one. Vachon and I had a great time at first. We started out at Talayna's for a good ole St. Louis Italian meal for me. I had already decided that I would postpone my bi-monthly blood draining until the next day, so I could eat all the garlic I wanted.
Which I did.
I must confess, I missed the Hill, a neighborhood in St. Louis, where decades before a huge influx of Italian immigrants had settled and opened their restaurants. Their influence on St. Louis' cuisine is felt everywhere, from St. Louis Style pizza with provel cheese to toasted ravioli Nobody makes good white sauce rich with parmesan cheese and garlic, butter, cream and all those other fattening goodies that I lusted after when I was still mortal, like those immigrants and their decedents.
So obviously, the opportunity to pig was just too much.
And it helped that I hadn't had a decent meal since I left Sunnydale.
So, while I chowed down on pasta con pesci, a Caesar salad, cheese garlic bread and spumoni, Vachon nursed a glass of red wine, sitting as far away from me across the table as possible without it looking obvious. We talked, laughed—and plain joked around until I was finished eating.
Once stuffed to the gills, I hurried to the bathroom with my purse in tow and proceeded to brush my teeth and use mouthwash. I even did it twice and popped a couple of breath mints afterwards, so I wouldn't clear out Wolf's Bane, much less Vachon.
Then we went to Wolf's Bane.
I shouldn't really blame Nick and Natalie. It's not their fault that their present case is getting all the media attention that it was or that the pressure to find the perp who was raping and murdering women was escalating daily.
And they couldn't know about me.
Because I rarely talked about it. It's not like Immortals can go to a psychologist or shrink and say, 'Hey Doc, you see I have this problem with trusting men because, it's like this: one raped and stabbed me multiple times and I died. But, physically, I'm all better now.'
Since Sean Burns death, Immortals have no where to go but to each other. And I never could talk about this with Adam. Even before I found out he was one of the Horsemen, I just didn't feel comfortable with it. And afterwards, I didn't want to add to the guilt he was already carrying. Which, incidentally was why I was going back to school to become a psychologist. There was a great huge hole left after Sean's death and maybe, if I was lucky, I could help fill it.
Anyways, I stayed silent and tried to work it out on my own. And, considering I fell in love with Adam and had a physical relationship with him as well as with Spike, I thought it was a dead issue.
That is, until we were talking to Nick and Natalie.
I even prostrated myself at LaCroix's feet, groveling for my old job back. I knew he would say yes, but I also knew he wanted me to beg. So I did. I have no pride in that area of my life, besides if makes a 2000-year-old vampire happy to see a 33-year old Immortal woman beg, then who am I to deny him?
No big thing.
After leaving LaCroix's office, I went searching for Vachon and found him sitting in a back booth with Nick and Natalie. After procuring a large glass of OJ for myself, I went and joined them. Imagine my surprise to hear them talking about a serial murderer running loose in the streets of St. Louis.
It was especially eerie when I heard his m.o.
All the woman that had died—five so far, fit my description.
Late twenties, early thirties, long, blond hair, dark gray eyes and light complexion.
They all were single and lived by themselves. No physical signs of forced entry into their homes. Each one was stabbed multiple times with a hunting knife and each one, like me, was raped.
And as I sat there, feeling my the sweat break out on my forehead, and my hands beginning to shake, I couldn't help but think that Spike was right—those blasted gods that watch over Immortal beings had me on their shit list.
I so did not want to deal with this now.
And the worst thing about it, was I thought he had been caught. After me, the murders stopped. I chuckled to myself. *And here I thought my tip saved lives...*
No, this was not a pleasant memory.
I didn't say anything until Nick mentioned the murders from three years ago. And then suddenly I couldn't stop myself. He was looking over at Vachon and I and telling us that the present m.o. matched two murders nearly three years before.
That's when I broke my silence. "Three," I whispered.
"What? That's what I said. Three years ago." The blond detective asked me, leaning over the table.
"Three murders. Three people. Three women," I said, playing with a cardboard coaster sporting the Busch beer logo. "I thought my tip got him caught—because it stopped at me."
Vachon grabbed my hand, stopping my nervous fiddling. "Mike, what are you talking about?"
Suddenly it hit me—they didn't know.
"That was my First Death. It was two and half years ago. He was dressed as an UPS guy. He had a box with my name on it and everything. When I signing that clipboard thing, he kicked the door open, causing me to fall back on to my bookcase. I managed to get up and was reaching for my lamp to hit him with it, when he knocked me out.
"I woke up on my bed, naked with him sucking--," I stopped, shuddering at the memory. All of a sudden, it all flashed back in my mind. Me, opening the door, thinking it was Adam only to discover it was an UPS guy with a package for me. I remember glancing at the clock and thinking to myself that it was really late for a delivery—well past six PM. But I let it go and began signing the board and suddenly I pushed back—my head hit the bookcase. I turned, scared to death and pissed off that I was never going to meet Adam, and I reached for a lamp, but he had knocked me out before I could lift it.
When I woke up, I was naked on the bed. And so was he. I remember shivering despite the heat. My mind was so foggy from the hit on my head, but he was so pale and cold. God, he was so cold. It felt like an icicle slicing into me as slid his penis in and out of me.
And then I saw the knife.
And before I could scream, he stabbed me in my chest. And then again. And again. And then I died.
I shook my head, realizing I had finally done that Immortal thing of reliving the past and looked up to see the three vampires watching me intently. I took a deep breath and sighed. They weren't going to like this, but I had to ask. I looked over at Natalie. "Any missing blood?"
"Why?" Nick asked. "Do you think it was one of us?"
I shook my head. "I don't think so—it was early evening—about 6:30, maybe 7:00 PM. But, my apartment was dark, because I didn't want any peeping toms to get their jolly's. And Spike used travel and stay awake during the day—so maybe that doesn't matter. I don't know. " I bit my lip, staring at Vachon. "Maybe it's a demon-vamp. That would explain the lack of bite marks, the cold body, the dead eyes."
I turned back to Nick. "Demon-vamps don't have some of the restrictions you do. Spike used to travel in a car during the day with his windows spray painted black. And I know demon-vamps get off on murder and death—they don't need the blood like you guys do. They don't have a bloodlust like you guys do—they have an evil-lust—for lack of a better word. In that need for evil, blood is included for both sustenance and because it's fun—but, unless they're out hunting to feed, they don't need blood like you guys do."
"We couldn't account for at least a pint of blood at each murder," Natalie pursed her lips in thought. "But these women were raped. That isn't possible with us."
Vachon shook his head. "With us. Not with them. They have more control. They can drink from a human without killing them. They can have sex with humans without draining them."
Nick groaned to himself. "This puts a whole new light on it. If it is one of them, he's not breaking the Code so we can't call the Enforcers. And I would rather keep the Slayer where she's at."
"So would I," I added softly, not quite ready to deal with Buffy or Spike yet. "How 'bout I help? If anything, it'll mess with his mind—if he saw me alive. He's the only 'normal' out there that knows that I died."
Nick sipped his bloodwine and glanced up at Natalie. Mike could see something pass between them and then Nick nodded as he turned his eyes back to me. "We'll get back to you about that. One thing, where did you live then?"
"Dogtown. Right on the cusp of Maplewood. It's was the city's jurisdiction though."
"Fits the profile," muttered Natalie as she stood up.
Nick followed, leaving Vachon and I alone.
It was then he asked me about my First Death.
So, I told him over a pack of Marlboro's for me and a bottle of LaCroix's house special for him.
Like I said, it was an emotionally draining evening. Too many bad memories and past loves remembered.
Shaking my head, I grabbed the receiver and groaned a hello.
"Mike? It's Joe."
I yawned again as I sat up in bed and reached for a cigarette. "Hi Joe. What's up?" I lit it, making a face at the taste. *Oh great, a cigarette hangover,* I mentally groaned.
He chuckled. "Did I wake you? I thought it was late enough..."
"Don't worry about it. I'm still on a vampire schedule."
"Are you alright? I just feel bad, with your father not here anymore and the Old Man gone. Someone has to worry about you."
I shut my eyes against the pain. "I'm hanging in there. I wish things could've been different, but," I shrugged, leaving the sentence unfinished.
He sighed. "I wish you hadn't left Sunnydale. It's safer there."
"I didn't have a choice, Joe. She deserves happiness. And he was the one that could do that for her. Consider it my gift to the Fight Against Evil."
"As long as it doesn't cost you your head," he muttered and instantly my radar went up. Something was up. This wasn't an Uncle-Joe-checking-up-on-his-surrogate-niece phone call. No, this was more of a subtle, but obvious watch-your-ass-Mike phone call.
"What up, Joe?"
I heard him swallow and take a deep breath. "I'm reinstating you as a part-time researcher. You need to check your bulletins. And your mail."
My heart began pounding. Someone was after me. "Has there been any reports of vampire attacks on Immortals here?" I asked, remembering the Immortal that Vachon drained a few nights before.
"Yes," he answered carefully. "But apparently the Immortal had never had a run-in with a vampire and his encounter spooked him. The last I heard, he was in Houston."
*Oh great,* I thought. *A different head-hunter.*
"Well, darling, I got to go. Mac's coming over to the bar and helping me paint."
"Paint? But Joe, you just repainted Le Blues Bar six months ago."
Joe laughed. "I forgot to tell you? Man, I'm sorry. Hon, we're back in Seacouver. We have been for a week."
"That means I can visit you without having to update my passport. I'm glad. It's kinda lonely in the States without you and Mac."
"Thanks darlin'. You take care, okay?"
"Yeah, I will. And thanks. I'll drop you a line and fill you in."
"Sounds good. Bye Mike."
"Bye Joe," I said and slowly hung the phone up. "Great," I said outloud in the empty bedroom. "When it rains, it pours."
I pulled myself out of bed and headed for the kitchen to make some coffee and start my day.
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