Here's the next chapter. I'm starting to loose control of Faith, I think it's entirely possible she's having a nervous breakdown. Disclaimer on the first page, review me please!
Jaime
Vegas, TV star and all-around weird lady is a fantastic cook.
Everyone should have one of their very own for culinary uses around
and about the home.
In fact, everybody should have their very own
Stonehaven, I have never in my entire life seen such a huge kitchen
or in fact so much food all in one place.
Strangely enough Jaime
didn't seem very impressed with it all, in fact she apologised,
saying they hadn't had a chance to catch up on their shopping yet.
From what I managed to get out of her over an omelette and some
coffee is that there are several people living at Stonehaven, the
owner is some dude called Jeremy and I'm guessing she's here to
see him 'cos she keeps gushing about how great he is. Apparently he
lives here with his cousin, the infamous Professor Clayton Danvers
and Wife. Jaime hasn't actually said so in as many words but from
the occasional verbal hint I'm guessing one or all the members of
this family have sever paranoia issues. Well, you know what they say,
just 'cos you're crazy doesn't meant nobody's out to get
you.
In fact Jaime hasn't said anything overly informative at
all; all answers to the questions I've asked her have been super
evasive, with much uhm-ing and ah-ing and unconvincing subject
changes. A TV star she may be, but I doubt any government agencies
are gonna be lining up her doorstep, wooing her into working for them
anytime soon. A good liar Jaime Vegas isn't. And she seems a bit
worried. She's nice enough though, a bit hyperactive maybe but I
think we'll get on fine, even if she does keep blushing every time
she mentions the lord of the manor.
I was just about to ask her
what I guess normal people who don't know about the things that go
bump in the night would ask her, but the slamming of the back door
interrupted me just as I realised that I have absolutely no idea or
interest in what normal people might think.
Jaime was out of her
seat faster than a…really fast thing and mumbled something about
letting Clay know he had a visitor.
It's probably rude to listen
to other people's conversations if they obviously don't want you
to hear them, but the way I figure, I got given Slayer-hearing for a
reason and it would just be wasteful not to use it at every
opportunity that presents itself. So, I slow my breathing and really
concentrate on the sounds coming from the hallway.
"…and
exactly is it you expect me to do? I realise you don't like having
people in your territory if you can help it but there really is no
way around this. She seems like a nice girl who as I might point out
is already here, and would it really kill you to answer the phone
once in a while? Because if you did, you probably wouldn't be in
this mess."
That was definitely Jaime, sounding pissed and
nervous at the same time. no small feat I tell you. I can hear a
man's voice growling an answer at her but whatever he said is too
low for me to make out.
"Fantastic idea. Why don't you just go
and do that then? We'll be right behind you. Wouldn't want you to
have to face an actual person all on your little lonesome. Although,
you might consider putting some clothes on first."
Different
woman talking, probably in reply to who I assume was Danvers. The one
thing that stumps me is the need for him to put on clothes. I thought
Jaime said he and some others had gone for a jog?
Have I stumbled
onto the grounds of a crazed naturist cult? That sure would explain
the almost obsessively compulsive need for privacy.
A naturist
with hermitic impulses maybe?
In Upstate New York?
Weird.
On
second thought, maybe I misheard and she just said to change into
some other clothes. Or not.
I manage to both school my frown to a
totally unconcerned look AND not choke on the bite of omelette I'd
absentmindedly taken while pondering the mystery of the moody naked
guy.
Entering the room behind Jaime is a young woman in her
twenties, looking like she's stepped straight off the cover of
those sports magazines filled with energetic young people bonding
over wholesome games of beach volleyball. What made me choke was that
the last time I'd seen the blonde; she'd been busily stuffing the
disembowelled and rapidly cooling body of a fellow werewolf into the
back of her SUV; while rambling on at her partner about the need to
renew their subscription to the New Yorker.
Well, at least she's
got her priorities straight.
This really does change things quite
rapidly.
Instead of a rampant cult of naturists, running about
the woods flagellating themselves, I'm now having - probably
slightly more accurate visions of the household engaged in
good-natured wolvie fun.
Which doesn't necessarily have to be a
bad thing, I mean, Oz was a pretty cool guy who never ripped anyone
apart in bad blood…well there was that Veruca chick that one time
from what I've heard of but everyone said she had it coming and
that he only did it to protect Willow, and anyway, the girl was named
after a fungal infection, what was she expecting?
Hugs?
Group
visits to the local swimming pool?
Great, now I've managed to
out-gross myself.
Well, at least the appearance of the girl, who
has meanwhile introduced herself as Elena Michaels, has prepared me
for the sight of Professor Clayton Danvers, storming down the stairs
and in my direction in what seems the mother of all moods.
Willow
told me about how when The First came to visit her in the library
this one time, it looked like some girl they'd try to help, and
then managed to swallow itself. Well, this guy, who is incidentally
werewolf numero dos from the night in Philly, looks like he's about
to do just that. Of course this explains a lot.
I have to admit
I'm a bit disappointed. I mean, it seems cheating, the guy's a
werewolf and obviously hasn't told anyone in the supernatural
academic community or else Giles would have let me know.
No
wonder everyone's ranting on about him being the foremost authority
on the subject, all he has to do is look in the mirror in the morning
and voila, there's his subject matter.
Clearly, he's not
happy to see me, sitting at his kitchen counter chatting with his
wife. So, I smile my brightest
Hello-I'm-Buffy-Sooo-Pleased-To-Meet-You smile, which only grows
brighter when he snarls at me. Puppy's all bad-moody. It's almost
cute!
His wife grins at him, obviously she's used to this kind
of behaviour. I'm honestly surprised she hasn't made herself some
popcorn so she can sit back and enjoy the show.
"Now, now Clay,
play nice. Miss Summers has come a very long way to ask you some
questions, and it wouldn't be at all polite to leave her standing.
In fact, why don't you make us all a nice cup of tea? You'll have
to excuse Clay, Faith, but he's being himself today."
He
snarls at her and she grins wider. It seems this is one of those
hate/hate relationships I keep hearing so much about.
I wonder if
this is how Spike and Buffy were behaving when they were boning in
his pre-soul days.
Actually, I think I'm presuming too much in
thinking they ever so much as engaged in conversation.
I'm not
overly happy at having to use Buffy's name, it's got to be said,
but people expect you to have a last name. I guess it makes them feel
more secure or something, like they actually know who you are if they
know both your names. Well, names don't mean shit, hell I don't
even remember my own surname, it's been that long since I used it.
When my Watcher took me in she told me to forget everything that ever
bound me to my family, told me that they weren't me anymore. Best
advice she ever gave me.
The
problem now is that I don't have any questions I can ask Danvers.
I was supposed to ask him all about the development of the
werewolf myth through the ages and in all kinds of different cultures
but I can see that's going to be pointless 'cos he's not going
to give me any useful answers if it's a choice between protecting
his nature and me. So, fast thinking is required.
Shit, why did
they pick me for this job?
Oh yeah, I volunteered.
Now, the
logical thing to do would be to think of some random bullshit to ask
him and then make my excuses and go call Giles, but I've never been
exactly logical and it's entirely possible that four days of no
slayage have affected my brain because when I open my mouth, what
comes out is:
"Jeez, you got rabies or something?"
This is
met with a raised eyebrow on Clayton's part – Bastard, hate him
already!
"Excuse me?"
"Well, what's with the uber
scowl? You look like you're trying to chew your own face off."
Now
he looks baffled, kinda like a wolf who's chased a rabbit to its
warren only to have it turn round and ask him to kindly wipe his paws
before entering its home.
I should probably continue rambling at
him before I run out of steam and he decides that eating me sounds
like the best plan ever.
"The last person I met who pulled that
face on a regular basis got eaten by a giant snake, now how's that
for a penis metaphor. At a graduation no less. Not that I was there
to see it, I was having a slight coma at the time but from what I
hear it was wicked funny to watch. Then again, according to Cordy he
had an emu or possibly a Nazi up his butt, so it was probably a
relief. The being eaten, not the whole penis thing," I add
helpfully.
I think I'm giving him a headache. He's closed his
eyes and seems to be counting to ten under his breath. Under twenty
seconds, I think this may turn out to be a personal best. Either that
or I just channelled Andrew.
"Is this what you came all the way
to tell me?"
"Nope, I was supposed to ask you this whole bunch
of stuff about fairytales and anthropomorphic personifications and
animal cults through the ages, but I can see that's gonna be
useless, not to mention boring, so I've decided to just insult you
till you loose your temper so I can legitimately kick your
ass."
"What?"
Now I'm being stared at by three people
who seem to rapidly be deciding that I'm an escaped mental patient
with a death wish. In fact Jaime and Elena are backing away slowly
and Jaime looks like she's looking for a small space to crawl
into.
"Yup. Then, when I've kicked your ass and you've
suspended your disbelief, I can tell you the real reason why I'm
here and we'll all be bestest friends forever."
It's
probably for the best that before he can answer or rip my head off,
the door opens and another guy carrying a shitload of shopping bags
enters, pausing for a second to look at me with a bemused, almost
dreamy expression on his face.
Great, another werewolf, I really
have stumbled on a veritable nest of the little buggers.
Jaime
makes a beeline for the new guy so I guess this must be Jeremy,
prince among werewolves and man of the hour. Maybe vice versa.
He
looks in his late thirties early fourties, tall, with long dark hair
pulled back and I'm guessing someone in his ancestry was oriental.
I don't think insulting him is gonna do the trick, he's got an
air of independence about him, as if he knows that any suggestion he
makes is going to be obeyed without him having to make it a
command.
I was hoping I could draw Clay into attacking me so I
could beat him down and assert my dominance over him, saw it on the
discovery channel once, lions do it all the time.
Actually, now
that I think about it, it's possible that lion and werewolf
behaviour hasn't got all that much to do with each other so maybe I
should scrap that plan before I embarrass myself. I would be so
embarrassed if "Hello, I'm here to kick your ass" in lion
translates as "Sit on my face and tell me that you love me" in
werewolf. Can't imagine Elena would be overly impressed either.
A
different tack then, maybe I'll try truth?
After all, I'm
trapped in a room with three werewolves who appear to be able to
change at will and what I'm rapidly suspecting is a Necromancer, so
hey, what have I got to loose other than say, my life?
Can't
say that's ever stopped me before.
Plan decided, I step around
the still spluttering Clayton and towards Jeremy with a big helpful
smile.
"Gosh, those look heavy, let me give you a hand."
Jeremy
is still looking from me to the others, for all I know he's using
the werewolf variety of the Vulcan mind-meld to find out just who the
fuck I am and what I'm doing in his house.
God, I really,
really need to stop hanging out with Andrew.
I grab a bag from
Jeremy's unresisting hands and start unpacking, making sure to turn
my back on Clayton completely and carry on chatting
"Hello, my
name is Faith, your cousin and I were just about to have a nice chat,
lovely house and grounds you've got by the way, big fan over here.
Ooh Pringles, barbeque flavour too, good choice." I say in my best
'soft spoken companion to the elderly' voice. That one took me
nearly a month to perfect.
"Err…yes. It's my favourite. I
don't mean to be rude, Miss Faith, but is there something specific
I can help you with?"
Looking over my shoulder I can see Clayton
and Elana looking at me like I've sprouted another head and its
singing the national anthem backwards, and Jaime doesn't seem to be
faring much better.
Oh yeah, the Oscar for best multiple
personality disorder definitely goes to me.
"Hmm? Oh, well you
could tell me how long you've been a werewolf and exactly what
breed, but if you don't feel like doing that I'll just settle for
some of this Weatabix. A friend of mine used to have it with his
blood, says it makes for good texture. Not that I drink blood of
course, I mean, what kind of person do you think I am over here, but
it's always good to have things recommended to you. Is there some
kind of problem, you don't look so good."
Actually, Jeremy is
looking kinda scary…like he's wondering which tree to bury me
under. Instead he takes a deep sniff and frowns a me.
"You're
not entirely human yourself."
"Well, that's a matter for
discussion, you could say I am and you could say that I'm not."
I'd
nearly forgotten about Clayton and Elana but now they stumble towards
me and each take a good whiff, which is more than a little
disconcerting. I'm feeling really glad I had a shower before I
swung over here.
Still, I don't like being crowded so I shove
Clayton back a few steps, kinda enjoying the widening of his eyes,
clearly he wasn't expecting me to be able to budge him so easily.
"Don't get all up in my personal space like that, it makes me
twitchy."
"Well, I'm simply petrified. Jeremy, I say we kill
her and dump the body. She's pissing me off."
"Oh please
try. I haven't had a good laugh in ages."
Good call Faith,
irritate the pissy wolfmonster. It's the best idea ever!
Jeremy
seems to be taking this all far too well. If I had my home invaded by
some psycho calling me a werewolf while trying to abscond with my
cereal, I'd be a little peeved to say the least.
Instead he
just raises an eyebrow – I'm starting to think this is some kind
of conspiracy – and packs away the last of his groceries. Only when
he's finished does he turn around, give Jaime a reassuring pat on
the shoulder and turn to speak to the rest of us.
"I can see we
have a lot to talk about, this is all rather fascinating. How about
we move to the lounge? Can I offer anybody tea before we go?"
I
gotta give it to this guy; he knows how to keep his cool. If he was
Giles, he'd be polishing his glasses just about now.
AN
Ok, for those of you in the known, and also those of you who are not,
Clay is not Jeremy's cousin but his son (adopted). As far as I can
remember from the books they tend to pretend they're uncle and
nephew or something because the age difference between them isn't
obvious enough to stop people from asking awkward questions.
Jeremy
is the Packs Alpha and Clayton is his homicidal bodyguard while Elena
is in charge of the Pack dossiers. There are other members who will
eventually make an appearance also.
