TWELVE

Dwight Hall, Yale
New Haven, Connecticut
Tuesday, November 7, 2006
8:18 AM

Vampire Slayers, or Lamia Interficientis, are often known by the singular name of Slayers. First discovered in 800 BC in the Grecian city-state of Delphi, the Oracle, Pythia, is cited as being the initial founder of the Slayer breed, having come upon the unearthing in a prophecy foretold to her by the god Apollo, speaking on behalf of his twin sister, Artemis.

As legend states, Pythia delivered the news of Slayers to Homer, famous philosopher and writer of The Iliad and The Odyssey, who in turn spread the story throughout Delphi, alerting all of the metropolis that a girl would soon be born with the strength of demons, the skill of Spartans, and the resilience of a warrior, given gifts to be used to fight against the evil that brimmed the city. Before long, women who were with child living inside Delphi's expansive conurbation were collected to be studied, a psychic hired to do readings on the women and their expected children.

However, spotting the first Slayer was harder than the people of Delphi had anticipated. Though many children were born in the year Pythia had predicted, none of them were endowed with the abilities attributed to her prophecy, Pythia's tale automatically becoming debunked and forgotten for twenty-one years. On a summer night in 779 BC, a woman by the name of Anthousa was stricken ill, her body overcome with heat and cold before she was taken away from her husband and daughter, neighbors praying to the Gods that Anthousa become well.

Doctors worked well into the night, trying basic remedies such as water to treat her burning flesh and fire to cure her icy skin. When neither solution worked, the physicians deemed her illness fatal, keeping Anthousa under the impression that she would be dead come sunset on the next day. Setting her affairs in order, the woman prepared to be taken off into the afterlife, only to be disappointed when her conditioned worsened, not ending in death like she had expected and yearned for while enduring the pain.

On the morning after the woman's twenty-first birthday, it was recorded that Anthousa's agony had supplied her strength, skill, and resilience that was unmatched even by that of the fiercest warrior Delphi had to offer. By nightfall, she had been cast out of the metropolis, the city's inhabitants dispelling her as unnatural and fearful.

Although no one knows what happened to Anthousa directly after leaving the city-state, it is recorded that the woman's daughter, Pherenike, was overcome with the same disease that had stuck her mother years ago. In turn, Pherenike's daughter, Eudokia, suffered an identical illness. Throughout generations, the ailment passed through the female line, eventually splitting in two when Korinna and Chrystanthe, the twins who had moved to Sparta to be accepted by the city's combatant people, had both begotten families and had both been stricken by the malady that the women before them had suffered.

As time progressed, the Slayer line eventually spanned multiple families, becoming spread throughout Greece and Bulgaria before expanding northward toward Europe in later years. With growing numbers in concentrated areas, a fascination had begun to catch the attention of scholars, some of them administering tests in order to produce documentation on the abnormal strain of humanity. In the span of centuries, only some information was recorded, most of it highlighting the fact that the abilities had no point of origin or expected expiration date.

In the early 1900s, it was estimated that the Slayer line had multiplied to twelve thousand, doubling a century later, and becoming more considered as years passed. With the discovery of genetic technology, science played an important role in the testing and studying of Slayers, with neurologists and genealogists taking to examining the Chosen women, never filing reports in fear of the information falling into the wrong hands. By 1980, the intelligence gained from their analysis provided much of what is known today.

In one report, written by a Dr. Herbert J. Bell, it was noted that Slayers are able to lift up to four-hundred pounds unassisted, endure hours of physical stimulation without tiring, and heal wounds in half the allotted time. In addition, it was also noted by a sleep specialist, Dr. Leonard Keen, that some of their focus group experienced dreams that disturbed their slumber. When asked to record what they saw, most reports matched an event that had unfolded within the day of the dream, often happening thousands of miles away, making it impossible for the incident to be self-inflicted or delivered through word of mouth.

Moreover, other abilities were recorded, such as implanted military tactical knowledge, the sensing of nearby supernatural entities, and a innate prowess with weapons, all of which being endowments all women shared. Furthermore, the women who had given birth, either before or after the illness that struck on their twenty-first birthdays, had all begotten female children, some of them twins of the same gender. However, there is no evidence of this being more than coincidence, scientists choosing not to entertain the subject as of yet.

As decades go on, with technology ever-increasing at the end of the twentieth century, it is possible that scientists will continue to study and report on the knowledge of Slayerkind. Unfortunately, in recent years, with the rise of demonic activity and the paranormal presence, the women who had initially been eager to learn more about themselves and their fellow Slayers have become reticent, rumors of both Hunters, their male counterparts, and the forces of darkness rising together to eliminate the line driving them into hiding.

- Elliot Richards, 1998

Shutting the screen of her laptop, Amy swallowed hard before leaning forward against the desk in her bedroom, her stomach rumbling from hunger at the same time as worry began to rise in her chest, causing her heart to beat abnormally fast as she took in the information she had been reading on the web for the greater part of the last hour.

It was just her and Taylor left in their suite while Bobby drove out to West Hartford to collect a couple of books from his motel to bring back to Dwight Hall, the traffic out on Chapel Street probably preventing him from returning as quickly as she had expected him to. After Amy had asked him for information on Slayers, the name the Nidhogg possessing Chase DuPonte had called her just before she killed it, the older man had told her he wasn't as informed on them as he should be, promising to leave and come back with something that might help her learn more about the title.

As soon as he was gone, Amy had made a move to clean up the mess the fight between her and the creature had left behind, instead getting shooed away by Taylor as her friend snapped at her, eyeing Amy as though she was something more dangerous than the vampire her roommate had initially believed her to be. Feeling uncomfortable with the way the other girl had been glaring at her, Amy had headed into the now-doorless bathroom to take a shower and bandage up the wounds she had sustained during the altercation, noticing that though it was still covered with blood, the lesion in her side that the broken coffee table had inflicted on her was already closed up and was the brown color of a scab, the size of it telling her that she normally would have needed stitches to bind the skin back together.

The moment Amy had stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and with dark hair dripping into the yellow and green bruises on her face, she had noticed that her friend had already managed to clear away most of the rubble, the broken furniture and snake-like creature gone, a metal trash barrel that seemed to have been taken from out in the courtyard filled to the brim with flames that licked the side. From behind the refrigerator, the sound of brushes scrubbing the floor came, as well as muttered cursing that reached Amy's ears as clear as day, informing her that Taylor was cleaning up the blood the Nidhogg had left behind, and wasn't happy about it despite the fact that she had volunteered to do so.

Heading into her bedroom and shutting the door quietly, Amy had placed her bloody pajamas on the floor before changing into normal clothes, wrapping her hair in a towel and leaving it as she sat and read the information the web provided. Though she had found a startling amount of search results pointing her to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Amy had eventually been able to find something pertaining to what she was looking for, smiling slightly when she discovered that the essay she had engulfed herself in had been one written by a professor at the University of New Hampshire. As she soaked up the information, finding it fascinating at the same time as frightening, Amy had eventually closed her computer down, her heart beating quickly when she came to the conclusion of the composition, the idea that Slayers had gone into hiding because of a rise in demon attacks scaring her immensely.

Getting up from her chair and no longer able to endure the hunger pains that had been eating away at her for the past few days, Amy let her damp hair down from where it had been wrapped, grabbing a sweatshirt out of the closet and tugging it on, putting the hood up as soon as she left the suite, Taylor still throwing a fit over having to scrub the floor. Taking the elevator and hoping she would run into Bobby on her way toward the dining hall, Amy reached for her student card as soon as she was through the canteen's doors, finding that the place was practically deserted following the breakfast rush. Grabbing one of everything as she made her rounds through the various food stations, remembering that the last time she had done so had ended with everything tasting horrible, Amy picked at the assortment of meals sitting on the plates, testing them before making her way toward the freshman sitting at the checkout machine. Noticing that the guy wasn't paying attention as he focused on his sociology work, Amy passed her card under the reader, waiting for it to turn green, before sneaking her way out of the cafeteria, carrying the tray back up to the top floor of Dwight Hall and finding Bobby standing in the living room by the time she returned.

"Hungry?" Bobby laughed as soon as he saw Amy and her laden tray, moving one of the end tables out from around the skewed couch for her to set her plates on. Beginning to wolf down the toast that was nearest to her hand, Amy nodded in the form of an answer, certain she was being a pig but strangely not caring. It was as though, even after days of not eating, the fight between her and Chase had kicked her appetite into overdrive, everything tasting delicious even though she knew it was anything but. Continuing to smirk, and not seeming to judge her for her eating habits like her parents would, Bobby instead pulled a couple of books out of a duffle bag on the floor, explaining what they were while Amy continued to make her way through the fifteen different meals in front of her. "I don't know how much these will help you, but they're the only ones I brought from home. Most of 'em include information on demons, but I remember seein' a few things on Slayers in there, too."

Stopping what she was doing, Amy placed her fork aside and swallowed the mouthful of eggs she was currently ingesting, opening the first book Bobby handed her to skim it, just as hungry for information as she was for food. Seeing that most of the pages contained exactly what Bobby said, with different sections dedicated to defining the different species of demons, Amy only managed to get half-way through the book before she noticed that the older man was taking a seat in one of the wing chairs that had been positioned on both sides of the television, dragging it forward to sit closer. Stopping a few feet in front of her, exactly where the coffee table would have been had it not been broken, Bobby leaned against his knees, speaking in a calm, quiet tone that conveyed the seriousness of what he was saying, Amy losing interest in both her breakfast and the books in her hands as she listened.

"Look, I know your daddy should be telling you this, but given the situation, I guess I ain't got a choice," Bobby said, clearing his throat. "This thing that you have inside you, it's going to attract all sorts of evil. If you're not careful, every demon between here and the gates of Hell are going to find you. Your mother, God rest her soul, learned that fact the hard way. It's what killed her." Swallowing hard, Amy listened as Bobby continued, her heart beating heavily in her chest in anticipation to hearing someone talk about Morgan Callahan, acknowledging that she was real outside of the confines of her journal. "I'm only tellin' you this because I want you to be careful. In the last year alone, the world has gotten dangerous, demons multiplying in numbers that no one's ever seen. They're up to something, and your daddy was killed because he got in the way; and if his boys don't get smart, the same thing's going to happen to them. There's some type of storm brewin' and it's not something you want to get caught up in, but it's not like you got a choice. Bein' a Slayer, from what your mom had me understand, is like walking around with a target on your back. You let anyone know what you are and they'll come gunnin' for you, guaranteed."

Bunching her jaw and widening her eyes, Amy sat up straighter in her seat, her breathing stopped as she saw the gravity of what Bobby was telling her on his face. She could tell, curiously, that he was concerned for her, and though they had only known each other for two days, he felt obligated to prevent her from making the mistake others before her had presumably made. Nodding in acceptance, Amy and Bobby remained still while Amy played with the lip of the small milk carton in front of her, lost in thought as she stared at the cartoon that illustrated the side. She had known that this was serious from the time she had finished the changes the night before, but hadn't known how serious. With what Bobby had just said, Amy gathered that she was going to have to keep her head down, and was probably going to have to ease her way into hunting to keep from arousing suspicions. A girl who lived in upper-class Illinois and went to Yale didn't suddenly quit living the high life to chase down the forces of darkness. Anyone who learned that was bound to become suspicious.

Nodding once he realized his words had sunk in, Bobby leaned back in his chair to pull a slip of paper out of his pocket, placing it on the table in front of her. On a small, lined page, a name, address, and phone number stared up at her in scrawled handwriting, the name on it reading Elliot Richards. Recognizing it from what she had just been looking at on the web, Amy raised her eyebrows as she gazed over at Bobby, wondering how he had known what she had been doing prior to his arrival, if it wasn't just coincidence.

"A buddy of mine works over at the University of New Hampshire as a metaphysical and paranormal studies professor; knows a good deal about Slayers," Bobby said, tapping the paper in front of her. "He'll be able to tell you anything you want to know."

"Thank you," Amy said, taking the notebook sheet and placing it into her sweatshirt pocket, turning her attention back to the milk carton as she continued to play with it, curious as to whether or not it would be safe to give the guy a call considering what Bobby had just told her.

Putting it in the back of her mind while the two sat in silence, Amy pursed her lips before something else caught her attention, the comic on the side of her drink. Narrowing her eyes at it, Amy tilted her head while she read it, frowning. In a small square outlined in black, a truck shaped exactly like John's sat beside a pair of stick figures and below a couple of speech bubbles, the text inside it reading, "How much gas mileage you getting there, Bob?" "Three miles a gallon on a good day, Skip."

Furrowing her brow as Bobby stood up from his chair, Amy bit her lip, a sudden thought popping into her head as she watched the older man pick up his now-empty duffle bag off the floor. Last month, right before John had left Amy for the last time, her father had unearthed her mother's journal from underneath the backseat, grabbing it out from under a trap door Amy had barely been able to see. Beside the diary, hundreds of other books had been stacked back there, books that might or might not contain information about Slayers. All at once, Amy was curious as to what happened to those numerous old volumes and everything else John had owned prior to dying, her heart sinking into her stomach as she thought about his passing. Though she hadn't known him that well, and though he had been gruff and intimidating, it was possible that the two of them could have had more of a relationship had he lived longer. While that seemed like a fairy tale compared to the reality of the situation, that John had died because of a demon and now the demons would be coming for Amy if she ever revealed the truth about herself to anyone else, she still felt forlorn over the what if. For most of her life, she had wanted to know her real father, but now that he was gone, she wouldn't get a chance to do so. Instead, she was going to have to do the best with what was available to her, meaning that she had to know something before Bobby Singer left for good.

Clearing her throat, Amy got up from the couch and followed Bobby to the front door as he angled to leave, stopping at the threshold as the man noticed that there was something on her mind. Turning to look at her, Bobby raised his eyebrows curiously, prompting Amy to ask her question before she would lose her chance.

"Hey, uh, Bobby… whatever happened to John's truck?"

Pursing his lips as though disapproving of her inquiry, Bobby shook his head. "Far as I know, John drove out to an abandoned foundry in Lincoln, Nebraska right before he was killed. According to Sam, a couple of demons slashed his tires before they took him hostage in order to get to his boys. My guess is it's probably still there."

Chewing the inside of her cheek for a moment, Amy nodded slowly, not sure what to say, but instead formulating a plan in her mind. If she flew out to Lincoln tonight, she would get there by morning, giving her both daylight and time to search through the contents of the cab. However, explaining a massive airline charge to Joel and Jennifer Forester once they checked the credit card receipt was going to be difficult. While neither of her adopted parents had spoken to her since Joel had dropped her off at school back in August, she doubted they would stay quiet once a four-hundred-dollar bill came to their house. Realizing that now that she was twenty-one, she could rent a car and drive there, she also realized that it would probably be more expensive to do so.

Looking up just as Bobby hitched his bag closer to his collarbone, a smile grew on Amy's face as she noticed that he seemed to understand what she was about to say, the man appearing incredibly intuitive when it came to whatever she was thinking. Beckoning toward where her bedroom door sat, Bobby sighed quietly. "Get your stuff. I'll wait."

Grinning despite the fact that it would probably be frowned upon by most people that she was leaving Yale to head to Nebraska with a virtual stranger, Amy hurried back inside the suite, racing to collect her things and get the ball rolling.