Part Six
We spent the better half of a month researching the Solitary Uprising. We had nothing. It was mentioned in the Codex several times, but there was no clear description. The most common saying was,
"It will walk alone."
The whole thing was pissing me off.
Giles wanted me to find out everything I could.
One little problem.
No one knew anything.
Angel wasn't very forthcoming. We weren't on the best terms. Everything we talked, we fought and he brought up Spike. He was acting like a child. Had I even mentioned Cordelia? Well…kind of, but not as much as he brought up Spike.
Bastard.
Sigh.
I had sold the house. I couldn't take it there anymore. Too many memories, too many tears. I had bought a small condo on Main and 8th. It was nice. Two bedrooms, a living room, kitchen, and a bath. I brought Spike with me. Now, I know what you're thinking.
Evil, evil, Spike should die.
Yeah, yeah. I've heard it a billion times before. So what? He's harmless now.
No sense of time, reality, truth. He's lost in his crazed mind of remorse and guilt. But, even so, he's still pretty good company.
Most of the time.
I thought the little house was cute. It suited me. Private, small, and comfy. I couldn't bear to give away any of Mom's things, so I had them put in storage. The pain was still too fresh and I couldn't handle looking at her things, yet.
But, someday, it'd be better.
Someday.
Everything was fine, with a few stupid exceptions. Then, they came.
I know you're thinking I mean Angel.
But I don't.
The Council.
Jesus Christ.
Can my pathetic so called life get any worse?
*
Yes, it can. The WHOLE damn Council came. Quentin Travers, the red headed lady, and a bunch of stuffy people whose name I didn't know, didn't want to know. I walked into the Magic Shop and there they all were. Everyone immediately turned to me when I entered. My friends tried to read my emotions, to see if I would welcome them or go berserk.
I picked the slightly less insane answer.
I looked at everyone calmly and asked,
"What's going on?"
My words had an underlining threat. They all saw it.
"Hello Miss. Summers." Quentin greeted me, his steel gray eyes cold.
"Hello." I answered back, the same tone.
I moved to sit next to Giles. He leaned foreword a bit as if to protect me from anything they might say to me. I smiled inwardly.
I loved Giles.
In a strict Father sense cause otherwise…ew.
"What's going on?" I asked again, when nothing was said.
"We have found some very interesting information." The red headed lady offered.
What was her name?
I don't know.
"Concerning what?" I asked.
"Well, actually…you." She said.
"Great. What's it about?" I asked.
"You're role in the war against evil and your abilities; unique and…otherwise." Quentin said.
Thanks for making so much sense.
I appreciate it.
"Who'd you get it from?"
"Actually…Merrick." Quentin answered.
I stood up.
"Merrick is dead, you know that." I said, my voice low and deadly.
The others looked on in interest. I had never said that much about my late Watcher.
"Yes, of course we do. What I meant, is that we found a lost journal of his. Apparently the one we have is a fake." Quentin spoke slowly, as if I was a small child.
God, I wanted to smack him.
"The one we had was a falsely written one. The one we found holds quite an interesting twist of things.' The lady said.
"Mind clarifying that a bit?" I asked.
"Buffy." Giles said my name sharply, in warning. I know what it meant. I and only heard it a trillion times.
I'Buffy, keep your mouth shut and listen.'/I
"Fine." I huffed softly.
"Alright then. Merrick wrote down some very observant things. He said; 'Miss. Summers is a very unusual girl. She doesn't act like past Slayers have. Her powers and strength have come slowly. In other Slayers, they were born with their abilities. She was not. I am seeing signs of inner resentment toward this life and very unusual bursts of emotion and force. At first, I didn't think she was the Slayer. I'm not sure I do, yet. She shows the strength of a Slayer, and then, she shows so much more. She is a unique creature.'" Quentin finished.
I didn't know what to say?
What was I supposed to say?
"So?"
"We've had our doubts about you, Miss. Summers." The lady said.
I flared instantly, "What are you saying? That you think I'm not the Slayer?" I asked, jumping to my feet.
"Not exactly." Quentin started.
"Then what 'exactly' are you saying? If I'm not the Slayer, what am I?" I demanded.
"That's what we want to find out!" Quentin burst out.
I froze.
Oh. My. God.
Giles was at my side, anger bursting off him in waves.
"What the bloody hell are you talking about, Travers?" He demanded.
"Miss. Summers isn't the Slayer. We have suspected this for quite sometime."
I was silent.
Giles guided me to a chair. He looked at me worriedly, but I couldn't focus my gaze. I was lost in my own thoughts.
"How exactly is a Slayer called?" Willow asked softly.
"When a Slayer dies, another is called. Sometimes we have a relatively close idea where they might be located. We look at the girls' signs, their actions. If they match that of a Slayer, they are called." Travers answered.
"So, there's no little dot on the globe thing that blinks when a Slayer dies?" Xander asked, speaking up.
Travers chuckled, "No, my boy, no."
Why the hell was he laughing? I might not be the Slayer! It wasn't a laughing matter!
"Buffy, are you ok?" Giles asked, softly.
I shrugged, not really knowing if I was or wasn't.
Giles glared murderous daggers at Travers, "You bloody idiot. Have you any proof of what you say?"
"Of Miss. Summers? Yes. No Slayer has the ability to rise from the dead, twice.
No Slayer has lasted as long as she. And, no Slayer has defied the Council."
"What?" Xander asked.
"Oh God, Slayers are programmed to listen to you?" Willow asked.
"Yes."
"Faith didn't." Xander said.
"Faith, she wasn't right. Her calling was a mistake. Given to the wrong person."
"That doesn't prove anything."
"It does, my boy, it does."
*
I went to my house. My mind was reeling.
If I'm not the Slayer…
Then what am I?
A freak.
Like I've always been.
My phone rings and I look at it.
It Giles.
No thanks, don't want to talk. I pull the hook-jack thing from the wall. I muscles
ache and I go run a bath. I'm in my room, just sitting on my bed, waiting for the water to fill. My eye catches something in the top corner of my room. I see a small blinking light. I don't know how I see it, it's so small. I walk slowly to it, keeping my eye on it. I stand on my dresser and reach to it. I dig my finger into the small hole and pull out a black…thing. I look closer and see a small lens.
Holy shit, it's a camera.
I look closer and see three small figures.
W&H
W&H… W&H…
Wolfman and Hart!
Wait a minute…
Oh hell no…!
*
I left shortly after that. I got in my car and drove. I didn't know where I was
going at first, but two hours later, I found myself in LA. I considered going to Angel's, but didn't. Things were too strained at the moment. So, I looked up Wesley's number and went to his house. I rang the bell and he answered.
"B-Buffy." He said, surprised.
"I need you to do me a favor." I said softly.
"Of course." He said, letting me in.
He looked different. More rugged.
Kinda sexy in a British biker way..
Oh EW!!!!
Yuck, yuck, bad me.
God, do I need a life, but still, sexy British biker...
"What did you need?" He asked.
"I need help."
"I don't work for Angel anymore." He said, catching me off guard.
"I don't care. I don't want Angel in this. Things aren't so great between us." I answered.
"Us neither."
"Well, can you help me?" I asked, my eyes pleading.
"Of course. What do you need?"
"Quentin said I wasn't the Slayer, is there a way to find out if is true?" I asked.
He looked confused, but shook it off.
"Yes, there is. I'll need your blood though."
"How much?" I asked.
"A small amount. A spoonful or so." He said.
I took a steak knife and sliced my arm, letting the blood flow into a small shot
glass.
I winced and felt strange, almost gleeful, looking at my own blood.
"That enough?" I asked.
"More than enough."
I gave him my cell number and told him to call me if there was ANYTHING.
After leaving his house, I drove down to my Dad's office. I walked right in and went straight up the elevator.
No one stopped me.
Hmm, that's weird…
Trap!
Black suits hound me and attack.
I lash out with a series of punches and brutal kicks.
I know I broke a few of their bones.
Yay me.
I kick open my Dad's door, causing a loud crash.
"What the fuck is going on?!" I yell, my voice loud and deadly.
Everyone jumps and my Father looks at me, his expression a mix between shock and fear.
"Buffy." He says.
"Damn straight. Why the hell was this in my house?" I demand, chucking the tiny camera at him.
God, I wish it would've hit him. He caught it with lightening speed.
Everyone in the room stared at me.
"Dismissed." Dad ordered.
Everyone left.
"Buffy…" He started.
"No! No lies, I want to know, NOW!" I screamed, my eyes flashing.
Literally.
My vision flashes from red to yellow, then back to normal.
Dad gasps.
"No…"
"What?" I asked.
I turn and look into a wall mirror. My eyes are a blazing orange, like a cats. My face is deadly pale and I can see my incisor teeth protruding from my red lips.
"What the hell?!" I screech.
My appearance is transparent, I can see right through myself.
"Buffy!" My Dad cries when I lunge at the mirror, smashing it. It shatters, sending my reflection into a billion tinier pieces.
"No!" I scream, crunching at the glass.
I am crazed. I'm terrified and I don't know what's going on.
Dad grabs me and holds me until I calm down.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" I asked, my voice shaking.
"You have to listen to me." Dad tries to explain.
"No…" I cry.
"Buffy!" Dad shakes me.
"This isn't your fault. Its mine."
I go nuts.
"You did this to me?! How?! Why?!" I scream."
Something happened a long time ago." Dad said.
"Enlighten me, PLEASE!" I scream sarcastically.
"If you'll shut up, I will!" Dad explodes.
He never yells at me.
I quiet, and listen to him begin.
"21 years ago…"