Roads Less Traveled
by Casix Thistlebane
Story 3: Sweet Home Alabama
Part One
"We're never going to make it to Florida." Dawn stood by the battered sedan, her hands shoved in her pockets. She could see her breath, and it was starting to annoy her. "All I want is to be warm. Is that too much to ask?"
Xander shrugged. He was feeling the cold as well. They were in Alabama now, standing outside a tiny split level home on the outskirts of Gurden. It was a little after five in the afternoon, and already the sun was starting to set through the heavy cloud cover. Both were anxious to get to some place warm, so they'd decided to skip the "call on 'em in the early morning" plan they'd set up before leaving Cleveland and head straight for the address the Devon Coven had provided. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, trying to warm up.
"They had a good point, though." He waved a hand at the house. "This is kind of on our way to St. Petersburg. We can get this one through with, then head down to the warmer climates, and save some money on gas and travel."
"I'm sick of saving money. Saving money is why we had to buy a stick shift, it's why we couldn't FLY to all the locations, and I'm not sure how, but I think it's why Wood decided to assign me Faulkner instead of something interesting, like _Catch-22_. Saving money is for losers."
Xander smiled. "How's that coming, by the way?"
"I don't care whether the characters live or die."
"Jesse and I had that same problem with _The Scarlet Letter_ in ninth grade. Our teacher really didn't appreciate it when we pointed it out to her though."
"Let's get this over with. Maybe she's got a good heating system." Dawn opened the small, chainlink gait that marked the beginning of a flagstone path to the front porch. Her steps were heavy, and Xander knew she was already growing tired of the constant travel. So was he, for that matter. The thought of having to explain themselves and argue through the pros and cons of leaving everything behind and going to Cleveland made him twitch. He followed after her, and let her ring the front bell. They were only on their third slayer, and they were already exhausted. It wasn't a good sign.
The woman who answered the door was bordering on decrepit. Her back was bent at a painful looking angle; the joints in her fingers were swollen, her hands covered in liver spots. She had little hair left, but there was a spark to her eyes and a strange grace to her movements that belied the state of her body.
Xander froze, his jaw dropping slightly. His brain locked.
Dawn had no such trouble. "Hi! We're looking for Char–"
Xander's brain reignited and began racing, stumbling here and there and circling thoughts. His jaw flexed around her name. "Charlotte DuBois." The woman cocked her head to the side, and Xander's eyes locked in on hers. His brain hit another sentence and before it could remind him about subtlety, it was out. "You're a slayer."
Dawn's head shot to one side, staring at him. Charlotte's lips turned up ever so slightly and the lines about her eyes folded upon themselves.
"Yes I am." She glanced around the yard, then backed through the doorway. "I'll get you something to drink before the sun sets, shall I?"
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Xander's mind was still not operating on full, and Dawn's voice was rattling about in the back of her throat without coming towards her mouth, so it was up to Charlotte to break the ice.
"You're a little young to be my new watchers, aren't you?"
Dawn laughed. It sounded painful. "You're a little–" she clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening.
"Old?" Charlotte offered. She spooned sugar into their teas with a dexterity she'd never have been able to have with the arthritis that had swollen her knuckles. "I am at that. I thought my chance at slaying was long gone, some seventy years back. But here I am, and here you are." She stirred each cup three times before setting the spoon back down. "Milk?"
"No," Xander muttered. He couldn't take his eyes off the glimmer around her thinning, nearly non-existent hair. "How–" He shook his head. There was no way to finish the question, or rather, there were too many.
"I was hoping you could tell me." Charlotte was instantly sad, her watery blue eyes painful to look at. "Have so many other potentials been killed, that all that was left was an old woman to hold the fort?"
"No!" Xander leaned forward, grabbing her hand. "No, of course not. God, how cruel would that be, leaving the slaying business to an old woman? No."
"Then please, tell me what's going on. My watcher passed years ago, and all the old phone numbers I had for the council were unanswered. I've been trying to find someone to contact, to let them know that somehow I'd been called." She frowned. "My memory's not what it was, but I was certain it was 'one girl in all the world'. If I have the power, then certainly there can't be another slayer out there, can there?"
Dawn smiled. "Actually, there's been more than one for a couple of years now. My sister died about two years into her slaying, but Xander resuscitated her, so there were two, for awhile. Now there's . . . well, we're not sure how many. A lot."
"How?"
"Big spell, averting the apocalypse. Everyone who had the potential is a slayer now." Xander squeezed her hand gently. "Including you, it seems." His brain caught back up with the conversation. "You were trained?"
"Of course I was." Charlotte stood, searched through a nearby bookcase, and came back with a yellowing photo album. "I was recognized as a potential in the early twenties. I spent most of the early part of my life with my watcher." She pointed to a photo of a rather stunning young woman holding a crossbow, standing next to a handsome older man in, of course, tweed. "Lord Giles was my watcher. Last I heard, his grandson was being prepared to watch the slayer." She closed the album. "But I was set off on my own decades ago, when it was determined my time for being called had passed. I never expected that, this late in my life, I could be called."
Xander laughed. "We never expected it either, though I guess we should have. After all, the spell wasn't age specific."
"So you're watchers, then? Or at least in training. You're here to what, recruit all the new slayers?"
"Something like that." Dawn shrugged. "We're not watchers though. Friends of the slayers, you could say. We're trying to get as many of them as we can to go to Cleveland and be trained."
"On the hellmouth, then?" Charlotte smiled. "I saw what happened to Sunnydale, I suppose you two may have been there. But why not in England, at the Council School? I have fond memories of that place."
"The Council School has been . . . ." Xander searched for the right words. "Well, destroyed. It happened a little before everything went down in Sunnydale. We've become a very low tech group."
"Of course." Charlotte stood, and glanced out the window. "Will you be asking me to travel, then, too? As a new slayer?"
"I don't know." Dawn looked down at the table thoughtfully. "Someone with your experience, you'd probably make a great teacher. If you're up to it?"
"We'll discuss it more in the morning." Charlotte stretched as best she could, still watching the window. "I have a guest room downstairs; you'll have to stay here for the night."
Xander pulled a stake from his pocket. "Of course not. We've got a hotel lined up, we just wanted to touch base with you first."
"You'll need more than that, young man." Charlotte gestured to the stake. "You see, I'm aware that when a slayer is called, the forces of darkness tend to get wind of it all. I haven't left the house after dark in more than six months."
"We're all for safety, ma'am." Dawn stood as well. "But isn't that a little . . . extreme?"
Charlotte pointed out the window. "Perhaps. We could always ask them."
Xander turned, then backed up sharply. Out on the front lawn stood a mob of vampires, stock still, and staring in at the three of them hungrily. He checked the other windows he could see; the vampires were surrounding the house, all still, all waiting. He shivered, then shoved his stake back in his pocket.
"Where did you say that spare room was?"
end part one
by Casix Thistlebane
Story 3: Sweet Home Alabama
Part One
"We're never going to make it to Florida." Dawn stood by the battered sedan, her hands shoved in her pockets. She could see her breath, and it was starting to annoy her. "All I want is to be warm. Is that too much to ask?"
Xander shrugged. He was feeling the cold as well. They were in Alabama now, standing outside a tiny split level home on the outskirts of Gurden. It was a little after five in the afternoon, and already the sun was starting to set through the heavy cloud cover. Both were anxious to get to some place warm, so they'd decided to skip the "call on 'em in the early morning" plan they'd set up before leaving Cleveland and head straight for the address the Devon Coven had provided. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, trying to warm up.
"They had a good point, though." He waved a hand at the house. "This is kind of on our way to St. Petersburg. We can get this one through with, then head down to the warmer climates, and save some money on gas and travel."
"I'm sick of saving money. Saving money is why we had to buy a stick shift, it's why we couldn't FLY to all the locations, and I'm not sure how, but I think it's why Wood decided to assign me Faulkner instead of something interesting, like _Catch-22_. Saving money is for losers."
Xander smiled. "How's that coming, by the way?"
"I don't care whether the characters live or die."
"Jesse and I had that same problem with _The Scarlet Letter_ in ninth grade. Our teacher really didn't appreciate it when we pointed it out to her though."
"Let's get this over with. Maybe she's got a good heating system." Dawn opened the small, chainlink gait that marked the beginning of a flagstone path to the front porch. Her steps were heavy, and Xander knew she was already growing tired of the constant travel. So was he, for that matter. The thought of having to explain themselves and argue through the pros and cons of leaving everything behind and going to Cleveland made him twitch. He followed after her, and let her ring the front bell. They were only on their third slayer, and they were already exhausted. It wasn't a good sign.
The woman who answered the door was bordering on decrepit. Her back was bent at a painful looking angle; the joints in her fingers were swollen, her hands covered in liver spots. She had little hair left, but there was a spark to her eyes and a strange grace to her movements that belied the state of her body.
Xander froze, his jaw dropping slightly. His brain locked.
Dawn had no such trouble. "Hi! We're looking for Char–"
Xander's brain reignited and began racing, stumbling here and there and circling thoughts. His jaw flexed around her name. "Charlotte DuBois." The woman cocked her head to the side, and Xander's eyes locked in on hers. His brain hit another sentence and before it could remind him about subtlety, it was out. "You're a slayer."
Dawn's head shot to one side, staring at him. Charlotte's lips turned up ever so slightly and the lines about her eyes folded upon themselves.
"Yes I am." She glanced around the yard, then backed through the doorway. "I'll get you something to drink before the sun sets, shall I?"
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Xander's mind was still not operating on full, and Dawn's voice was rattling about in the back of her throat without coming towards her mouth, so it was up to Charlotte to break the ice.
"You're a little young to be my new watchers, aren't you?"
Dawn laughed. It sounded painful. "You're a little–" she clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening.
"Old?" Charlotte offered. She spooned sugar into their teas with a dexterity she'd never have been able to have with the arthritis that had swollen her knuckles. "I am at that. I thought my chance at slaying was long gone, some seventy years back. But here I am, and here you are." She stirred each cup three times before setting the spoon back down. "Milk?"
"No," Xander muttered. He couldn't take his eyes off the glimmer around her thinning, nearly non-existent hair. "How–" He shook his head. There was no way to finish the question, or rather, there were too many.
"I was hoping you could tell me." Charlotte was instantly sad, her watery blue eyes painful to look at. "Have so many other potentials been killed, that all that was left was an old woman to hold the fort?"
"No!" Xander leaned forward, grabbing her hand. "No, of course not. God, how cruel would that be, leaving the slaying business to an old woman? No."
"Then please, tell me what's going on. My watcher passed years ago, and all the old phone numbers I had for the council were unanswered. I've been trying to find someone to contact, to let them know that somehow I'd been called." She frowned. "My memory's not what it was, but I was certain it was 'one girl in all the world'. If I have the power, then certainly there can't be another slayer out there, can there?"
Dawn smiled. "Actually, there's been more than one for a couple of years now. My sister died about two years into her slaying, but Xander resuscitated her, so there were two, for awhile. Now there's . . . well, we're not sure how many. A lot."
"How?"
"Big spell, averting the apocalypse. Everyone who had the potential is a slayer now." Xander squeezed her hand gently. "Including you, it seems." His brain caught back up with the conversation. "You were trained?"
"Of course I was." Charlotte stood, searched through a nearby bookcase, and came back with a yellowing photo album. "I was recognized as a potential in the early twenties. I spent most of the early part of my life with my watcher." She pointed to a photo of a rather stunning young woman holding a crossbow, standing next to a handsome older man in, of course, tweed. "Lord Giles was my watcher. Last I heard, his grandson was being prepared to watch the slayer." She closed the album. "But I was set off on my own decades ago, when it was determined my time for being called had passed. I never expected that, this late in my life, I could be called."
Xander laughed. "We never expected it either, though I guess we should have. After all, the spell wasn't age specific."
"So you're watchers, then? Or at least in training. You're here to what, recruit all the new slayers?"
"Something like that." Dawn shrugged. "We're not watchers though. Friends of the slayers, you could say. We're trying to get as many of them as we can to go to Cleveland and be trained."
"On the hellmouth, then?" Charlotte smiled. "I saw what happened to Sunnydale, I suppose you two may have been there. But why not in England, at the Council School? I have fond memories of that place."
"The Council School has been . . . ." Xander searched for the right words. "Well, destroyed. It happened a little before everything went down in Sunnydale. We've become a very low tech group."
"Of course." Charlotte stood, and glanced out the window. "Will you be asking me to travel, then, too? As a new slayer?"
"I don't know." Dawn looked down at the table thoughtfully. "Someone with your experience, you'd probably make a great teacher. If you're up to it?"
"We'll discuss it more in the morning." Charlotte stretched as best she could, still watching the window. "I have a guest room downstairs; you'll have to stay here for the night."
Xander pulled a stake from his pocket. "Of course not. We've got a hotel lined up, we just wanted to touch base with you first."
"You'll need more than that, young man." Charlotte gestured to the stake. "You see, I'm aware that when a slayer is called, the forces of darkness tend to get wind of it all. I haven't left the house after dark in more than six months."
"We're all for safety, ma'am." Dawn stood as well. "But isn't that a little . . . extreme?"
Charlotte pointed out the window. "Perhaps. We could always ask them."
Xander turned, then backed up sharply. Out on the front lawn stood a mob of vampires, stock still, and staring in at the three of them hungrily. He checked the other windows he could see; the vampires were surrounding the house, all still, all waiting. He shivered, then shoved his stake back in his pocket.
"Where did you say that spare room was?"
end part one