Xander was feeling pretty good, actually. He was fairly close to finding a good time to approach the second Slayer, a girl that he figured to be about seventeen, with either mixed ancestry or a fascination with sunbathing and dark hair. She had a part time job at the same grocery store where Rebecca bought her groceries – how was that for irony? She lived in a tall apartment tower, although he wasn't certain which floor, and seemed to travel by bicycle. He'd managed to learn that her name was Cheryl Benton, and there was some sort of overly persistent ex-boyfriend with too big pants and tangled hair. Or maybe she'd never dated him but he'd wanted her? But whatever the past, the guy – Steve – kept showing up, lurking outside her house.
Except for the burning question of how to approach Cheryl without her thinking she had her very own crazed stalker… Wait, what was that? The apartment building door was opening up. A slender figure slipped out, heading towards the edge of town. Xander followed, unsurprised that Cheryl had slipped out. The surprise was when she hopped onto a motorcycle with Steve and they headed out to a cemetery.
Several possibilities flickered through his mind, from a secret meeting with a bad-boy boyfriend to a cult, to criminal activity. But when Steve parked the car and passed her a slender object about the length of a forearm that tapered to a sharp point…
"Holy cow, she's got a stake. In the cemetery… just like a Slayer should." Xander moved closer, trying to watch carefully, trying to figure out what exactly was going on.
"It just feels like there should be a bit more, you know?" Cheryl was speaking to Steve, nervously twirling the stake in her hand as if it was a rather thick baton.
"Yeah, well… I don't have the books for this. They went with Dad and the good kids, the ones who are on the fast track to college." Steve's voice was somber, and hinted at frustration.
"You mean they really make books for this stuff?" Cheryl looked astounded, and turned to face Steve. Unfortunately, that was the time when the hand emerged from the grave, seizing her ankle. Cheryl yelped, while at the same time trying to jump away, her motion actually helping pull the vampire out of the grave. What followed was a rather emotional, if clumsy fight, resulting in Steve being flung to the ground twice, the sleeve of Cheryl's shirt being torn, and the vampire staked.
"Well, you did stake the vampire, at least. Better than my first efforts at grave watching." Xander shook his head, feeling almost relieved.
"Who are you? What the fuck are you doing here? Were you following us?" Steve glared at Xander, his face filled with suspicion. His belated and feeble denial was rather ineffective. "And… uh…. Who believes in vampires?"
Xander grinned, watching as Steve murmured a question to Cheryl, relaxing a little as she brushed the grass from the seat of her pants. "I know a vampire when I see one rise. I've run into plenty of them, and never liked any of them. Does this mean I can skip the whole there is a Slayer, also known as she-who-lurks-in-cemeteries? Because, really, you seem to have the concept down."
"What, are you from that damn Watcher's Council?" Steve glared at him, sort of taking a little step forward, and a slight sideways motion that placed his own body between Xander and Cheryl.
"I'm going to guess that you've met some people from the late Council. They aren't running anything anymore… the Watcher's Council in London got utterly bombed. Blown right into the afterlife. I worked with a Slayer… well, I've worked with a couple, actually. There were some of us with her, and we decided to start a new Council, one that hasn't been killed in an explosion, doesn't treat the Slayer's like crap, and helps them stay alive." Xander moved a little closer, trying to look non-threatening.
"My dad. He left." Steve was watching Xander, looking rather distrustful. "Why should I trust you?"
"Let me guess – you want more than because I'm a decent guy who just wants to help keep the world intact?" Xander shook his head. "How about because I can put you in contact with some people who have the books and information, and aren't dead? There's someone here, a pretty sweet old lady, thinks the London Watchers were overly stuffy intellectuals with a shaky grasp of reality. People under thirty would translate that as they didn't have a clue about the real world, and were trying to use an out of date system."
"You know what's going on with me? Why I'm having these freaky dreams?" Cheryl was looking at him, hope and fear warring on her ace.
"Yeah. You're a Slayer now, and it means you can't just ignore the nasty things out in the night that probably people tried to tell you didn't really exist. As far as futures go, it's not that impressive, but things should be better now." Xander shrugged. "The dreams are probably either dreams about past Slayers, which is supposed to be a sort of back up teaching thing, in case it's a while before you get a Watcher, or they're prophetic, which means a vague, probably just freaks you out warning of some big evil trying to show up."
"And you're supposed to help find the new Slayer and tell her that her life is screwed before sending her very own uptight jerk to nag her every move?" Steve was still glaring.
"Close, but that only counts in horse-shoes and hand grenades. I'm supposed to find the new Slayers and help them figure out how to cope with this, and let them know who to call if they want help." Seeing the look of baffled shock and denial on Steve's face, Xander shrugged. "We changed the rules. No more of this Chosen One thing, and certainly none of that stands alone. There's a lot of Slayers now, and maybe a handful of Watchers who didn't get blasted. Seems that one of the new Slayers is Cheryl."
"Can I give it back? Because it doesn't sound good." Cheryl was frowning, and rubbed at her arm with one hand even as she glanced around the cemetery, looking nervous.
"Maybe, but it's a one time thing. If you say – take it, I quit, you can't change your mind." Xander sighed, not quite certain how that would work anyhow. "I'd suggest thinking about it a while before trying to back out."
"Who would you want her to talk to? If she stays?" Steve was looking cautious, as if he was hoping that Xander was on the level with him.
"Well, you could either call Giles – that's Rupert Giles, who mostly kept his Slayer alive for seven years and I think she's still alive. I think they were going to Cleveland. Or there's someone closer, the widow of a Watcher, still has all the books. Nice lady." Xander smiled. " I'd think about staying closer for now, last I knew, Giles was doing the travel thing on a bus with two guys and about twenty now Slayers, most of them between sixteen and twenty, and nobody else could ever get into any of the bathrooms."
"I think I like a bit more privacy than that. So… how do we get in touch with the widowed Watcher-lady?" Cheryl shivered again, still looking around.
"I can give you her number…" Xander felt it, a sort of tension in the air. That was when the vampires attacked. There were four of them, all big and ugly and stupid. Questions about who to talk to fell silent for a short while, as the minions were slain.
Xander grinned, feeling hopeful about the whole thing now. "Like I was saying, I can give you her phone number, although you might want to call before dropping in."
Things were looking up. He'd found a new Slayer who didn't have gray hair, and someone that either had the right sort of instincts to be a Watcher, or was one of the biggest risk-taking thrill seekers that Xander had ever met. Maybe Rebecca could sort Steve out.
Xander looked at Cheryl, noting the way she kept looking around, kept rubbing her arms as if she was cold – or maybe something else was making her skin prickle. "Something wrong?"
"There's this weird feeling… I can't explain it. It's just…. Eeeesh. Makes my skin crawl." She looked at him, a frown firmly in place. "I just wish this whole thing made sense!"
"Rule one, Cheryl – learn it, repeat it every night. Life is weird and occasionally sucks beyond belief. But you can still try to understand, to learn more, find people who know about weird stuff. And be very careful with strange magical artifacts, and especially careful what you say around powerful demons." Xander looked at her, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she could learn from some of their mistakes without repeating them.
"Why?" She looked at him, clearly thinking about his words. "I mean, I get the idea of being careful about magical stuff, but what about demons? And demons… am I going to have to fight demons?!?"
"The whole demons thing… most of them aren't nearly bad enough to be the victorious nasty in a horror movie…" Xander paused, considering that statement. "Well, let's amend that. The typical demon isn't that hard for a Slayer to kill as long as you can figure out what it is and how to kill it. Normal humans should either run, hide, or get some serious weapons. Most demons are stronger than a normal human, a lot uglier, and a bunch of them think human IS the other white meat. But there's one type – they don't eat people, but they're even more dangerous. Vengeance Demons, sometimes – especially if you talk to one – called Justice Demons. They grant wishes."
Steve looked at him, eyes wide. "Wishes? Really? How's that a bad thing?"
Xander smiled a little. "Giles said it's like the wishes from some story called about a Monkey Paw, which didn't help me too much. I compared it to this joke about a foreign guy who found a magic lamp and wished to wake up with three white women. He woke up with Tonya Harding, Loreina Bobbit, and Hilary Clinton. You get what you ask for in the most horrible way possible. But you have to use that little word wish for it to happen."
"That sounds… bad. And it makes me want those books that Dad took. Maybe we will be looking up that lady… " Steve nodded, and then settled his jacket a little more on his shoulders. The pair of them turned to leave, and Xander wasn't certain if they were going home to think, or retreating from him.
He smiled as he made his way back to the little place where he was staying. It was a pretty cramped motel room, and it would drive him crazy if he actually spent a lot of time there, but it was really just a place to leave his stuff and shower. Maybe this finding Slayers thing wouldn't be too bad after all.
The next day, Xander just sort of rode the bus around the city, in an effort to figure out if there were any other Slayers nearby besides Cheryl and Rebecca. He could feel them, but it wasn't very precise. So, he figured he'd just cruise around, see if anything made him feel like a Slayer was near, or some sort of feeling of a nearby bad place that should be checked out.
It was three hours before he realized that he hadn't heard from Willow in a while. And that made him start to worry. 'Willow, what's going on? Are you just… resting, find the big book of answers… what's going on with you?'
:Xander. Good to hear about Cheryl, her and her boyfriend and almost a Watcher were over there this morning. We have a problem.: Willow's mental voice sounded frustrated, reminding him of any time in high school that the prophecies of doom had come up during an important paper.
"Define 'problem', pal of mine? Are we talking language barrier, far away, or Apollo thirteen?" Xander murmured the words, a cold feeling taking hold of him. Some instinct said the trouble was serious.
:Rogue Slayer. She's… she's very bad news. She was in prison when the spell went off, and used her new Slayer strength to escape.: Her voice was troubled.
"So, we have a repeat of early Faith? That's… well, we dealt with her once, we can do it again, right?" Xander asked, a small part already certain the answer was no.
:Sorry, but she's no Faith. She's a lot worse. Her name's Patricia Craig, she's eighteen, and she was in prison for multiple counts each of homicide, attempted murder, assault, theft, grand theft auto, arson. They caught her in Las Vegas.: Her mental voice went very quiet. :She's not just trouble, she's a big flashing danger sign, the whole worst case scenario of the old Council's ideas. They took her away from her parents, taught her how to fight, taught her that a Slayer was above normal people, had to be harder, stronger, to kill things. They taught her not to trust, or to get attached to people. And somehow or other, they turned her into a deranged killer. She does kill vampires, and demons, and anyone who gets in her way. Anyone that might slow her down.:
For a moment, Xander's mind was full of nothing more than horrified shock. Then, images of the possibilities began to form, people dead, homes burned because of something sheltering inside, victims dying because the Slayer didn't try to save them, only to 'avenge' them… "God… we can't… how could… oh God."
:Yeah. She's a big problem, and we're supposed to do something about her. Time to leave this place, got to go track down a deranged maniac.: Willow's mental voice was rather unhappy, almost grim sounding.
"I think I'd rather go see the Wizard of Oz. Just follow the yellow brick road… pay no attention to the man behind the curtain." Xander sighed, a sinking feeling that this was their duty, part of the price for the Awakening, for the continued existence of the world. With just a little bit of reminiscence of the old days, he mock whined "I know we have to do this, but do we have to like it?"
It was worth it to hear her giggle, even if only in his head. :Well, we have to do this. But the bargain said nothing about enjoying our work, so I guess that means you don't have to like it at all.:
Xander sighed, slouching downwards in the bus seat. "Yay us. So… I guess it is time to go… but I'll stop and get my stuff again."
End part 3.
Except for the burning question of how to approach Cheryl without her thinking she had her very own crazed stalker… Wait, what was that? The apartment building door was opening up. A slender figure slipped out, heading towards the edge of town. Xander followed, unsurprised that Cheryl had slipped out. The surprise was when she hopped onto a motorcycle with Steve and they headed out to a cemetery.
Several possibilities flickered through his mind, from a secret meeting with a bad-boy boyfriend to a cult, to criminal activity. But when Steve parked the car and passed her a slender object about the length of a forearm that tapered to a sharp point…
"Holy cow, she's got a stake. In the cemetery… just like a Slayer should." Xander moved closer, trying to watch carefully, trying to figure out what exactly was going on.
"It just feels like there should be a bit more, you know?" Cheryl was speaking to Steve, nervously twirling the stake in her hand as if it was a rather thick baton.
"Yeah, well… I don't have the books for this. They went with Dad and the good kids, the ones who are on the fast track to college." Steve's voice was somber, and hinted at frustration.
"You mean they really make books for this stuff?" Cheryl looked astounded, and turned to face Steve. Unfortunately, that was the time when the hand emerged from the grave, seizing her ankle. Cheryl yelped, while at the same time trying to jump away, her motion actually helping pull the vampire out of the grave. What followed was a rather emotional, if clumsy fight, resulting in Steve being flung to the ground twice, the sleeve of Cheryl's shirt being torn, and the vampire staked.
"Well, you did stake the vampire, at least. Better than my first efforts at grave watching." Xander shook his head, feeling almost relieved.
"Who are you? What the fuck are you doing here? Were you following us?" Steve glared at Xander, his face filled with suspicion. His belated and feeble denial was rather ineffective. "And… uh…. Who believes in vampires?"
Xander grinned, watching as Steve murmured a question to Cheryl, relaxing a little as she brushed the grass from the seat of her pants. "I know a vampire when I see one rise. I've run into plenty of them, and never liked any of them. Does this mean I can skip the whole there is a Slayer, also known as she-who-lurks-in-cemeteries? Because, really, you seem to have the concept down."
"What, are you from that damn Watcher's Council?" Steve glared at him, sort of taking a little step forward, and a slight sideways motion that placed his own body between Xander and Cheryl.
"I'm going to guess that you've met some people from the late Council. They aren't running anything anymore… the Watcher's Council in London got utterly bombed. Blown right into the afterlife. I worked with a Slayer… well, I've worked with a couple, actually. There were some of us with her, and we decided to start a new Council, one that hasn't been killed in an explosion, doesn't treat the Slayer's like crap, and helps them stay alive." Xander moved a little closer, trying to look non-threatening.
"My dad. He left." Steve was watching Xander, looking rather distrustful. "Why should I trust you?"
"Let me guess – you want more than because I'm a decent guy who just wants to help keep the world intact?" Xander shook his head. "How about because I can put you in contact with some people who have the books and information, and aren't dead? There's someone here, a pretty sweet old lady, thinks the London Watchers were overly stuffy intellectuals with a shaky grasp of reality. People under thirty would translate that as they didn't have a clue about the real world, and were trying to use an out of date system."
"You know what's going on with me? Why I'm having these freaky dreams?" Cheryl was looking at him, hope and fear warring on her ace.
"Yeah. You're a Slayer now, and it means you can't just ignore the nasty things out in the night that probably people tried to tell you didn't really exist. As far as futures go, it's not that impressive, but things should be better now." Xander shrugged. "The dreams are probably either dreams about past Slayers, which is supposed to be a sort of back up teaching thing, in case it's a while before you get a Watcher, or they're prophetic, which means a vague, probably just freaks you out warning of some big evil trying to show up."
"And you're supposed to help find the new Slayer and tell her that her life is screwed before sending her very own uptight jerk to nag her every move?" Steve was still glaring.
"Close, but that only counts in horse-shoes and hand grenades. I'm supposed to find the new Slayers and help them figure out how to cope with this, and let them know who to call if they want help." Seeing the look of baffled shock and denial on Steve's face, Xander shrugged. "We changed the rules. No more of this Chosen One thing, and certainly none of that stands alone. There's a lot of Slayers now, and maybe a handful of Watchers who didn't get blasted. Seems that one of the new Slayers is Cheryl."
"Can I give it back? Because it doesn't sound good." Cheryl was frowning, and rubbed at her arm with one hand even as she glanced around the cemetery, looking nervous.
"Maybe, but it's a one time thing. If you say – take it, I quit, you can't change your mind." Xander sighed, not quite certain how that would work anyhow. "I'd suggest thinking about it a while before trying to back out."
"Who would you want her to talk to? If she stays?" Steve was looking cautious, as if he was hoping that Xander was on the level with him.
"Well, you could either call Giles – that's Rupert Giles, who mostly kept his Slayer alive for seven years and I think she's still alive. I think they were going to Cleveland. Or there's someone closer, the widow of a Watcher, still has all the books. Nice lady." Xander smiled. " I'd think about staying closer for now, last I knew, Giles was doing the travel thing on a bus with two guys and about twenty now Slayers, most of them between sixteen and twenty, and nobody else could ever get into any of the bathrooms."
"I think I like a bit more privacy than that. So… how do we get in touch with the widowed Watcher-lady?" Cheryl shivered again, still looking around.
"I can give you her number…" Xander felt it, a sort of tension in the air. That was when the vampires attacked. There were four of them, all big and ugly and stupid. Questions about who to talk to fell silent for a short while, as the minions were slain.
Xander grinned, feeling hopeful about the whole thing now. "Like I was saying, I can give you her phone number, although you might want to call before dropping in."
Things were looking up. He'd found a new Slayer who didn't have gray hair, and someone that either had the right sort of instincts to be a Watcher, or was one of the biggest risk-taking thrill seekers that Xander had ever met. Maybe Rebecca could sort Steve out.
Xander looked at Cheryl, noting the way she kept looking around, kept rubbing her arms as if she was cold – or maybe something else was making her skin prickle. "Something wrong?"
"There's this weird feeling… I can't explain it. It's just…. Eeeesh. Makes my skin crawl." She looked at him, a frown firmly in place. "I just wish this whole thing made sense!"
"Rule one, Cheryl – learn it, repeat it every night. Life is weird and occasionally sucks beyond belief. But you can still try to understand, to learn more, find people who know about weird stuff. And be very careful with strange magical artifacts, and especially careful what you say around powerful demons." Xander looked at her, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she could learn from some of their mistakes without repeating them.
"Why?" She looked at him, clearly thinking about his words. "I mean, I get the idea of being careful about magical stuff, but what about demons? And demons… am I going to have to fight demons?!?"
"The whole demons thing… most of them aren't nearly bad enough to be the victorious nasty in a horror movie…" Xander paused, considering that statement. "Well, let's amend that. The typical demon isn't that hard for a Slayer to kill as long as you can figure out what it is and how to kill it. Normal humans should either run, hide, or get some serious weapons. Most demons are stronger than a normal human, a lot uglier, and a bunch of them think human IS the other white meat. But there's one type – they don't eat people, but they're even more dangerous. Vengeance Demons, sometimes – especially if you talk to one – called Justice Demons. They grant wishes."
Steve looked at him, eyes wide. "Wishes? Really? How's that a bad thing?"
Xander smiled a little. "Giles said it's like the wishes from some story called about a Monkey Paw, which didn't help me too much. I compared it to this joke about a foreign guy who found a magic lamp and wished to wake up with three white women. He woke up with Tonya Harding, Loreina Bobbit, and Hilary Clinton. You get what you ask for in the most horrible way possible. But you have to use that little word wish for it to happen."
"That sounds… bad. And it makes me want those books that Dad took. Maybe we will be looking up that lady… " Steve nodded, and then settled his jacket a little more on his shoulders. The pair of them turned to leave, and Xander wasn't certain if they were going home to think, or retreating from him.
He smiled as he made his way back to the little place where he was staying. It was a pretty cramped motel room, and it would drive him crazy if he actually spent a lot of time there, but it was really just a place to leave his stuff and shower. Maybe this finding Slayers thing wouldn't be too bad after all.
The next day, Xander just sort of rode the bus around the city, in an effort to figure out if there were any other Slayers nearby besides Cheryl and Rebecca. He could feel them, but it wasn't very precise. So, he figured he'd just cruise around, see if anything made him feel like a Slayer was near, or some sort of feeling of a nearby bad place that should be checked out.
It was three hours before he realized that he hadn't heard from Willow in a while. And that made him start to worry. 'Willow, what's going on? Are you just… resting, find the big book of answers… what's going on with you?'
:Xander. Good to hear about Cheryl, her and her boyfriend and almost a Watcher were over there this morning. We have a problem.: Willow's mental voice sounded frustrated, reminding him of any time in high school that the prophecies of doom had come up during an important paper.
"Define 'problem', pal of mine? Are we talking language barrier, far away, or Apollo thirteen?" Xander murmured the words, a cold feeling taking hold of him. Some instinct said the trouble was serious.
:Rogue Slayer. She's… she's very bad news. She was in prison when the spell went off, and used her new Slayer strength to escape.: Her voice was troubled.
"So, we have a repeat of early Faith? That's… well, we dealt with her once, we can do it again, right?" Xander asked, a small part already certain the answer was no.
:Sorry, but she's no Faith. She's a lot worse. Her name's Patricia Craig, she's eighteen, and she was in prison for multiple counts each of homicide, attempted murder, assault, theft, grand theft auto, arson. They caught her in Las Vegas.: Her mental voice went very quiet. :She's not just trouble, she's a big flashing danger sign, the whole worst case scenario of the old Council's ideas. They took her away from her parents, taught her how to fight, taught her that a Slayer was above normal people, had to be harder, stronger, to kill things. They taught her not to trust, or to get attached to people. And somehow or other, they turned her into a deranged killer. She does kill vampires, and demons, and anyone who gets in her way. Anyone that might slow her down.:
For a moment, Xander's mind was full of nothing more than horrified shock. Then, images of the possibilities began to form, people dead, homes burned because of something sheltering inside, victims dying because the Slayer didn't try to save them, only to 'avenge' them… "God… we can't… how could… oh God."
:Yeah. She's a big problem, and we're supposed to do something about her. Time to leave this place, got to go track down a deranged maniac.: Willow's mental voice was rather unhappy, almost grim sounding.
"I think I'd rather go see the Wizard of Oz. Just follow the yellow brick road… pay no attention to the man behind the curtain." Xander sighed, a sinking feeling that this was their duty, part of the price for the Awakening, for the continued existence of the world. With just a little bit of reminiscence of the old days, he mock whined "I know we have to do this, but do we have to like it?"
It was worth it to hear her giggle, even if only in his head. :Well, we have to do this. But the bargain said nothing about enjoying our work, so I guess that means you don't have to like it at all.:
Xander sighed, slouching downwards in the bus seat. "Yay us. So… I guess it is time to go… but I'll stop and get my stuff again."
End part 3.