Chapter 10: Puzzle Pieces

After a particularly boring class about mushrooms in Willow's tent (The Do's and Don'ts of tasting the Fuzzy Ones), I stood stretching on one of the blue mats in the training room. Spike stood on the opposite side of the room, smoking a cigarette while he waited for me to warm up. As always, he stared at something on the floor or the wall, as did I . . . usually. Today, I couldn't look away from the vampire.

Though Ericka had mentioned it weeks before, the reality of what he had done only now seemed to sink in. He had killed those girls without a moment's hesitation. He killed them with glee and vigor, the thrill of the hunt embedded with ecstasy. And these were Slayers. Powerful women that fought for the sake of the world and he snuffed out their life, their power . . . for fun. For sport. But what if he hadn't? What if that first Slayer had succeeded in her sacred duty and killed Spike. Would I be standing here now? He certainly wouldn't be and if he wasn't, if he hadn't won that battle, who would have claimed that Slayer? What would have claimed that Slayer? If Spike hadn't made one lucky move back in China, if someone didn't leave out the packet of matches that made that explosion, that caused the Slayer to loose her focus and leaving Spike the upper hand . . . where would I be? Should I be grateful for the murder of that girl, because generations later, some other girl gave me my destiny?

My eyes narrowed as I stared in seething hatred at the vampire idly smoking a cigarette.

No.

He was here. She died. It's not fair. I didn't want this life and neither did any of the other Slayers. Men forced this upon us and now another man, undead as he might be, is making more girls live out a torturous existence.

Finally, Spike threw down the cigarette, obviously uncomfortable under my fiery glare.

"What?" He snapped.

"I just hate the smell of smoke, burning," I said, my lip rising slightly as I spat out the words. "It's disgusting."

"Huh, that's funny coming from the lass who smells like she baths in it," He said with a jerk of his eyebrow.

I literally snarled. Spike smirked at me in disbelief.

"Sounds like someone woke up on the wrong side of the Iron Maiden today."

Something in my chest broke free and words bit my tongue before I could stop them. "Show me your vampire face."

His flow of aloof calm hitched for a second before streaming back. Spike shrugged at me before crossing his arms.

"This is my face, sweetheart. Take it or leave it."

"Don't play games." I hissed. "Not now. Show me your fangs."

He finally stared back at me through narrowed eyes. "You've had the dreams, right?"

"The ones where you murdered innocent girls for the sake of getting your rocks off? The ones where you buried your teeth into her neck and ripped open her skin and drank deep? Or maybe the one where you simply just cracked her neck in half and then literally stole the jacket off her back? I think—"

"Those girls weren't innocent!" Spike said harshly. "They were Slayers. I'm a vampire. It's written in the sodding codex that we fight to the death."

"Oh ok," I said, my voice rising to a new level as I began to pace. "Fine. Forget the not-innocent girls that were doing the right thing, and lets focus on the girls that were innocent. Can we talk about the ones in their white dresses that you painted red with blood? The ones that you called food and played with them for hours until you decided you were bored? Can we talk about them?"

"Slayer memories wouldn't have given you all that—"

"I DON'T NEED MEMORIES OF GIRLS YOU DID MURDER TO KNOW ABOUT ALL OF THEM!" I roared and in two large steps I was directly in front of him, my chest heaving in anger and my hands curled tightly. But the way he stared, his eyes as hard and cool and uncaring as ice, made my anger double, exploding its way into fury. Without much control, I reached up and punched him directly across the face. He stumbled, his head shaking. "SHOW ME YOUR VAMPIRE FACE!" I roared again.

He was still bent over as I screamed at him. "SHOW IT TO ME!"

I took a step, threatening to hit him again and he whipped around, his human face completely and utterly gone. In its place stood the face of a monster that had been plaguing my dreams for years. Its eyes were yellow and demonically glowing. Its forehead was scrunched and twisted, its eyebrows gone and broken. The way the skin bunched up, the eyes seemed to be endless and horrible, the only end at the very pits of Hell. And there, bending down from piercingly white teeth, hung two long fangs, glistening from spit.

A terrible noise was leaving its open mouth and immediately I was frozen with fear, unable to fight back or move. The monster moved and suddenly I was shoved up into a wall.

"This is what I am!" The creature roared in my face. Its breath stank. "I always have and always will be a vampire! What I did back then was bad, righting me a place in Hell. But I am different! Got a bloody soul and don't you even think about telling me that doesn't make any difference! Because, it does. You can be scared all you bloody like but be afraid of what I was. Don't look at me that way now!"

With one more harsh shove, Spike let me go and turned off to the other side of the mat, leaving me shaking and sweating.

All I would see and hear for weeks to come was that face, and that sound. It was like I was living one of my nightmares.

"So," Spike asked. His back was turned to me, though from the lack of a speech impediment, I knew his face was back to normal. "Was that the first time you've ever seen a demon? Well, what a demon really looks like?"

"No," I said absent-mindedly. "It wasn't."

Spike turned, a look of slight curiosity on his face. "Well, in any case, it certainly won't be your last. Buck up. We've got work to do."

Push it off. Fight back. Don't think about it. This doesn't change anything.

"Right," I nodded and stepped back onto the mat.

Buffy ordered—

He can't do it—

He can't hurt me—

Can't touch—

There was the briefest of pauses as we glanced across at each other. He was trying to figure me out. I could feel his sharp eyes peeling away into my face, searching for a glimpse of knowledge, a kernel of truth. But the moment our eyes made contact, the wall was up and the scowl returned.

He began to pace around me.

"Ok, close your eyes."

"No." I said, my voice foreign even in my own mouth. "I . . . I'm not going to close my eyes around you." Keep talking. Keep your mouth moving. There you go. Open and shut.

"It's a training exercise." His voice was monotone. Emotionless. "Fighting in the dark is a large step up from where you are."

He continued to circle me. With a nasty jolt of realization, I knew why Spike always did this. Though very low on his threat radar, I was still a Slayer and he was still a vampire. He still got those tinglies to kill me. I just assumed my murderous feelings were from the weeks of torturous training.

"Shut your eyes."

Suddenly, exhaustion hit me in a blast. Stop fighting. I looked up to find Spike staring at me. His dark eyes were edging me on. My lids fell closed.

"Today," Spike said from a completely different spot from which I left him with my eyes open. He also spoke in a low rumble. "You are going to activate your Slayer sense."

I wanted to listen to him, just so I could hear some sound from him; for as I stood in total darkness, his boots made no noise on the plastic mat.

"Take a few deep breaths."

Air blew into my nose, expanding my chest and making my head rise slightly. It then rolled out through my slightly open mouth and then it circled the process again.

"Right job. In through your nose. Out through your mouth."

By this time my head was very light and every nerve felt like it was pleasantly asleep.

"Now touch me."

That unpleasant request was almost enough to wake me up from my almost-sleep. I think my features crumpled from bliss because Spike quickly continued.

"Without actually touching me. Find me in the darkness."

Could you be more cryptic?

"Reach out and sense the vampire, your mortal enemy, and know how to kill it."

Can't you just be the annoying British pig that I really want to mash into bloody pulps?

"Listen. Listen hard and sense."

Shut up, you weird little—

My eyes flew open. Spike's mouth was moving but very slowly. He took a step, the movement lasting several minutes. I heard the crunch of his boot, the sound like a landslide of boulders. And yet, when I brought my hand in front of my face, it was a normal speed. I glanced over at Spike, whose features slowly changed to those of surprise. Grinning wildly, I leapt forward at normal speed and punched Spike directly in the face.

The second my hand touched his face, I knew something was wrong. As the awareness grew stronger and stronger and I heard sounds fifty feet away, something began to grow in Spike. It was dark and heavy and thick and like a steel cage, it could trap you forever. And yet you could fall right through the black. Inside of Spike was a swirling black mass and it was furious. With a visible shutter, I realized it was the same disgusting over-baring thing that had been following me in the sewers and then that night outside of the apartment complex. But instead of being made completely of it, the heaving bulk was contained. Was that the soul that controlled the churning darkness inside of him? I didn't like to think what would happen if that soul, like a glass bottle, suddenly shattered and he was once again, filled to the very brim with that slimy black.

Moments ticked by as he flew through the air and eventually crashed against a wall. My patience wearing down, the second he hit the floor, I bounded to him and grabbed him by the collar and hurled him over my shoulder. Yes, I picked up a full-grown man and—

"Uhhh."

I collapsed to the ground, the world of power suddenly gone. Spike was rolling to his feet.

"And that's why we don't use our Slayer sense for too long." He said as he walked over to where I lay on all fours. "Makes perky little girls very weak and that is never a good thing in a fight."

A pounding headache began wreaking mayhem on the inside of my skull. I put a hand over my face to block out the unbearable light. "So then how is it helpful at all?"

"Eventually, you should be able to just sort of . . . switch through it." Spike said. "You blink into it to get a feel for all the demons around you and then you blink out and kick some righteous ass."

"But I was strong." I said, hesitantly swinging to my feet. "I felt good, right. I totally took you out."

"Everyone deserves one lucky shot." Spike said pointedly. "But you felt whole, right? Complete?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah."

His blue eyes swept my face and an eyebrow plucked up in a smirk. "Might be a Slayer in you after all."

"Thanks for the approval." I scowled.

His expression quickly hardened at my sarcasm. "Now get off. Lessons over today."

"Really?" I said. "It was taking on that never-ending, oh-my-God-I'm-in-the-damn-Twilight-Zone, sort of feeling."

He scowled and I scowled back and that was our goodbye.

The next morning Willow had us out on a large patch of warm grass. Which was odd because a heavy snow had fallen the previous night. It was still taking me a while to assume magic was the answer before guessing I was just insane.

Inside of this large circle of no snow, it felt like a breezy summer afternoon. The sun seemingly swept down in waves and the grass was gentle and warm. Mostly everyone had ditched their heavy outer coats and found a patch to sunbath in. With my head resting on my hands, I began to daydream about real summers spent out in open wheat fields, with good friends and family. The imaginary smell of warm bread had nearly put me to sleep when Willow's soft voice broke through the dreamy fog.

"I know this is kind of a weird time to be starting this lesson but the winter was turning me into a humbug and this exercise seemed like the perfect recipe to whip up some much-needed summer smiles." She grinned her freckled smile and some people couldn't help but giggle back, the expression was so infection.

"So everybody, find a spot on the grass that makes ya' happy and criss-cross-apple-sauce."

I rolled onto my stomach to a slightly different area, the feeling of warm grass beneath my fingers making tingles run down my spin. Was summer really like this? Warmth didn't register in my head as being something pleasant and enjoyable. It usually led to a variety of bad things but as I lay under streaming sunlight, I wondered what ever made me think that.

Unwillingly, I pulled myself into a crossed position, as the other girls had. Willow's voice was like gentle honey.

"Close your eyes and let your mind drift."

With a lot less passion to argue, my eyelids fell shut and I was calm.

"Meditation is a big part of a Slayer's life. She can use it to calm herself when the pressures of the world reach a boiling point. She can also use it to enter a state to bring lost energy back into her aura, a sort of healing process. She can also use it to activate visions of past Slayers, to figure out a certain problem or how to solve something that seems unsolvable. Meditation is very powerful if you know how to use it."

Meditation. Right. All I wanted to do now was sleep. And Willow probably wouldn't notice if I dozed off . . .

"And try not to fall asleep. A sleeping aura is very different from a in-trance aura so I'll know."

Damn it.

"Ok, so, let your mind just fall away, but concentrate on your breathing. Focus on the feeling of air leaving and entering your chest. Pictures or images might start appearing in your mind. Let them. They are there for a reason."

Inside, I scowled. All that I saw were the posters of the old rock bands and independent slogans stuck on the inside of that glass-covered bus stop. Why were they in my head now? Then the shadows outside moved and that familiar panic bloomed in my chest, immediately freezing like ice. Consciously, I shied away from the shadows, knowing the pain and blood that would follow. Willow's voice echoed in my head and Mind-Me shook its head. These things were always shaking around in my head. They just haunted me. They had no purpose. My scowl deepened.

Somewhere, far off, someone gasped. My eyes fluttered open and saw that everyone was looking at me. Or behind me. I turned and there in the circle of us all, that brunette, Jess, floated. She sat in midair, her legs crossed, like the rest of us but behind closed eyelids, her face was burning with concentration. Her breath came out irregularly and but it was obvious whatever she was fighting, she would win.

"That, ladies, is how you enter a trance." Willow said but none of us looked at her. "She's using this energy for something very important. Someone really should ask her about it."

After a short gasp of breath, Jess slowly lowered to the ground and within a brief pause, she opened her eyes. She blinked once before looking directly at me with the most intense gaze of curiosity I have ever been given.

"Well!" Willow said excitedly, breaking Jess's contact with me. "What did you see?"

"Oh, no," she replied. "I used the trance to ease off some stress. The whole babbling brook and autumn smell was a little bit overwhelming. It was like I was actually there."

"Yeah," Willow grinned. "Magic makes you feel the loopey. So, I want everyone to get a little trancey, maybe some floaties."

With a small scowl, I turned right again and sat cross-legged again. I took a few deep breaths and knew I had activated my Slayer sense. A small jerk of my head and that was gone. Not the right thing. I tried again and those stupid 80's bands appeared again. Damn it!

They don't mean anything! And neither does that night! Moments from weeks ago appeared in my head, most of them ending in a ghost of pain on my shoulder or thigh.

And then Ericka's face appeared and though I was whirling through memories seemingly endlessly, my stomach cringed at her face. Some Slayer memories flickered there too and my mother's death was there, sick and twisted.

And Spike. Spike as he drank the blood of the Chinese Slayer and snapped the black Slayer's beautiful neck. And then everything became on blur, loud and inescapable.

Then there was white. Everywhere and in me. I was made of white, light and spotless. There was nothing around me, so perhaps I was floating. Maybe I was white.

The white in front of me shimmered and there appeared the first Slayer. I recognized her now, like a deeply familiar friend you had lost contact with over the years. Her skin dark and her hair knotted and ragged, she was beautiful, the very essence of power. She walked in a crouch, animalistic and hungry. She was as close to being a demon as you could get, while still in human form. Though made of perfect and complete white, I felt a jab of sadness, knowing this life was ruined forever. The woman surveyed me with unreadable eyes and spoke.

"Your instincts are right." She said in a voice that was like audible gossamer. "Do not believe in trust. He will kill you screaming. Avoid the crooked arrow shaft, for that will lead to destruction. He will pry you apart looking for secrets. Know that is his only intention. Heed this warning or else you will be turned to ash. The world will loose two warriors. Leave well enough alone."

"We have been watching you and your progress as a Slayer. You have great power and an unquestionable destiny. Make the right decision or We will have to make it for you. We are the Powers That Be and know all. Do not question us and only abide by our warnings. This is all you will get before all becomes connected."

And I was dropped. The white left me and I fell through miles of nothing but air. With a jolt, I felt grass beneath me and hot, hot sunlight blistered my face. I opened my eyes to find everyone staring at me, including Willow. Her face frightened me, the first emotion I felt since being back.

"You're not ok." She stated. "We were connected. What did you see?"

"If we were connected, check your TiVo for the playback." I muttered and stood. Everyone seemed to lean away but I just scowled, grabbed my parka and left for the institute through the snow.

The low hum of drying machines was pleasant. The large dark room was filled with the low hums and growls and swishes of clothes washing or drying. I sat on one such machine, my head thrown back in an effort to keep my throat from drying out.

In one of my late night wanderings around the building, I found this place. When I first came across it, the noises were so alien, I wondered if something kinky was going on behind the door, but when I walked in, only square, metal machines made the bumping and rumbling noises.

For some time now, the "laundry mat" of the Slayer institute had been sitting in the back of my mind, occasionally flashing to the top as my supply of semi-clean clothes dwindled lower and lower. But with the training failure, on and off the mats, self-disgust and disappointed clouded most of my free time. However, today, with the abrupt walk-out on Willow, arriving at the training door two hours early seemed a little strange, as if I was eager from some bruising.

A large empty cotton bag sat next to one of the machines and as I threw piles of dirty clothes into the circular hole, I saw a white shirt with a dark smudge, and for the life of me, whether it was blood or pizza stains, I couldn't tell.

The metal was warm beneath my thighs, and with the gentle shaking, there was a probable chance that I would fall asleep right then and there. If this thing in my throat didn't choke me first.

What exactly I was so upset about, I didn't really know. There were so many things rushing around in my head, it was hard to believe only one made my stomach sick. After years of confusion and anger, that night finally made sense. A vampire, the thing I held a sacred duty to kill, murdered her. Irony of it all, I trained to fulfill that duty with another one of those monsters. This one might be British and gives a bad name to all those classified as "full blooded assholes", but he still had that face. The face that was horrible and terrifying, and most importantly deadly. Spike could break me in two with just his hands, but what if something went wrong, anything went wrong, and that face came back. What if those fangs came close? Close enough to bite into me? Would death be instantaneous? Or would it be painful if death didn't come immediately? Tremaine probably knew what death by vampire would be like, or any book on the subject. But there was only one person I really wanted to talk about this . . . or anything . . . to be told everything was going to be okay.

Something was crawling into my throat again. I threw back my head and hoped that the heat from the dryer would burn it away.

" Do you know how to work this?"

I leapt off the dryer, jumping from surprise. It was the brunette, Jess, fiddling with the knobs to the washing machine. A frown creased her tanned brow as she kept switching the timer, her dark curls bobbing in her face. She looked over at me, confusion written in her soft green eyes. They were wide and searching, innocent and caring like a child. She never suspected anything bad.

"I mean, I know how to work one of these," she said, still frowning. "It's just I've tried everything, and I don't know what to do."

I stared at her and then at the stationary machine, but didn't make any move to help her. Her confusion slowly changed to one of expectant waiting. I felt a scowl coming but the real hate and disgust needed to make a scowl that would make anyone cringe, the feeling just wasn't there. But, I did manage an unhappy glower as I stepped around my own dryer, went up to her machine and gave it a swift kick.

Immediately the trickle of water was heard through the metal lid and shortly afterwards, the machine started to shake as the water mixed with the soap.

"There." I said as I shrugged and went back to my load.

"Wow, everything here really does run on violence." Jess said surprised.

"No," I shook my head as I climbed back onto the dryer, resting my head in my hands. "I'm fairly sure the bathroom on the third floor works on Floo powder."

Jess laughed and smiled over at me. I raised an eyebrow. She didn't seem to notice.

"I'm Jess, by the way," she said and extended a hand.

Something lifted my hand into hers and gave it a firm shake. "Yeah, I know. We have morning classes together. You seemed to be quite the little witch."

Jess frowned. "Really? I've never really seen—"

"Seen me?" I asked without any inflection. "That's ok. I don't do tricks so it's not particularly surprising."

"No wait!" Jess said suddenly flipping around and putting a hand on her hip. "You're the girl that ditched earlier today, Reid, right? Wow! What did you see?"

She hopped up onto the washer, eager written all over her face. I gave her another glower. What was she expecting? Were we going to start talking about boys and share hairstyling tips? My features grew darker and darker. Jess suddenly shook herself.

"Oh, wow!" She said. "I'm really sorry. Whatever you saw was probably something really intense and it was totally rude of me just to butt in. Sorry." She muttered and hopped off and began to awkwardly drum her fingers on the metal. I could see blush creeping on her face from behind her dark curls.

"I think it was a vision." I heard myself talking though I didn't give my mouth full permission to open. "Or, that's what I'm guessing. I think it was the First Slayer, but she mentioned something about Powers That Be, whatever they are."

Jess frowned as she turned around. "The Powers That Be? Are you sure?"

"It was my 'final warning', some of that nonsense." I said flippantly, but an uncomfortable gurgle rose up in my chest.

From the look Jess gave me, it was clearly not "nonsense". Her small mouth tightened as she frowned. I wiggled uncomfortably. Why did I get the feeling she could see right through me?

"Hmm, well, I won't press the point," Jess shrugged. "Maybe it is nothing, but you might wanna talk to Willow, just to be sure."

I stared at her. She wasn't going to make me do anything or give me any hateful glares until I did.

"Yeah, maybe," I said. "It's probably just sleep deprivation kicking my ass."

"Oh, man, I know!" Jess sighed and sat back down on the dryer. "Those weirdo dreams, and then actually learning how to decapitate something . . . its all so . . . icky."

A flash of Spike ripping open that girl's neck, and then the vampire killing my mother flickered in my head.

"Icky," I muttered. "Right."

Jess was staring at me again in that same unnerving way.

"So," I said, desperate to change the subject. "You killed anything?"

Jess's confused face quickly eased out and her joyous giggle was heard above the rumbling dryers. "Um, a vampire here and there. But as far as the big nasties, I've never—"

She made a gurgling, crunching sound and moved her hand across her neck in a slicing movement.

"Never drove something sharp into something fleshy?" I asked.

"Yeah, that's it." Jess said and nodded. "What about you?"

"Actually, I've never been on a 'demon-round'," I said, making air quotes. "I'm still watching 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' over and over again until I get bad dubbing down."

Jess giggled again but then frowned. "Huh, I haven't seen you around the training room."

"Yeah, I came here kind of later on, and Buffy felt like I was too far behind the rest of you to just start right on in the group ass-kicking." That was partly the truth. Right?

"You met Buffy?" Jess asked incredulously. "Buffy Summers?"

I nodded and shrugged. "I know she's all Super Power Xena, but honestly, from all the hype about her, I expected her to be taller."

"Is she really blonde?"

I gave the brunette a smirk. "Yeah. We should probably hold that against her."

Jess nodded vigorously. "A blonde Super-Powered Xena. The fate of the world is running a very fine line."

"Yeah," I grinned. "Humanity and hair care products are totally on the same scale. I mean, if Target suddenly ran out of Aveda, would the world survive?"

"Just as long as Walmart has a full shelf of Bubbleyum lip-gloss, I think we're okay."

At that Jess and I buckled over in laughter.

Wow, that felt really good. Something heavy detached itself from my chest and hovered as I laughed harder and harder. Soon tears slipped down my cheeks and for some reason, that made Jess laugh even harder.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

The screeching noise from the dryer curbed our laughs and I hoped off. Her washer stopped and she began fishing around for her own clothes. The warm jeans felt good under my skin as I loaded up my arms full of clothes.

"So, see you soon?" Jess asked as I neared the door. Something flickered in my head.

"I don't gay." I blurted out as I turned to face her. "I'm not—"

"Oh, whoa, yeah," Jess said quickly. "Me neither. It's just . . . you seemed like you needed a good laugh and I needed one too and so maybe, later on, we could laugh again?"

I stared at the pile of clothes, fresh and warm from the dryer. "Um, maybe. Ericka, this girl— she doesn't really like me and so . . . why— look, never mind. Bye."

Jess frowned again as I left, the heavy thing latching onto my chest again.

*A/N Whahoo! Look at me putting up new chapters and s***. Go meeee!