Two Slayers— One Heart (Version 3.0): Part 26
Elaine:
Holding Rose and Laurie while they cried themselves to sleep after leaving Kelly to talk with Diane left me wanting to go back to Wolfram and Hart and kill Jerry Wentworth even more than I had before, which wasn't easy.
They didn't sleep long. Rose woke up when Laurie started tossing and turning, moaning in her sleep— and I saw a look of murderous rage in her eyes when Laurie moaned, "Why, dad? Why did you hurt her?"
Rose woke Laurie— who came awake with a little scream— then got up, said, "Elaine, Sunrise, I'm going to take Laurie out on the balcony for a bit— it's nice out. Can we… have a little privacy? Could you guys just stay here?"
"We'll be right here," I said, getting up so they could get out.
"Yeah, I'm not going anywhere," Sunrise said. "Not 'til you ask me to, anyway."
Rose took Laurie out on the balcony, and I slid over closer to Sunrise, and when she pulled me still closer, I let her.
"This sucks," Sunrise said. "I… part of me wishes we'd not been able to talk you out of killing him— so I bet it's even worse for you."
"Yes," I said. "It is. But at the same time… we did something really ugly too him. We beat him senseless. Then we took him to the Wolfram and Hart offices, and dropped him on the security desk. His bosses will know that a pair of teenage girls beat him up— and it'll get around the building.
"People won't care that we're Slayers. I mean— until you've dealt with us, we have to be hard to accept, you know? So he'll be the butt of a lot of jokes— 'Jerry got his ass kicked by a pair of little girls,' that sort of thing.
"We humiliated him. For the moment, that's enough."
"Okay, I can see that," Sunrise said. "You know… I think if I see him, just— you know, run into him— I'll kick him in the nuts. Just for fun."
"I'm all for it," I said. "In the meantime… Giles got help for Kelly. Rose and Laurie will be okay— I think Sh'rin's name for Rose will apply to not letting Laurie blame herself, she'll be Undefeated there, too— and if the assholes and W&H aren't scared by what we did today… well, they're dumb enough to deserve what they get if they mess with us again."
"Yeah," Sunrise said. "Sh'rin… god. The things she said to me… a little scary."
"Don't see why," I said. "She's right. You can bring the Watchers and the Guardians together, Sunrise. I know that, Rose knows it— Buffy and Giles know it.
"You can do it, and I'll bet you make it look easy."
"Maybe," Sunrise said. "It's just… a little overwhelming. Not in a bad way, not at all. But… big responsibility. Kind of intimidating."
"You'll do it," I said. "And Sh'rin knows it. And dear god, I wish I could get away with that much leather!"
"Oh, you could in a heartbeat," Sunrise said. "You're just as hot as she is, Elaine, just in a different way. Sh'rin, she's wild-hot. You know, untamed, basic… elemental.
"You, on the other hand, are controlled hot. Every move you make, people can tell you're in control of your body, know what it's doing, where it's going. That's hot, as hot as that wild, 'I could out-wild a wild panther' thing that Sh'rin's got going on.
"And Rose, she's got that perfect blend of cute and gorgeous that makes her hot— well that and how she moves. Different kind of controlled than you, but still controlled. Like… contained violence. The… the dangerous makes her hotter than just her looks, like your grace does for you, and Sh'rin's whole untamed thing does for her."
"Oh, so we're hot, huh?" I said, keeping my voice lighter than I wanted to, so as not to make her uncomfortable. "Is there something you'd like to say about your sexuality, Sunrise?"
"Only that I'm really not sure about it," Sunrise said, giving me a look of naked trust and honesty. "I mean… guys are definitely hot. Very much hot. Some guys more than others, sure, but yes, the guys are on my list of approved sex objects.
"But… look, I find girls sexy, sometimes. You, Rose, Sh'rin, Brianne… sexy. But I don't know if that's 'I like to look' sexy or 'I want that' sexy. I've never… okay, you can never tell Buffy this, but I saw part of a porn movie, once. And that got me… not real hot and bothered, it was too posed, too… too obviously sex, not love, but it did get me kind of hot.
"But that was a guy-girl thing. Despite almost walking in on Willow and Tara about a half a dozen times— Tara was Willow's girlfriend before Kennedy. She… she died. Got shot by a guy who shot Buffy, too.
"Anyway… see, I've never seen two girls doing more than kissing. So while I think girls are sexy, I don't know if girls having sex is sexy. And I don't… I don't want to find out by poking around on internet porn sites. So… I guess I wait.
"Did I just drop a Too Much Information bomb on you?"
"Not at all," I said. "Not even close. And you know, if—"
The balcony doors opened, and Rose and Laurie came in, both red-eyed from crying.
"I need to get violent for a while," Rose said. "I'm going to do out back and do some forms and sword forms. Anybody who wants to watch, feel free to come along."
We all four went. It was about nine-forty-five, but a bunch of people were still up, and a lot followed us outside. Willow, Kennedy, Sh'rin, Sara and Vivian all went with us, while Xander, Buffy, Faith and Giles stayed in, poring over some big sheets of paper and talking quietly at the dining room table.
Rose had grabbed her sword, and I know that's what interested Sh'rin. The rest… well, Willow went because Kennedy wanted to, and Kennedy wanted to scope out Rose's fighting skills. Sara and Vivian wanted to see the sort of things a Slayer could do.
Rose started with a couple of she-made-them-look-easy stretches, then moved into some simple forms to get… unwound. After a couple of those, she stood with her eyes closed for a second, then opened her eyes— and exploded into motion.
It was the most complex of the forms she'd done for her red-and-blue sash test, and she did it without flaw, I think. I know that Kennedy was impressed, and she was a veteran of the Battle of the First.
"What do you think?" Willow asked Kennedy after Rose finished and while she was getting out her sword.
"She passes," Kennedy said immediately. "Oh, yeah— she's good. I'm not sure I could take her myself."
"Oh, sword stuff!" Willow said as Rose moved back out into the yard. "Watch this, Kennedy, she's even more fun with the sword."
Rose started with the sword-only form, and I watched Sh'rin watch her. She very obviously approved, a slow grin spreading across her face. When Rose finished that first one, Sh'rin called, "Rose Fire-hair, you are… not only good. Past good. When light, and after I make not-for-real sword, we must play at fighting!"
"I'm up for it," Rose said. "Now… my absolute best form."
"She got straight tens for this," Willow said to Kennedy. "And Giles said she deserved them!"
Rose did that form as completely flawlessly as I'd come to expect, and it drew gasps and 'wows' from everyone. Sh'rin stared wide-eyed, Kennedy muttered, "I'm asking for lessons," thirty seconds into it, Vivian let out the occasional "that's scary" noise, and Sara… Sara sat on the edge of the patio, hugging her knees and staring with rapt fascination, her face coming truly alive for the first time since I'd met her.
When Rose finished, landing in that pissed-off-sexy-kung-fu-cat pose, her sword pointing right at me, everyone applauded.
"That's my sister," Laurie said. "Always the show off!"
"Let her show off," Sunrise said. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of seeing that."
"Okay," Rose said, barely even breathing hard. "Now… it may get boring. I'm gonna play a little."
Nobody made to leave. Rose blushed, then seemed to forget we were all there at all.
She started moving, attacking, blocking, dodging, a little tumbling, even. Sometimes, she'd not like the way something felt, and do it again, with a different combination of attacks, or a changed order. Other times, she'd repeat something several times, making sure it all worked.
I got it after a very short time. She was creating a form! A combined form, both hand-to-hand and sword attacks in it.
After a half an hour of this, she ran through the whole thing— and we all applauded again.
"You just designed a kata!" Kennedy accused when the applause stopped. "In a freaking half an hour!"
"A form, actually," Rose corrected, grinning. "Only degenerates who use karate call them katas."
"I heard that!" I called. "See if I kiss you anytime soon!"
"You'll kiss me," Rose said. "I'm irresistible. You've told me so yourself."
"Designed a form in half an hour!" Kennedy said, sounding as though she was protesting. "Half an hour, Wil!"
"I've been thinking about it for a long time, Kennedy," Rose said. "Since before everything came together when I got Slayer-ized, even. So really, not so big a thing."
"I don't know about that," said Diane from behind us. "I certainly wouldn't want to make you mad.
"And that being the case… why don't you and Laurie go talk to your mother. She's in the kitchenette on three. Make her eat, Rose. She needs food. And I need to ask you and Laurie something. Come here, please."
Laurie and Rose went to her, and she talked in low tones with them for a minute, got a pair of nods, and smiled. Then she went back in, and Rose came to me.
"Elaine," she said quietly, "Diane says that if Mom asks, Laurie and I should stay with her tonight— and that she'll probably ask. So if she does—"
"If she does, you'll stay with her, or I'll kick your ass," I said firmly. Then I thought back on what I'd just seen, and Kennedy's comments on it. "Or, wait, I'll have Buffy or Faith kick your ass."
"Point taken," Rose said. "Love you, Dancer."
"Love you back, Undefeated," I said, and kissed her. "I'll hang with Sunrise. But… if you think your mom's up to company, come find me at bedtime, I'd like to say goodnight."
"Bet on it, if she's up to it," Rose said. "Just in case… good night, Elaine."
We kissed again (poor Sara seemed fascinated by the casualness with which I kissed Rose, and Willow kissed Kennedy), and Rose packed up her sword, took Laurie by the hand, and went inside at a run.
I went with Sunrise to the library, where I browsed books while she checked her chosen-dot-com email.
"Oh, I got another new mail!" Sunrise said. "I wonder why everyone seems to want to mail me…?"
"I can tell you why Rose and I did," I said, and went through our process of elimination, ending with, "— and your email address and name made it plain that you're a girl, sounded friendly, and kind of normal, so we chose you."
"Wow, cool," she said. "Well let's see what we've got… you can read over my shoulder, you're one of us."
The email came from a Chantelle Rostov, who used the email address 2prec0scious-at-funmail-dot-com, and it had been sent only an hour before, by the time stamp— which was probably a good thing.
Dawn —
Okay, I hate to drop a bomb on people and stuff, but I'm in trouble. See, I sort of beat the crap out of my Mom, but I didn't have a CHOICE! She was trying to kill me (no exaggeration, I swear— religious right poster child, my Mom, and she saw that I'd got all strong and stuff and flipped out, decided I'm possessed or something). The cops are looking for me, and the one person I could stay with is a "known associate," or whatever the cops say. He managed to give me some money to get away, even though I know he couldn't afford it, and he directed me to your site. (You guys should give Whitey a job, I swear— he already knows about vampires and stuff.)
So anyway, Whitey's note with the money told me to get a pay-as-you-go cell phone, and I did. I'm in Orlando, Florida, and I got enough money for food, and a safe enough place to sleep (no can hotel, I'm only fifteen), but the money's not gonna last long.
So… um, there's one other thing, but I don't want to say it here. Just let's say I got another bomb to drop on people, and I'm probably gonna get a lecture at least for being stupid and irresponsible, but it's too late for that.
So, much as I hate to say it— HELP!
Please? I don't know what to do, and I'm sorta scared.
My phone number is 863-555-2883. Please, somebody call me?
Please?
Chantelle Rostov
"What the hell is it with Slayers and parents?" Dawn asked, sounding angry. "I mean— Jerry. My deadbeat dad— and now this? God, it makes me sick.
"Could you stick your head out and call Giles, please?"
I did, and he came in immediately, as I said, "Giles, newbie Slayer in trouble— Dawn got an email from her."
He read the email, muttered a curse about "religious fanatics" and said, "Bloody hell. All right… Dawn, do you want to call her?"
"It… might be better," Sunrise said. "Elaine sort of raised a point about me feeling 'most normal' of all of us listed on the site, and Chantelle did email me."
"Yes, a very good point," Giles said. He stuck his head out of the room, called, "Willow, could you come in here, please?"
Willow came in, and Giles pointed her at a second computer station. "I need you to investigate ways that a young lady of fifteen who has, in all likelihood, no ID, and, should she have ID, cannot afford to use it, from Orlando, Florida to here."
"Gonna be Greyhound," Willow said. "For which we should apologize in advance."
"See if we can get her out of Orlando in a reasonable time," Giles said. "And how long it will take to get her here.
"Dawn, go on and call, tell her we're working on getting her here as you speak."
"Got it— thanks, Giles," Dawn said.
"Why, pray tell, are you thanking me for doing the job I asked you to do, and doing it very well?" Giles asked, smiling— and Sunrise glowed as she grabbed the phone. "If she will consent, put it on speakerphone, please."
"Gotcha," Sunrise said, dialing. A moment later, she said, "Chantelle? This is Dawn— from the website…. Yes, I know you didn't mail that long ago— it's just luck and good timing, I guess.
"Listen, we're working on helping you now— and the man in charge is here, as well as another Slayer, and the lady who managed to activate you all. Can I put you on speakerphone?"
A moment later, Dawn pressed a button, put the handset down and said, "Still there, Chantelle?"
"I'm here," said a honey-flavored voice, with a southern drawl to it. "So… who all am I talkin' to?"
"I'm Rupert Giles, Miss Rostov," Giles said. "I'm at least nominally in charge here, though you wouldn't always know it. Please, call me Giles."
"Okay, but ever'body has to call me Chantelle— Miss Rostov sounds like some old maid," the girl replied.
"Hi, Chantelle," I called. "I'm Elaine Marshall, the token Slayer in the room. You okay?"
"Little scared, but I'm okay," she said. "Now, who's the lady I got to thank for being all supercharged? 'Cause I got to say, even with my Mom going all Exorcist on me, this is the coolest damn thing ever."
"I'm Willow Rosenberg," Willow said, never lifting her eyes from the screen. "Hi, Chantelle— and call me Willow."
"Okay," Chantelle said. "Hey, Willow… thanks! I feel like about nine million bucks, and I all the sudden get to fight bad guys? Hell, yeah, I'm up for that!"
"You're welcome, sweetie," Willow said, chuckling.
"Good attitude," I said. "So… you know anything about fighting, Chantelle?"
"I'm a scrapper when I got to be," she said, "but I ain't got no training. Well, not much. Whitey taught me some, but then we discovered my knack, and sort of got focused on that."
"What sort of a knack is that, Chantelle?" Sunrise asked.
"I can throw things," Chantelle said. "And I'm damned accurate. Don't even got to be balanced for throwin', I can still make hit a target, most times. Whitey made me some stuff to use if I got in trouble, but I ain't even seen a vamp yet, not since I left."
"What sort of things did your friend make for you?" Giles asked.
"A couple big ol' darts, look like them lawn darts people play with, sometimes, but made of wood an' steel. Long enough to nail a vampire, heavy enough to nail 'em hard." I could hear the grin in Chantelle's voice as she spoke, and her affection for this Whitey guy. "And some wooden throwin' knives, heavier than the usual sort. I asked him for a wooden chakram, like Xena's toy on the show, but he said that'd take a while."
Willow waved at Giles, and he motioned me to talk for a minute while he went and looked over her shoulder— and muttered, "Damn."
"Did you play with a bow and arrows at all?" I asked. "If you can throw, seems you might be able to shoot."
"I surely can," Chantelle said proudly. "Took to it right away— even though Whitey says my way of shooting shouldn't let me hit the broadside of a barn, let alone a bulls-eye. But I do, most every time."
"Chantelle, there's a small problem with getting you here," Giles said. "No need to get upset, we'll just have to send someone after you. But it seems that the police are looking for you, as you said— and they've notified airports, train stations and bus stations. You'll need to be careful, and to stay away from such places until we can get someone there."
"Oh, hell," Chantelle said. "Well, I got enough to eat for a day or two— how far off are y'all anyway?"
"We're in Central Illinois," Sunrise said. "But it's cool, we can get there tomorrow, I bet."
"Tonight," Willow said. "Well, obscenely early tomorrow morning, anyway."
"That's a big relief," Chantelle said. "So… who's gonna come?"
"A moment, please, while we decide that," Giles said.
Willow pointed at herself, then cocked her head, said softly, "A second driver would be good. One who's not Buffy."
"Kennedy?" Giles suggested.
"She needs down time," Willow said. "She's been running herself ragged, keeping an eye on the newbies— between Sara's nightmares and Vivian's, she's not slept much in a while."
"And I'd rather not go," Giles said. "Given… this afternoon's events, I want to be here."
"What about Dawn?" Willow asked. "She's good behind the wheel, friendly, and she is who Chantelle contacted."
Giles hesitated a moment, then said, "Yes, all right. Until we find out what we have to do to get Xander licensed, she's certainly the best second driver."
"Hey, can you come, Elaine?" Chantelle called. "I'd like to meet another Slayer, I would."
"I… can't, Chantelle," I said, my lips going numb and my hands going cold. "I… couldn't make myself get on a plane for Orlando, not now… maybe not ever."
Sunrise immediately got up and hugged me, a stricken "How did we forget that?" look on her face.
"Um, okay," Chantelle said. "If I said something stupid, I'm sorry…."
"Not your fault," I said. Then I made myself say the rest. "It's just… that plane wreck a little while back, in Orlando? My parents were on it to come home."
"Oh, shit, I'm sorry!" Chantelle said. "Hell's bells, I wish I'd known, I'd never have—"
"Not your fault," I said. "No way you could have known, Chantelle. It's okay."
"I'm still sorry," she said. "So… who's coming?"
"Willow and Dawn, I believe," Giles said. "Our plan as of now is to have them fly down there, pick you up, drive to Atlanta, and fly home. You should be here tomorrow night, or perhaps early evening."
She whistled and said, "Look, I'm costing you an awful lot of cash, here. You ain't gotta hurry that much, really."
"Nonsense," Giles said. "I've far more than the needed funds, Chantelle, and I want to get you away from the south as quickly as possible."
"Yeah, we're rich," Willow said. "No huhu, kiddo."
"Okay," Chantelle said, sounding unspeakably relieved. "Okay, thank you, all of you."
"It's our pleasure, Chantelle," Giles said. "But… before we let you get some rest, you did mention that you had another 'bomb' to drop on us. May I ask what that might be?"
"I… Giles, I… shit." She suddenly sounded very close to crying. "Sir, please— I'd really rather not do this over the phone. Please? I promise, I'll tell you as soon as I'm there."
Giles looked a bit taken aback, but he said, "Yes, that's fine, Chantelle. That's just fine, relax, please."
"Okay," she said. "Okay, sorry. It's just… a little bit much. I mean, sure, I got to worry a lot less than some, thanks to being all juiced up, but this is still… scary. And the… the bomb-thing, that's scary, too, and… Judas on a goddamned pogo-stick, I wish Whitey was here. He'd make it all okay. He'd make me safe."
"On that note," Giles said, "I don't suppose I could have a contact number for him? If he's as capable as it seems, and he knows about vampires… I may indeed offer him employment."
"Sure thing— got a pencil?" Chantelle said.
Giles said he did, and Chantelle rattled off the number, followed by, "He won't be home right this instant, but he will be soon— he works late shift at the mall, doin' security. I was gonna call him, soon as he got home. But if the cops are lookin' for me so hard as to have notified the damn bus station, maybe I shouldn't."
"Do you know how Whitey found out about vampires?" Willow asked. "Most people won't know— not don't, won't— so it's kind of interesting that he knows."
"I… Willow, I think you'll have to ask him," Chantelle said. "It's kinda personal, so I think I shouldn't say."
"That's fine," Giles said quickly. "And we'll do so, if I decide to offer him a job.
"Chantelle, is he likely to go straight home and to bed after he gets off work?"
"No, he'll go home and check his email, surf the web for news, then do his evenin' workout," Chantelle said with certainty. "Then he'll have an apple, or maybe a pear, read for an hour, then go to bed along about three, three-thirty."
Giles looked a bit surprised at the certainty in Chantelle's voice as she described Whitey's routine, but didn't say anything about that, just said, "All right, thank you, Chantelle.
"I believe we'd best get off the phone, get on with the business of getting Willow and Dawn to you."
"Could you— if you talk to him, could you give him the number of this phone?" Chantelle asked. "I was gonna email him, but the clerk at the demo booth was givin' me the evil eye, so I didn't stick around to do it. And hearin' his voice… that'd do me as much good as knowin' I've got friends comin' for me, right now."
"Certainly I shall do that," Giles said. "Now… we'd best get off the line and get moving."
"Chantelle," Willow said, "Our plane will get into Orlando about five AM. Can you leave your phone on that long, so we can call you when we get in?"
"I can charge it," she said. "There's a working outlet at the picnic shelter in the park I'm crashing in."
"Excellent," Willow said. "We'll call as soon as we land, arrange to pick you up."
"Okay," Chantelle said, sounding as though a great weight had lifted from her shoulders. "I surely do thank you all… and I'm sorry for all the mess. It's just… she came at me with that big old metal cross off the wall, tried to hit me with it, and I just… I panicked, and I guess I hurt her pretty bad, and I… I…."
"You defended yourself," Giles said in a soft, reassuring voice. "Chantelle, you mustn't do this. You did nothing but defend yourself, and if you hurt that… woman, it isn't truly your fault. She attacked you, and you aren't used to your abilities yet, have had no way to get used to them. So please, Chantelle… stop blaming yourself. It will be all right. And none of us blame you."
"Okay," Chantelle said, sniffling. "Okay, I'll… I'll try. But… well, thank you. All of you."
We all told her she was welcome, and she hung up.
"Dawn, if you want a quick shower and change of clothes, that's about all there's time for," Willow said. "We'll need to catch a shuttle for O'Hare in an hour."
"Moving," she said, and bounced up, stopping only long enough to hug me on her way out the door. "If I don't see you before we go Elaine, I'll see you tomorrow."
"If Rose doesn't drag me off to hug Kelly, I'll be around here somewhere," I said.
Once she'd gone, and Willow had left, Giles looked at me and asked, "Elaine, are you any good with these blasted machines?"
I giggled and said, "Yeah, Giles, I can use a computer. I'm not hacker, but I can use one."
"Excellent," Giles said. "Is there a way to use a phone number to get a name?"
"We can try," I said. "Most times, it works— unless the guy's requested that his number be taken out, it should work."
I went to Google, typed in the phone number that Giles had gotten for Chantelle's friend Whitey, and got an immediate white pages listing.
"Whitelaw M. Penobscot," I read. "Eleven-fourteen Ibis Avenue, Sebring, Florida." I shook my head. "Whitelaw? And the M must be for something awful, if he's 'Whitey.' Why do parents do that to their children, I ask you?"
"I've no idea," Giles said. "So… can you search for his name?"
"Sure," I said. "One sec… there."
Only a few links came up, and I knew which one we wanted at a glance, clicked on it, and was taken to an archive page of the Tallahassee Democrat, which was the name of the local paper, I guess. (But… why would you do that? What self-respecting Republican would subscribe?)
"Tallahassee police officer killed, partner critically injured in vicious assault," Giles read. "Dear lord… he survived a vampire attack, though it seems to have been a near thing."
We skimmed it, found the follow ups, got the picture. Whitey had been a cop, twenty-five years old, already a corporal, apparently about to take the detective's exam, when he and his partner had stopped in a semi-rough part of town to break up a fight— which had, in fact, been a vampire attacking a normal person, who'd run off when the cops started fighting the vampire. Whitey's partner had emptied his pistol at the vampire, or at least at something, as the gun had been emptied. Whitey had fired two shots before the vamp turned on him, or so it looked. Details were kind of sketchy— but when other cops had gotten there, they'd found Whitey bleeding badly from the neck, his gun arm broken badly— and a piece of a broken, wooden broom handle in his left hand. There was no sign of the attacker.
Whitey's story, when he was well enough to tell it, showed that he had a brain. He described his attacker, said the guy seemed to be "hopped-up on something, I don't know what," but that he'd been fast, and strong and Whitey didn't really remember much after the guy hit him the first time.
Then he quit. It didn't seem like he'd been forced to quit, or asked to resign, or anything— he'd just quit, moved south, and from the other stories on the Google results, gotten a job as a security guard at a mall in Sebring.
"He seems to have decided that hunting vampires was more important than police work," Giles said. "Look here, this article from the Avon Park News-Sun— 'Penobscot, who frequently performs volunteer police work, chased off a man who attacked fifteen year-old Jennifer Daniels outside the Sebring YMCA while the building was being used as a shelter during a storm and power blackout.' And from the girl's description, the assailant was a vampire.
"I think I need to talk to Chantelle's friend— and she may be right. I may have to offer him a job."