A/N Okay, I've gone back to using to indicate thoughts. As always, thanks for
any reviews. Here we go!
Buffy stiffly walked for what seemed like hours. There were no more hideously
decaying corpses, no scent of burnt flesh, nothing. Just endless black tunnel that
stretched on forever. She wondered where Spike was, and had started to regret
leaving him back there.
Something might have happened to him. And if it has, that means I'm alone
down here. With a broken leg.
The pain had gone from intense to dull, and although she was sure it was still
badly hurt, it seemed to have healed a little bit. Buffy caught her foot on a rock,
and the leg became aflame with searing hurt.
"Ahhh!"
She dropped to the floor, and the pain subsided. Still, it was nice to have a rest.
Buffy noticed that her voice sounded echoey. Looking around, she realised that
she was in some kind of cavern. Smaller than the one she and Spike idiot
had crossed earlier, she decided to explore. In another minute or so. Sighing,
Buffy decided to inspect her injured leg. Someone had wrapped a piece of
material around the break, and it had soaked up most of the blood.
"The someone being Spike, of course. Stupid vampire."
With a sob of pain that came from provoking the wound she unwound the
material, and saw that he'd ripped it from his shirt, the dumb red one he wore all
the time. She held it in her hands for a moment, then put it on the floor of the
cavern, ripping a fresh strip from her top. It left her stomach exposed, and she
wrapped the duster tightly around her.
Spike's stupid duster. That he wears all the time, except now , because I got
it…why didn't he take it back? When we argued, he only needed to
ask…probably being all gentlemanly…okay, that wasn't much of an insult.
As she sat there, Buffy thought about all the other times Spike had helped her.
Okay, he hasn't helped me that much…only when his own butt needed
saving…stupid selfish pig. Just because he can't hit anyone any more doesn't
mean he has to hurt them in other ways…
She stood up, and scanned the cavern. It was still pretty big. Inhalation of the air
proved in to be stale. Then there was a noise.
"Ple…" It broke into a hacking cough.
Buffy wasn't alone. Too caught up in her own mind, she'd failed to sense the
presence of any demon.
Wait a minute. I'm not sensing a demon. Could it be…another human?
She whirled around, and confronted the person. A sharp intake of breath
betrayed Buffy's surprise. The woman standing in front of her was ancient. Long
and dirty grey hair swept the floor. Her back was hunched, and she shuffled
painfully. Thin wrists were bound in shackles, and her clothes were thin. The face
was lined deeply by the years, and fine wrinkles covered every bare patch of
skin. The Slayer stared into the hag's eyes. They were beautiful…shocking
contrast to the age and decay…a vibrant, laughing shade of green…
Buffy's vision pushed its way forward, through all the Spike thoughts, to the front
of her mind. And she knew at once who this woman was.
"You…you're her. The Dragon Slayer."
*****
"Please…" Interrupted by another cough. "Please, child. Come with me."
The slayer's eyes widened as the woman led her across the cavern to a
seemingly innocent wall. It swung aside silently to reveal a small, bare room. a
prison cell. The old woman gestured towards the single chair, and Buffy sat on it.
She watched as the Dragon Slayer shuffled over to the bed, and carefully sat on
it.
"So. You've found me."
Her eyes twinkled, and Buffy saw the kindness there. She leaned forward
hesitantly.
"I…guess I have. I still don't really know what I'm doing here…what I was looking
for…"
"You were looking for your destiny. Tell me, did you find him?"
"Who, my destiny?"
"No…the other Chosen One."
"Okay…Buffy is confused. Perhaps we should start at the beginning."
The old woman's laugh quickly turned into another massive cough. Buffy stared
and ran to the small jug on the side. She poured a glass of water, and the woman
took it thankfully.
"To start at the beginning…I don't think I have much time…left."
"You're…you're dying?"
"No. But your future is."
Buffy gave a nervous laugh. "Look, I'm no Willow…so you have to talk in the
simple language. I..I don't even know your name.."
"Lucille. Lucy to my friends…we must start now. I have...a story to tell you. It will
explain."
And she began to talk. And Buffy began to listen.
"It started roughly one hundred years ago. The former Slayer was dead, killed in
China by a vampire. I was called, and I was both ready and willing for my duties.
I had been taken away from my family by the Watcher's Council since I was six
years old. My Watcher was the only real family and companion I had. I was
alone…it was the belief that a slayer should stand alone, laugh death in the face.
So I began my term as the Vampire Slayer. I was good. One of the best. It is only
the best that are strong enough…but I move ahead of myself. Well, one day, I
met a vampire. He was strong and evil, but fast and clever. I couldn't kill him,
although I tried my hardest….so very hard. It was a Sunday when it happened,
as I recall. I was tracking him through the woods, when a blast of flame knocked
me from my feet. I cried out, then lay still. From the corners of my eyes, I saw
him standing there, and a huge beast flying away, far into the night sky. I told my
Watcher, but he didn't believe me. Then the Council seized me. They informed
me that I was discharged from their service, and was no longer a Vampire
Slayer. I was one of the Chosen Two. Once in every century, the Dragon Slayers
are called. Two beings, one of the dark and one of the light, who are of skill and
strength surpassing none. They alone can fight the dragons, and they alone will
stand against them…"
"This vampire…the one you hated…"
"Jameson? Yes. He was the other Slayer. Our destinies had been entwined from
the start…a Slayer and vampire combined to create the most powerful fighting
machine to stand against the most powerful monsters...the dragons.""
"So...what happened?"
"I was removed from the lineage of Slayers. Another Chosen One was called, as
though I were dead. My Watcher's Diaries were destroyed, and my name erased
from history. Jameson's was too. A notorious killer in his day…now it's as though
he never existed."
"And I've been picked for the job. Oh, how wonderful for me. and the Watcher's
Council never came to me about it…well, they wouldn't would they, because I
quit…"
Buffy clenched her hands together tightly. If what Lucille told her was true, then it
meant giving up school, her home, her family, her friends, her entire life to kill
dragons. And spend eternity in the company of…
"Wait a minute. The Chosen Two...they have to stick together?"
"Oh yes. It's easy to become insane, spending days alone, only killing. Always
killing."
The Slayer felt like screaming. Why Spike? The powers That Be must really
have it in for me. Why him, of all vampires…wait. Just because he had a
vision…that doesn't mean anything!
"How did you…uh…know that it was Jameson? That he was the Yin to your
Yang?"
"He was the only other one that saw the dragon. He was the only one that
believed me. And…and…"
"And what?"
"We did hate each other, yes. But the moment we fought the first dragon
together, we knew. We made a connection."
"Were you in love?"
Lucille stared, shocked by the straight forward manner of this girl. She seemed
strong enough, but seemed uneducated in the ways of the Slayer. Quitting the
Council? And all this talk of love, of passion…it was as though she hadn't let the
slaying consume her…as though she were almost human…
"Well? Were you?"
"No…we…became great friends. But Slayers never…"
"Never love? Never break the rules? Guess I'm not meant for the job after all…"
She sensed the girl's unease. Grabbed her hands. Looked her straight in the
eye, with a piercing glare.
"You were born to do this. It is an honour. Not simply a Slayer, but the best in her
lifetime? You've surely felt…the thrill of the slay…the feeling when everything
works as it should…everything to it's own natural harmony…"
Buffy nodded, spellbound.
"This is the ultimate kill. The only way to live. You were built for this, and you
were made for each other…it is destined. Can't you see now?"
The Slayer blinked. Understanding filled her mind, and she felt older somehow.
"I see."
*****
"I can't see a bloody...thing!" Spike yelled, stamping along the tunnel. It wasn't
night black, but so dark that it was constantly uncomfortable for his eyes. He
blinked, and felt a surge of pure anger that he hadn't felt since…well, since he'd
started to play it up to the Slayer. Since he'd started wanting to make her fall in
love with him.
"Stupid sod!" He punctuated each word with a solid kick to the stone wall.
"I…love…the…Slayer! And…she…hates…me!
I…don't…want…to…kill…her…but…if…
she…doesn't…make…this…pain…stop…I…might...HAVE TO!"
He screamed the last two words, and they echoed around the tunnel. Spike
stooped kicking, and stood back, running his hands through his hair. He suddenly
realised that he was cold, and that his duster was missing.
Oh yeah. The Slayer was wearing it. Hoo-bloody-ray.
The tunnel had forked yet again, and although he'd decided long ago that the
Slayer wasn't in this tunnel, he carried on. The stench of death was less
profound, although the scent of blood had increased. Humans always thought
that blood smelt like rotting bodies. How wrong they were…it was like the
sweetest perfume, heavy and intoxicating…they described its taste like copper,
but to him it was pure gold…
Something moved in the shadows.
"What the…"
"Hello."
Spike spun around. He couldn't see the creature, but it spoke English.
"Alright mate, why don't you come out. On second thoughts, don't bother. I won't
be able to see you anyway in this bloody gloom. I'll keep walking, you stay here,
and everybody's.."
Spike's hand snaked out, quicker than a viper's strike, and closed around the
creature's neck.
"Happy."
He held him aloft, and knew that it was a vampire. A male vampire, somewhere
between three or four centuries old. And that was old. With age came respect,
and because Spike had never followed the rules this fact made him tighten his
grip. He thought he heard a choked chuckle, and the other vampire spoke.
"Put…me…down."
"Why? Don't you like flying?"
Spike waved the vampire around in the air. For all his age he was
extremely…light.
Another hoarse chuckle. "Only if it's on the back of a dragon."
Spike dropped him as though he were a cross.
"Who the hell are you? What do you know about dragons? And do you
know…why I'm here?"
"I'm Jameson. I know more about dragons than anyone else alive…there used to
be another…but she's gone. And you're here because you made a connection."
The older vampire Jameson laughed again gleefully, youthfully, and ran
away. Spike sighed, exasperated, and followed.
Jameson rounded the corner and leaned against the wall of his cavern. He had
been forced to abandon his human visage years ago, and his vampiric ridges
made the frown lines deeper. He thought again of the young vampire chasing
him, and his brow creased once more, this time in frustration. This one was a
rebel without a cause. He disobeyed the rules, and he talked back.
"But he is the strongest. The best. Has the world changed so much since I
walked on it?"
Spike heard the whispered words as he rounded the corner.
Is he talking about me? The strongest. The best? He felt a sudden rush of
adrenaline at the thought. Jameson looked at him, and Spike stared back.
"We need…we need…"
"Yes?"
"We need to start…at the beginning."
*****
"Heads up!"
"Shut up!"
Xander landed on the floor of the enormous chamber with a thud. His friends all
looked at him, and he shrugged.
"Just trying to lighten the…"
"I mean it! Be quiet."
Giles looked anxious. Xander frowned. Anxious meant trouble. But then so did
most of Giles' facial expressions…
Willow pointed. "I think I saw something over there…a raised stone…perhaps a
plinth?"
"Shhhhhhh!"
They all looked at him again.
"What? Willow can talk, but the second I open my mouth you all make out like
we're in avalanche country. Well, newsflash. We aren't. Watch. HELLO? HI? IS
ANYBODY THERE?"
Deep in the bowels of the cavern, something stirred.
"Xander!" Anya punched him. Hard.
He nearly yelled, but Giles made a warning sign. A very definite warning sign. So
he didn't say a word. Giles motioned for them all to investigate the raised plinth.
Tara opened her mouth as she ran her hands over the figure on top.
It was an ornately decorated dragon.
Excited whispers filled the air.
"She told me it was a dragon…why couldn't I just be more open-minded…"
"I mean, this is the Hellmouth, what do you expect…"
"If only we'd listened…"
"I bet Spike listened. I bet he provided a very convenient shoulder to cry on…"
"Oh, Xander, shut up!"
"Dragons...this is so exciting…and new…"
They all noticed four things at about the same time. Firstly, that Xander had shut
up, and was staring at a fixed point behind them all in a decidedly disturbing
manner. Secondly, that the clicking noise they'd all dismissed as imagination or
nerves had almost certainly been claws. Thirdly, that the flapping gusts of wind
they'd all dismissed as imagination or nerves had almost certainly been caused
by wings.
Fourthly, that the claws and wings almost certainly belonged to an enormous, fire
snorting, bonafide, standing right behind them, dragon.
any reviews. Here we go!
Buffy stiffly walked for what seemed like hours. There were no more hideously
decaying corpses, no scent of burnt flesh, nothing. Just endless black tunnel that
stretched on forever. She wondered where Spike was, and had started to regret
leaving him back there.
Something might have happened to him. And if it has, that means I'm alone
down here. With a broken leg.
The pain had gone from intense to dull, and although she was sure it was still
badly hurt, it seemed to have healed a little bit. Buffy caught her foot on a rock,
and the leg became aflame with searing hurt.
"Ahhh!"
She dropped to the floor, and the pain subsided. Still, it was nice to have a rest.
Buffy noticed that her voice sounded echoey. Looking around, she realised that
she was in some kind of cavern. Smaller than the one she and Spike idiot
had crossed earlier, she decided to explore. In another minute or so. Sighing,
Buffy decided to inspect her injured leg. Someone had wrapped a piece of
material around the break, and it had soaked up most of the blood.
"The someone being Spike, of course. Stupid vampire."
With a sob of pain that came from provoking the wound she unwound the
material, and saw that he'd ripped it from his shirt, the dumb red one he wore all
the time. She held it in her hands for a moment, then put it on the floor of the
cavern, ripping a fresh strip from her top. It left her stomach exposed, and she
wrapped the duster tightly around her.
Spike's stupid duster. That he wears all the time, except now , because I got
it…why didn't he take it back? When we argued, he only needed to
ask…probably being all gentlemanly…okay, that wasn't much of an insult.
As she sat there, Buffy thought about all the other times Spike had helped her.
Okay, he hasn't helped me that much…only when his own butt needed
saving…stupid selfish pig. Just because he can't hit anyone any more doesn't
mean he has to hurt them in other ways…
She stood up, and scanned the cavern. It was still pretty big. Inhalation of the air
proved in to be stale. Then there was a noise.
"Ple…" It broke into a hacking cough.
Buffy wasn't alone. Too caught up in her own mind, she'd failed to sense the
presence of any demon.
Wait a minute. I'm not sensing a demon. Could it be…another human?
She whirled around, and confronted the person. A sharp intake of breath
betrayed Buffy's surprise. The woman standing in front of her was ancient. Long
and dirty grey hair swept the floor. Her back was hunched, and she shuffled
painfully. Thin wrists were bound in shackles, and her clothes were thin. The face
was lined deeply by the years, and fine wrinkles covered every bare patch of
skin. The Slayer stared into the hag's eyes. They were beautiful…shocking
contrast to the age and decay…a vibrant, laughing shade of green…
Buffy's vision pushed its way forward, through all the Spike thoughts, to the front
of her mind. And she knew at once who this woman was.
"You…you're her. The Dragon Slayer."
*****
"Please…" Interrupted by another cough. "Please, child. Come with me."
The slayer's eyes widened as the woman led her across the cavern to a
seemingly innocent wall. It swung aside silently to reveal a small, bare room. a
prison cell. The old woman gestured towards the single chair, and Buffy sat on it.
She watched as the Dragon Slayer shuffled over to the bed, and carefully sat on
it.
"So. You've found me."
Her eyes twinkled, and Buffy saw the kindness there. She leaned forward
hesitantly.
"I…guess I have. I still don't really know what I'm doing here…what I was looking
for…"
"You were looking for your destiny. Tell me, did you find him?"
"Who, my destiny?"
"No…the other Chosen One."
"Okay…Buffy is confused. Perhaps we should start at the beginning."
The old woman's laugh quickly turned into another massive cough. Buffy stared
and ran to the small jug on the side. She poured a glass of water, and the woman
took it thankfully.
"To start at the beginning…I don't think I have much time…left."
"You're…you're dying?"
"No. But your future is."
Buffy gave a nervous laugh. "Look, I'm no Willow…so you have to talk in the
simple language. I..I don't even know your name.."
"Lucille. Lucy to my friends…we must start now. I have...a story to tell you. It will
explain."
And she began to talk. And Buffy began to listen.
"It started roughly one hundred years ago. The former Slayer was dead, killed in
China by a vampire. I was called, and I was both ready and willing for my duties.
I had been taken away from my family by the Watcher's Council since I was six
years old. My Watcher was the only real family and companion I had. I was
alone…it was the belief that a slayer should stand alone, laugh death in the face.
So I began my term as the Vampire Slayer. I was good. One of the best. It is only
the best that are strong enough…but I move ahead of myself. Well, one day, I
met a vampire. He was strong and evil, but fast and clever. I couldn't kill him,
although I tried my hardest….so very hard. It was a Sunday when it happened,
as I recall. I was tracking him through the woods, when a blast of flame knocked
me from my feet. I cried out, then lay still. From the corners of my eyes, I saw
him standing there, and a huge beast flying away, far into the night sky. I told my
Watcher, but he didn't believe me. Then the Council seized me. They informed
me that I was discharged from their service, and was no longer a Vampire
Slayer. I was one of the Chosen Two. Once in every century, the Dragon Slayers
are called. Two beings, one of the dark and one of the light, who are of skill and
strength surpassing none. They alone can fight the dragons, and they alone will
stand against them…"
"This vampire…the one you hated…"
"Jameson? Yes. He was the other Slayer. Our destinies had been entwined from
the start…a Slayer and vampire combined to create the most powerful fighting
machine to stand against the most powerful monsters...the dragons.""
"So...what happened?"
"I was removed from the lineage of Slayers. Another Chosen One was called, as
though I were dead. My Watcher's Diaries were destroyed, and my name erased
from history. Jameson's was too. A notorious killer in his day…now it's as though
he never existed."
"And I've been picked for the job. Oh, how wonderful for me. and the Watcher's
Council never came to me about it…well, they wouldn't would they, because I
quit…"
Buffy clenched her hands together tightly. If what Lucille told her was true, then it
meant giving up school, her home, her family, her friends, her entire life to kill
dragons. And spend eternity in the company of…
"Wait a minute. The Chosen Two...they have to stick together?"
"Oh yes. It's easy to become insane, spending days alone, only killing. Always
killing."
The Slayer felt like screaming. Why Spike? The powers That Be must really
have it in for me. Why him, of all vampires…wait. Just because he had a
vision…that doesn't mean anything!
"How did you…uh…know that it was Jameson? That he was the Yin to your
Yang?"
"He was the only other one that saw the dragon. He was the only one that
believed me. And…and…"
"And what?"
"We did hate each other, yes. But the moment we fought the first dragon
together, we knew. We made a connection."
"Were you in love?"
Lucille stared, shocked by the straight forward manner of this girl. She seemed
strong enough, but seemed uneducated in the ways of the Slayer. Quitting the
Council? And all this talk of love, of passion…it was as though she hadn't let the
slaying consume her…as though she were almost human…
"Well? Were you?"
"No…we…became great friends. But Slayers never…"
"Never love? Never break the rules? Guess I'm not meant for the job after all…"
She sensed the girl's unease. Grabbed her hands. Looked her straight in the
eye, with a piercing glare.
"You were born to do this. It is an honour. Not simply a Slayer, but the best in her
lifetime? You've surely felt…the thrill of the slay…the feeling when everything
works as it should…everything to it's own natural harmony…"
Buffy nodded, spellbound.
"This is the ultimate kill. The only way to live. You were built for this, and you
were made for each other…it is destined. Can't you see now?"
The Slayer blinked. Understanding filled her mind, and she felt older somehow.
"I see."
*****
"I can't see a bloody...thing!" Spike yelled, stamping along the tunnel. It wasn't
night black, but so dark that it was constantly uncomfortable for his eyes. He
blinked, and felt a surge of pure anger that he hadn't felt since…well, since he'd
started to play it up to the Slayer. Since he'd started wanting to make her fall in
love with him.
"Stupid sod!" He punctuated each word with a solid kick to the stone wall.
"I…love…the…Slayer! And…she…hates…me!
I…don't…want…to…kill…her…but…if…
she…doesn't…make…this…pain…stop…I…might...HAVE TO!"
He screamed the last two words, and they echoed around the tunnel. Spike
stooped kicking, and stood back, running his hands through his hair. He suddenly
realised that he was cold, and that his duster was missing.
Oh yeah. The Slayer was wearing it. Hoo-bloody-ray.
The tunnel had forked yet again, and although he'd decided long ago that the
Slayer wasn't in this tunnel, he carried on. The stench of death was less
profound, although the scent of blood had increased. Humans always thought
that blood smelt like rotting bodies. How wrong they were…it was like the
sweetest perfume, heavy and intoxicating…they described its taste like copper,
but to him it was pure gold…
Something moved in the shadows.
"What the…"
"Hello."
Spike spun around. He couldn't see the creature, but it spoke English.
"Alright mate, why don't you come out. On second thoughts, don't bother. I won't
be able to see you anyway in this bloody gloom. I'll keep walking, you stay here,
and everybody's.."
Spike's hand snaked out, quicker than a viper's strike, and closed around the
creature's neck.
"Happy."
He held him aloft, and knew that it was a vampire. A male vampire, somewhere
between three or four centuries old. And that was old. With age came respect,
and because Spike had never followed the rules this fact made him tighten his
grip. He thought he heard a choked chuckle, and the other vampire spoke.
"Put…me…down."
"Why? Don't you like flying?"
Spike waved the vampire around in the air. For all his age he was
extremely…light.
Another hoarse chuckle. "Only if it's on the back of a dragon."
Spike dropped him as though he were a cross.
"Who the hell are you? What do you know about dragons? And do you
know…why I'm here?"
"I'm Jameson. I know more about dragons than anyone else alive…there used to
be another…but she's gone. And you're here because you made a connection."
The older vampire Jameson laughed again gleefully, youthfully, and ran
away. Spike sighed, exasperated, and followed.
Jameson rounded the corner and leaned against the wall of his cavern. He had
been forced to abandon his human visage years ago, and his vampiric ridges
made the frown lines deeper. He thought again of the young vampire chasing
him, and his brow creased once more, this time in frustration. This one was a
rebel without a cause. He disobeyed the rules, and he talked back.
"But he is the strongest. The best. Has the world changed so much since I
walked on it?"
Spike heard the whispered words as he rounded the corner.
Is he talking about me? The strongest. The best? He felt a sudden rush of
adrenaline at the thought. Jameson looked at him, and Spike stared back.
"We need…we need…"
"Yes?"
"We need to start…at the beginning."
*****
"Heads up!"
"Shut up!"
Xander landed on the floor of the enormous chamber with a thud. His friends all
looked at him, and he shrugged.
"Just trying to lighten the…"
"I mean it! Be quiet."
Giles looked anxious. Xander frowned. Anxious meant trouble. But then so did
most of Giles' facial expressions…
Willow pointed. "I think I saw something over there…a raised stone…perhaps a
plinth?"
"Shhhhhhh!"
They all looked at him again.
"What? Willow can talk, but the second I open my mouth you all make out like
we're in avalanche country. Well, newsflash. We aren't. Watch. HELLO? HI? IS
ANYBODY THERE?"
Deep in the bowels of the cavern, something stirred.
"Xander!" Anya punched him. Hard.
He nearly yelled, but Giles made a warning sign. A very definite warning sign. So
he didn't say a word. Giles motioned for them all to investigate the raised plinth.
Tara opened her mouth as she ran her hands over the figure on top.
It was an ornately decorated dragon.
Excited whispers filled the air.
"She told me it was a dragon…why couldn't I just be more open-minded…"
"I mean, this is the Hellmouth, what do you expect…"
"If only we'd listened…"
"I bet Spike listened. I bet he provided a very convenient shoulder to cry on…"
"Oh, Xander, shut up!"
"Dragons...this is so exciting…and new…"
They all noticed four things at about the same time. Firstly, that Xander had shut
up, and was staring at a fixed point behind them all in a decidedly disturbing
manner. Secondly, that the clicking noise they'd all dismissed as imagination or
nerves had almost certainly been claws. Thirdly, that the flapping gusts of wind
they'd all dismissed as imagination or nerves had almost certainly been caused
by wings.
Fourthly, that the claws and wings almost certainly belonged to an enormous, fire
snorting, bonafide, standing right behind them, dragon.