So… newbies. Yeah. Most of them were cool, but I found myself having issues with Jenna Darius early on. Sullen, snotty— okay, abused, I got that. But that didn't excuse the sheer arrogance of the girl! She acted like no one could possibly teach her anything about any subject, and that set my teeth to grating.
Still, there were prizes in the box. Rose fell completely into sisterly-love with Chelsea Yoder in about three minutes. I took maybe two more— I'm slow sometimes. And Delia Smith… any reader who finds themselves shocked that she attached herself to Kelly inside of about five minutes has not been paying attention! The Guardians called Kelly 'the Mother,' and they knew exactly what they were talking about.
Come bedtime, Delia wouldn't go to bed until Nancy and Kelly had both hugged her— which left them both flattered as hell.
It was an okay weekend, so long as I stayed out of earshot of Jenna. She didn't always make snide, superior remarks, no— only whenever she talked. Sometimes she didn't talk at all. Those were the good times.
Saturday classes were suspended for the sake of the party atmosphere and settling-in time for the new girls— but Rose still ended up accidentally organizing some serious sparring, mostly by agreeing to spar Vi and the other veterans. Of course we all ended up watching, and most of us participating. Of all us junior Slayers, only Rose held her own against the veterans, and she admitted freely that she didn't think she could take either Rona or Vi "for real." Rona had endurance that impressed Buffy, and Vi… well, she had something. She wasn't the technician Rose was, nor quite as fast— but she seemed to anticipate Rose's blows, and arrange to be elsewhere when they landed.
We picnicked every meal, and the weather cooperated. Sunday, Kimber and Brian came over, and I think it was a tie as to whether Rose or I gaped more openly when they came strolling up the driveway holding hands. They'd gone and fallen in love. Six-foot-one-inch, body-by-Playboy-magazine Kimber had fallen madly in love with five-foot-two-inch, body-by-skinny-geeks-are-us Brian Keller.
It. Was. CUTE!
Kimber admitted that she had been around less the last couple of weeks because she and Brian had been monopolizing each other's time, and I told her she was totally forgiven— truthfully— but that she'd better be around more, now that the bright-and-shiny-new-toy thing had backed down a step or three.
"No problem," Kimber said. "But I tell you truly, Elaine Marshall— that boy should have been a girl! He can do things with his mouth that I'd teach you, if me and him weren't being all faithful to each other."
"TMI, Kimber," I said, laughing. "And I won't even ask if you pay him back."
"Of course I do!" Kimber said. "And I enjoy it. So there's some more TMI for you."
"Thank you so much," I said— and hugged her. "I'm just glad you're happy."
"I'll be even happier if Willow knows a birth control spell," Kimber said. "I do not want anything between me and him, and I can't get the pill without Mom's permission, which isn't going to happen. Making love with him… that's going to happen soon! It's a fight to keep my hands off of him already."
I laughed— and Kimber visibly felt relief that I wasn't angry over her being faithful to Brian, an undeniable boy.
Robin Wood (a gentleman of the first order, and still undeniably cool) and his group took off Sunday afternoon for Cleveland. Vi took off by herself, taking the car Faith had been using as Road-Slayer and heading for northern Maine, where something ("Maybe one of Stephen King's inspirations, who knows," as she put it) was running around and killing cattle, sheep, pets and people. Faith went with Robin and his group, and she and Robin were holding hands.
Just before they left, Faith said approached where Buffy, Rose, Sunrise, Xander and I stood, and said, "Hey, B— if we need a hand out there on the Son of Hellmouth, can I call for backup?"
"Of course, Faith," Buffy said. "We'll come a'runnin'."
"Nah, save time and gas money," Faith said. She grinned, then, and said, "Just punch some holes in a box and Fed-Ex us Rose. She cleans up, we mail her back— everybody's happy."
"And Faith Lehane gets the score!" Xander said. "Beautiful— been planning it long?"
"Since Robin said I could go with those guys, yeah," Faith said, and gave Rose a one-armed hug. "Seriously, Rose— the package may be small— but the contents are pure Slayer."
"Thanks, Faith," Rose said. "For that, I'll forgive the mailing me joke. Once."
"Okay, that's fair," Faith said. "See you, B, guys. Stay cool."
The Veterans took off, and we went inside.
Monday was a good day. No school classes yet, but plenty of Slayer classes— and between them, Rose, Whitey, Giles and Buffy had worked out stuff for all the new girls to work on. Most of them were no problem at all, just a little uncooperative, sometimes— Jenna and Felicia, mostly, though Delia could be a problem, when she got distracted or tired. But we worked out a way around that pretty quick— just stick her next Nancy during Rose's kung fu class, and she behaved, struggled to do as Nancy did. Then for Whitey's class, put her next to Kelly, and you get the same result.
Abelena and Tracy both worked hard, though Tracy had a seizure in the middle of class, and had to be held down (Buffy did that, without hurting Tracy, and made it look easy), then excused for the day. Elise… well, she ended up working with Whitey and Giles, who called over Xander. They had ideas about modifying her crutches as weapons. Helena, she just stuck with the group, and did everything she could. Rose figured out early on that Helena wasn't "twitchy" about her missing arm and the prosthetic that replaced it— not in the "I pretend it's not there" way, at least. So Rose put the idea of using it as a weapon into her head— and Helena got interested.
"If Xander and Whitey can't modify that into something that will break bones, I'll eat a pound of dirt," Rose said. "I'm not even all toy-obsessed like they can be, and I can see three or four possibilities beyond just steel-reinforcing it, and that's without thinking hard. So after class, you talk to them, and the three of you come up with something."
The class went really well— even Jenna learned something and kept her mouth shut— but that may have been because, for an opener, Rose and Buffy had sparred, light contact, full speed, just so that the girls would all understand that Rose really had a right to be teaching them to fight. Even a wiseass "troubled" girl can figure out to keep her mouth shut after seeing that.
Sweet little Chelsea… she spent her morning with Willow, learning to reach for the Slayer power inside her, channel it into healing her more quickly, restoring her still-weak limbs to full function, in hopes that she'd go beyond the human norms later. And it worked! They tested her both before and after meditations, and there was a marked— and permanent!— improvement.
The early afternoon she spent with Sh'rin and Sunrise, listening to Sh'rin's lessons about herbs and nature. The late afternoon, she spent with Whitey, who taught her different sorts of body-thinking than what Willow did… again, effectively. He worked her more physically, and most of what he taught her was more about first concentrating on specific movements, then on making those movements instinctual and automatic. She learned, she loved it, and she fizzed, as Rose put it, even more than before.
Monday night before sleep, Rose and I made love, then she decided to go and get a snack— I wasn't hungry— and she got one hell of a surprise.
Rose:
So… here I am, minding my own business, heading to the kitchenette to grab a peach or a pear— or maybe both— and maybe a couple of handfuls of Fritos, and I get the Grandaddy of all surprises.
I was walking down the hall to the kitchenette when I saw Mom coming up the stairs.
"Hi, Mom," I said. "It's eleven— isn't it a little past your bedtime?"
"Hello, Rose," Mom said. "I suppose it is a little late. Good night, dear."
I stopped. Mom sounded… funny. Way distracted. Not at all like her usual self.
"You okay, Mom?" I asked, stopping in the hall, letting her approach me.
"I'm just fine, honey," she said— and then she stepped closer, and I got a look at her face.
"Holy crap," I said. "Mom… wow."
" 'Wow' what, Rose?" Mom asked, trying to sound normal.
"Come here, Mom," I said, and pulled Mom into her own room. I dragged her over to her vanity-dresser thing, and sat her on the bench.
"Rose, what's gotten into you?" Mom asked. "I'm fine, honey."
"Yeah, okay," I said. I took her by the shoulders, turned her to face the mirror and said, "Take a look, lady— then explain yourself."
Mom looked into the mirror, saw her own expression— and reached out to touch her reflection. She looked… unbearably happy. I knew that look. I'd seen it in the mirror, the night I met Elaine, and several times since, when she'd made me love her more than usual— which, okay, happened so often that 'more than usual' pretty much was the usual.
The last time I'd seen it on Mom's face, my Daddy had been alive.
"I recognize that look, Mom," I said, and hugged her from behind. "I learned to recognize it after you pointed it out to me the night I met Elaine.
"It's that 'look of love' you talk about sometimes, Mom.
"Now… talk to me, lady!"
Mom looked in the mirror, saw my grin over her shoulder, knew I wasn't mad.
"Rose… I've fallen in love with Rupert." She took in a deep breath— and let it out in a long, happy sigh. "He… well. He feels the same way. About me, I mean."
"Good," I said, and kissed her cheek. I thought for a moment, decided to tell her the absolute truth. "Mom… Daddy would like him. Daddy would like this. And since I was always a big Daddy's girl, well… Mom, when the time comes, can I be a bridesmaid?"
"Hell, no," Mom said, her face lighting up in a way that told me she wasn't mad, didn't mean that— or didn't mean that in a bad way, at least. "Rose, when— if— the time comes, I won't accept anything less than you being my maid of honor!"
She turned around and hugged me hard, and I hugged right back, kissed her cheek.
"You really meant that?" Mom asked. "About your father liking him? Liking that I've fallen in love again?"
"Every damned word," I said. "Mom… you know I'd never so much as exaggerate about anything to do with Daddy.
"But… I do foresee two potential problems, Mom." I said that with a grin, so she'd know there was a joke coming, and she smiled right back. "First… he's so British, he may object to becoming an American citizen by marrying you."
Mom laughed, nodded, and hugged me, then leaned back and waited for the rest of it.
"Second, I approve so much I'll probably stop calling him Giles, and I won't call him Daddy— only one man will ever be Daddy, no matter how much I approve of your loving Giles— and I won't say father, I'm not that formal.
"Can you imagine the look on his face the first time I say, 'Hey, Dad, what time do you want me home?' It'll be hysterical!"
Mom cut loose with an immediate belly-laugh— didn't even go through the 'giggle' and 'laugh' stages— hugged me and pulled me into her lap. We laughed together, and hugged, and I sat in her lap for a few minutes while we calmed down.
"Am I allowed to tell Elaine?" I asked. "Or should I wait?"
"Oh, we've already decided not to even make a token effort at hiding it," Mom said. "You'd have figured it out anyway, you and Buffy and Xander and Willow. And Whitey. And probably Vincent, though he'd keep quiet about it. And Elaine, and— you get the point. So I'm just going to kiss him when I come down for breakfast tomorrow— we figured we owed you kids some payback!
"Rose… one thing worries me some, honey."
"Don't, Mom," I said, knowing where she was going. "Laurie loves Giles. She loves you— and she hates Jerry's ghost for what he did to you and to her bio-mom. She'll be okay. But… I know I'm the kid here, Mom, but maybe you should tell her before you go down tomorrow?"
"An excellent idea, thank you, Rose," Mom said. "Now… hadn't you better get off to bed before Elaine misses you?"
"Probably," I agreed. I stood, bent to hug Mom again, then kissed each cheek. "Mom… seriously, this is great. I'm happy for you— and for me and Laurie, too.
"Love you, Mom."
"I love you, too, my Emerald Rose," Mom said. "Good night, honey."
I forgot all about my snack in my eagerness to tell Elaine the news.
She was just as delighted as me. _
Of course, I went downstairs a little early. Whitey was cooking, preparing omelets to everyone's preferences, and I offered to help with chop and prep. He thanked me, let me take over chopping up peppers, onions and sausage and ham, focused on what he called "griddle toast," which was just bread, grilled in bacon fat— not good for you, but oh, so tasty!
Giles came down, sat at the table in the nook where he, Mom and Whitey always sat, opened up the paper, and started reading. Everyone else arrived but Mom and Laurie, and when they came in, I saw the happy, content look in Laurie's eyes, knew that she was as okay with this as I'd thought she would be. I grinned, and she gave me a sweet smile in return.
Giles stood up as Mom walked over to the nook, and when she got there, they kissed— and it sure looked like a doozy! One of those kisses that just goes places, without even asking those participating if they want to go, you know?
They broke after almost a minute, and Mom nestled into his arms for a moment before she turned to find the whole room staring at her and Giles— except, that is, Xander and Brianne, and Brianne had her head cocked in that "I'm seeing with my ears" way.
"About damned time," Whitey said casually after a moment. "Good call, people— you fit together."
"Go, Kelly," Buffy said, approval in her voice. "For that matter, go Giles."
"I don't know how you guys keep being surprised by this sort of thing," Xander said. "Kind of obvious."
"Well, how about all us unattached people come and see you, and you tell us who we'll hook up with," Brianne said. "Shortest distance between two points and stuff like that."
"Works for me," Xander said.
"Smartass," Willow muttered.
"You're just jealous that I saw it and you didn't," Xander said. "That's all it is."
Willow gave him a playfully wicked look, and we all sat down to eat.
That was a good day.
Interlude:
Lazlo Brown ran for his life, even though he knew they'd catch him. They weren't human, not even close to human, and he knew he was going to die— but he wouldn't make it easy for them.
The scary part was the bitch. She looked human, sure— but no way she was. No human could toss a cinderblock so hard that it punched through the grill of a 1972 Chevy Impala and right through the fan, into the engine— from fifty yards away.
And no human girl could pull off Ahmad's arm like pulling the wing off a sparrow. But she'd done that, too.
The other things were scary, sure— but at least they looked scary, not like some prime piece of ass that a man had to look at and want. That shit was what made the bitch scary.
Lazlo ran along the waterfront in Chicago, dodging in and out among cargo containers, staying low— those two things with wings, they weren't strong, but they had sharp eyes, sharper claws, and teeth that would shame a butcher's rack of knives.
Clank.
The sound came from above him, and Lazlo looked up in fear, expecting one of the winged things.
Worse— he saw the girl.
"Make you a deal, banger-boy," she said, in a sultry, sexy voice. "You get to the river— Five hundred yards west of here— and jump in before I personally catch you, and you're free— so long as you don't came back here. I'll even give you ten seconds head start.
"Go!"
Lazlo wasn't crazy— he took the offer, ran like never before in his life.
He could see the river ahead of him when she stepped out in front of him.
"Aw, too bad." She shook her head, started towards him. "Sorry, banger-boy. But you guys really should have listened and gone to work for me."
He turned to run back into the mass of cargo containers and saw two of the bumpy-face-and-fang types that worked for the girl standing behind him.
He turned back and watched the prettiest killer he'd ever seen come for him.
Five-five, no heels, just slipper-style deck shoes. A hundred and fifteen pounds, put together with an eye towards tempting mere mortals. Hair the color of sunlight through a jar of honey, most of the way to her ass— which was round and tight, so very grabbable. Tits halfway between C and D cups, nipples hard and prominent under her white T-shirt, all above a waist you wanted to put your hands on, see if it was as tiny as it looked. Good hips, long, tight legs protruding from the white nylon running shorts she wore. Big blue eyes, a straight nose, a mouth made to be kissed— and an expression of pure contempt.
"What the hell, bitch?" Lazlo said, figuring he had nothing to lose. "Why you be tryin' to take over ever'body's business? What the hell gives you the right?"
"I'm strong," she said, stopping a couple of feet outside of arm's length. "I'm powerful, banger-boy. And I'm smart enough. So… I have the right.
"Oh, and by the way? Don't ever call me bitch!"
Lazlo did have something to lose— his mind. It stopped working long before the bitch let his body die.
After all, you can only take so much pain before you go stark, raving mad.