Disclaimer: All characters and all things affiliated with Buffy the Vampire slayer belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and UPN.
Chapter ThreeIt is disorienting to wake up in the old house. I flop over, flinging an arm lazily over the area that my wife usually inhabits, but the lack of body jolts me awake. I grunt and sit up in bed, seeing that I'm not at home. For a panic-stricken moment I can't remember how old I am. Then knowledge rushes in to keep me sane and I'm left shaken and no better off. The depression returns and I hang my head, arms draped over my bent knees.
After mustering up enough energy, I heave myself up and peer in the mirror to see how much damage I can do to make myself presentable. Auntie's son and daughter are arriving today and this will be my first time meeting my cousins. I want to make as good impression as I can, all things considered. "Hi, I'm your cousin. We never met because I hate my father and am too cowardly to stay in the same state. But you already know that, don't you?"
Sure, yeah. That'll wow them. So much for the wise, cool, older cousin. I'll look like a moron AND a wimp.
I itch my upper lip with my thumbnail and consider my battered face thanks to our fight last night and the stubble shadowing the lower half of my face. He doesn't have stubble. Not for the first time I wonder whom I got my thick beard from.
Shaven, combed, and dressed in casual, but respectable clothes, I brave downstairs, hoping the day has knocked him out for the count and I won't have to put up with him today.
No such luck. I momentarily contemplate beating a hasty retreat and spending the day holed up in the guest bedroom, but I don't want to give him the satisfaction. Instead I square my shoulders and walk into the kitchen where he is, of all things, making breakfast.
He has always been an odd vampire. I've only known one vampire in my life – I dust all the others – so I don't have anything to compare him to. But, vampires are supposed to be creatures of the night, evil and all that. Feeding off the blood of the innocents for sustenance... not pouring blood on eggs like it's gravy.
And suddenly my appetite is gone.
"That's sick." I say by way of greeting and sit down on one of the stools at the island in the middle of the kitchen. His equally bruised face twitches and he lets out a grunts and I try to hide my reaction. I grunt! He can't grunt! That's it, I'm not grunting anymore.
I try to pay attention to something other than him, but I've managed to pick the stool exactly across from him and like children and TV, I watch because he's the only movement in the kitchen. He's picking at his food. I refuse to be concerned. Vampires can't starve to death. Unfortunately. I don't care, anyway.
"She's worse," he informs me, and my stomach plummets to the floor. Good thing his blood'n'eggs killed my appetite because now I couldn't have gotten anything past the lump in my throat if I tried.
"Soon?" I ask around said lump, trying to mask it. He hears it, I can tell by the slight tilt of his head. He doesn't look at me, though.
"Yeah. Today."
My hands are trembling. I curl them into fists, shove them in my pockets as I stand.
Silence descends. He plays with his soppy red eggs, and I shift from one foot to another, restless. The doorbell rings. I nearly sob with joy for the distraction. I race to the door though there is no need – he doesn't even look up from what he is doing – and steady myself with my hand on the doorknob.
'My cousins are sour looking' is my first thought.
She's been sucking on lemons, and he's in desperate need of stick-out-of-ass surgery.
She brushes past me and into the room while I am still looking them over. She's rail thin – perhaps a beauty when she was younger but that sneer twisting her mouth into a harsh, bitchy line really isn't all that flattering. Both of them are tall though he is taller by a couple of inches. He is wearing expensive clothes and looks to be financially secure. I'm glad I decided against wearing jeans and a tight T-shirt.
Both are trendy, well groomed, and prim and proper. I want to pop him in the jaw he has jutting forward as if begging for that very thing. And I want to flip her skirt. Not for a glimpse at her undies – though I'm pretty sure I know what kind she would be wearing: granny panties – but to see her composure slip up. My fingers itch with it. My fists return to my pockets. I'm sure I look nervous, what with the thin, polite, fake smile plastered across my mouth though it's not reaching my eyes, and my constant movement.
Let them think what they want. I don't think very highly of them either.
"So!" She says, turning her head my way and finally doing the head to toe perusal that might have belittled other men that I can just bet she's been dying to do since I opened the door. "You must be William Junior."
A muscle in my jaw jumps. "I prefer Bill."
"Yes, of course you would."
"What're you doing here?" He asks, putting a supportive hand on his sister's shoulder.
I raise an eyebrow at them. So that's how it is. Family versus the black sheep, huh? "Same as you – saying my good-byes, catching up, letting her know she is loved."
"That's odd coming from a man we've never met before. Why is it that you never visited before, William?" She has her arms crossed, weight on one foot. Her body language screams 'I don't like you.'
I'm glad my hands are in my pockets because they're using that name against me and I'm trying very hard not to give them a reaction. My nails are digging into the flesh of my palm and it helps the red-haze recede.
"If you must know, I hate my father. Unfortunately since he and Auntie are glued at the hip since Mum's death with one comes the other."
Both were quiet, digesting my words. I turned on my heel and walked into the kitchen. He was still there. I wonder how much he's heard.
"The brats here?"
I roll my eyes and step outside into the back yard. The house is full of people I don't want to talk to – I need a break.
The backyard has changed. I stop in the middle of closing the door behind me to stare at the strange sight. It's been turned into a child's paradise. There are swings, a slide, and a jungle gym. All things I wanted when I was a kid but never got.
Then again it's been a while, so I really shouldn't be so surprised to see this. In fact in our back yard there's a swing set for Betha. She doesn't use it anymore, of course, but the whole point of me buying it and putting it together though it was the one of the most frustrating experiences in my life was to make sure her childhood was everything mine wasn't.
I finish closing the door and slowly move to the wooden steps of the porch. Staring at the pseudo-playground, I sit on the stairs and let the memories come.
They hadn't known I was listening at the top of the stairs. They thought that I was tucked in my bed, fast asleep. I had a habit of trailing Mum in secret when she went patrolling. I used to get caught, but now since I'd gotten better at stalking without being detected they thought that I had grown out of the 'phase'
I heard them arguing about her going to fight the newest big bad. Lately she had slowed down, had shown a want to quit Slaying and that's dangerous when you're putting your life on the line every time you fight. Daddy was scared out of his mind and had to protect her more than fight evil.
They didn't know that I knew what was going on either. They had tried to keep me protected from most of the evilest, scariest stuff, but when you life is so deeply involved with evil scary things it's hard.
I knew that Mum was getting tired, and that Daddy was going on overdrive because of it. So, I took it upon myself to help them, protect them like they protected me.
Tonight was the night – they were going to go in with reinforcements and defeat the vampire that had plotted mass destruction, world domination, and hell-on-Earth. Unlike all of the other evil vampires walking around, he was smarter and more powerful. Age and wisdom was on his side as well as a prophecy.
Xander, Anya, Willow, and Auntie Dawn were giving my parents a moment to argue with each other in the living room while they went over the strategy in the kitchen, making sure everything was airtight.
I held my breath as their conversation end. Daddy knows Mum's not going to be deterred so he gave in like he always did. She used the prophecy as her defense. Either they stopped the vampire or the world ended. He couldn't say no to Mom as well as a prophecy, though he was stubborn enough to try.
He gave in with a huge, tortured sigh and my Mum laughed. They left to join the others in the kitchen and I listened to the even more muffled murmur of their voices. I waited until the house was quiet and then I followed, slowly. I knew where they were going so I didn't need to stay so close for fear of losing them.
By the time I arrived, the fight has already begun. I hide in the bushes, watching it, waiting to see if I was needed as another pair of fists and feet to kick some vampire tail. I seek out Mum and Daddy, and am relieved to see they're doing fine. I'm willing to throw myself into battle but I'm only ten and I do know that I have the potential to be a burden instead of help.
I realized too late that someone knew I was there. Only it wasn't one of us, it was one of the bad guys. I thrashed and howled, trying my hardest to try to wriggle free from the vampire, but he'd gotten me good. The only way I could take on a vampire was if I fought unfairly, and the element of surprise was his, not mine.
I curse in futile anger as he threatened me to get the Scoobies to step down and stop fighting. I yell at them when they do stop. They ignored me, though. They though I was too valuable to chance. I stiffened when I felt the vampire's teeth on my neck. I saw a sword flash in the hand of another vampire who was suddenly stood in my peripheral vision and I'm not so fearless anymore. All the rage slipped from my body and fear replaced it. I sought out Mum's gaze to plead with her to save me. And she did.
At the cost of her own life.
The area erupted into chaos after that. I heard my father screaming at the top of his lungs, the others shouting, and I felt a scuffle about me, the give and crush of two people trying to inflict wounds, and then I'm falling, dust coated me, and Mother gasped as the scent of blood filled the air. I whirled around to watch as the vampire with the sword violently twist and remove the blade he stuck through my mother. I froze and the vampire fled, cackling into the night.
Daddy was there, sweeping past me and catching Mum as her knees buckled, face white with shock and pain. They slowly lower to the ground, his hands clutched desperately at her wound. She concentrated on his face, and I could see from where I stood that she knew what we all knew - she wasn't going to walk away from this one.
"You did say you'd be there to watch me when I wanted to dance. You get to have yourself a good day, then."
He sobbed, anguish twisting his feature, tears streaming down his face. "No, never. Jesus, Buffy, not like this. It's okay, baby, Daddy's got you."
They murmured to each other as I watched my breath shallow, my body bloodless and stone still. I was too afraid to move; perhaps if I was still and they couldn't see or sense me then she wouldn't die. The bubble they'd created around themselves wouldn't pop and I wouldn't be left without a mother.
I heard her voice calling my name and I blinked. They were looking at me, and I shuffled very slowly towards her like I was approaching a wounded, wild animal. She smiled as I slowly kneeled down on the other side of her, my small hand hovering over the wound that Daddy was covering with his hand, trying to stem the blood.
I tucked my hands into my lap and turned back to her face. The smile lit up her whole face and I tried to memorize the moment. Her last moment.
"Mummy?" I ventured, voice small and terrified. She reached out a bloodied hand and touched my cheek. I felt her blood wet there on my face, but I couldn't do anything about it without hurting her feelings.
"I love you, Billie. You're such a good boy and you make me proud. Should have stayed home like you were supposed to, but you're half Summers, and we Summers can't obey rules that our hearts don't agree with." I nodded solemnly.
She took my hand into hers, and tucked it against her chest after planting a kiss on the back of my hand. She curled against Daddy, and I shuffled closer with her, my arm clutched so tightly against her. I gently bent closer and placed a tentative kiss on her cheek and she smiled quietly to herself. Like she did when I tried to kiss her awake in the mornings.
Mommy went to sleep with both her men surrounding her in a cocoon of love, sorrow, and grief. I gasped as I felt the life slip from her.
Daddy broke.
I watched him as he switched from his vampire face, yellow eyes glaring and vengeful. He looked at me with such rage that I pale. It was as if he'd turned into a stranger, and I was left without a mother or a father. I feared he might reach over and grab me, hurt me just like the other vampires tried to do.
His attention wasn't on me anymore. He'd curled his body around Mum's corpse and he howled, keened, and growled like a feral beast.
I tried to pull my hand and arm free from her death grip to escape them. I could feel her body starting to stiffen, and I gave in and heard my fearful cries drowning in the sea of his suffering.
I blink and my eyes clear. The pain has dulled with time, but not by much. I don't allow myself to think on Mum's death much so I'm still irrational about it. Logically I know that I didn't cause her death, but I can't help but feel that all of it went wrong because of me. Maybe it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't gotten caught, hadn't tagged along...
I stand, and wipe gently at my bruised cheeks, knowing by the wet chill on my flushed skin that I've been crying. Sniffling quietly a few times, I shove my hands back into my pockets and make my way inside.
The kitchen is vacant, and the house is otherwise quiet. I peruse downstairs, guessing everyone is up in Auntie's room visiting. I wonder if I want to go head to head with my cousins again just so I can check up on her, or if I can find the lesser of the three evils and ask him what's going on.
After staring up at the head of the stairs for a few moments, I give in and mount them. I figure the relatives won't snip and bite at me in front of Auntie. Wouldn't want to make her worry or be anxious about anything.
The door is open but my cousins seem to be only standing in the doorway, as if going in any further would mean sudden death. They were carrying on a casual enough conversation. Over a shoulder I see that he is farther in the room, propping himself up against a wall, arms crossed and alternately shooting concerned glances at Auntie and glares at the cousins.
Who are studiously ignoring him.
I snort and surreptitiously shove my way into the room. I don't want to side with him too much so I settle for putting myself between Auntie and her children. I can feel the murderous glowers burrowing holes in my back, but I don't care.
It's physically obvious that she's worse. Or maybe it's a trick of my mind. She didn't seem to be this bad off yesterday when I visited. I crawl on the bed beside her, ignoring the outraged gasps – my guess is they're mad because I didn't take my shoes of before clambering on the bedspread – because my Aunt is looking at me with a relieved, deliriously happy smile.
I figure that she's been stymied by the polite chitchat. I give her a gentle kiss on her forehead and pick up one of her hands, bringing it to my mouth.
"We were just talking about my grandchildren. They had school so they couldn't come."
Of course. More like their parents didn't think a deathbed was any place for a child to play. I know logically (though it's hard to tell your heart this) that death isn't something to fear. Because of the closed-mindedness of the parents, the children weren't allowed to experience for themselves something as natural, though scary, as death. Nor were they allowed to say goodbye. I don't know how close Auntie is to her grandchildren so I don't know if this would bother any of them (or even how many of 'them' there were) so I squeezed her hand slightly in response. She knew.
"I was thinking about visiting the high school, maybe seeing what the Slayer is up to, see how much the school has changed in so long. Or if it's changed at all."
Dawn nodded. "Her name is Anica Gutierez, and she's sixteen right about now. We really don't involve ourselves with her, because he Watcher is a big ol' prick, but sometimes she'll visit the house, try to get to know one of the Slayers that came before her."
I nod and glance up at him, asking if I had time. He doesn't shake his head no, so I suppose I can and press a kiss near her ear, whispering 'I love you.' I dismount and breeze by my cousins who are standing in the doorway in silent disapproval.
"Mother, really! Such language." Her daughter scolds as I take the stairs two at a time. I give a short bark of laughter at her rigidity, and hope they hear me.
Taking the car because I figure it will be much faster – I only plan to visit for a short while because today's 'the day'. I just needed to get out of the house and away from it all for a while.
The principal of Sunnydale High School (rebuilt while I was still in school and surprisingly still standing, though a little battered and bruised like me) informed me of where Anica was; concerned that something was wrong. I shake my head, shake the man's hand and made my way to her classroom.
Not to disturb the class just because I want to say hello (and not wanting to upset her) I wait until the bell rung.
I have no idea what she looks like except for an impression that her name gave me. However, I figure she has a certain, confident, repressed-power feel to her like Mum did because she was the Slayer. I scan the students filing out of the room, searching for her. The surge of students ends, and I stick my head in the room to find a small Hispanic girl, long black hair brushing at the top curve of her rump. She has it – that quiet jaded aura of a Slayer. She doesn't strike me as confident and powerful, but then again she is new to this – Slayers tend to be fifteen when they are called and Auntie told me she was sixteen.
Shyly thanking the teacher she made her way towards the door and me. It isn't until she is beside me that she notices me. Startled black eyes meet mine and I gave her a kind smile.
Her black eyes grow wider and a small tremor shakes her small body.
Surprised and concerned that she thinks I am a threat to her, I stick out my hand. She might be a little suspicious of my less-than savory appearance thanks to my tussle last night. I curse our tempers and try to communicate with my face and body that I'm no enemy of hers. When she tentatively takes my outstretched hand I introduced myself. "Bill Summers,"
Her voice was soft and sweet. "Anica Gutierez. You are her son?"
I nod and her scared eyes become excited. Her smile lights up her face and it draws my attention to a scar I hadn't seen before on her cheek. She notices my eyes' direction and the smile dies quickly. Her head tilts forward and her hair spills over her shoulder to hide her face and her scar.
"My aunt told me that your Watcher is a prick."
A tinkling laugh fills the air, and I blink. She shoots me an amused glance, and I grin cockily at her. "He is. But I have a lot to learn, so," She gave a dramatic sigh, "I'll have to put up with him until he doesn't have anything else to teach me.
I laugh and she angles her body to hint that she wished to walk. I fall into step with her.
"So," she ventures, "What is it like to be the child of a Slayer?"
Shrugging I shove my fists in my pants pockets and shuffle my feet. "Okay I guess. I don't have much memories of her – she died when I was ten."
"Yeah, I know. Dawn told me. Is Spike really your father?" her voice was full of awe and I cringe.
"Yep."
"How is that even possible? Vampires are just animated corpses, aren't they?"
"I've been told magic was involved." I say, my voice guarded and hoping that she got in clue that I really didn't want to talk about this. She glances my way, her face full of concern.
"I think that your mother was very brave; a very good Slayer. I greatly look up to her, though my Watcher uses her as a bad example. She lived the longest of all of the Slayers, and I think that makes for something."
I smile at her attempt to sooth my feelings. "I'm glad."
We walk together in silence for a while.
"My aunt is dying – that's why I'm here. I wanted to meet you, say hello and thank you."
She glances at me, so surprised she didn't bother to hide her face anymore. "Thank you?"
"You put your life on the line every single night, fighting that evil, keeping the world safe and end-of-the-world-free."
"I'm the Chosen One," she says, shrugging off my words. "It's my job – what I'm supposed to do."
Her words strike home. This child knows her fate. She knows that she'll die soon and her fight is not only against evil but to live one night more. My respect for her increases ten-fold. I quickly set a tentative hand on her shoulder and give it a squeeze before retrieving my hand.
"I need to return home." I say and she nods gravely.
"Tell Dawn that I say hello. I'll sneak by during my patrol." We grin at each other.
"Don't get caught. I don't want you getting into trouble for visiting."
She gives a haughty laugh, throwing her head back, black hair spilling like water over her backpack and back. Her black eyes flash in challenge. "I never get caught. I have a lot to learn, but I know enough."
I like her. I nod at her in farewell and make my way to the entrance of the high school.