Candy Mulder, The Vampire Slayer: Something Vampire This Way Comes (3/6)
It was only when I was halfway to my biology class than I remembered I'd forgotten to tell my watcher about my dad's latest theory. Normally, I wouldn't have given much credence to my father's wacky reasoning (call it a defense mechanism I picked up from my mom, a sort of Scullyish reaction), but back in D.C. no one ever told me vampires existed, in multitude, and I had to slay them. Sunnydale was dad's kinda town, situated on the mouth of hell and all - and his theory that the vampires were using the energy surrounding the Hellmouth, for evil (what else?) suddenly made way too much sense.
I spun around and was about to backtrack to the library when I found myself being propelled against a row of lockers. Now, I'm the slayer. I have preternatural strength and a bucketload of skill. Catch me anytime but off-guard and that guy would've been dog food, but I was too absorbed in my own thoughts to realize what had happened until it did. I looked up and found myself staring into two crazy eyes. It took a moment for the face to register. Robbie. Saved his neck from being vampire food last night, then dumped him at the Bronze covered in liquor. Hey, when your folks spend years sifting through the government's denials, you learn a bit about it by default. Getting boozed up had to be a better memory than getting drained dry, right?
Robbie pinned his hands on the locker on either side of my head and looked straight at me with murder written all over his face. Guess not.
I felt the greatest need to knee him then and there, but I remembered who I was. Candy Mulder, mild-mannered transfer from D.C., who just a few months ago was trying out for cheerleading. For lack of anything else to do, I assure you. Still, that was me. Clark Kent in silk pants. "What was that about?" I demanded. I heard the steely tone in my voice and took a breath. No need for violence now.
"God, what are you?" Robbie's face poked closer to my own, like he was studying me. "Anti-teen temperance?"
Oooh, big word. I guess he thought I didn't know what it meant, because he went on. "Like, are you against abstaining from alcohol?"
I sighed, blowing a breath straight at him. He closed his eyes and turned away briefly. "I know what temperance means, but I still have no idea what you're talking about."
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Barbie and Elysia, two of the school's most popular (and bubble-headed) plastic-coated princesses, snickering behind their perfectly manicured fingers. Barbie and I tried out for the squad at the same time a couple months ago. It was the same time I also reaffirmed the need for brains at Sunnydale High. It may sound pompous, but I require someone who knows that a conversation involves more than the phrases, "Where'd you buy that?" and "How does this look on me?"
Elysia was also on the squad, but I didn't know her except from class. She had a seraphic face, framed by soft gold tresses. Her hair bounced like crazy as the snickers graduated into laughter. I looked Robbie over again and realized something I'd forgotten last night.
Robbie's nickname, oddly harkening my own father's unflattering FBI sobriquet. 'Weirder'. Not just weird - *weirder*. He was constantly looking over his shoulder and muttering about 'things that aren't right'. Everything has a deeper and darker meaning for him. Like, last week when they changed the sandwich bread from white to whole wheat, he went on strike. Just sat right down on the floor, in the middle of the cafeteria line, and refused to budge. "This," he'd bellowed. "...is a heinous act! Don't you know what this means? *Someone* has taken offense at the white, someone who is himself, *dark*!" Can you say whacked out?
I so did not need this. I got enough of it at home. I shoved him off of me. "Keep off me." I warned through gritted teeth. I shoved him back and started towards class. He caught my arm.
"I was lucky my mom didn't catch me. I had no idea how to explain why I smelled like...whiskey, or whatever you dumped on me!" he hissed.
"What are you talking about?" I continued to ask.
"I saw you!" he insisted, pointing at me.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" I yelled, escaping to the last bench in class.
Fortunately, the bell rang and he had to scramble to his own bench, which was thankfully, far from my own. Unfortunately, Barbie and Elysia were right in front of me, and their topic of conversation was my exchange with Robbie in the hall.
Barbie, trying to discreet, but failing miserably, said, "Could you just die? I *told* you that girl was bizarre!"
Oooh, big word, Plastic One, I thought bitterly. Elysia contributed, "If Weirder doesn't know what she is..."
I laid my head down on my backpack and closed my eyes. I thought about Maureen, my best friend back in D.C. Well, until the beginning of last year that is. Right during the first month of school, Maureen's dad, who's CIA, was transferred to Belgium. We promised to mail each other, and I had, almost religiously, until the move to Sunnydale. Then, well, Maureen got busy. And I got *majorly* busy, and I hadn't even thought about her. Until now. I really needed a friend now. Or a gun.
"She has this weird t-shirt. It had this weird slogan on it." Barbie was saying.
'Weird' was obviously the new catchphrase. How ironic. It was the adjective of my life.
I was about ready then to punch Barbie's head in. She was, after all, making fun of my fave tee, my dad's "Aliens Make Better Coffee Shirt" shirt. I loved that thing. I would've defended it, too, my fist was already reaching out, except I remembered. No one on my back. That is, no one to watch it. That's what friends are good for. I sat back, cursing under my breath, and started composing a mental e-mail to Maureen when the teacher came in and started talking.
"All right. I'll be quick. We haven't had the need for lab partners because up to now, we haven't had any labs. Well, buckle up, because it's lab time and I'm assigning your partners." Our biology teacher, Mr. Matthews, is not one to waste words. Especially on us.
Collective groans. I was wondering if 'pea-brained vanity-driven sycophants' had too many hyphens.
"Nothing fancy. Just paired you up with whoever was under you on the attendance sheet. All right, move to where your partner is when I call out your names."
More groans, and me thinking that describing Robbie as 'spookmeister' was an injustice to my father.
I mostly tuned out Mr. Matthews until he announced, "Robert McAfee and Samara Mulder."
My head jerked up. Firstly because I hate it when people call me Samara. I've been 'Candy' to everyone since I was six, after this lisp-afflicted teacher mangled my name, and secondly, I realized that "Robert McAfee" was none other than Weirder himself.
I gulped, and tried to get up, but he was already lumbering back towards me. He threw his bookbag onto the bench with a thud, and in spite of myself, I jumped. "Sit down. This is a good enough place." He positioned himself on the stool next to me and reached into his bag. Gun? No, novel. "The fates are sly. Partners, but in name only. You do your part, I'll do mine. I don't feel like interacting with a...whatever." He glared at me for a second then he opened the novel to a creased page and began reading, ignoring me completely. It gave me a chance to better observe him.
He had a mild case of acne sprinkled over his tanned skin, and little too much gel in his jet-black hair. The bronze color went nicely with his dark eyes and hair, but it also had the affect of making him look more sinister than I suspected he was. The novel he was reading was Stendhal's "The Red and The Black", actually one of my own top ten. I raised an eyebrow at this in true Scully fashion, but decided not to comment. Mr. Matthews was coming down the aisle with the assignment.
"Questions. The key to science." he lectured. Robbie turned a page and kept reading.
I crossed my legs and sighed. "Your job is to collect ten samples of anything." Mr. Matthews said. At a snicker, he amended himself. "Decent. Samples of anything *decent*. Then, you will switch with another pair and they will analyze your choices and try to find out what they are."
A girl in front raised her hand. "How do you mean?"
I saw Mr. Matthews take a deep breath. It wasn't his choice to teach high school biology, I could see. "For instance," he drew out the words. "...dirt."
Silence. "A sample could be of dirt and the job of the pair given the dirt would be to analyze its composition and so forth. Ask, what is it and where did it come from?" His eyes scanned the room. No hands. "So, get to."
The class began to buzz with the semi-interested chatter of high school students. I chanced a look at Robbie. "We'll split the work. You do five, I'll do five." he offered without looking up.
I shrugged. "Kay." I said.
He finally looked over at me. "Like you're too good to add the 'o'."
I said it slow and deliberate, "Kaaaaaaaayyyyyy."
He snorted and went back to ignoring. That was fine by me. I had more important stuff to consider.
I managed to take notes through the rest of the class, although I was fuming. First, those ditzes and now this putz as a partner. Could you die? It really wasn't my day. Scratch that, it really wasn't my *millennium*. The moment the bell rang I rushed back to the library. At least there I wasn't a total loser.
Behind me, I could still hear those pea-brained princesses snickering about me and Weirder McAfee. "They're such a perfect pair," I heard Elysia say, much too loudly. I sighed inwardly, hunched my bag closer and hotfooted it back to Winford's.
He was organizing some vampire books. Thankfully, no one ever goes in there so he can do that. "Candy, what is it?" He was midway through stacking the next book on a pile that already seemed too high to manage.
"I...wait, let me catch my breath." I panted. I leaned on the table for support. I collected myself and my words came out in a torrent. "I forgot to tell you, my dad has this theory."
"Your father had a theory?" His voice took on a wary quality. He's heard about my dad's theories.
I quickly raised a hand. "No, no, hear it out."
"How could anything your father said have any impact on you? He has no idea you're the slayer. Furthermore, he has no idea vampires even exist..." Winford's voice abruptly petered off. He was staring incredulously at a spot directly behind my head.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I spun around and was only partially surprised to see Robbie standing there, his mouth wide open. Ick. He was pointing again. He did that a whole lot. His lips began to move and they formed one word. "Vampires?"
I gestured behind my back for Winford to move the books quickly, but Robbie was too fast. He pulled the top book off of the stack before we could stop him and read the title. " 'Vampire Encyclopedia' ." he read, shocked. He dropped the book and backed away so that he staring at both me and my watcher.
I braced myself. "I saw you!" he blared. More with the pointing. "I knew I wasn't crazy!"
Wanna bet? "Listen, Robbie..."
"I was attacked. It was a vampire. It had fangs and this face..."
"Game face," I said absently. Winford tapped me on the shoulder.
"Uh, I mean, face? What are you talking about?" I played dumb.
But he wasn't listening anyway. He was surveying the library, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is amazing," he whispered. Winford and I exchanged glances.
"Robbie..." I decided in that instant to come clean. He'd already seen too much, heard too much. No amount of covering up was going to solve this. I just hoped he wouldn't blab. I didn't much feel like breaking anyone's legs. Unnecessarily.
Winford must have known what I planned, because he left the pile of books and went to sit down. "Robbie," I said, approaching him. He was still looking around.
I went up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face me and there was still this shocked expression in his eyes. "Maybe we ought to sit down," I suggested. I led him to a chair.
Seated, some of the incredulity left his eyes, but he was still puzzled. "You see," I began. "Last night, you were attacked by...how do I say this?"
"A vampire?" he offered. "An undead creature of the night who preys on the blood of the innocent?"
I frowned. "That's a total misconception. They don't care if the blood's innocent. That's not like a flavor or anything!"
Winford cleared his throat and looked at him sheepishly. "Sorry. So where was I?"
"Skip to the part where you came in."
Pushy much? I was tempted to make a face, but this was serious. This was the first person outside the watcher-slayer circle who was going to be let in on the secret. True, I wished it weren't Weirder McAfee, but like he said in bio. Fate is sly. Maybe there was some warped reasoning behind all this. "Right. So, there are these vampires, and I'm the slayer. I...stake them and turn them into dust, making the world - or at least Sunnydale - safe for most nightcrawlers. Of the human variety. Happy?"
Robbie actually looked like he got it. "Cool. So you're like a superhero, right? With superpowers?"
So, okay, he didn't. Not really. "Sorta," I replied lamely. "Welcome to the club."
That last bit was said reluctantly. I did not, by any stretch of the imagination, want Robbie in on my secret identity. What's a girl to do though? At least now I could threaten to break his legs off if he told and he'd believe me. "Tell anyone else about this and I'll break both your legs off."
"Whoa," he said. He put his hands out, palms up. "Who's gonna listen to me anyhow?"
Truth. "Whatever. I got bigger fish to fry."
Having said that, I realized the gravity of it. "Winford..."
"So the librarian is involved how?" Robbie broke in. Winford and I stared.
"He's not a librarian..." More throat clearing. "...kay, so he is. But he also doubles as...uh, how do I say this? He's like...Obi Wan Kenobi."
Robbie nodded. "Get it."
"Good. Now that that's *really* over with, you want a brief of the situation?"
He jumped up. "Hey, whoa there. I'm on board with the slayer stuff, the karate master stuff..." Winford was gonna rip his throat out the way he was clearing it. "...doesn't mean I'm a part of it."
The nerve! "You creep!" I blared. "You know the secret, you're in on the...secret! I just assumed..."
"Listen, Candy, this isn't one of those television shows where I magically join your gang once I know what you are. If you believe that, then maybe you should be the one with a nickname." Robbie fixed me with his dark eyes, daring me to contradict him.
I couldn't do anything more than sputter, "Well, 'scuse me..." before he was out the door.
"Can you believe the nerve of that guy?" I asked my watcher, infuriated. Winford was shaking his head. I thought he was agreeing, but when do adults ever agree that someone is a creep?
"Candy, I don't think it's appropriate that that young man knows your secret. It can't be safe. It never is. Perhaps you should...do something about it." Winford was biting on his lower lip, a sign that he was mega-worried.
"Shuh, what should I do? I just threatened to break both his legs off! Plus, he's right. He's Weirder McAfee, no one's gonna listen to him. Heck, did anyone listen to my dad in all the years he busted his neck around the FBI? And he has a degree from Oxford!"
Winford was practically chewing off his lower lip. I counted to ten silently then threw up my hands in defeat. "All right, all right. I'll talk to him." I started for the door but turned back with a thought. "Might be good to hide those vamp books, though."
Winford just stared. I shrugged. "Hey, a bit of slayer sloppiness isn't half as bad as watcher messes."
I skipped out before he could comment on that. I spotted him immediately. "Hey, Robbie!" I called chasing down the hall after him. Kids were milling around, enjoying their few minutes of freedom and I found it hard to catch up with him. "Robbie!"
He was stalking determinedly away from me, not even bothering to turn around. I saw Barbie out of the corner of my eye and heard her sigh dramatically, "Lovers' tiff."
Finally, I caught up with him as he was rounding the corner and managed to pull him back by his backpack. "Robbie, can we talk?"
He shook me off like a pesky fly. "Mulder, I know this is about the *issue*, and I don't wanna hear it."
Whoa, this guy just kept 'em coming! Mustering up as much disgust as I could, I took a deep breath and said, "Regardless of what you may think about the *issue*, I don't deem *you* important enough to discuss it with. What I *do* have to discuss with you however, is the little matter of our biology lab."
A visible change occurred in his stance. Rumor had it Weirder was fanatical about academics - he was shooting for Ivy League and nothing was going to stop him. Maybe the rumors were true. "Guess I can't depend on your to pull your weight. All right. After school. We'll meet outside the library to collect samples together. Don't be late." Then he was gone. As if my greatest secret in the world hadn't just been revealed to him. As if his reality hadn't just changed in the blink of an eye. As if being the slayer took a major back seat to a biology lab. I'll give you one thing about Robbie McAfee - he is one focused man.
It was only when I was halfway to my biology class than I remembered I'd forgotten to tell my watcher about my dad's latest theory. Normally, I wouldn't have given much credence to my father's wacky reasoning (call it a defense mechanism I picked up from my mom, a sort of Scullyish reaction), but back in D.C. no one ever told me vampires existed, in multitude, and I had to slay them. Sunnydale was dad's kinda town, situated on the mouth of hell and all - and his theory that the vampires were using the energy surrounding the Hellmouth, for evil (what else?) suddenly made way too much sense.
I spun around and was about to backtrack to the library when I found myself being propelled against a row of lockers. Now, I'm the slayer. I have preternatural strength and a bucketload of skill. Catch me anytime but off-guard and that guy would've been dog food, but I was too absorbed in my own thoughts to realize what had happened until it did. I looked up and found myself staring into two crazy eyes. It took a moment for the face to register. Robbie. Saved his neck from being vampire food last night, then dumped him at the Bronze covered in liquor. Hey, when your folks spend years sifting through the government's denials, you learn a bit about it by default. Getting boozed up had to be a better memory than getting drained dry, right?
Robbie pinned his hands on the locker on either side of my head and looked straight at me with murder written all over his face. Guess not.
I felt the greatest need to knee him then and there, but I remembered who I was. Candy Mulder, mild-mannered transfer from D.C., who just a few months ago was trying out for cheerleading. For lack of anything else to do, I assure you. Still, that was me. Clark Kent in silk pants. "What was that about?" I demanded. I heard the steely tone in my voice and took a breath. No need for violence now.
"God, what are you?" Robbie's face poked closer to my own, like he was studying me. "Anti-teen temperance?"
Oooh, big word. I guess he thought I didn't know what it meant, because he went on. "Like, are you against abstaining from alcohol?"
I sighed, blowing a breath straight at him. He closed his eyes and turned away briefly. "I know what temperance means, but I still have no idea what you're talking about."
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Barbie and Elysia, two of the school's most popular (and bubble-headed) plastic-coated princesses, snickering behind their perfectly manicured fingers. Barbie and I tried out for the squad at the same time a couple months ago. It was the same time I also reaffirmed the need for brains at Sunnydale High. It may sound pompous, but I require someone who knows that a conversation involves more than the phrases, "Where'd you buy that?" and "How does this look on me?"
Elysia was also on the squad, but I didn't know her except from class. She had a seraphic face, framed by soft gold tresses. Her hair bounced like crazy as the snickers graduated into laughter. I looked Robbie over again and realized something I'd forgotten last night.
Robbie's nickname, oddly harkening my own father's unflattering FBI sobriquet. 'Weirder'. Not just weird - *weirder*. He was constantly looking over his shoulder and muttering about 'things that aren't right'. Everything has a deeper and darker meaning for him. Like, last week when they changed the sandwich bread from white to whole wheat, he went on strike. Just sat right down on the floor, in the middle of the cafeteria line, and refused to budge. "This," he'd bellowed. "...is a heinous act! Don't you know what this means? *Someone* has taken offense at the white, someone who is himself, *dark*!" Can you say whacked out?
I so did not need this. I got enough of it at home. I shoved him off of me. "Keep off me." I warned through gritted teeth. I shoved him back and started towards class. He caught my arm.
"I was lucky my mom didn't catch me. I had no idea how to explain why I smelled like...whiskey, or whatever you dumped on me!" he hissed.
"What are you talking about?" I continued to ask.
"I saw you!" he insisted, pointing at me.
"I don't know what you're talking about!" I yelled, escaping to the last bench in class.
Fortunately, the bell rang and he had to scramble to his own bench, which was thankfully, far from my own. Unfortunately, Barbie and Elysia were right in front of me, and their topic of conversation was my exchange with Robbie in the hall.
Barbie, trying to discreet, but failing miserably, said, "Could you just die? I *told* you that girl was bizarre!"
Oooh, big word, Plastic One, I thought bitterly. Elysia contributed, "If Weirder doesn't know what she is..."
I laid my head down on my backpack and closed my eyes. I thought about Maureen, my best friend back in D.C. Well, until the beginning of last year that is. Right during the first month of school, Maureen's dad, who's CIA, was transferred to Belgium. We promised to mail each other, and I had, almost religiously, until the move to Sunnydale. Then, well, Maureen got busy. And I got *majorly* busy, and I hadn't even thought about her. Until now. I really needed a friend now. Or a gun.
"She has this weird t-shirt. It had this weird slogan on it." Barbie was saying.
'Weird' was obviously the new catchphrase. How ironic. It was the adjective of my life.
I was about ready then to punch Barbie's head in. She was, after all, making fun of my fave tee, my dad's "Aliens Make Better Coffee Shirt" shirt. I loved that thing. I would've defended it, too, my fist was already reaching out, except I remembered. No one on my back. That is, no one to watch it. That's what friends are good for. I sat back, cursing under my breath, and started composing a mental e-mail to Maureen when the teacher came in and started talking.
"All right. I'll be quick. We haven't had the need for lab partners because up to now, we haven't had any labs. Well, buckle up, because it's lab time and I'm assigning your partners." Our biology teacher, Mr. Matthews, is not one to waste words. Especially on us.
Collective groans. I was wondering if 'pea-brained vanity-driven sycophants' had too many hyphens.
"Nothing fancy. Just paired you up with whoever was under you on the attendance sheet. All right, move to where your partner is when I call out your names."
More groans, and me thinking that describing Robbie as 'spookmeister' was an injustice to my father.
I mostly tuned out Mr. Matthews until he announced, "Robert McAfee and Samara Mulder."
My head jerked up. Firstly because I hate it when people call me Samara. I've been 'Candy' to everyone since I was six, after this lisp-afflicted teacher mangled my name, and secondly, I realized that "Robert McAfee" was none other than Weirder himself.
I gulped, and tried to get up, but he was already lumbering back towards me. He threw his bookbag onto the bench with a thud, and in spite of myself, I jumped. "Sit down. This is a good enough place." He positioned himself on the stool next to me and reached into his bag. Gun? No, novel. "The fates are sly. Partners, but in name only. You do your part, I'll do mine. I don't feel like interacting with a...whatever." He glared at me for a second then he opened the novel to a creased page and began reading, ignoring me completely. It gave me a chance to better observe him.
He had a mild case of acne sprinkled over his tanned skin, and little too much gel in his jet-black hair. The bronze color went nicely with his dark eyes and hair, but it also had the affect of making him look more sinister than I suspected he was. The novel he was reading was Stendhal's "The Red and The Black", actually one of my own top ten. I raised an eyebrow at this in true Scully fashion, but decided not to comment. Mr. Matthews was coming down the aisle with the assignment.
"Questions. The key to science." he lectured. Robbie turned a page and kept reading.
I crossed my legs and sighed. "Your job is to collect ten samples of anything." Mr. Matthews said. At a snicker, he amended himself. "Decent. Samples of anything *decent*. Then, you will switch with another pair and they will analyze your choices and try to find out what they are."
A girl in front raised her hand. "How do you mean?"
I saw Mr. Matthews take a deep breath. It wasn't his choice to teach high school biology, I could see. "For instance," he drew out the words. "...dirt."
Silence. "A sample could be of dirt and the job of the pair given the dirt would be to analyze its composition and so forth. Ask, what is it and where did it come from?" His eyes scanned the room. No hands. "So, get to."
The class began to buzz with the semi-interested chatter of high school students. I chanced a look at Robbie. "We'll split the work. You do five, I'll do five." he offered without looking up.
I shrugged. "Kay." I said.
He finally looked over at me. "Like you're too good to add the 'o'."
I said it slow and deliberate, "Kaaaaaaaayyyyyy."
He snorted and went back to ignoring. That was fine by me. I had more important stuff to consider.
I managed to take notes through the rest of the class, although I was fuming. First, those ditzes and now this putz as a partner. Could you die? It really wasn't my day. Scratch that, it really wasn't my *millennium*. The moment the bell rang I rushed back to the library. At least there I wasn't a total loser.
Behind me, I could still hear those pea-brained princesses snickering about me and Weirder McAfee. "They're such a perfect pair," I heard Elysia say, much too loudly. I sighed inwardly, hunched my bag closer and hotfooted it back to Winford's.
He was organizing some vampire books. Thankfully, no one ever goes in there so he can do that. "Candy, what is it?" He was midway through stacking the next book on a pile that already seemed too high to manage.
"I...wait, let me catch my breath." I panted. I leaned on the table for support. I collected myself and my words came out in a torrent. "I forgot to tell you, my dad has this theory."
"Your father had a theory?" His voice took on a wary quality. He's heard about my dad's theories.
I quickly raised a hand. "No, no, hear it out."
"How could anything your father said have any impact on you? He has no idea you're the slayer. Furthermore, he has no idea vampires even exist..." Winford's voice abruptly petered off. He was staring incredulously at a spot directly behind my head.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I spun around and was only partially surprised to see Robbie standing there, his mouth wide open. Ick. He was pointing again. He did that a whole lot. His lips began to move and they formed one word. "Vampires?"
I gestured behind my back for Winford to move the books quickly, but Robbie was too fast. He pulled the top book off of the stack before we could stop him and read the title. " 'Vampire Encyclopedia' ." he read, shocked. He dropped the book and backed away so that he staring at both me and my watcher.
I braced myself. "I saw you!" he blared. More with the pointing. "I knew I wasn't crazy!"
Wanna bet? "Listen, Robbie..."
"I was attacked. It was a vampire. It had fangs and this face..."
"Game face," I said absently. Winford tapped me on the shoulder.
"Uh, I mean, face? What are you talking about?" I played dumb.
But he wasn't listening anyway. He was surveying the library, shaking his head in disbelief. "This is amazing," he whispered. Winford and I exchanged glances.
"Robbie..." I decided in that instant to come clean. He'd already seen too much, heard too much. No amount of covering up was going to solve this. I just hoped he wouldn't blab. I didn't much feel like breaking anyone's legs. Unnecessarily.
Winford must have known what I planned, because he left the pile of books and went to sit down. "Robbie," I said, approaching him. He was still looking around.
I went up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face me and there was still this shocked expression in his eyes. "Maybe we ought to sit down," I suggested. I led him to a chair.
Seated, some of the incredulity left his eyes, but he was still puzzled. "You see," I began. "Last night, you were attacked by...how do I say this?"
"A vampire?" he offered. "An undead creature of the night who preys on the blood of the innocent?"
I frowned. "That's a total misconception. They don't care if the blood's innocent. That's not like a flavor or anything!"
Winford cleared his throat and looked at him sheepishly. "Sorry. So where was I?"
"Skip to the part where you came in."
Pushy much? I was tempted to make a face, but this was serious. This was the first person outside the watcher-slayer circle who was going to be let in on the secret. True, I wished it weren't Weirder McAfee, but like he said in bio. Fate is sly. Maybe there was some warped reasoning behind all this. "Right. So, there are these vampires, and I'm the slayer. I...stake them and turn them into dust, making the world - or at least Sunnydale - safe for most nightcrawlers. Of the human variety. Happy?"
Robbie actually looked like he got it. "Cool. So you're like a superhero, right? With superpowers?"
So, okay, he didn't. Not really. "Sorta," I replied lamely. "Welcome to the club."
That last bit was said reluctantly. I did not, by any stretch of the imagination, want Robbie in on my secret identity. What's a girl to do though? At least now I could threaten to break his legs off if he told and he'd believe me. "Tell anyone else about this and I'll break both your legs off."
"Whoa," he said. He put his hands out, palms up. "Who's gonna listen to me anyhow?"
Truth. "Whatever. I got bigger fish to fry."
Having said that, I realized the gravity of it. "Winford..."
"So the librarian is involved how?" Robbie broke in. Winford and I stared.
"He's not a librarian..." More throat clearing. "...kay, so he is. But he also doubles as...uh, how do I say this? He's like...Obi Wan Kenobi."
Robbie nodded. "Get it."
"Good. Now that that's *really* over with, you want a brief of the situation?"
He jumped up. "Hey, whoa there. I'm on board with the slayer stuff, the karate master stuff..." Winford was gonna rip his throat out the way he was clearing it. "...doesn't mean I'm a part of it."
The nerve! "You creep!" I blared. "You know the secret, you're in on the...secret! I just assumed..."
"Listen, Candy, this isn't one of those television shows where I magically join your gang once I know what you are. If you believe that, then maybe you should be the one with a nickname." Robbie fixed me with his dark eyes, daring me to contradict him.
I couldn't do anything more than sputter, "Well, 'scuse me..." before he was out the door.
"Can you believe the nerve of that guy?" I asked my watcher, infuriated. Winford was shaking his head. I thought he was agreeing, but when do adults ever agree that someone is a creep?
"Candy, I don't think it's appropriate that that young man knows your secret. It can't be safe. It never is. Perhaps you should...do something about it." Winford was biting on his lower lip, a sign that he was mega-worried.
"Shuh, what should I do? I just threatened to break both his legs off! Plus, he's right. He's Weirder McAfee, no one's gonna listen to him. Heck, did anyone listen to my dad in all the years he busted his neck around the FBI? And he has a degree from Oxford!"
Winford was practically chewing off his lower lip. I counted to ten silently then threw up my hands in defeat. "All right, all right. I'll talk to him." I started for the door but turned back with a thought. "Might be good to hide those vamp books, though."
Winford just stared. I shrugged. "Hey, a bit of slayer sloppiness isn't half as bad as watcher messes."
I skipped out before he could comment on that. I spotted him immediately. "Hey, Robbie!" I called chasing down the hall after him. Kids were milling around, enjoying their few minutes of freedom and I found it hard to catch up with him. "Robbie!"
He was stalking determinedly away from me, not even bothering to turn around. I saw Barbie out of the corner of my eye and heard her sigh dramatically, "Lovers' tiff."
Finally, I caught up with him as he was rounding the corner and managed to pull him back by his backpack. "Robbie, can we talk?"
He shook me off like a pesky fly. "Mulder, I know this is about the *issue*, and I don't wanna hear it."
Whoa, this guy just kept 'em coming! Mustering up as much disgust as I could, I took a deep breath and said, "Regardless of what you may think about the *issue*, I don't deem *you* important enough to discuss it with. What I *do* have to discuss with you however, is the little matter of our biology lab."
A visible change occurred in his stance. Rumor had it Weirder was fanatical about academics - he was shooting for Ivy League and nothing was going to stop him. Maybe the rumors were true. "Guess I can't depend on your to pull your weight. All right. After school. We'll meet outside the library to collect samples together. Don't be late." Then he was gone. As if my greatest secret in the world hadn't just been revealed to him. As if his reality hadn't just changed in the blink of an eye. As if being the slayer took a major back seat to a biology lab. I'll give you one thing about Robbie McAfee - he is one focused man.