Author: Lucinda
twelfth in the "Bright Star" series
main characters are Faith and Adam Peirson
Rated t for teen, violence, sexuality and strong language
Disclaimer: anyone you recognize does not belong to me, though I may not be able to give all the legal who's that do own them.
Distribution: by permission.
Notes: post s7 for BtVS.
bs12..bs12..bs12..bs12..
"Faith, I think we need to ask one of the Slayer Watchers. All the books are good to have, but... where do we even begin looking for something to cause fluctuations in a Slayer's strength?" he watched Faith as he spoke, her still damp hair clinging to the side of her neck as she leafed through one of the many volumes of demons.
She twitched, and then her shoulders slumped, "I guess you're right."
"Should we send an email, or would a phone call be a better means of contacting someone who would be willing to talk to us? Perhaps that Mr. Giles who sent the books?"
"What I want is for the whole thing to go away and things to go back to normal," Faith growled.
"Ignoring problems doesn't solve them." He opened another book, skimming descriptions of magical talismans. So far, not only did none of them sound like they could affect a Slayer's abilities, none of them were anything like anything that they'd encountered.
Faith sighed, and mumbled, "Pass the phone and I'll try to ring Giles."
In the end, she left a message on an answering machine - complete with swearing about talking to a machine - and told him to call her on her cell, because it was important, and she knew damn well that he wouldn't use the computer for anything short of an apocalypse within twenty four hours.
He could understand her frustration. He'd never liked leaving messages, not with people, not written down to be read later, and certainly not by talking to a machine. Just the way that she'd phrased things told him how worried she was, and he could understand that worry. Neither of them knew what was going on, if it would continue, if it would get worse.
Then an awful idea occurred to him. He had no idea how long someone could be a Slayer, only some hints as to how dangerous it was to be one. What arcane forces changed someone from a young woman to a Slayer, a warrior with abilities to make heroes and immortals weep with envy? What demands did that place on her body, on her spirit? Was this some strange descent towards death, as her body burned itself out? "Faith, how long have you been a Slayer?"
"About four and a half years. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before," tension had tightened around her eyes, narrowing those luscious lips.
Frowning, he considered his time with the Immortal Watchers. There had been very little about people getting caught up in Quickenings, or Quickenings when there were no immortals present. The most accepted theory was that a Quickening without an Immortal present just... dissipated, letting all the knowledge and skills of that immortal become lost. Wasted.
Offhand, he didn't recall hearing anything about people who weren't immortals being caught in a Quickening the way Faith had... Though it was possible that he could have overlooked some tiny detail. "Damn, I should have paid more attention to obscure things that shouldn't ever come up... especially once I met MacCleod. He attracts the bizarre."
"Remind me not to let him get near Xander... strange demons that haven't been seen for centuries will show up, wanting to date and kill them," Faith snarked.
"I think I need to make my own call," he sighed.
She passed the phone back to him and went back to flipping through books of demons, muttering a low commentary about the demons that she'd encountered.
"Joe's Blues Bar." The voice was calm and familiar, with music and the blurred hum of people talking and drinking in the background.
He smiled, relieved to get the man himself. "Dawson, this is Adam. I have a bit of a question for you and your old books. Can you find anything about shared Quickenings, Quickenings to non-immortals, or immortals with sharpened teeth and strange eyes?"
"You'll have to explain why," there was a bit of curiosity tinged with suspicion. "I can tell you right now that there won't be that much."
"Best to have that conversation in person and in private," he replied.
"Be here tomorrow at two and we'll talk."
He found himself glaring at the handset in mingled annoyance and surprise. "The old bastard hung up on me."
"Who're you calling old?" Faith leaned closer, "And isn't that a bit hypocritical when you know how to tell someone to fuck off in Sumerian?"
"Joe Dawson, and no. Being immortal meant that I'm never going to be old," he countered.
"So's being a Slayer, but that's nothing to smile about," Faith sighed.
He couldn't argue that. Instead, he tried some of those meditation and memory recall exercises, hoping that there was some tiny bit of information that he'd forgotten he'd seen. Some fragment of conversation.
Closing his eyes, he tried to let his awareness drift, to let the minor details that held his attention fade. To let go of the feeling of the carpet beneath him, of the scent of the old books and Faith's body-wash. To let go of the feeling of cotton against his skin, or the knife he had strapped to his shin. Breathe in... breathe out...
Let go of the bass and drums from the apartment below. Let go of horns blaring at the stoplight. Let go of his worry about Faith. Let go of his secrets about his past, the effort of playing Adam Peirson. To just... be.
He drifted into a state of altered awareness. It wasn't the focused remembrances that he'd been aiming at, though sometimes he could reach that state after drifting though this sort of awareness. He could feel the huntress near him, her presence sizzling to his perception. Two dull presences in the dwelling below. One in the dwelling to the right, none to the left. A dull presence beyond the walls of his dwelling, accompanied by one of the humming presences of others like himself…
His eyes snapped open and he'd pulled a sword from beneath the couch before he'd taken a second breath, eyes fixed on the door.
"Share," Faith's single word covered many things.
"Two people in the hall, one's Immortal," he watched the door, uncertain who was outside, what they wanted… Headhunters didn't usually bring spectators along. Unless the headhunter was threatening someone into bringing them to the apartment?
There was a tapping at the door.
"Adam Peirson? Can we talk to you? It's fairly important," The voice from behind the door didn't sound threatening, but he did sound worried. "We met the other night."
"Caldwell and his Watcher," Faith offered. "We do know how to deal with them if they are a threat. But don't give the verbal, just in case… it is after dark."
With a quick nod, he rose to his feet, moving over to open the door. The sword wasn't entirely hidden from view, but it shouldn't be seen from anyone else in the hall. Jeremy Caldwell of Virginia and his Watcher, who hadn't given his name the other night stood there, both looking nervous, but no weapons drawn. He opened the door wide, and gestured towards the couch, not saying a word. Vampires needed spoken invitations to apartments, and he wasn't about to test how loose that invitation needed to be.
Caldwell grabbed his Watcher's arm and practically pulled him into the apartment, visibly relaxing as soon as they were across the threshold.
"Jeremy, you're going to leave bruises," the Watcher hissed, not quite soft enough to escape being overheard.
"The thing about invitations is true. And hallways don't count," Caldwell replied, not quite as soft. Looking from Faith to Adam and then back to Faith, he spoke in normal voice, "I have a problem, and I really, really hope that you can help me."
"What sort of problem?" he asked his visitors. "And why are you looking at Faith?"
"There's a vampire after me. He wants to keep me as his diversion and eternal snack," Caldwell shuddered, "and the idea scares the living daylights out of me. I've tried running. I've tried shooting him. Nothing worked. So, I'm asking… Faith's a Slayer, there's no other explanation for how she dealt with the ones attacking Eddie and I so easily. Help us kill him."
"Why don't you tell us everything you know about this vampire," Faith spoke, as she walked over to the door, locking it and securing the deadbolt and chain.
End Bright Star 12: Watching Stars
