Rupert spent the better part of the next day arguing with himself over what he'd seen, so it was well into the afternoon when he finally arrived at Mera's house, and when she opened her door he looked at her standing in the weak sunlight and wondered again if he had dreamed it all.
"Well, that took you long enough." Mera waved him inside. When he hesitated, she sighed. "Don't be an idiot. If I had a mind to kill you I could do it while I was having a shower. Come in."
Embarrassed and still a little wary, Rupert stepped across the threshold.
Mera let the door close with a slight bang. "Did you tell your precious Council about the terrible vampire who walks in the sun?"
"N-no."
"Well, that's hopeful anyway."
Rupert turned to her. "You said you weren't one of...of them. And you didn't need an invitation to enter my house."
"Yes?"
He frowned. "And you're very good at pushing me off-balance." He hefted a bag. "I've brought a tape-recorder to even the score. With many tapes."
"Damn good idea. Do you want wine or beer?"
"Wine please. Just how long did you and your book wait in the pub for me?"
"Every night for two weeks. It was very boring." She led him through into her lounge.
Rupert looked around. The room was bright with February sunlight, and on a table several African Violets sat clustered around a blooming slipper orchid. A tall oak bookcase held volumes on history, politics, art and house-plants, and several dog-eared science-fiction books lay on a coffee table. A few original paintings and a hand-woven rug hung on a wall. There was a marked lack of anything magical.
"History books?" Rupert asked.
"I like a laugh as much as the next person."
He thought about that and chuckled. "Written by the winners."
"Yes indeed." Mera opened a cabinet and took out a bottle of wine and some glasses. "Shall we sit by the window? I take it you're expecting me to spill my guts today so you switch on your tape and I'll just start."
*
"This immortality business, oh my. While it's wonderful to know that, barring accidents, I will see the sun set a hundred or a thousand years from now, it all requires a lot of forethought and preparation. Especially now. It's a pain. Give me the days when one could walk from France to Greece without anyone demanding to see little bits of grubby paper...as if this would prove you weren't planning on killing anyone."
Rupert smiled. "Most people would be happy just to go back a few decades to their childhoods." He shook his head, amazed. "You want to return to the golden years of, what - the first century?"
"The old times weren't all that golden and you, my dear, would choke on the body odours. Mind you, I did watch the Romans come. That was bracing - Boudica and the battles."
Rupert felt his head swim. "You knew Boudica?"
"No, I only saw her from a distance. Wild little thing, she was. Very angry. These feminists today could take a few lessons from her about being on top." Mera chuckled, her eyes distant. "Burned down Londinium, she did. Now, that's a woman I'd like to have met."
Rupert realised that he was staring at her with his mouth open. He shook himself. "One thing that's confusing me."
"Only one?"
"Ha. How is it you're so, ah, 'with it'? Considering when you were born - I mean, you seem to fit so well into this time. True vampires just seem to stop when they're turned."
"Whoo, that's a strong one. Happily, however, it's one I've thought about before so I have a ready answer. All right, look - given a big enough brain and the opportunity, everything alive will learn and mentally evolve. For god's sake, there's even gorillas who communicate with pictures."
"Now, with your vampire - their personalities are ruled by their demons but given the chance...well, look at Spike. If he survives another hundred years and manages to keep his demon at bay he will have gained attitudes and ideals that he doesn't have now, just like an ordinary human. Better than that, look at Path. She's so much older than me that she wouldn't even be able to communicate if she wasn't able to learn and grow. She may have been born way back down the evolutionary scale but she's just as capable as you or me. She does all her communication through sign and telepathy."
"Telepathy?" Rupert asked, surprised. "True telepathy?"
"Yes. Being turned enabled me to hear her. I imagine if you were turned by Path or myself, you would be able to hear the two of us."
"Vampires don't have this ability."
"No. The poor sods are completely alone. But to get back to Path - she's very eloquent in her 'speech', but also very direct: the way of her people. She gets her message across, believe me. Doesn't let herself get sidetracked. She understands the modern world but doesn't like it, and who can blame her? These times literally stink. She lives far, far away from everything, quite happy, and if she could I swear she'd live on Mars. Now don't mistake me, Path is a primitive. But, like me, she moves with the times as much as she's able, or wants to."
"Does she never get weary?"
"Nooo. Path has her own very special primitive view of life. She lives for the Now and the future and doesn't give much thought to the past; she doesn't let it hang on her. She's probably the most uncomplicated being in existence."
"We're all products of the times we live in. I just happen to have lived in quite a few and they've all had an influence on me. For instance: there was a time when I stood by the scaffolds in France and thought nothing of watching the heads fall and the blood run. I didn't necessarily cheer, but I wasn't disturbed. Times have always been violent and death is the norm, no matter how much people nowadays like to think it isn't. Death and violence amongst the paintings and poetry. Once, in London, I held up a little girl so that she had a better view of a multiple hanging. Good grief! It's possible that before I attended the hanging I'd read a sonnet or done some needlework or something equally bloody dainty. Public executions, huh. It was just the way it was. We truly didn't know any better."
"But now, for just about the first time in history most educated people frown upon this sort of thing, and I frown too. I have learnt, you see. It's not so much when we're born as when we live that shapes us. First, I was shaped by the time I was born in; it gave me my stupendous lack of subtlety. Later, I was shaped by the Celts, then by the Romans. I was shaped again by eleventh century Britain - I went all French - and up through the years, and now the twenty-first has me in it's teeth. I could add something here about cycles, population explosions, power-fuelled arrogance and the fall of civilisations, but I won't."
"Some opinions I hold now will change in the future - I know this. But the fundamental things I've come to know throughout all these years will not dissappear, no matter what happens. For example, I did not believe in the Church's persecution of witches, no matter how vehement they were on the subject, because I already knew - one: witches were not what the church was pretending they were, and two: it was all hypocrisy anyway. So you see, if public executions ever become popular again in this country - and televised, written up in newspapers, cheered at, betted on - no matter what the pressure to conform, I will most definitely never attend one again. Ever. You see? I may have been born over five thousand years ago, but the brain I was born with is the same as yours, more or less, and I'm not controlled by anything except me. I hope all that made sense."
Rupert nodded, a little boggled by her long speech. "Are you going to tell me how Path came to be?"
"I am." Mera looked at him thoughtfully, studying his face. When he began to fidgit, she smiled. "Now we start the journey. You, I think, may not like it very much. But I've taken your measure and I don't think you'll actually reject it, not when you've thought about it."
Rupert looked bemused. "Well, I-I...I'll try to keep an open mind."
"Of course you will. That's why I've approached you. But be warned: I'm rather impatient with knee-jerk reactions. I've seen too many of them through the years and they piss me off something chronic."
*
Rupert gaped at her.
She shrugged. "Sometimes I can't stop myself."
"You're going right back to the beginning?"
"Yes. That's where Path's story begins."
"Pardon?"
"Oh yes. That Demon was responsible for a lot more than just vampires."
"Good lord! She's that old? Are you sure?"
"Quite sure. Now let me get on with it. We have a Demon standing all alone and one thing is certain: there must have been at least one near-dead human close by him."
"That he'd bitten. To make a vampire. Yes, I know this part - "
"No you don't. You haven't a clue as to what really happened. He may have bitten the poor sod, but that's immaterial. Now, as few interruptions as possible please." Mera re-gathered her thoughts. "So. His people had lost. Humanity was the victor. In a desperate bid to retain a place on Earth this last Demon attempted to gain a hold on the burgeoning human race. He couldn't breed to increase his number and there were too many humans to fight. So he tried the only other way he could think of - the 'spiritual' way, if you like. Using what must have been extremely desperate measures, he left his body behind and entered the dying human. But something went wrong: he didn't fully succeed. In the act of transferring himself his spirit split. Into three separate parts, each containing an aspect of himself but not one of them retaining all his features. One split became the vampire - yes, what?"
Rupert was shocked. "Good god!"
"No. Bad luck."
"He split? I've never heard of this!"
"I know."
"Are you sure?"
"Definitely."
"But - but why did it go wrong?"
Mera shrugged. "Accident? It's almost certain he was desperate and rushed the whole thing. No-one knows - except the Powers, I expect."
"Perhaps it was them, intervening."
"Them?" Her voice was suddenly full of contempt and Rupert's eyes opened wide. "Them? Do me a favour! Have you ever known them to lift a finger to prevent anything bad happening? Those smug bastards aren't inclined to shift their asses for any reason. Oh, they'll give people visions, gift various poor sods with strange talents, but actively help? Did they help you with Glory? They make me sick."
Rupert stared at her.
"Don't look like that," she snapped. "I can be an - an 'atheist' if I choose. An unimpressed-by-the-Powers person. And I do choose. Unless they actually prove me wrong at some point, I can think of only one thing less useful than a vampire, and that's the Powers. We're supposed to respect them, look up to them in awe, and for what? What do they do? Nothing truly useful that I've seen in five thousand years." She sighed hard. "No - it wasn't them who stepped in. I'm sure if they'd wanted to they could have stopped him cold and we wouldn't have this problem now. Unless, of course, they wanted to play with us. That wouldn't surprise me." Her voice was acid.
"Perhaps it's all a test," said Rupert carefully, stunned at her reaction.
"Ha! Yes, lab-rats."
"No, I mean - perhaps they're watching, waiting for us to learn, to grow - "
"Yes, as I said. Lab rats. Twitch it a little here, nudge it a little there and watch as we scurry. Pah!" This was obviously a touchy subject with Mera. She forced herself to calm down. "Path doesn't agree with me on this one, by the way. We've had some very, um, interesting arguments, the sort that make the fangs appear. I think she knows more about what actually happened back then than she's told me. All she'll say is that she learned, right back at the beginning, that the Three - the three splits, that is - can never come together. What that means exactly she's never made clear. Personally, when I think about it, all I can imagine is some kind of revolting, well-timed, three-person orgy. Now that's something that'll never happen."
"Perhaps the Three should never meet?"
"Well no, because there was a time when a Slayer, a vampire and myself were all together in a room in Australia and nothing happened except the vampire was killed. It may mean the Three can never come together spiritually and become the Demon again." She straightened up. "Anyway, one thing we can be sure of is that this split was not the Demon's plan because he lost himself in the process, and we now have this whole mix-up with vampires and Slayers and whatever you want to call Path - and I'm sure that wasn't what he intended. It was all a monumental, cosmic balls-up."
Rupert rubbed his temples. "All right. He split into three. So that's vampires and - and Path?" When Mera nodded he shook his head in wonder. "So what else? What became of the third split?"
"I just told you."
"You did?" Rupert frowned, thinking, and slowly his face drained of colour. "Oh no," he said quietly. "No. No, that can't be."
Mera gave him no more time. "Your beliefs and preferences matter not one whit. This is what happened - " Rupert stood up and made a wide gesture, ready to give vent. Mera simply looked at him and said flatly: "Sit down." To his surprise, he fell back into his chair. Emotionless, Mera continued: "You asked the questions. These are the answers. You assured me that you would try to keep an open mind and you now have an idea of how much effort that will take. But I am not going to repeat myself and you are going to listen. I am in no mood for an argument. If necessary I will bind you to that chair and I will not have to move one muscle in order to do so. Do you understand me?"
Stunned, Rupert could only nod. He was beginning to realise that it was far too easy to forget what this woman was.
Mera relaxed and gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry about that. It's just that I don't want to have to go over this again. And again." She sighed. "Now, this is the long part. Attend. Three-way split. Part number one, containing all the Demon's desire for vengeance against the human race, and all his malice, venom and evil went as planned into the unfortunate human who became the first vampire. It took him over completely, his personality enslaved."
"The other two parts flew wide, unguided but still looking for someone to - ah - infect. Part number two, containing just about everything the vampires have minus the evil side and without the need for blood or the instinct to kill, went into Path who was ill at the time and close to death."
She took a sip of her drink. "Now, part three is in a different class to the other two. It isn't possible to pass it to others in the manner of vampires because this third part is still out there, flying free all the time since this began. This is the famous 'Source of the Slayer' you have heard so much about and in its freedom is so very much stronger and bigger than the other two parts. Path believes that if it had done as the others had and entered a host, that human would have expired immediately. Exploded, probably. It has a measure of intelligence; the intelligence that the other two lost when they joined with their hosts, so it probably made a conscious decision to remain free."
"The Source has none of the Demon's evil or malice. The vampire got all of that. But it still has a sense of his original purpose, you see, so it lends it's power to a human. I imagine that the first Slayer was very surprised when she was taken over: I know Path was. We were of the opinion that it was single-minded, moving this power to a new host only when the old had died, but Buffy has proved us wrong by refusing to stay dead. Obviously once a Slayer, always a Slayer - no matter how often she comes back. Even though a new Slayer has been called, it is still lending Buffy the power."
"The longer a Slayer lives the more this power works on her, making her stronger. It contains a good portion of the Demon's strength and gifts the Slayers with his sense of duty and a very little of his dark attributes except his immortality, and, like Path and I, Slayers retain their souls - for all the difference that makes - and their true selves. Their personalities are not compromised."
"But the Source's power is enormous. It is also very - testy. It does not appreciate being interfered with. You truly didn't know what you were doing when you invoked it. If you rolled everything that has ever happened to you and Buffy into one dangerous whole it wouldn't touch the peril inherent in your actions that day. I imagine it sent you a warning never to do it again. If so, I hope you took it to heart?"
"We - received a message to that end, yes." Rupert had found his voice. "Ah - his sense of duty?"
"Oh yes. This Demon was very loyal to his kindred. Slayers are instilled with a duty to their own kind. I'm sure Buffy has done a lot of complaining during her short life but she's still gone out there and done her job, hasn't she?"
"Y-yes, she has. But why should the Source fight vampires? If it is, as you say, kindred." The word made Rupert's mouth feel dirty.
"The Source isn't evil. Simple as that. Perhaps, being on the good side, it simply wants to fight the good fight. Or maybe it sees vampires as some kind of reflection of itself - it's evil siblings, which in fact is what they are - and it doesn't like what it sees. Think about Angel. Now think about Angelus and his tastes. Do you think that if Angel could somehow confront a physical Angelus, he would fight him? Of course he would. He'd try to kill him. He wouldn't stop until he had killed him."
Rupert frowned. "How do you know about Angel?"
"Oh, Path and I keep an eye on things. When something like Angel or Buffy occurs, we know about it. We feel it. Mind you - Spike was a surprise, probably because the source of his change is science, not the supernatural. I knew nothing of his transformation until you told me."
"Did Path ever tell you what it was like when she was changed?" Rupert had decided to avoid thinking about Slayers for the moment.
"Yes. It was unpleasant and terrifying, and she thought her death had come. She was quite pleased when nothing of the sort happened."
Rupert frowned. "Nothing of the sort? But don't you - "
"It isn't necessary to die in order to become one of us. The candidate must be weak, obviously, or it won't take hold, but there's no dying involved. That's another difference between us and vampires." Abruptly, Mera stood and picked up the empty wine bottle. "Well, you've heard the basics. I know where there's a whole stack of manuscripts that will confirm all of this for you. Time for a refill, I think, while you inwardly digest." She left the room.
Rupert stared at the far wall, not knowing what to think. Something deep inside him knew the truth of what he'd been told: it made so much sense and explained such a lot about Buffy. But it warred with everything he had learned as a Watcher; all his training and the reason for it, his whole purpose. He felt a need for sleep and knew that this was nothing more than his mind attempting to shy away from information it didn't want to think about.
Mera spent some minutes in the kitchen, giving him time. When she returned he had his chin on his hand and was looking blankly out of the window.
"I put together some munchies." Mera handed him a plate."Well, Mr Open-Minded? What do you think?"
"I'm trying not to. Although - um, I have to admit it's fascinating."
"It's a bloody tragedy."
"Yes. Yes it is." Rupert switched off his recorder and slowly ate a sandwich. Then he looked at Mera. "This Demon. Was he really the colour of bronze?"
"God knows. Slice of cake?"
