Chapter 37

Crash Mats

The back room is long and narrow, with shafts of moonlight streaming down through the slit windows onto crash mats. The walls are stained and streaked with soot from what I guess was one of the several fires that had previously consumed The Magic Box. A taped up heavy bag hangs pale and grim from its chains.

I stride onto the mats and stop, placing my hands on my hips, then turn to Giles who is closing the door behind him.

"This is crazy, Giles. I can't be a Slayer." I say. "Me. Me? Me. Me, Giles. You've met me. You know what I am like."

"A very capable, very kind, very brave young lady… well, now."

"And that's another thing. Slayers are all girls. I think it is fair to say I have not been a girl for as long as the vast majority of the girls my age, right? How can I be chosen? There are millions of girls out there. Millions!"

"Lexi, please, just breathe."

I swipe my fingers through my hair, and the tinkling, burring sounds I hear as I do so is maddening in its detail. I hear the mats compressing beneath my sneakers, and the back and forth wail of air moving past the wall outside as cars pass.

"Everything is so… this is… Giles, how am I not going mad here?"

"Breathe. Start with just that. Simply close your eyes, and breathe. Nothing else right now." He says, his voice even and calming.

"You start calling me 'grasshopper' and I swear Giles… "

"Lexi."

"Okay, I am breathing here." I shudder and shake out my limbs, and close my eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. In. Out. I can do this. Simple. Like me. Breathe in. Breathe…

"There. Your awareness of your body is far deeper now, and with that awareness, in time comes control. It may overwhelm you to begin with, but you will adjust to your new normal very quickly."

"My new normal?" I sigh, and open one eye. "Giles my new normal is nowhere near normal. My new normal is fighting for my life every night, isn't it?"

"I am afraid so." He says. Giles sits down on the pile of crash mats and gestures for me to join him. I sit and then fall back so I am staring up at the rust stained ceiling.

"So, this is how it was for Buffy." I say.

"And for every girl in your line. Generation after generation." Giles says. "You are The Slayer, Lexi. And as much as I wish you did not have to go through this, I happen to think The Powers That Be have made an excellent choice in you."

I look at the man sitting beside me, this kind, brave, intelligent man who has saved me time and time again. A man who has devoted himself to saving the world from darkness. Someone who has always been there for me, and has never raised his hand to me. And I realise then why I do not pine for my father or my mother at all. Because he and Joyce became those figures in my life. I think of Faith and her watcher Diana, and how she smiles when she talks about her. And the numbness she summons to her eyes when she talks of her death. Giles sits in silence as I think, watching.

My Watcher.

"One simple dish." I mutter to myself and stand. Giles looks confused at this. I walk over to the center of the room. "Okay G Man, let's do this. Where do we start?"

Giles stands and straightens his shirt, then faces me.

"It begins here. Into every generation a Slayer is born…"


It was decided Anya watch over Willow for the last part of her transformation. And as much as I felt uncomfortable with the wedge that Willow's new situation had driven into their relationship, I had another duty to perform. I felt I had to escort Tara back to campus safely.

The girl had changed since last I saw her, her blue hair seemed to have come with a new wave of self confidence, and though her stammer still peppered her sentences, she no longer blushed and shied away when they appeared. She seemed to own them as part of her self, and that self was slowly evolving out of her traumatic, conservative upbringing. She walked taller, and more at ease. I could see the first glimpses of the scoobies thousand yard stare forming. She was taking Buffy's dire situation calmly and bravely, despite her eyes still showing the red ravages of many tears.

"I like the blue. 's cool." I say, to break the awkward silence as we begin the trek back to the University.

"Buffy talked me into it." She smiles. "I always wanted to do something like this. I made the mistake of telling her one day." I chuckle at this, remembering how Buffy can be.

"Did the lip come out?"

"Big time."

"None shall defeat The Summer's Pout." I say and we share a smile. "I was helpless to resist." I wince, and turn to the girl by my side "I really didn't know."

"It's okay. Really. So? You're in love with Buffy too. I can't blame you. She is super easy to fall in love with."

"I was in love with her. But, for better or worse, I fell for another Slayer."

"Why worse? Love is a beautiful thing."

"Because I lost Faith. If I ever really had her. She doesn't know who I really am. Everything we had was based on lies. Well, no. Not lies. Just a few carefully selected truths."

"I'm sorry." Tara says. We walk on for a little while before she finally voices what is sitting on her tongue. "I-I never met her. Sh-she must really be s-someone sp-special. B-buffy never really g-ah-g-got over her."

"Yeah." I sigh. "She is."

"What's she like?"

"Hard to know. There are, sorta three Faiths. Like one of those medieval towns you see in Gile's books. You know the ones? With the outer walls and the moats, then the village, more walls and moats and then you get to the castle?" I pull a strained smile.

"No, I am following. Go on."

"She is all loud and bold and full of innuendo- that's the first wall. Once you are past that she is smart, jack knife smart- like Buffy is, but, street smart, she didn't get to go to a good school. She has real insight, funny as hell, loyal to a fault to the people who show her kindness. Well… unless you break her trust."

"And the castle?"

"I am sorry Tara, what I saw there? What she shared? That's personal."

Tara nods and smiles sadly. She slips her hands into the pockets of her blue sweater and slouches a little. I see the old Tara coming back.

"Being a Slayer is… I can't explain it, it's like this huge resource of strength just sitting within me. Like a cave or a, I don't know, like it's all folded up inside me ready for when I need it."

"That must be amazing."

"Weird. Terrifying. But it's powerful Tara. And Buffy has all that too. And more, because she knows how to tap into it."

Tara nods, following what I am saying. Her lop sided smile is grateful and warm.

"Sun's peaking over the horizon." She says. "I can take it from here. Thank you, Lexi."

"Anytime." I say. "So, while our girl is temporarily down for the count, would you do me the honour of officially being one of my Scoobies? I can't do this without you."

"Of course. I've got your back, Lexi Hart." Tara says, over her shoulder. And as she walks off across the field towards the orange brick buildings nestled in the trees, I feel for the first time I may just be able to do this.

As the pathway opens up from the dense trees and bushes that seclude Lowell House, I am greeted with the sour stench of ash and melted plastic. I break into a jog.

The walls of the fraternity house are blackened, with the roof broken like a spine, collapsed in so that beams point to the grey sky like so many ribs. I hurdle the police tape and come to a stop by the porch where I kissed Buffy that horrible night. The front door is sitting at the bottom of the porch steps, the inside panels scorched and blistered, the hinges torn to shreds. I don't approach closer, for it is clear there is little left to see. The few remaining walls are black and pitted with deep impacts.

The fire would have taken every scrap of evidence or clues with it.

"Damn it."


I am exhausted by the time I get home, my clothes stink of acrid ash and the sour smell of my own stale sweat. Everything magnified to oh-my-god levels.

I wearily pad up the stairs to my apartment and find the business card of Agent Clarner sucked into the frame. A ball point pen message scrawled on it with extremely neat handwriting.

Please call when you have a moment. I just want to talk about Lowell House.

With a groan, I take the card and slip my key into the lock. And once again I am terrified by what could lie behind it. I can do this. I can deal with this.

I open the door.