The House on Great Russell Street, England, 1974 (aka Council Headquarters)
"Do you think either of us will ever make it as a Slayer?" Kiki Kidman asked Gretchen Skinner late one afternoon. The two sixteen-year-olds were quietly lounging in Gretchen's room, Kiki buffing her nails and Gretchen carving a stake out of an old desk that the custodian had been about to throw away.
"I should hope so, Kiki. I mean, you've been in training since, what, you were eleven? I've been here since I was five. We must make it as the Slayer sometime."
"I sure hope not, Gretchen. I mean, it's fun, you know, having a great figure and everything with all this training. But, the thought of being out there night after night, fighting vampires like William the Bloody and Heinrich Joseph Nest? It's not my idea of the perfect life."
"Then perhaps you'll get lucky and won't be," Gretchen replied, setting the freshly carved stake down. Mrs. Giles would be pleased, Gretchen thought, looking at the beautiful craftsmanship of the stake. "All I know is that I do want to be Chosen one day."
"Well, good luck to you then, Gretch, coz I'm not interested. I just want to fly back to Chicago and be the disco queen that I was born to be."
Gretchen giggled at her friend. "Right, Kiki Kidman, disco queen. I can see it now, and frankly hun, it's not really all that pretty."
"Says you, doll-face. Hmm, anyway, I've got to go down now. It's time for Mr. Bentley and me to train," the red-haired Slayer-in-Training wrinkled her pert nose as she set her nail buffer down. Kiki slid off the bed and onto her feet, her body lithe, her movements feline. "I just hope we move up from boring old staffs now, though. I mean, he cracked my nail on one last time!"
"You know," Gretchen began, also getting up, "if you ever become the Slayer, your nails will be stronger than that."
"Are you sure?" Kiki asked, suddenly interested.
"Umm, no, not really, but it's been rumored. I mean, the Slayer does have super-strength and all."
"I doubt that super-strength implies a perfect, unbreakable French manicure. Though, okay, one can dream," Kiki said. Both girls giggled as they left Gretchen's room and walked down the hall. "So, anyway, I know you wanna be the Slayer and all...but how did you feel when Mametsuki was Called?"
"Not the greatest," Gretchen agreed. "I mean, from what I heard, Mr. Worthington had only just found her out as a Potential and had just reached there as she was Called. "
"And eleven years of waiting just becomes boring after sometime?"
"Amazingly so. Besides, I know I can handle the duties of a Slayer. The only friend I have is you anyway, and you're a Potential, so if I was Called..."
"Nice dreams."
"I know," the flaxen-headed girl said. "But seriously, I would kill to have those powers one day. I mean, to be the Chosen One, the Boogeyman of the creatures of the night...can you imagine having that kind of power?"
"I'd rather just be the Boogeyman to Cher, thank you very much."
"Big dreams."
"Honey, we all dream. You wanna slay vampires, I just wanna slay the reputations of these so-called disco queens."
The two girls stopped in front of large, oak, double doors. Gretchen went to pull it open and swore. "This door like never opens. We have to get Travers to fix it."
"Please that old freak? He's horrible! Why they ever made him head of the Council, I will never know. Here, let me try," Kiki said, as Gretchen made space for her.
"Better than his son Quentin, who I heard is next in running for Head of Council," Gretchen replied, moving behind Kiki.
"Eew...now that's just pathetic." Kiki grasped the door knob and gently yanked at it for a moment. Well, at least she thought it was a gentle yank. The entire door came off it's hinges and sent the two Potentials flying back.
Bryce Bentley came running out of the room, followed closely by Mr. Giles, Mrs. Giles, and Quentin Travers. "What just happened?" Travers asked gruffly.
"We've found her," came Mrs. Giles' reply.
"Found whom?" asked Bentley, curiously looking at the two girls as they tried to lift themselves up from under the shattered door.
"The new Slayer," Mrs. Giles told him, pointing to Kiki.
As pain and agony engulfed the Slayer, her friend was green with envy and red with rage.
***
Los Angeles, 1996
"You sure you're going to be okay?" Pike asked Buffy the next morning, on her third day at Skeffington.
"Yeah, yeah. I mean, Skinner's only human. And an ex-Watcher. She can't possibly be evil. Just spiteful. And hey, it's cool. Her daughter and I are friends. So, you know, maybe I'll get some brownie points.
"She has a daughter?"
"Yeah. My age. Named Kaatje. Freakish dresser. Remember when we saw Clueless? At my place? She makes Amber - the red-head? - look like Cher."
"Doesn't sound too pleasant."
"No...it's really not. But she's got a sweet soul...and that makes up for a lot. Everyone else pretty much looks at me and thinks 'ooh, crazy blonde chick. Keep away, or she'll go all Fairuza Balk on you.'"
"Fairuza Balk?"
"Big bad in 'The Craft'?"
"Oh, with Neve Campbell. Oh yeah," Pike said, starting to smile lustily. Buffy gave him a mock threatening look and Pike wiped the grin off his face, then flashed her a lopsided grin.
"So...shall I join to help take of you? You know, you and me? Students together at Skeffyfields?"
"Skeffington. And no. I'm here to attend classes, Pike, not poke around in custodial closets all day."
"You won't be doing the poking," Pike replied, his grin growing wider. Buffy lightly punched his arm - well, light for her - and leaned to give him a quick peck on the lips.
Pike grimaced as they pulled apart. "You're strong."
"Yeah, I know. Pain, it comes with the Buffy Summers experience," the Slayer winked at home.
"Hmm, so does pleasure."
Buffy giggled, very gently pushing Pike away. "You're a sweetheart, but I've got class."
"Come by for lunch?"
"I'd love it if you did."
"Great," Pike said, giving her one last kiss before riding off on his bike. Buffy watched him go, her heart not a little wistful. She'd rather spend the day with him rather than with the risk of running into Skinner. But, then again, she had to finish her school career in case she ever lived to see the day she'd graduate and get a real job.
Buffy watched her boyfriend turn a corner and then turned around herself, walking up the concrete steps that led to the front of the private school. The young girl kept her eyes open for Kaatje. Even though Buffy was dead set against having any friends - Pike being the only exception because he had been in her life since just before she was Called - she felt some sort of connection with Kaatje. She was a nice girl, warm-hearted and caring. Much better than Skinner.
Who was approaching Buffy that instant.
"Where's my daughter?" Skinner demanded, her icy-blue eyes flaring as she stared the Slayer down.
Buffy kept her own and coolly looked at the former Watcher, replying softly, "No idea. I haven't seen her since yesterday afternoon. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd rather not be late for class." Buffy moved to get past the principal who stepped in her way.
"If you're lying..."
"Interestingly enough, I'm not. But from what I've seen, Skinner, if she ran away from you, I'm not that surprised. You make an Amazon queen look like Mother Goose."
"I warned you, Slayer..."
"One, the name's Buffy, and two, I haven't seen your daughter, and three, you came up to me and attacked me. You're just lucky I didn't go all wild on you too. You know how we Slayers are. Anyway, look, Skinner, I haven't seen Kaatje around, but I'll keep a lookout for her now, since it seems like she went missing. But look, if and when I find her, I expect your Erica Kane attitude to drop, got it?"
"Only if you quit with the Kendall Hart."
"It all depends on you." Buffy replied, trying once more to move past the principal. This time, though, it worked, and Gretchen Skinner watched the petite blonde girl as she walked away to her classes.
Skinner hoped beyond everything that the Slayer would track down her daughter. Being nice to her on the other part...but then again...if she were nice to the Slayer instead of being the hellbitch she was now, maybe Buffy would trust her a bit more, and her plan would be easier to carry out.
She smiled to herself, satisfied with this minor turn of events. The Slayer would never know what hit her, Skinner thought, and then things would be as destiny had intended them to be.
"Do you think either of us will ever make it as a Slayer?" Kiki Kidman asked Gretchen Skinner late one afternoon. The two sixteen-year-olds were quietly lounging in Gretchen's room, Kiki buffing her nails and Gretchen carving a stake out of an old desk that the custodian had been about to throw away.
"I should hope so, Kiki. I mean, you've been in training since, what, you were eleven? I've been here since I was five. We must make it as the Slayer sometime."
"I sure hope not, Gretchen. I mean, it's fun, you know, having a great figure and everything with all this training. But, the thought of being out there night after night, fighting vampires like William the Bloody and Heinrich Joseph Nest? It's not my idea of the perfect life."
"Then perhaps you'll get lucky and won't be," Gretchen replied, setting the freshly carved stake down. Mrs. Giles would be pleased, Gretchen thought, looking at the beautiful craftsmanship of the stake. "All I know is that I do want to be Chosen one day."
"Well, good luck to you then, Gretch, coz I'm not interested. I just want to fly back to Chicago and be the disco queen that I was born to be."
Gretchen giggled at her friend. "Right, Kiki Kidman, disco queen. I can see it now, and frankly hun, it's not really all that pretty."
"Says you, doll-face. Hmm, anyway, I've got to go down now. It's time for Mr. Bentley and me to train," the red-haired Slayer-in-Training wrinkled her pert nose as she set her nail buffer down. Kiki slid off the bed and onto her feet, her body lithe, her movements feline. "I just hope we move up from boring old staffs now, though. I mean, he cracked my nail on one last time!"
"You know," Gretchen began, also getting up, "if you ever become the Slayer, your nails will be stronger than that."
"Are you sure?" Kiki asked, suddenly interested.
"Umm, no, not really, but it's been rumored. I mean, the Slayer does have super-strength and all."
"I doubt that super-strength implies a perfect, unbreakable French manicure. Though, okay, one can dream," Kiki said. Both girls giggled as they left Gretchen's room and walked down the hall. "So, anyway, I know you wanna be the Slayer and all...but how did you feel when Mametsuki was Called?"
"Not the greatest," Gretchen agreed. "I mean, from what I heard, Mr. Worthington had only just found her out as a Potential and had just reached there as she was Called. "
"And eleven years of waiting just becomes boring after sometime?"
"Amazingly so. Besides, I know I can handle the duties of a Slayer. The only friend I have is you anyway, and you're a Potential, so if I was Called..."
"Nice dreams."
"I know," the flaxen-headed girl said. "But seriously, I would kill to have those powers one day. I mean, to be the Chosen One, the Boogeyman of the creatures of the night...can you imagine having that kind of power?"
"I'd rather just be the Boogeyman to Cher, thank you very much."
"Big dreams."
"Honey, we all dream. You wanna slay vampires, I just wanna slay the reputations of these so-called disco queens."
The two girls stopped in front of large, oak, double doors. Gretchen went to pull it open and swore. "This door like never opens. We have to get Travers to fix it."
"Please that old freak? He's horrible! Why they ever made him head of the Council, I will never know. Here, let me try," Kiki said, as Gretchen made space for her.
"Better than his son Quentin, who I heard is next in running for Head of Council," Gretchen replied, moving behind Kiki.
"Eew...now that's just pathetic." Kiki grasped the door knob and gently yanked at it for a moment. Well, at least she thought it was a gentle yank. The entire door came off it's hinges and sent the two Potentials flying back.
Bryce Bentley came running out of the room, followed closely by Mr. Giles, Mrs. Giles, and Quentin Travers. "What just happened?" Travers asked gruffly.
"We've found her," came Mrs. Giles' reply.
"Found whom?" asked Bentley, curiously looking at the two girls as they tried to lift themselves up from under the shattered door.
"The new Slayer," Mrs. Giles told him, pointing to Kiki.
As pain and agony engulfed the Slayer, her friend was green with envy and red with rage.
***
Los Angeles, 1996
"You sure you're going to be okay?" Pike asked Buffy the next morning, on her third day at Skeffington.
"Yeah, yeah. I mean, Skinner's only human. And an ex-Watcher. She can't possibly be evil. Just spiteful. And hey, it's cool. Her daughter and I are friends. So, you know, maybe I'll get some brownie points.
"She has a daughter?"
"Yeah. My age. Named Kaatje. Freakish dresser. Remember when we saw Clueless? At my place? She makes Amber - the red-head? - look like Cher."
"Doesn't sound too pleasant."
"No...it's really not. But she's got a sweet soul...and that makes up for a lot. Everyone else pretty much looks at me and thinks 'ooh, crazy blonde chick. Keep away, or she'll go all Fairuza Balk on you.'"
"Fairuza Balk?"
"Big bad in 'The Craft'?"
"Oh, with Neve Campbell. Oh yeah," Pike said, starting to smile lustily. Buffy gave him a mock threatening look and Pike wiped the grin off his face, then flashed her a lopsided grin.
"So...shall I join to help take of you? You know, you and me? Students together at Skeffyfields?"
"Skeffington. And no. I'm here to attend classes, Pike, not poke around in custodial closets all day."
"You won't be doing the poking," Pike replied, his grin growing wider. Buffy lightly punched his arm - well, light for her - and leaned to give him a quick peck on the lips.
Pike grimaced as they pulled apart. "You're strong."
"Yeah, I know. Pain, it comes with the Buffy Summers experience," the Slayer winked at home.
"Hmm, so does pleasure."
Buffy giggled, very gently pushing Pike away. "You're a sweetheart, but I've got class."
"Come by for lunch?"
"I'd love it if you did."
"Great," Pike said, giving her one last kiss before riding off on his bike. Buffy watched him go, her heart not a little wistful. She'd rather spend the day with him rather than with the risk of running into Skinner. But, then again, she had to finish her school career in case she ever lived to see the day she'd graduate and get a real job.
Buffy watched her boyfriend turn a corner and then turned around herself, walking up the concrete steps that led to the front of the private school. The young girl kept her eyes open for Kaatje. Even though Buffy was dead set against having any friends - Pike being the only exception because he had been in her life since just before she was Called - she felt some sort of connection with Kaatje. She was a nice girl, warm-hearted and caring. Much better than Skinner.
Who was approaching Buffy that instant.
"Where's my daughter?" Skinner demanded, her icy-blue eyes flaring as she stared the Slayer down.
Buffy kept her own and coolly looked at the former Watcher, replying softly, "No idea. I haven't seen her since yesterday afternoon. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd rather not be late for class." Buffy moved to get past the principal who stepped in her way.
"If you're lying..."
"Interestingly enough, I'm not. But from what I've seen, Skinner, if she ran away from you, I'm not that surprised. You make an Amazon queen look like Mother Goose."
"I warned you, Slayer..."
"One, the name's Buffy, and two, I haven't seen your daughter, and three, you came up to me and attacked me. You're just lucky I didn't go all wild on you too. You know how we Slayers are. Anyway, look, Skinner, I haven't seen Kaatje around, but I'll keep a lookout for her now, since it seems like she went missing. But look, if and when I find her, I expect your Erica Kane attitude to drop, got it?"
"Only if you quit with the Kendall Hart."
"It all depends on you." Buffy replied, trying once more to move past the principal. This time, though, it worked, and Gretchen Skinner watched the petite blonde girl as she walked away to her classes.
Skinner hoped beyond everything that the Slayer would track down her daughter. Being nice to her on the other part...but then again...if she were nice to the Slayer instead of being the hellbitch she was now, maybe Buffy would trust her a bit more, and her plan would be easier to carry out.
She smiled to herself, satisfied with this minor turn of events. The Slayer would never know what hit her, Skinner thought, and then things would be as destiny had intended them to be.