Part Three-
I didn't get any sleep that night. I kept thinking of what Ms. Post had said.
*The best part is, you're not even the first. No, you're one of hundreds.*
What did that mean? One of hundreds? There were more.? Of me? What did that mean? I sighed and pushed back the heavy feeling sheets. I felt so darn restless. Like I was supposed to be doing something. Something.important, I don't know what, but it was something. I could feel it humming in my blood, making me feel too tight in my skin and fidgety. It'd be happening for awhile now, maybe six months and it would always start around five and would end by dawn. I hadn't talked to Wes about it, because I had thought it was just being stuck in here so long, taking its toll on me. And I was scared what he would say. Would it be bad? Good? Reveal something about my blank past? I don't know and didn't know if I wanted too. I got up and started to pace. I needed to move around, get the blood flowing, and just do something! I pushed my thick hair out of my face. I kind of wanted to cut it. The heavy weight of it bothers me and was almost always in my face, but something had always stopped me. It comforted me with the soft, silkiness of it.
Ugh, now I was getting sentimental about my hair. I think I'm going insane, I really do. Something isn't right in my head, I sometimes have imagines of killing. People, things. It's all really morbid and I'm not happy I think things like that. I think that I'm not sane, something wasn't wired right in my head. It scares me. With this freak strength I have and Quentin and all the other Brits breathing down my necks, it makes me think Why am I here, for what purpose? Am I special, and if so, what makes me so special from everything else? I'll really drive myself mad with these unanswerable questions.
My door opens and it scares me, catching e off guard so I spin around and stand defensively. It's only Wes, but he's carrying two suitcases and looking very paranoid.
"Wes, what is it?" I ask softly.
He holds his finger to his lips and walks to the far corner of my room, keeping pressed to the wall. He took out a small remote and pressed the middle blue button. A high pitched beep filled the air for about ten seconds. I realize that he stopped the camera that was in my room.
"Wes," I asked when it stopped, "What is going on?"
"Listen to me, I've got to get you out of here." He whispered frantically.
"What? Why?" I ask, shaking my head in confusion.
"Questions later. Pack anything you need, and hurry." He orders and stands by the door as if keeping watch.
I take the suitcase nearest to me and numbly walk to my small dresser. I take out my clothes and small necessities. I was stunned. I was leaving. The very thing I had wanted since forever. But, I didn't feel joyful or happy. I felt.nothing. Absolutely nothing. I realized I was in shock, I had read about it once, you feel nothing, but it will come soon and probably all at the same time, overwhelming you. I slip on my small white tennis shoes and pull my hair back, doing everything in automatic motion. I walk over to Wes and look at him with black eyes. He takes my hands and leads me out. I walk fast to keep up with his brisk place. He takes me further away from my room and I begin to feel nostalgic. I'm leaving. I'm leaving. I'm leaving. The thought loops itself in my mind. We come to a thick metallic door and Wes enters a long code. I see the numbers as I watch.
19-12-1-25-5-18
Something tells me to remember that number, that there's some significance to it. We walk on and soon we're out. Out. Out of the building. Out of that wretched place. Oh my God. There's a slight drizzle falling and I hear Wes whisper,
"Blasted London weather."
I choke out something between a laugh and a sob. We walk again and Wes is pulling me to keep up with him. My suitcase is banging against my leg and it's getting quite sore. I start to hyperventilate when it hits me that I'm out of the.place. I can't breathe and I yank my hand out of Wes's and lean against a brink wall.
"We have to move!" Wes hisses, anxiously looking around him.
I shake my head, "I can't." I gasp.
He squats on the balls of his feet and looks me in the eye.
"Listen to me. We have to keep moving. Quentin's gone stark raving mad. He wanted to put you through more 'tests', ones that could kill you. I can't let that happen. What he's been doing in inhumane and I couldn't let it go on. I've got to get you to a safe haven and then out of London." He whispered.
I nodded numbly, everything was happening so fast. He nodded too, maybe to reassure me, then got up and we began to walk again. For a long time, that's what we did. Then, instead of seeing warehouses, I began to see restaurants and hotels. We suddenly stopped and I looked and saw we were in the intersection of Mortimer Street and Regent St.
"Wes?" I asked, feeling overwhelmed.
"Listen." He whispered, "We're being followed. I need you to go to this address and tell them 'Pryce sent you'." He said urgently.
I looked at the paper he pressed into my hand. It said; Eastcastle Street, 44295 Mews Place. I shake my head, "Wes, I can't go alone. I-I'll get lost."
He grabs my shoulders, "You have too. I need to take care of them and they can't see you. I promise you will get there, just remember the 'maze'. I will meet you there. Now, go." He says and turns into the shadows.
I let out a small cry and look at the paper. I clutch it for dear life and start to walk, hoping to God I'm going the right way. After twenty minutes I look up and see the sign saying, 'Eastcastle'. I let out a shriek of joy and start running. I skid to a stop when I see an alleyway. I go down it and see a metal door saying 'MEWS'. I don't know what to do.do I knock? Well, I did and a small slit appeared and a pair of beady eyes looked at me.
"Whaddya want, girlie?" He asked gruffly.
"Uh, I, uh." I stammered.
"Spit it out!" He snapped.
"Pryce sent me!" I blurted out.
He looked shocked, yet skeptical, "What's the code?" He asked.
"Code?" I ask, "Uh." I remember the code Wes used, please let that work, "19-12-1-25-5- 18" I say and he looks friendlier as he opens the thick door.
"Welcome. Sorry for the whole tough guy act, but all kinds of people want in here. Pryce said awhile ago a girl like you might be comin' here. Glad to have someone with your status here. I gotta penthouse on top-a this joint and Pryce is rentin' it out for ya and him. C'mon." He said. I was a little apprehensive about trusting him, but I trusted Wes and if he said so. I followed him and he unlocked this door to a nice apartment. He tells me that it's got two bedrooms and a kitchen/living room combo.
"When'll Pryce be here?" He asks.
"I-I don't know. He said he'd meet me here." I answered.
"Damn. Fine. I'll tell Gunn to keep a-watch on ya." He sighed, shaking his head as he left. I locked the door after him and turned on the small lamp in the corner. I loved out the small window facing the street and saw shadowy figures creeping around. I walked around the rooms and locked all the windows. I felt scared. People were after me. Quentin was after me and I was alone. I sat in the corner under the window and remained as still as possible. I was scared to even move for fear they would see my shadow and come and get me. I must have dozed off because my eyes few open when someone tried to open the door. Whoever it was got a little irritated and pounded harder.
"Who's there?" I yelled fearfully.
"It's me!" A voice yelled.
I was baffled, "Me, who?"
"Wes." He answered.
"Oh God." I gasped and scrambled out of my cramped corner and to the door. I unlocked it and the door flew open. I wrapped my arms around him and then le him walk in.
"Where were you? What happened?" I asked.
His eyes looked angry, but the anger was not directed to me. He hair and clothes were ruffled and he had blood on his hands.
"Wes.." I said, lifting his hand to see.
He pulled it away, shaking it head, "I'm fine."
But, I knew the blood wasn't his. I just hope he didn't kill anyone. But, I would never know what happened to him. Who was following us, what Wes did, why there was blood on his hands, I would never know because I didn't ask. I didn't want to know. I just watched as he quietly moved about the rooms. Making sure everything was locked, washing up, and then he sat down in front of me, looking at me for awhile.
"What?" I asked him.
"I suppose it's time you know." He sighed.
"Know what?" I asked.
"Why this is all happening, why we're running, why you're here." He said.
My heart fluttered, what he going to tell me? I didn't say a word, for fear I would ruin it and he wouldn't tell me anything.
He sighed, a long deep sigh, "In this world, there are many strange things that lurk under the cloak of darkness. There are many things that cannot be explained rationally or scientifically even. There is a whole other world, many other worlds in fact, that connect to ours. They create a breach so to speak. Do you know what a 'slayer' is?" He asked me.
I looked at him, know the term seemed familiar.
"A killer?" I guessed.
"In a way. A slayer is a destroyer of evil things, to put it simply. Vampires, demons, monsters. Everything you thought hid under your bed as a child is real." He said.
"I was never a child." I said brokenly.
He looked extremely guilty as he said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what you've had to go through and I know it is confusing. But, let me explain this first, alright?" He asked.
I nodded and he went on, "As long as there have been vampires, there has been Slayers. On girl in all the world, to find where they gather and stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers. She is the Slayer." He said, taking another breath, "There have been Slayers around for thousands of years. Demons have been around even longer. Each time a slayer dies, another is called. There has always been one Slayer in each generation. But, that was changed. There was a girl, Buffy Summers. She was extraordinary. She was killed by The Master, an ancient master vampire. He drowned her and she was brought back to life by one of her friends. But, four years later, she killed a hell-goddess and closed the portal, which killed her in the process. The first time she died, her death called the next Slayer. Faith Reynolds. But, when Buffy died again, it stopped the calling of the Slayers. And that was five years ago. Faith, she's amazing. She had troubles and was in jail, but was soon let out after Buffy's passing. She now takes over the slaying.
"Quentin was outraged that Buffy had done such a thing, jump to her death and ruin the line of slayers, he vowed to do something about it. We were fools to listen to him, but he called us all because we had a connection to her, we knew how she worked. We all thought that we were going to try and convert a potential Slayer to be like her, we didn't know we were going to make her." He said, his eyes faraway.
He pulled out a thick file and slid it over to me, "It contains everything. Information on you. Read it." He said, then went back into the far room, leaving me alone to find everything out.
*
FILE ONE- [NAME] Summers, Buffy A. [DOB] 19th, January 1981 [BLOOD TYPE] B Positive [EYE COLOR] Green [HAIR COLOR] Brown/Blonde [PARENTS] Summers, Hank P. Summers (Benson), Joyce M. [DATE OF CALLING] 28th, March, 1995 [DATE OF DEATH] 2nd, June 1996 & 21st, May 2001 [ENEMIES] Darla, The Three, The Master (Joseph Henrich Nest), Spike, Drusilla, Ethan Rayne, Order of Taraka, Lyle and Tector Gorch, Angelus, Belthazar, Faith, Richard Wilkins III, Sunday, The Gentlemen, Maggie Walsh, Adam, Glorificus [WATCHER(s)] Merrick Johnston, Rupert Giles, Wesley Wyndom-Pryce
*
There were more papers than I could count but I suddenly didn't have the energy anymore to look through them. I was invading this girl's privacy, dead she may be, but still, this was her life. I stood up and put the thick file in my bag, maybe someday I would look through them all, but.I wasn't ready to find everything out. I thought I was, but not yet. I looked out the window and saw the approaching light of dawn. I needed sleep. Something told me we'd be moving in the morning. So, sleep it is.
*
Wes shook me awake around two the next afternoon. He gave me a blueberry scone and a Styrofoam cup of coffee. I didn't like coffee, but I drank it desperately, needing the liquid induced energy. I gathered my things up, knowing that without Wes talking to me that we were leaving. He led me down the stairs and I looked back and saw I had a shadow. Someone was following me.
"Wes?" I asked.
He looked behind me and nodded, "Gunn." Was all he said.
When we reached outside, there was a car waiting for us. The three of us got in and I got a better look at Gunn. He was tall, black, shaved head, cute, quiet. Whoever was driving us, drove to the airport. Wes ushered me out and handed me a ticket.
"We're getting on separate planes." He said, then to shush my protests, "Gunn will go with you. You will land in New York, I will land in New Jersey. We will all meet in Los Angeles, California. We need to keep Quentin and his men searching for us. It's better if we split up. Darling, I promise that we will meet up. Gunn will take care of you." He said and pressed a kiss to my forehead and was then gone.
He was leaving again. Tears filled my eyes at being alone. Gunn put his hand tentatively to the small of my back and pushed me to the gate.
"C'mon blondie." He said in a deep comforting voice, "Let's go."
And off we went into the air, to a new start, a new life, a new me.
I didn't get any sleep that night. I kept thinking of what Ms. Post had said.
*The best part is, you're not even the first. No, you're one of hundreds.*
What did that mean? One of hundreds? There were more.? Of me? What did that mean? I sighed and pushed back the heavy feeling sheets. I felt so darn restless. Like I was supposed to be doing something. Something.important, I don't know what, but it was something. I could feel it humming in my blood, making me feel too tight in my skin and fidgety. It'd be happening for awhile now, maybe six months and it would always start around five and would end by dawn. I hadn't talked to Wes about it, because I had thought it was just being stuck in here so long, taking its toll on me. And I was scared what he would say. Would it be bad? Good? Reveal something about my blank past? I don't know and didn't know if I wanted too. I got up and started to pace. I needed to move around, get the blood flowing, and just do something! I pushed my thick hair out of my face. I kind of wanted to cut it. The heavy weight of it bothers me and was almost always in my face, but something had always stopped me. It comforted me with the soft, silkiness of it.
Ugh, now I was getting sentimental about my hair. I think I'm going insane, I really do. Something isn't right in my head, I sometimes have imagines of killing. People, things. It's all really morbid and I'm not happy I think things like that. I think that I'm not sane, something wasn't wired right in my head. It scares me. With this freak strength I have and Quentin and all the other Brits breathing down my necks, it makes me think Why am I here, for what purpose? Am I special, and if so, what makes me so special from everything else? I'll really drive myself mad with these unanswerable questions.
My door opens and it scares me, catching e off guard so I spin around and stand defensively. It's only Wes, but he's carrying two suitcases and looking very paranoid.
"Wes, what is it?" I ask softly.
He holds his finger to his lips and walks to the far corner of my room, keeping pressed to the wall. He took out a small remote and pressed the middle blue button. A high pitched beep filled the air for about ten seconds. I realize that he stopped the camera that was in my room.
"Wes," I asked when it stopped, "What is going on?"
"Listen to me, I've got to get you out of here." He whispered frantically.
"What? Why?" I ask, shaking my head in confusion.
"Questions later. Pack anything you need, and hurry." He orders and stands by the door as if keeping watch.
I take the suitcase nearest to me and numbly walk to my small dresser. I take out my clothes and small necessities. I was stunned. I was leaving. The very thing I had wanted since forever. But, I didn't feel joyful or happy. I felt.nothing. Absolutely nothing. I realized I was in shock, I had read about it once, you feel nothing, but it will come soon and probably all at the same time, overwhelming you. I slip on my small white tennis shoes and pull my hair back, doing everything in automatic motion. I walk over to Wes and look at him with black eyes. He takes my hands and leads me out. I walk fast to keep up with his brisk place. He takes me further away from my room and I begin to feel nostalgic. I'm leaving. I'm leaving. I'm leaving. The thought loops itself in my mind. We come to a thick metallic door and Wes enters a long code. I see the numbers as I watch.
19-12-1-25-5-18
Something tells me to remember that number, that there's some significance to it. We walk on and soon we're out. Out. Out of the building. Out of that wretched place. Oh my God. There's a slight drizzle falling and I hear Wes whisper,
"Blasted London weather."
I choke out something between a laugh and a sob. We walk again and Wes is pulling me to keep up with him. My suitcase is banging against my leg and it's getting quite sore. I start to hyperventilate when it hits me that I'm out of the.place. I can't breathe and I yank my hand out of Wes's and lean against a brink wall.
"We have to move!" Wes hisses, anxiously looking around him.
I shake my head, "I can't." I gasp.
He squats on the balls of his feet and looks me in the eye.
"Listen to me. We have to keep moving. Quentin's gone stark raving mad. He wanted to put you through more 'tests', ones that could kill you. I can't let that happen. What he's been doing in inhumane and I couldn't let it go on. I've got to get you to a safe haven and then out of London." He whispered.
I nodded numbly, everything was happening so fast. He nodded too, maybe to reassure me, then got up and we began to walk again. For a long time, that's what we did. Then, instead of seeing warehouses, I began to see restaurants and hotels. We suddenly stopped and I looked and saw we were in the intersection of Mortimer Street and Regent St.
"Wes?" I asked, feeling overwhelmed.
"Listen." He whispered, "We're being followed. I need you to go to this address and tell them 'Pryce sent you'." He said urgently.
I looked at the paper he pressed into my hand. It said; Eastcastle Street, 44295 Mews Place. I shake my head, "Wes, I can't go alone. I-I'll get lost."
He grabs my shoulders, "You have too. I need to take care of them and they can't see you. I promise you will get there, just remember the 'maze'. I will meet you there. Now, go." He says and turns into the shadows.
I let out a small cry and look at the paper. I clutch it for dear life and start to walk, hoping to God I'm going the right way. After twenty minutes I look up and see the sign saying, 'Eastcastle'. I let out a shriek of joy and start running. I skid to a stop when I see an alleyway. I go down it and see a metal door saying 'MEWS'. I don't know what to do.do I knock? Well, I did and a small slit appeared and a pair of beady eyes looked at me.
"Whaddya want, girlie?" He asked gruffly.
"Uh, I, uh." I stammered.
"Spit it out!" He snapped.
"Pryce sent me!" I blurted out.
He looked shocked, yet skeptical, "What's the code?" He asked.
"Code?" I ask, "Uh." I remember the code Wes used, please let that work, "19-12-1-25-5- 18" I say and he looks friendlier as he opens the thick door.
"Welcome. Sorry for the whole tough guy act, but all kinds of people want in here. Pryce said awhile ago a girl like you might be comin' here. Glad to have someone with your status here. I gotta penthouse on top-a this joint and Pryce is rentin' it out for ya and him. C'mon." He said. I was a little apprehensive about trusting him, but I trusted Wes and if he said so. I followed him and he unlocked this door to a nice apartment. He tells me that it's got two bedrooms and a kitchen/living room combo.
"When'll Pryce be here?" He asks.
"I-I don't know. He said he'd meet me here." I answered.
"Damn. Fine. I'll tell Gunn to keep a-watch on ya." He sighed, shaking his head as he left. I locked the door after him and turned on the small lamp in the corner. I loved out the small window facing the street and saw shadowy figures creeping around. I walked around the rooms and locked all the windows. I felt scared. People were after me. Quentin was after me and I was alone. I sat in the corner under the window and remained as still as possible. I was scared to even move for fear they would see my shadow and come and get me. I must have dozed off because my eyes few open when someone tried to open the door. Whoever it was got a little irritated and pounded harder.
"Who's there?" I yelled fearfully.
"It's me!" A voice yelled.
I was baffled, "Me, who?"
"Wes." He answered.
"Oh God." I gasped and scrambled out of my cramped corner and to the door. I unlocked it and the door flew open. I wrapped my arms around him and then le him walk in.
"Where were you? What happened?" I asked.
His eyes looked angry, but the anger was not directed to me. He hair and clothes were ruffled and he had blood on his hands.
"Wes.." I said, lifting his hand to see.
He pulled it away, shaking it head, "I'm fine."
But, I knew the blood wasn't his. I just hope he didn't kill anyone. But, I would never know what happened to him. Who was following us, what Wes did, why there was blood on his hands, I would never know because I didn't ask. I didn't want to know. I just watched as he quietly moved about the rooms. Making sure everything was locked, washing up, and then he sat down in front of me, looking at me for awhile.
"What?" I asked him.
"I suppose it's time you know." He sighed.
"Know what?" I asked.
"Why this is all happening, why we're running, why you're here." He said.
My heart fluttered, what he going to tell me? I didn't say a word, for fear I would ruin it and he wouldn't tell me anything.
He sighed, a long deep sigh, "In this world, there are many strange things that lurk under the cloak of darkness. There are many things that cannot be explained rationally or scientifically even. There is a whole other world, many other worlds in fact, that connect to ours. They create a breach so to speak. Do you know what a 'slayer' is?" He asked me.
I looked at him, know the term seemed familiar.
"A killer?" I guessed.
"In a way. A slayer is a destroyer of evil things, to put it simply. Vampires, demons, monsters. Everything you thought hid under your bed as a child is real." He said.
"I was never a child." I said brokenly.
He looked extremely guilty as he said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what you've had to go through and I know it is confusing. But, let me explain this first, alright?" He asked.
I nodded and he went on, "As long as there have been vampires, there has been Slayers. On girl in all the world, to find where they gather and stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers. She is the Slayer." He said, taking another breath, "There have been Slayers around for thousands of years. Demons have been around even longer. Each time a slayer dies, another is called. There has always been one Slayer in each generation. But, that was changed. There was a girl, Buffy Summers. She was extraordinary. She was killed by The Master, an ancient master vampire. He drowned her and she was brought back to life by one of her friends. But, four years later, she killed a hell-goddess and closed the portal, which killed her in the process. The first time she died, her death called the next Slayer. Faith Reynolds. But, when Buffy died again, it stopped the calling of the Slayers. And that was five years ago. Faith, she's amazing. She had troubles and was in jail, but was soon let out after Buffy's passing. She now takes over the slaying.
"Quentin was outraged that Buffy had done such a thing, jump to her death and ruin the line of slayers, he vowed to do something about it. We were fools to listen to him, but he called us all because we had a connection to her, we knew how she worked. We all thought that we were going to try and convert a potential Slayer to be like her, we didn't know we were going to make her." He said, his eyes faraway.
He pulled out a thick file and slid it over to me, "It contains everything. Information on you. Read it." He said, then went back into the far room, leaving me alone to find everything out.
*
FILE ONE- [NAME] Summers, Buffy A. [DOB] 19th, January 1981 [BLOOD TYPE] B Positive [EYE COLOR] Green [HAIR COLOR] Brown/Blonde [PARENTS] Summers, Hank P. Summers (Benson), Joyce M. [DATE OF CALLING] 28th, March, 1995 [DATE OF DEATH] 2nd, June 1996 & 21st, May 2001 [ENEMIES] Darla, The Three, The Master (Joseph Henrich Nest), Spike, Drusilla, Ethan Rayne, Order of Taraka, Lyle and Tector Gorch, Angelus, Belthazar, Faith, Richard Wilkins III, Sunday, The Gentlemen, Maggie Walsh, Adam, Glorificus [WATCHER(s)] Merrick Johnston, Rupert Giles, Wesley Wyndom-Pryce
*
There were more papers than I could count but I suddenly didn't have the energy anymore to look through them. I was invading this girl's privacy, dead she may be, but still, this was her life. I stood up and put the thick file in my bag, maybe someday I would look through them all, but.I wasn't ready to find everything out. I thought I was, but not yet. I looked out the window and saw the approaching light of dawn. I needed sleep. Something told me we'd be moving in the morning. So, sleep it is.
*
Wes shook me awake around two the next afternoon. He gave me a blueberry scone and a Styrofoam cup of coffee. I didn't like coffee, but I drank it desperately, needing the liquid induced energy. I gathered my things up, knowing that without Wes talking to me that we were leaving. He led me down the stairs and I looked back and saw I had a shadow. Someone was following me.
"Wes?" I asked.
He looked behind me and nodded, "Gunn." Was all he said.
When we reached outside, there was a car waiting for us. The three of us got in and I got a better look at Gunn. He was tall, black, shaved head, cute, quiet. Whoever was driving us, drove to the airport. Wes ushered me out and handed me a ticket.
"We're getting on separate planes." He said, then to shush my protests, "Gunn will go with you. You will land in New York, I will land in New Jersey. We will all meet in Los Angeles, California. We need to keep Quentin and his men searching for us. It's better if we split up. Darling, I promise that we will meet up. Gunn will take care of you." He said and pressed a kiss to my forehead and was then gone.
He was leaving again. Tears filled my eyes at being alone. Gunn put his hand tentatively to the small of my back and pushed me to the gate.
"C'mon blondie." He said in a deep comforting voice, "Let's go."
And off we went into the air, to a new start, a new life, a new me.