Lily, the Vampire Slayer
Chapter Twelve
Do not weep, warrior of light...
"Stay away from me!!!" she warned the unsubstantial voice.
Child of light, come back to the world you have left behind...
She opened her eyes and looked at her surroundings. That voice was somewhat different from the first one, more kind, gentle, caring...a mother's soothing tone. Carrying her up into gentle arms and doing all that could be done to comfort a crying and tortured child.
The chill that had once penetrated her body, her mind, her soul, her very being had suddenly disappeared to be replaced by a calming and tranquil warmth that only family, a loving, caring, understanding that could not be given by any other, had enveloped her instead.
She lifted her head and scornfully stared at the stalagmites and stalactites.
"You're trying to drive me nuts, ain't ya? Confuse me, send me to a mental institution. Trying to make me believe that good is evil or something."
Then, she stopped, the fact that she now spoke differently had completely dawned on her.
She thought differently, too.
She shut her eyes and concentrated on finding her identity, it must be hidden in the deepest recesses of her subconscious for it took her quite some time to find herself, her past and her being.
Why was this soul so intent on keeping her individuality, memories and thoughts clandestine?
What was there to be afraid of?
What was she, that it was to be ashamed of?
Most importantly, what did this soul want to keep hidden?
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Their chanting had turned frantic now.
The Slayer was now dancing on the edge of her consciousness.
Barely alive and nearing the brink of her existence.
Something held her back, something that could endanger her further, pull her away from their already fragile grasp and shove her into the deep pits of her terror and agony, quickening her loss of life.
They needed her to let go, whatever obstructions that had set themselves to block her from her ultimate goals were now threatening to destroy her.
They needed to reach her, the force of power that they had sent to aid her needed time, she was in too far deep in her consternation and self-pity, feeling the seeming hopelessness that was fastidiously consuming her, their own savior could not save this warrior as quickly as they had hoped.
Athena needed more time, time which they might not able to give her, give the Slayer.
But they could at least try.
Each Wiccan in the circle lifted their arms into the air and focused their very being, their all-consuming essences into the Goddess they have summoned, focused every fibre of their beings into saving a child they knew nothing of and have never met.
Their combined energy was lacking and some begun a new chant, a chant that would allow them to call upon their elders' powers, and their young's.
Hopefully it would be enough.
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Samantha's grandmum, who had been soaking Sirius' head with a damp cloth, suddenly choked on her own breath and her eyes rolled back, so that only the whites were showing, fell to the floor, her body wracking with convulsions.
Remus, who had been standing beside her, imitating what she had done on Samantha, gasped as he noticed her in the middle of her spasms.
He frantically called out to his friends for help as he bent down, gingerly lifted the Wiccan's arm and slung it over his shoulder whilst his other was supporting her back.
James immediately rushed to her side and aided Remus in lifting her while Peter opened the door for them as they led her to the couch.
And as soon as they left, Peter noticed that Samantha's body had, too, wrenched with convulsions and that her face glimmered with perspiration.
He cautiously approached her, eyes wide.
"James! Remus! Something's happening to her!"
From the couch James gave Remus a lost and confused look.
"You stay. I'll go and help Peter," he decided.
James nodded wordlessly and watched Remus go, all the while trying to comfort Samantha's grandmum.
Remus came upon Peter crouched down on the floor next to Samantha's cot, wearing the same expression that James had earlier laid upon him.
"She just started, I don't know, it's like she's possessed. I don't know!" the shorter boy said nervously.
Remus gave a comprehending nod and kneeled beside her, grabbing the damp cloth he had previously discarded in all the chaos. He pressed it to her sweat-covered forehead, trying to lessen her pain and discomfort.
"Peter!" James called from the den. "I need your help! I can't hold 'er down!"
Peter stared at Remus, waiting for an approval.
When the other bay nodded, he quickly left to aid James.
Remus stared down at the girl before him, strands of her blonde hair plastered to her face while the rest billowed out behind her, her clenched teeth and eyes, and the visible strain.
He wondered what had caused this, seeing as to it only affected her and her grandmother, Sirius, who was deep in his peaceful slumber beside her, had barely moved an inch.
When, she had been affected by a particularly bad attack, he held her down, but somehow his strength had been barely enough, for somehow, an unforeseen force, greater than herself had took control of her.
Her body momentarily relaxed after that and her eyes fluttered open, she looked around her and saw him, feeling the damp cloth that he pressed to her skin.
"Thank you," she murmured, her eyes closing once more.
He glanced down at her and offered a sympathetic smile, though he knew she wouldn't see it.
"If it isn't much trouble, what happened?" he asked.
Eyes still shut, she answered, though her voice strained. "Their powers are not enough. They need time to save her. And for that they need all of us."
He nodded and continued to press the cloth to her inflamed skin.
Then her body began to convulse once more.
"Please," she pleaded. "Don't leave."
Then she began to scream as whit hot pain penetrated her very being.
He stared at her hand and gently placed his over hers, his rough and callused hands overshadowing her tiny and delicate ones. He grasped her hand and held her, squeezing her hand comfortingly, as she painfully crushed his hand in her grip in her agony.
He was touched by her sincerity.
When he had first met her, he thought she was too regal, stiff and imperious, her use of language too stiff and her air to noble.
Sirius called her and arrogant prick, that she was much like the Slayer but very pretty, well, the term he did use was that she was a babe, but nonetheless, so much like Lily.
James didn't really care, but he did share that he thought she was snobby.
Peter wondered if she was a princess, she had come off as snooty.
But she wasn't. She was as normal as he or any other living being in this world. Except, she would give herself up, allow her life to be stripped from her to aide a stranger. Give herself up for the greater good.
But that did not deter his realization. She might have better and purer priorities than any of them, one could blame that on her upbringing and lifestyle, but she had the flaw that separated the living from everything else.
She feared.
She feared death, though she didn't show it, feared for others and constantly offered her help, she feared being alone, and tried to hide it.
Humans fear of dying alone and unloved.
It was comforting yet unnerving to see that even she was not perfect.
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"Lily," she muttered, finally able to tear down the barriers and doors that had allowed her being to shroud her identity.
"I am a...Vampire Slayer," her eyes then flew open. "I...kill..."
To rid the world of its impurities...
"No," she shook her head, eyes welling up with unshed tears. "Blood is on my hands... I find pleasure in killing..."
You kill for power, vengeance, hate...To inflict pain on the defenseless...
The other voice...
"Yes, yes, I do," she raised her hands and stared at them mercilessly, as if they were covered with blood. "I kill because it makes me feel content, because only then am I at peace, because I failed to save them..."
Her voice trailed off as she once began to concentrate on who she had failed, the cause of her suffering...
A mental image came then, one that affected her so much that it threatened to slam her back into the bridge.
She meticulously studied the image and the tears fell, gliding down her face like a choreographed dance.
She had failed her parents, the people she had held dear to her, she had neglected them, caused them to meet their end.
With all the powers that she had been given, all the people she had saved, could save, she couldn't save them, couldn't stop them from meeting their end, she had been too late.
She was too slow.
She had subjected herself to her own torture, had failed as a Slayer.
She couldn't save the ones that she held dear to her. What would stop her from failing others?
She did not deserve to live, she was a failure. Others would do better.
No...The world needs you...You did not fail them...
It was the good voice, the melodious one.
"If I hadn't, then they would be here!"
"Allow yourself to heal, in time the hurt will not be as crippling as it is now, not all Slayers can save every innocent they come across. They help those who can."
The voice had changed, it was neither the good or evil, it came from across the bridge.
It seemed so far away, yet...familiar, all the same.
Her head snapped to the direction of which the voice came and glimpsed of the figure slipping its hood off, uncovering its face, a face which still seemed unfamiliar, for deceptive shadows had concealed it, laid it too far away from her to grasp.
"What...who are you?"
The cloaked figure stepped into the dusky light, revealing her face to the Slayer.
Lily let out a loud gasp and tears began to fill her eyes. There was no way in heaven or hell that the person before her could be substantial. No way.
She shook her head, ridding all hope in her mind, hardening her heart, letting no emotion break free from the tight-fisted lock she had placed over her soul to avoid failure, to shy away from weakness.
And as she coldly observed the woman before her, she numbly thought that someone was screwing her.
The woman who stood before her was a woman who bore the same image of that of her deceased mother.
"Back off, shape shifter," she warned, poised in a battle stance, ready to attack.
"You are mistaken," it said, coming closer.
"And I'm supposed to believe you?"
"It is normal for you to feel such, though, I ask you to see not with your mind but with your heart," she smiled wryly, then added, as if it were amusing. "As you do have one buried underneath that gruff exterior."
She glared at the thing that had the audacity to masquerade as her mother, trying to block out the shallow lies, not believing, never allowing herself to even hope.
No...Hope gives you purpose, hope gives strength, the will to survive. One can not live life without hoping, believing in the ambiguous...
"Get out!" she shrieked, grasping at her ears, trying to block out the ever present voice. "Get out!"
She had repeatedly screamed at her invisible nemesis until she had rid herself of all possible action, worn herself out to the extent of not even being able to produce thought.
She had surprisingly consumed what little energy she had had left and finally tried to take in the possibility of her mother just appearing out of thin air.
No! She had been dead for years, it wasn't possible!
But not all of her humanity had died for there was that other part within her, the part that argued with her decision, the part that had somehow managed to survive all the turmoil she had been through, broken down the barriers that had firmly planted themselves over the staggering flood of emotions that she had to constantly war with.
A part of her was still optimistic, relentlessly insisting of her mother's being there, being with her.
She had alarmingly somehow managed to hope.
Uncovered a piece of her slowly dissipating humanity.
So, with the last of her strength, she raised her head, eyes wide, looking like the little girl she had once been, she reached out to the figure and questioningly called, "Mommy?"
She freed the bonds that had been drilled into her mind, breaking away from the austere teachings of the Society and allowed herself to trust, throwing all caution to the wind.
Her mother walked across the bridge with the other figure following closely and closed the remaining distance that separated them.
Then, the other robed figure pulled down his hood to reveal her father's serene and always reassuring face.
He held his hand over theirs and smiled.
"Not today child, it is not time. You have finally made peace with the dead, it is time to reconcile yourself with the living."
Three voices had blended together, her mother's, her father's and that comforting whisper.
She didn't have much time to register anything before she was thrown back and white-hot light flashed before her, blinding her momentarily.
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Christine had stopped writhing in pain on the couch and James and Peter exchanged relieved albeit hesitant glances.
"Remy!" Peter called, walking into the kitchen. "Sam's grandmum's stopped shaking like crazy! Remy?"
Peter looked around the room and his attention quickly settled on Remus and Samantha. What drew his focus so much was that Samantha was hovering a foot of the bed and glowing.
Surrounded by the same bright blue light that had carried them from the Slayer's battle and into the coven circle.
She was somehow held down by Remus' hand which was surprisingly entwined with hers, stopping her from floating above the cot any further.
"Remus?" he tentatively asked. "What's going on?"
"I think, well, I imagine that she's rejuvenating. She had lost a lot of energy and power, I guess," Remus tried to explain.
"Oh, well, I just wanted to tell you that her grandmum stopped going in shock."
Remus nodded. "Samantha did, too. Then this happened."
"What does it mean?"
Remus contemplated on that for a bit, his young face etched with numerous lines, making him appear older than he was supposed to be.
"I think it means that the ritual's over."
"But Lily, is she." Peter trailed off, shuddering at the thought of her dying.
"I honestly don't know Peter," Remus said, straight-out, never taking his eyes off Samantha, his worry divided between her and Lily.
He wasn't even sure if his hypothesis was correct. Maybe the Wiccan wasn't replenishing her power, maybe she was...
No, she was strong. She wouldn't give up. Both of them wouldn't, would they?
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James stared at Christine's prone form as he contemplated on the situation at hand.
He had never experienced anything this intense before. Life had always been easy, perfect. He got great grades, teachers loved him, the bestest friends in the entire world, a following, loving parents and he was doing what he loved the most, pulling pranks on people which was actually just second to playing Quidditch.
But then the Slayer came along and somehow turned everything upside down. Somehow ruined his perspective of the world, unknowingly showing him how unperfect it could be.
By somehow starting a brand new life, she had shattered his.
Destroyed his stable belief of good and bad.
She was caustic and a tad bit too mean but she was a witch, a good witch, she got into Gryffindor, didn't she?
But she killed for a living, killed because it was what she was set here to do. How could she be good?
Maybe because she protected innocents, but then she inflicted suffering, vampires may be soul-less but that didn't exactly say that they didn't feel pain and fear.
That was what she was, a constant contrast. An enigma.
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She awoke and looked into concerned gold-brown eyes that hovered before her.
"Are you alright?" the owner of those strange eyes asked.
She quickly sat up, her head spinning a bit at the abrupt change of position.
She nodded and found her world spinning, therefore prompting her to grasp at her head.
That brought her attention to the warm hand that was clasped over hers.
She studied it for a moment before the owner self-consciously removed it revealing her tinier one that had been hidden beneath his.
She looked up at him and gave him a endearing and thankful smile.
He blinked for quite awhile before she felt another presence enter the room.
"What's happening now?"
She stared at James Potter and calmly answered, "The Slayer is fine. She has won."
"So...she's alive?" Peter asked hopefully.
"Yes, yes, she is."
James smiled and let out a sigh of relief allowing himself to lean on the wall and in the process, slide down it out of fatigue.
"Can we go see her?" Peter asked, ecstatic.
Samantha mirrored his excitement and nodded.
"Wait!" Remus cut in, causing three pairs of eyes to stare at him. "We will walk, right?"
"It's quite far," Samantha said bluntly, though she was moved that he was concerned for her.
He was a werewolf, they weren't supposed to show emotions, not the ones she knew. But this boy, he cared for everyone, wanted the world to be perfect because he knew how flawed it actually really was. Knew the hardships that came with living in the real world.
Her heart might have went to him right then but her will would not allow itself to. She would put him through too much more if she allowed herself to even think of him in that manner.
And she had no plans of making him suffer even more than he already had.
"Well," James stood, apparently making the decision for the group. "We are walking, and that's that."
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The red-haired Slayer quietly stirred in the middle of the sacred circle her eyelids fluttering, trying to grasp at her constantly fading view of her surroundings.
A dull pounding ache at the base of her skull caused her to grimace and she felt a gentle caress lift her off the hard ground.
"Anyone get the number of that truck?" she grunted, feeling her ribs ache at the strain.
"Slayer," an unfamiliar voice called.
She tried to sit up, forcing her healing abilities to quickly take over, forcing herself to heal, but to no avail.
"Slayer," the voice prodded her once more.
"God, my head hurts like hell," she mumbled, as an arm aided her in her attempts to rise.
She felt something smooth and cool being pressed upon her lips and she sniffed the air surrounding it. It was water.
She drank thirstily. Then, forcing her eyes open, she stared at the hooded figures before her, bringing to mind her past situation.
She shook her head, trying to find some past memory, a memory she would scorn and surprisingly found none. It scared her yet brought a sense of accomplishment and happiness that she had finally forgiven her parents for dying, for leaving her, finally making peace with her past and now ready to move on.
"Lily!"
She whipped her head towards the direction of the voice and saw Remus, Peter and Samantha coming near her.
She gave a grunt and rubbed at her pounding temples.
"Are you all right?" Peter asked as he settled by her feet, plopping down onto the grass.
"Yeah."
Remus gave her an encouraging smile.
She could spy Samantha conversing with one of the hooded figures and hugging him quickly afterwards.
She approached them as Remus and Peter helped her up onto her feet.
"The world's spinning," she commented wryly.
"A minor side-effect," Samantha symphatized.
She snorted. "Minor my ass," she turned towards the coven. "I'm really thankful for what you sacrificed to save me. I may sound really cliched but really, my heartfelt gratitude can't really be measured. Thank you for helping me make peace. With myself and my personal ghosts."
The coven murmured their comments as the head, Morwen, approached her.
"We accept your gratitude Slayer, but you needn't thank us. We could not have saved you without your own will and Samantha's," he nodded at Samantha and his eyes twinkled endearingly at her, like a father would regard his daughter with pride.
Lily couldn't help quell the wave of nostalgia that threatened to overcome her. She missed Ernie.
"Well, still, I gotta offer you all my grat and y'know, if ya ever have a vamp problem, impending apocalyptic doom or any power hungry evil thing breathin' down yoah necks, well, you know who to call. I'll be there with sharp evil-stopping activity. So, in short, I'm your girl."
Morwen gave her a confused look but nodded anyway, blaming the Slayer's language on her heritage, she had been borne into the New World and his ancient views of the world brought him to frown upon this but it was hard to be disgusted of her, for she was very likeable, an attribute that can be credited to her being a Slayer.
She smiled at him, showing her immense gratitude as the boys helped her walk back towards Samantha's house, to retrieve James, who had volunteered to stay with Christine and Sirius.
It had been a long night. It was nearing dawn now.
Time to head back.
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A/N: Right, it's been so long since I'd last posted. This chapter really had me frustrated and it caught me at a real bad time. I just had my tests, so, well, there ya go.
And oh, yeah, here's your constant reminder REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW
Chapter Twelve
Do not weep, warrior of light...
"Stay away from me!!!" she warned the unsubstantial voice.
Child of light, come back to the world you have left behind...
She opened her eyes and looked at her surroundings. That voice was somewhat different from the first one, more kind, gentle, caring...a mother's soothing tone. Carrying her up into gentle arms and doing all that could be done to comfort a crying and tortured child.
The chill that had once penetrated her body, her mind, her soul, her very being had suddenly disappeared to be replaced by a calming and tranquil warmth that only family, a loving, caring, understanding that could not be given by any other, had enveloped her instead.
She lifted her head and scornfully stared at the stalagmites and stalactites.
"You're trying to drive me nuts, ain't ya? Confuse me, send me to a mental institution. Trying to make me believe that good is evil or something."
Then, she stopped, the fact that she now spoke differently had completely dawned on her.
She thought differently, too.
She shut her eyes and concentrated on finding her identity, it must be hidden in the deepest recesses of her subconscious for it took her quite some time to find herself, her past and her being.
Why was this soul so intent on keeping her individuality, memories and thoughts clandestine?
What was there to be afraid of?
What was she, that it was to be ashamed of?
Most importantly, what did this soul want to keep hidden?
***************************************************************** ******************
Their chanting had turned frantic now.
The Slayer was now dancing on the edge of her consciousness.
Barely alive and nearing the brink of her existence.
Something held her back, something that could endanger her further, pull her away from their already fragile grasp and shove her into the deep pits of her terror and agony, quickening her loss of life.
They needed her to let go, whatever obstructions that had set themselves to block her from her ultimate goals were now threatening to destroy her.
They needed to reach her, the force of power that they had sent to aid her needed time, she was in too far deep in her consternation and self-pity, feeling the seeming hopelessness that was fastidiously consuming her, their own savior could not save this warrior as quickly as they had hoped.
Athena needed more time, time which they might not able to give her, give the Slayer.
But they could at least try.
Each Wiccan in the circle lifted their arms into the air and focused their very being, their all-consuming essences into the Goddess they have summoned, focused every fibre of their beings into saving a child they knew nothing of and have never met.
Their combined energy was lacking and some begun a new chant, a chant that would allow them to call upon their elders' powers, and their young's.
Hopefully it would be enough.
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Samantha's grandmum, who had been soaking Sirius' head with a damp cloth, suddenly choked on her own breath and her eyes rolled back, so that only the whites were showing, fell to the floor, her body wracking with convulsions.
Remus, who had been standing beside her, imitating what she had done on Samantha, gasped as he noticed her in the middle of her spasms.
He frantically called out to his friends for help as he bent down, gingerly lifted the Wiccan's arm and slung it over his shoulder whilst his other was supporting her back.
James immediately rushed to her side and aided Remus in lifting her while Peter opened the door for them as they led her to the couch.
And as soon as they left, Peter noticed that Samantha's body had, too, wrenched with convulsions and that her face glimmered with perspiration.
He cautiously approached her, eyes wide.
"James! Remus! Something's happening to her!"
From the couch James gave Remus a lost and confused look.
"You stay. I'll go and help Peter," he decided.
James nodded wordlessly and watched Remus go, all the while trying to comfort Samantha's grandmum.
Remus came upon Peter crouched down on the floor next to Samantha's cot, wearing the same expression that James had earlier laid upon him.
"She just started, I don't know, it's like she's possessed. I don't know!" the shorter boy said nervously.
Remus gave a comprehending nod and kneeled beside her, grabbing the damp cloth he had previously discarded in all the chaos. He pressed it to her sweat-covered forehead, trying to lessen her pain and discomfort.
"Peter!" James called from the den. "I need your help! I can't hold 'er down!"
Peter stared at Remus, waiting for an approval.
When the other bay nodded, he quickly left to aid James.
Remus stared down at the girl before him, strands of her blonde hair plastered to her face while the rest billowed out behind her, her clenched teeth and eyes, and the visible strain.
He wondered what had caused this, seeing as to it only affected her and her grandmother, Sirius, who was deep in his peaceful slumber beside her, had barely moved an inch.
When, she had been affected by a particularly bad attack, he held her down, but somehow his strength had been barely enough, for somehow, an unforeseen force, greater than herself had took control of her.
Her body momentarily relaxed after that and her eyes fluttered open, she looked around her and saw him, feeling the damp cloth that he pressed to her skin.
"Thank you," she murmured, her eyes closing once more.
He glanced down at her and offered a sympathetic smile, though he knew she wouldn't see it.
"If it isn't much trouble, what happened?" he asked.
Eyes still shut, she answered, though her voice strained. "Their powers are not enough. They need time to save her. And for that they need all of us."
He nodded and continued to press the cloth to her inflamed skin.
Then her body began to convulse once more.
"Please," she pleaded. "Don't leave."
Then she began to scream as whit hot pain penetrated her very being.
He stared at her hand and gently placed his over hers, his rough and callused hands overshadowing her tiny and delicate ones. He grasped her hand and held her, squeezing her hand comfortingly, as she painfully crushed his hand in her grip in her agony.
He was touched by her sincerity.
When he had first met her, he thought she was too regal, stiff and imperious, her use of language too stiff and her air to noble.
Sirius called her and arrogant prick, that she was much like the Slayer but very pretty, well, the term he did use was that she was a babe, but nonetheless, so much like Lily.
James didn't really care, but he did share that he thought she was snobby.
Peter wondered if she was a princess, she had come off as snooty.
But she wasn't. She was as normal as he or any other living being in this world. Except, she would give herself up, allow her life to be stripped from her to aide a stranger. Give herself up for the greater good.
But that did not deter his realization. She might have better and purer priorities than any of them, one could blame that on her upbringing and lifestyle, but she had the flaw that separated the living from everything else.
She feared.
She feared death, though she didn't show it, feared for others and constantly offered her help, she feared being alone, and tried to hide it.
Humans fear of dying alone and unloved.
It was comforting yet unnerving to see that even she was not perfect.
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"Lily," she muttered, finally able to tear down the barriers and doors that had allowed her being to shroud her identity.
"I am a...Vampire Slayer," her eyes then flew open. "I...kill..."
To rid the world of its impurities...
"No," she shook her head, eyes welling up with unshed tears. "Blood is on my hands... I find pleasure in killing..."
You kill for power, vengeance, hate...To inflict pain on the defenseless...
The other voice...
"Yes, yes, I do," she raised her hands and stared at them mercilessly, as if they were covered with blood. "I kill because it makes me feel content, because only then am I at peace, because I failed to save them..."
Her voice trailed off as she once began to concentrate on who she had failed, the cause of her suffering...
A mental image came then, one that affected her so much that it threatened to slam her back into the bridge.
She meticulously studied the image and the tears fell, gliding down her face like a choreographed dance.
She had failed her parents, the people she had held dear to her, she had neglected them, caused them to meet their end.
With all the powers that she had been given, all the people she had saved, could save, she couldn't save them, couldn't stop them from meeting their end, she had been too late.
She was too slow.
She had subjected herself to her own torture, had failed as a Slayer.
She couldn't save the ones that she held dear to her. What would stop her from failing others?
She did not deserve to live, she was a failure. Others would do better.
No...The world needs you...You did not fail them...
It was the good voice, the melodious one.
"If I hadn't, then they would be here!"
"Allow yourself to heal, in time the hurt will not be as crippling as it is now, not all Slayers can save every innocent they come across. They help those who can."
The voice had changed, it was neither the good or evil, it came from across the bridge.
It seemed so far away, yet...familiar, all the same.
Her head snapped to the direction of which the voice came and glimpsed of the figure slipping its hood off, uncovering its face, a face which still seemed unfamiliar, for deceptive shadows had concealed it, laid it too far away from her to grasp.
"What...who are you?"
The cloaked figure stepped into the dusky light, revealing her face to the Slayer.
Lily let out a loud gasp and tears began to fill her eyes. There was no way in heaven or hell that the person before her could be substantial. No way.
She shook her head, ridding all hope in her mind, hardening her heart, letting no emotion break free from the tight-fisted lock she had placed over her soul to avoid failure, to shy away from weakness.
And as she coldly observed the woman before her, she numbly thought that someone was screwing her.
The woman who stood before her was a woman who bore the same image of that of her deceased mother.
"Back off, shape shifter," she warned, poised in a battle stance, ready to attack.
"You are mistaken," it said, coming closer.
"And I'm supposed to believe you?"
"It is normal for you to feel such, though, I ask you to see not with your mind but with your heart," she smiled wryly, then added, as if it were amusing. "As you do have one buried underneath that gruff exterior."
She glared at the thing that had the audacity to masquerade as her mother, trying to block out the shallow lies, not believing, never allowing herself to even hope.
No...Hope gives you purpose, hope gives strength, the will to survive. One can not live life without hoping, believing in the ambiguous...
"Get out!" she shrieked, grasping at her ears, trying to block out the ever present voice. "Get out!"
She had repeatedly screamed at her invisible nemesis until she had rid herself of all possible action, worn herself out to the extent of not even being able to produce thought.
She had surprisingly consumed what little energy she had had left and finally tried to take in the possibility of her mother just appearing out of thin air.
No! She had been dead for years, it wasn't possible!
But not all of her humanity had died for there was that other part within her, the part that argued with her decision, the part that had somehow managed to survive all the turmoil she had been through, broken down the barriers that had firmly planted themselves over the staggering flood of emotions that she had to constantly war with.
A part of her was still optimistic, relentlessly insisting of her mother's being there, being with her.
She had alarmingly somehow managed to hope.
Uncovered a piece of her slowly dissipating humanity.
So, with the last of her strength, she raised her head, eyes wide, looking like the little girl she had once been, she reached out to the figure and questioningly called, "Mommy?"
She freed the bonds that had been drilled into her mind, breaking away from the austere teachings of the Society and allowed herself to trust, throwing all caution to the wind.
Her mother walked across the bridge with the other figure following closely and closed the remaining distance that separated them.
Then, the other robed figure pulled down his hood to reveal her father's serene and always reassuring face.
He held his hand over theirs and smiled.
"Not today child, it is not time. You have finally made peace with the dead, it is time to reconcile yourself with the living."
Three voices had blended together, her mother's, her father's and that comforting whisper.
She didn't have much time to register anything before she was thrown back and white-hot light flashed before her, blinding her momentarily.
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Christine had stopped writhing in pain on the couch and James and Peter exchanged relieved albeit hesitant glances.
"Remy!" Peter called, walking into the kitchen. "Sam's grandmum's stopped shaking like crazy! Remy?"
Peter looked around the room and his attention quickly settled on Remus and Samantha. What drew his focus so much was that Samantha was hovering a foot of the bed and glowing.
Surrounded by the same bright blue light that had carried them from the Slayer's battle and into the coven circle.
She was somehow held down by Remus' hand which was surprisingly entwined with hers, stopping her from floating above the cot any further.
"Remus?" he tentatively asked. "What's going on?"
"I think, well, I imagine that she's rejuvenating. She had lost a lot of energy and power, I guess," Remus tried to explain.
"Oh, well, I just wanted to tell you that her grandmum stopped going in shock."
Remus nodded. "Samantha did, too. Then this happened."
"What does it mean?"
Remus contemplated on that for a bit, his young face etched with numerous lines, making him appear older than he was supposed to be.
"I think it means that the ritual's over."
"But Lily, is she." Peter trailed off, shuddering at the thought of her dying.
"I honestly don't know Peter," Remus said, straight-out, never taking his eyes off Samantha, his worry divided between her and Lily.
He wasn't even sure if his hypothesis was correct. Maybe the Wiccan wasn't replenishing her power, maybe she was...
No, she was strong. She wouldn't give up. Both of them wouldn't, would they?
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James stared at Christine's prone form as he contemplated on the situation at hand.
He had never experienced anything this intense before. Life had always been easy, perfect. He got great grades, teachers loved him, the bestest friends in the entire world, a following, loving parents and he was doing what he loved the most, pulling pranks on people which was actually just second to playing Quidditch.
But then the Slayer came along and somehow turned everything upside down. Somehow ruined his perspective of the world, unknowingly showing him how unperfect it could be.
By somehow starting a brand new life, she had shattered his.
Destroyed his stable belief of good and bad.
She was caustic and a tad bit too mean but she was a witch, a good witch, she got into Gryffindor, didn't she?
But she killed for a living, killed because it was what she was set here to do. How could she be good?
Maybe because she protected innocents, but then she inflicted suffering, vampires may be soul-less but that didn't exactly say that they didn't feel pain and fear.
That was what she was, a constant contrast. An enigma.
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She awoke and looked into concerned gold-brown eyes that hovered before her.
"Are you alright?" the owner of those strange eyes asked.
She quickly sat up, her head spinning a bit at the abrupt change of position.
She nodded and found her world spinning, therefore prompting her to grasp at her head.
That brought her attention to the warm hand that was clasped over hers.
She studied it for a moment before the owner self-consciously removed it revealing her tinier one that had been hidden beneath his.
She looked up at him and gave him a endearing and thankful smile.
He blinked for quite awhile before she felt another presence enter the room.
"What's happening now?"
She stared at James Potter and calmly answered, "The Slayer is fine. She has won."
"So...she's alive?" Peter asked hopefully.
"Yes, yes, she is."
James smiled and let out a sigh of relief allowing himself to lean on the wall and in the process, slide down it out of fatigue.
"Can we go see her?" Peter asked, ecstatic.
Samantha mirrored his excitement and nodded.
"Wait!" Remus cut in, causing three pairs of eyes to stare at him. "We will walk, right?"
"It's quite far," Samantha said bluntly, though she was moved that he was concerned for her.
He was a werewolf, they weren't supposed to show emotions, not the ones she knew. But this boy, he cared for everyone, wanted the world to be perfect because he knew how flawed it actually really was. Knew the hardships that came with living in the real world.
Her heart might have went to him right then but her will would not allow itself to. She would put him through too much more if she allowed herself to even think of him in that manner.
And she had no plans of making him suffer even more than he already had.
"Well," James stood, apparently making the decision for the group. "We are walking, and that's that."
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The red-haired Slayer quietly stirred in the middle of the sacred circle her eyelids fluttering, trying to grasp at her constantly fading view of her surroundings.
A dull pounding ache at the base of her skull caused her to grimace and she felt a gentle caress lift her off the hard ground.
"Anyone get the number of that truck?" she grunted, feeling her ribs ache at the strain.
"Slayer," an unfamiliar voice called.
She tried to sit up, forcing her healing abilities to quickly take over, forcing herself to heal, but to no avail.
"Slayer," the voice prodded her once more.
"God, my head hurts like hell," she mumbled, as an arm aided her in her attempts to rise.
She felt something smooth and cool being pressed upon her lips and she sniffed the air surrounding it. It was water.
She drank thirstily. Then, forcing her eyes open, she stared at the hooded figures before her, bringing to mind her past situation.
She shook her head, trying to find some past memory, a memory she would scorn and surprisingly found none. It scared her yet brought a sense of accomplishment and happiness that she had finally forgiven her parents for dying, for leaving her, finally making peace with her past and now ready to move on.
"Lily!"
She whipped her head towards the direction of the voice and saw Remus, Peter and Samantha coming near her.
She gave a grunt and rubbed at her pounding temples.
"Are you all right?" Peter asked as he settled by her feet, plopping down onto the grass.
"Yeah."
Remus gave her an encouraging smile.
She could spy Samantha conversing with one of the hooded figures and hugging him quickly afterwards.
She approached them as Remus and Peter helped her up onto her feet.
"The world's spinning," she commented wryly.
"A minor side-effect," Samantha symphatized.
She snorted. "Minor my ass," she turned towards the coven. "I'm really thankful for what you sacrificed to save me. I may sound really cliched but really, my heartfelt gratitude can't really be measured. Thank you for helping me make peace. With myself and my personal ghosts."
The coven murmured their comments as the head, Morwen, approached her.
"We accept your gratitude Slayer, but you needn't thank us. We could not have saved you without your own will and Samantha's," he nodded at Samantha and his eyes twinkled endearingly at her, like a father would regard his daughter with pride.
Lily couldn't help quell the wave of nostalgia that threatened to overcome her. She missed Ernie.
"Well, still, I gotta offer you all my grat and y'know, if ya ever have a vamp problem, impending apocalyptic doom or any power hungry evil thing breathin' down yoah necks, well, you know who to call. I'll be there with sharp evil-stopping activity. So, in short, I'm your girl."
Morwen gave her a confused look but nodded anyway, blaming the Slayer's language on her heritage, she had been borne into the New World and his ancient views of the world brought him to frown upon this but it was hard to be disgusted of her, for she was very likeable, an attribute that can be credited to her being a Slayer.
She smiled at him, showing her immense gratitude as the boys helped her walk back towards Samantha's house, to retrieve James, who had volunteered to stay with Christine and Sirius.
It had been a long night. It was nearing dawn now.
Time to head back.
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A/N: Right, it's been so long since I'd last posted. This chapter really had me frustrated and it caught me at a real bad time. I just had my tests, so, well, there ya go.
And oh, yeah, here's your constant reminder REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW