Chapter Four: Mistaken Identity
"Slayer?" Samantha raised her eyebrows. "Come again?"
"'Into every generation, a Slayer is born'," the man began, giving the words a very learned-by-heart feel. "'One girl in all the world, a Chosen One. One born with the strength and skills to hunt the vampires and'-"
"Hunt the what? I'm sorry, I must be going deaf, I thought I heard you say 'vampires'." The man paused slightly before answering.
"I did." Samantha widened her dark eyes, then laughed.
"Yeah. Right. Vampires are real, the tooth fairy is my next-door neighbor, and I'm the freakin' Easter Bunny." The sky darkened as ominous gray clouds rolled overhead, obscuring the light. The soft rain that was drizzling before fell harder and stung her with its icy coldness. She wanted to be inside, to be warm. Not to be out here telling this guy what a nutcase he was. "Listen, don't take this the wrong way or anything, but you're a thundering loony. I'm outta here."
"You're making a mistake," the man said sadly.
"Whatever," Samantha called over her shoulder, waving her hand. It was late, it was dark and it was raining, and all Samantha wanted to do was get inside. She rubbed her bare arms and realized she'd left her jacket at David's house. Groaning with frustration, she contemplated on to whether or not she should go back to his house.
He's got a car, he can give me a lift. She turned around and jogged back up the road, not noticing the blurry shadow following her.
"Come on, David, where the Hell are you? Answer the door, I'm freakin' freezing out here," she muttered. "Come on! You were here fifteen minutes ago..."
"You all right there?" She turned around to see a guy on the sidewalk in front of David's house. She shivered inwardly. Something about this guy wasn't right. At least the other one was a harmless whack job. This guy was about three times her size, and she didn't like the hungry way he was staring at her.
Please, David, where the Hell are you?! Her mind screamed.
"Just locked out," she smiled falsely. The smile slid off her face when she realized what she'd said. The man's leer broadened and Samantha felt scared. He came closer to her and though every fiber of her being told her to back up and run as fast as she could in the other direction, some tiny voice told her to stand her ground. So she did.
"So you're all alone, huh?" She squared her jaw and prepared herself. For what? The thought instantly popped into her mind. I should be running as fast as I can, not preparing to fight this guy. ...That's it. No more cookies for Sammy. "Isn't that nifty?" For a moment, Samantha was taken aback.
"'Nifty'? Who says that anymore? I mean seriously, not even my grandmother speaks like that." The main raised his eyebrows, surprised. "And while we're at this, you really wanna change that outfit. You look like a Backstreet Boys wannabe. Which isn't exactly the kind of image you wanna have in your mid-forties."
"Excuse me?"
"Hey, I call 'em like I see 'em." Whenever Samantha was nervous, she always had the tendency to ramble on. It made her look like a nut, but it calmed her down.
"Ms. Black." The younger man from before appeared around the corner, his expression grim. "If you still insist upon denying your destiny, then I suggest you get out of here."
"Huh? What? Why? Oh, lemme guess, it's 'cause he's a vampire, right?" Samantha scoffed. Then she stifled a scream. Mr. Boy-Band-Wannabe's face contorted into that of a monster. In the poor light, Samantha could barely make out the razor-sharp fangs that protruded from his mouth. With lightning speed, he moved around to stand behind her, and gripped her throat tightly, choking her.
"Smart, this one," he grinned, his yellow eyes flashing hungrily.
"Yeah, and you're an idiot." The vampire exploded into dust, and Samantha fell forward, gasping for air. She could hear footsteps running towards them and saw a round beam of light bouncing up and down.
"Ms. Evans! I told you to wait for me!" The newcomer scolded, panting slightly. Rain dripped off her navy slicker, and her blonde hair was soaking wet even with the hood she was wearing.
"If I did, the two of them would have been dead." Samantha got a good look at her savior. A girl around her own age towered above her. The girl looked to be just a few inches shy of six feet. She, too, wore a navy raincoat, but her hood was down, and Samantha could see dark eyes and friendly features that were currently set in a scowl. Her straight hair was matted to her scalp, and she held a stake in her right hand.
"We haven't even begun weapons training yet," the woman continued. "You snuck up on him; you got lucky. I don't expect this sort of behavior in the future, Anna."
"C'mon. You've gotta admit, Ms. French, that was pretty cool." Anna's lips curved into an expectant smile.
"Wha-what's going on here?" All three women turned to the man.
"Ah, Wesley! How good to see you," Holly French beamed. "It's been awhile, hasn't it? Anna, this is Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, a fellow colleague of mine from the Council. Wesley, this is Anna Evans, one of the current Vampire Slayers."
"What time is it?" Anna asked.
"One minute later than when you last asked me," her Watcher answered as they drove through the quiet Californian desert. A pause, then:
"How much longer?" Holly French sighed exasperatedly.
"You've been asking me these questions for the past half hour. What's wrong?"
"Nothing. It's just...I feel it. The closer we get to Sunnydale, the more I feel it."
"Feel what?"
"All the darkness...it's scary. Has Sunnydale really gotten that out of control?"
"Since Faith died, the vampires don't really see the Slayer as a threat anymore. Paige Iverns is doing the best she can, with the aid of local civilians, but a second Slayer is greatly needed."
"I wonder..." Anna began hesitantly.
"Yes?"
"Well, I wonder if she would feel it. Samantha Black, I mean. She's a Potential Slayer, right? So I wonder if she would feel it."
"She might," Holly admitted. "You said she felt the instinct to stand against the vampire."
"But that's different. This feeling, it's a subtle thing. I mean, if I didn't know Sunnydale was atop a Hellmouth, I probably wouldn't pay much attention to it. It's like..." She struggled to give voice to her thoughts. "Like if I came into your room, and I, oh, I don't know, I took a pencil-"
"A pencil?"
"Yes, a pencil. You'd get the feeling that something was off, but you wouldn't know what."
"That's what you feel now?"
"Yep. Gotta tell you, I'm not lovin' it." Anna sighed wearily. "Ms. French, why did you wait?"
"Pardon?"
"Why did you wait? To bring me to Sunnydale, I mean. It's been a month since Faith died, and Paige Iverns came to Sunnydale like, the day after Buffy Summers died. Why did you wait?" Holly kept quiet for a moment, then answered, never taking her eyes off the road.
"Quentin Travers insisted I accompany you to Sunnydale the day I told you of your duties. ...Anna, though I've told you the concept of the Slayer line –one dies, another is called- understand this: though Slayers are important in the fight against evil, in the eyes of the Council, they are ultimately expendable.
"I wish you to know that I do not consider neither yourself nor Paige expendable. I do not agree with her Watcher's actions of sending her to best the demons of Sunnydale immediately after she was called, but she is now under the care of Rupert Giles, and he is one of, if not the, best. I waited so that I could prepare you as best I could for the things you will face in Sunnydale.
"If it were up to me, you would not be going at all. You would stay and slay in New York. If it were up to me, there would be no demons or devils, and Slayers would be just ordinary girls whose priorities would be set on boys and schoolwork. But, alas, it is not up to me. I am the Watcher, and my priorities lay in training you to combat the vampires and the demons who lay in wait.
"Have I answered your question?"
"Yeah, yeah, you have," Anna muttered. The rest of the drive into Sunnydale was one of silence.
"Angel." He kept his head down and continued walking. If he ignored her, she would go away. No, she wouldn't. He knew that. She would haunt him till he turned to dust. Because he'd killed her. He'd killed his Buffy.
"Go away," he murmured, his quiet voice obscured by the rustling of leaves.
"Angel..." Her voice came again, softly, taunting him. Then she appeared beside him. As always, he reached out. And as always, he grasped nothing.
"Why?" His voice came out a choked whisper.
"You know why," she replied matter-of-factly. "You killed me. So you have to pay." His eyes began to cloud over, his vision obscured by tears. "Oh God, stop being so pathetic. I mean really, Angel. You drank the blood of a Slayer. Did you think you'd get something so rare for nothing?"
"I-I didn't...mean..." He trailed off when he realized where he was. "Restfield Cemetery," he said, sounding the sanest he had in weeks. In a moment of clarity, he remembered that the Scoobies often patrolled this cemetery, since it was the one closest to the mansion.
"Hoping to see one of the gang?" Buffy's voice dripped with disdain. "Plead your case, tell them how innocent you are, that you didn't mean to kill me? God, I never realized how dismal you are with a soul. I guess it really was that whole 'creature of the night' thing that turned me on." Night after night, she taunted him endlessly, her cruel words fading only when the sun came up and he retreated into the darkness of the mansion for sleep. But that was when the nightmares came...
"God, Buffy, go!" He screamed, frustrated. "Leave me alone!" She smiled cruelly.
"Never," came her vicious reply. "You wanted us to be together. Well, we'll be together till your dying day. ...Oh Angel," she sobbed, her voice suddenly full of love and emotion. "Angel, you know I can't control this-this thing inside. You have to help me! Finish what you started!"
A month ago, she had come to him, telling him of a ritual that could dispel the evil within her, allow her to move on. It was his fault that she'd died, so he'd gone along with it; anything to give her peace. It had required blood, though. Human blood. But he hadn't cared. He would do anything that would give Buffy peace and happiness.
So he killed. On Buffy's instructions, he'd even gone after her friends, since their closeness with her would be more influential in the ritual. He'd almost killed Cordelia –her heartbeat was just a whisper- before Xander and the other arrived. Buffy urged him to finish her off, and he argued against her.
It was a moment before he realized that the Scoobies couldn't see Buffy. Since then, they'd thought him crazy, and he never again trusted his own perceptions of anything.
"K-kill Cordelia?" He choked out.
"No. No, not Cordy," Buffy shook her head. "She's suffered enough. No. ...Xander, instead."
"Xander?" He asked dully.
"Oh, come on. You never liked him, anyway." Buffy was beginning to sound less like herself and more like the evil thing she had become.
"No!" Angel screamed, desperately trying to attain a moment's peace.
"You never will," she whispered, as though she could read his mind. "You can't. Remember what happened last time? Angel, I'm doing this for you."
"Go away! Get the Hell away from me! Just go!" And he tore off into the night, trying desperately to put as much distance between him and that thing that passed itself off as Buffy as fast as he could.
"So, this is grand old Sunnydale? Well. The reputation of this town certainly precedes it." Holly French stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut.
"No vampires," Anna muttered. "Strange, 'cause that feeling is coming in stronger than ever."
"Have you seen it?" Holly asked, looking through her purse.
"Seen what?"
"The little slip of paper that I wrote down the address for Sunnydale High."
"What's at the high school?"
"Apparently, it's where Mr. Giles, Paige, and a few of the local teenagers converge to fight the forces of darkness. Coincidentally, it's also directly atop the Hellmouth."
"The kids in this town go to school over the Hellmouth? How ironic."
"Isn't it?" Holly answered, distracted. "Where is it? Oh, excuse me! Oh, you there!" Anna turned to see her Watcher run towards a tall man, dressed all in black. His shoulders were hunched over, looking extremely depressed, and his dark hair looking ruffled, unruly. Though he was extremely good looking, an icy tingle crept down Anna's spine, and she shivered in fear.
"Could you perhaps point us in the direction of Sunnydale High?"
"Sunnydale High?" He sounded utterly lost and alone. "Why do you want to go there?" His eyes moved over Holly's shoulder to Anna, and his eyes flashed with recognition. In that moment, when he realized what she was, her fears were confirmed. But Ms. French was already so close to him.
"Ms. French," she called out warningly, running to her Watcher.
"Get back," a voice yelled, as several darkly clad figures came bounding through the trees, all carrying crosses and stakes. One girl, the one in front, had a crossbow pointed at them.
"Oh Lordy," Anna muttered, mentally prepping herself for a fight