The Reckoning
Cara had been tracking the vampires for days. They moved fast, a pack of demonic wolves ghosting through the night. At first she had believed they were merely rampaging across the country without pattern or motive. By the second night she wasn't sure anymore. There was too much method in their madness, strikes were tactically orchestrated and surgically precise. They were hunting the way she had been taught was impossible and left in their wake were the bloodless bodies she expected but none had been turned. These vampires had no interest in making more of their kind, they simply pressed on after they had eaten in a search and destroy mission that left her baffled and tired.
They were killing families. It couldn't be random. Going out of their way to find small towns, singling out one family and butchering all of them. Sometimes not even feeding. Just murder.
She learned to recognize the type of person who would help her and where to look for food and shelter. Weapons were kept hidden in her knapsack. Ironically, she had grown to favor a simple wooden stake. It didn't need bullets or polishing. The sword was useful but lacked the advantages of the more compact weapon. Sitting in the darkest corner of the soup kitchen and homeless shelter that served as a church on Sundays, she examined the stake carefully in the faint light.
The human had made it. Xander Harris. He'd given it to her with a smile and a welcoming handshake. Had never asked for or expected anything in return even though she knew it must have taken him some time to make. It was engraved with an ivy pattern, twisting into knots at the blunt end and circling in graceful loops. A Xander Harris Special, he had called it. Everything was different than what she had imagined it to be. The world was different. People were different. No one gave her orders, no one made demands. She drifted from place to place, following vampires and demons, hunting them down. As she was supposed to do. She wasn't supposed to wonder why they singled out one family or another. That wasn't part of her calling.
Cara had begun to wonder if the Watchers knew anything at all about her sacred duty. They told her that Buffy Summers was incompetent but Cara had seen the resourcefulness and indefatigable dedication of a true warrior. The other Slayer had shown mercy, sparing Cara's life when she had no guarantee that Cara would not return. Her fingers traced the grooves in the stake slowly. It was the vampire that truly baffled her. William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, had bested her and refused to kill her. Had not even killed the Slayer before Cara, although that was still quite confusing. She'd watched him hold Faith, comforting her with a human tenderness and concern. It wasn't possible. Vampires were monsters incapable of human emotion. But she could not deny what she had seen.
Lost in a world she was unprepared to deal with, she fell back on what she knew. She was a Vampire Slayer. Her entire existence was to protect the world from the evil that walked the night. It was simple; she sensed that those around her had much more complex ideas about their reason for being. She left them to their own devices. And she was getting better. It was something she knew in her heart and in her bones. Each fight she won gave her another piece of the puzzle, another step to becoming a good Slayer. Maybe an excellent Slayer. Someday.
If her estimation, as unsure as she felt, was correct, another family would meet the group of vampires tonight in the town that had offered her refuge and chicken dumplings. There was no pattern to the killings. No connections between the victims but their murderers. By midnight the group would be on their way to the next town and possibly another hit before dawn.
The worn map of the Midwest crinkled as she smoothed away some of the creases. Dark pen marks identified the towns that had been left shell-shocked by the horror and carnage. Zigzagging through the Virginias in one night, she had been more than two steps behind them until discovering a scrap of paper in the dirty lair they left behind. An address printed neatly on white paper. A town called Defiance. She found her way to the town, forgoing sleep and rest until she was inside the city limits. Now barely ahead of them, she watched their progress across Ohio in the newspapers, getting closer and closer. And she waited.
It was almost dark. She watched the sun turn gold through the far window, hiding in the shadows away from the hustle and bustle of the human world. The weight of the knapsack was an old friend. At least, that's what Cara believed an old friend would feel like if she had one. Familiar, comforting. Precisely refolding the map, she tucked it away in the sack and slipped her stake into the inside pocket of the denim jacket she had found alongside the highway. All that remained of her uniform were the heavy black boots. Black pants had been replaced by dusty gray trousers she had tied with a piece of rope around her waist and the heavy cotton tank had given way to a long-sleeved plaid with patches at the elbows.
Silently, she faded into the crowd and left the shelter behind. Daylight rapidly fading, she breathed in the soft scent of earth and corn. At least she thought it was the corn. The Watchers hadn't taught her about the plants and animals that weren't trying to kill her. For a second, the corner of her mouth twitched and she wondered if she had just thought of something humorous. The concept of a sense of humor was still a little hazy and she wasn't sure if she had one. Was she supposed to?
The target's house had white siding with a brick chimney and a sagging front porch. A mailbox hung listlessly, iridescent letters announcing that the Carlisle's lived inside the shuttered windows. There was a tricycle peeling red paint over the walkway and a lonely beach ball on the struggling lawn. She didn't know what to do now. There weren't many places for her to hide and watch for the vampires. The light beckoned from the porch. She made her decision.
Boots sounded faintly against the concrete and the wooden steps creaked under the strain of her weight. A line of bushes along the side would provide cover for an ambush. Most of the lights were out and people had pulled their blinds. Where would the attack come from? How were the vampires getting into the houses at all?
Her finger depressed the doorbell and she listened to it echo through the interior of the house. The door swung inward a few inches and a small face stared out through the screen door.
"Who are you?" The little girl watched her with large, solemn eyes.
"My name is Cara."
"Who's at the door, Lea?" A woman's voice moved closer and the door opened completely. She was young. Light brown hair pulled into a clip, tanned skin enhanced by the yellow sundress that belied a strong build. There were tired wrinkles around her eyes. One hand moved to her daughter's shoulder protectively. "Can I help you?"
Cara hesitated. Buffy would know what to do. The thought strengthened her resolve; she may not be the best Slayer in the world but if she could do something to protect this family then she would. "I'm here to help you."
"We don't need anything. I'm sorry." The woman smiled, seeming to relax. "I know the house doesn't look like much but we can't afford to have it repainted right now. Lea's been sick and my husband just got a new job." She stopped, her cheeks flushing pink. "Why don't you come in?"
Cara tightened her grip on the knapsack, conscious of the little girl's intent stare as she passed over the threshold and awkwardly stepped out of the way as the door closed.
"I'm Maddie. Short for Madeleine. This is Lea." Maddie beamed as she introduced her daughter, brushing dark hair away from her elfish face. "Say hello Lea." The little girl hugged her mother's leg shyly. "She's not used to people. For a while all she saw were nurses and doctors. Isn't that right, Lea?"
"I'm Cara." She repeated, trying to smile. It felt strange but seemed to be expected. People smiled at her sometimes. She wasn't always sure what it meant.
"I've got coffee brewing if you'd like some. John isn't home yet. What are you selling? You seem too young to be on your own."
Cara followed Maddie into the kitchen, still clutching her knapsack and watching Lea carefully. "I'm not selling anything. I'm here to protect you."
Maddie frowned. "Are you some sort of missionary? From the church? I know we haven't gone to service much since Lea got sick but now that she's better." She gave her daughter another hug, as though she was trying to reassure herself that the ordeal was truly over.
"There are people coming here. Tonight." Cara felt awkward. She wasn't supposed to get involved with the victims. "They want to hurt you and your family. Don't invite them in."
"What are you talking about?" She pulled Lea closer to her, her face paling in the yellow light of the kitchen. "I think you'd better leave."
Cara took a step back, strangely upset and frustrated by the difficulty of the simple conversation. "They can't come in unless you invite them."
"Please leave."
The doorbell rang. Maddie jumped, terrified eyes darting toward the hallway as she pulled Lea closer to her.
Cara headed for the back door, slipping the other strap of the knapsack onto her shoulder and securing it tightly. She pulled out the sword as she vaulted from the steps into the backyard. Creeping silently along the line of bushes, she made her way around to the front of the house. Four figures stood on the front porch. Moving closer, she caught part of the conversation.
"What's going on? John?" Maddie sounded upset.
"Just do as they tell you, please, honey." The man was terrified.
"I don't understand. Who are these people? What do they want with you?"
"Invite us in, lady." One of the vampires shoved the man forward. "Or you'll be cleaning up pieces of your husband for days."
"Please." Maddie's voice was almost inaudible. "What do you want?"
Cara clenched her teeth, wishing for a crossbow as she left the cover of the bushes. Catching the tricycle with her boot, she made sure the wheels drug loudly across the pavement. The vamps turned, still wearing their human faces, and glared at her angrily. She faced them squarely, meeting their eyes. "Let him go."
"Get out of here, girl. We have no business with you."
"You are my business." Almost a quip. Maybe she did have a sense of humor after all. "Let him go."
Two of them left the porch, shifting into their demon faces as soon as their backs were turned away from the house. "You're making a big mistake," one of them sneered as they advanced.
"I won't let you hurt them." Cara gripped the handle of the sword, tensing for the attack. A blur of movement out of the corner of her eye gave her warning and she caught his fist inches away from her face. The blade of her sword sunk into the flesh of his stomach and her boot hit the second vamp squarely in the chest, knocking him back onto the porch steps with a crash. Wrenching his hand away from her grip, the vamp stared at the bleeding wound in shock.
Covered with blood, the sword flashed through the air, slicing his head cleanly off and leaving a cloud of dust behind. She transferred the sword to her left hand and pulled the stake out of her jacket as the second vamp charged her. They traded blows across the lawn, the beach ball bouncing away from their feet as they moved. Finally catching the vamp off guard, she skewered his right thigh and plunged the stake into his heart when he reached for the blade.
The last vamp was still on the porch shouting at Maddie, one hand around John's throat. Cara closed the distance with a running leap, driving the stake home. John collapsed onto the porch, gasping painfully for air.
"Who...who are you?" he stared up at her with terrified eyes.
"My name is Cara." She saw Lea peering around the doorframe and smiled. A real smile.
Maddie pulled her husband into her arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Thank you...thank you. Whoever you are."
"There might be more." Cara wiped the blood off of her sword onto her pant leg. "Be careful."
"Who were they? What did they want?"
"To kill you. All of you." Cara wasn't sure if the truth was the best answer but she didn't know how else to respond. She didn't know any other way to be.
"Why?"
"I don't know." Cara frowned. She would have to look. Perhaps they had stayed in town for the day. It was too soon after dark for them to have come into town. Unless. She frowned as she looked over her shoulder, trying to see through the shadows. "Go inside. Lock the doors and don't let anyone in."
The whistling of the grenade caught Cara's ears seconds before it crashed through the front window. She yanked Maddie and John through the doorway, wrapping her arm around Lea's small waist and leaping away as the blast hit them. Her shoulder took the brunt of the fall as they struck the hard ground in front of the house. Lea was clinging to her like a starfish, eyes closed tight.
Horrified, Maddie watched as fire began to lick around the edges of the window. "Our house!"
"We have to move." Cara pulled them to their feet, searching the night for the vampires she could sense. "Where's the nearest church? Crosses, holy water. A priest."
Shakily, John pointed to the west. "It's a few blocks."
"Take Lea." Cara handed the girl to her parents. "Now run."
"What about you?"
"Get out of here." Cara pushed them in the right direction, following at a distance. Close enough to catch up if they were attacked, far enough to keep them out of harm's way if they were followed. There were two or three more shadows lurking just beyond her sight as they made their way through the sleeping town.
Sirens sounded in the distance as the fire department responded to reports of a house on fire. She was jogging, easily keeping up with the family running ahead of her. Rounding the corner, she saw a tall spire reaching toward the heavens. She had never been more relieved to see a church in her entire life. Maddie and John hurried toward the small brick home behind the holy building. Lights sprung to life as they pounded on the door. Keeping her eyes trained on the fast moving shapes darting like wolves in the corner of her vision, Cara backed toward the house, hearing the minister usher the small family into his home.
"Miss? Are you alright?" He was an older man with a kind face. Someone she would have looked for if she'd needed food and a place to sleep.
"They aren't safe." Cara turned her eyes back to the darkness. "Get into the basement if you have one. Cover the windows if you can."
"What's going on?"
"They're coming." Cara lowered the blade of her sword. "Get inside." The door clicked shut behind her and silence settled over the walkway. Branches swayed above her, leaves whispering into the darkness. She needed to get their attention away from the family, draw their attack away from the house. Glittering eyes peered out of the darkness and the all too familiar demonic visage came into the light of the street lamp.
"You're playing with fire, little girl." The vampire was tall, dressed in military fatigues and black boots. A dark jacket covered more black fabric. "You can't stop us."
"I'm doing pretty good so far." Cara took a step to the left, starting the circular dance of predator and prey.
"You have no idea who you're up against." The vampire growled as he edged closer. There were two more in the wings, waiting for an opening.
Cara heard the familiar sound of a bullet sliding into the chamber and dove to the side, rolling toward cover. Sparks flew from the concrete behind her, tearing into tree trunks and bushes. She counted the hits as well as she could, keeping track of each bullet. They would have to reload eventually. Her knapsack dug into her back as she pulled up against a tree. Twisting around, she pawed through it for her pistols. The weight of the firearms felt good in her hands. She had been hesitant to use them because running out of ammunition meant having to return to England and she wasn't ready to go back.
Almost unrecognizable in the soft wind, she caught the hiss of a magazine being ejected. If they were any good, she had two seconds. Pivoting on her left knee out and away from the tree, she raised the guns and fired. One of the three vamps exploded into dust, another stumbled backwards, her shot too high. The third slammed another magazine into his gun, squeezing off a shot before a bullet shattered the bones in his hand and another ripped through his skull.
Her shoulder burned. She could smell gunpowder and blood as she reached for her stake and inched forward, slipping her left pistol into her knapsack. One of the remaining vampires groaned and tried to sit up, she fired another shot to keep him down. Their wounds weren't fatal but they wouldn't be getting up any time soon. Finishing them off with the stake, she scanned the area for more. It was clear. She collected her weapons and settled down on the porch of the minister's house just in case. Wincing at the pain, she peeled her jacket off and inspected the bullet wound in her shoulder. It had gone straight through without hitting any major nerves or arteries. She tested her fingers just to be safe. Leaning back against the brick, she wedged her jacket awkwardly between the exit wound and the rough stone. The heel of her palm pressed against the entrance, stopping the flow of blood on both sides.
At least they were alive. And she knew a little more than she had before. There was someone behind the killings, picking and choosing the families for a reason.
"Are you alright?" The minister was barely visible through the crack in the door.
"They're gone." Cara told him, her voice taut.
"I heard gunfire." The door opened further and he ventured onto the porch, a light bulb flickered overhead and he knelt down beside her. "You're injured."
"I'll heal."
Serious eyes regarded her thoughtfully. "You've been shot. Let me get you to a hospital."
"I need to stay. If more of them come back." Cara looked away. "I need to protect them."
"Will you let me take a look?"
Cara pulled back her hand and looked down at the blood soaked shirt. "It's a clean shot. I'll be fine. Could use a new shirt though, if you have one you're not using anymore."
He blinked at her with disbelief. "Are you sure? An ambulance could be here in just a few minutes."
"No." She shifted painfully against the brick. "Need to make sure they're safe."
"Do you know who those men were?"
"I've been tracking them." She was so tired. She hadn't slept in nearly three days. All she wanted was to close her eyes and rest. "Killing families. Had to stop them." The world was beginning to spin.
"Miss? Miss?" His concerned face split into multiples and she fought against the haze filling her mind. "I'm going to call the ambulance."
"Wait." Her voice sounded far away in her ears. "Vampires."
"What?"
"Vampires." Black curtains closed over her eyes and she felt herself falling.
"Ever get tired of running?" Faith leans against the window of the passenger seat, staring out into the rain soaked night.
"Sometimes." I turn back to the road. "You?"
"All I've ever done is run." She pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "Where are we?"
"Coastal highway. Coming up on Portland." Los Angeles was as far as we had gotten the night we left Sunnydale. Stopping to wait out the sun, get some supplies and rest before heading north. Why north? Why not? Figured it was the one direction I hadn't taken yet. Another day spent in a cheap motel just south of the Oregon border. It seems like a bloody dream. Not exactly a fantasy. Just unreal.
"Guess we'll get to see a bit of the world after all." She sounds far away.
"Yeah."
"Never been to Portland." She's talking as if trying to reassure herself she still can. It's not like her to ramble.
"You all right, Slayer?"
"Fine." She doesn't look toward me when she answers. "Just...just nothing."
"Bloody terrible liar, pet."
"I've been told." There's a hint of a smile in her face and I hear her shift in the seat. "Why did you get your soul back?"
"Thought I was in love. Thought if I had a soul, she could love me back." Talk about irony. I can still hear Buffy's voice, telling Faith that she had loved me. Had waited for me. That she was jealous. It's a sick world.
"Cause she loved Angel?"
"She never really loved him." I shrug. "She was obsessed with him. They were so fucking lost in each other, draggin' each other down. That's not love. Passion, lust, obsession. Had those in spades. But not love."
"What is love?"
"Hell if I know. Thought I did back then." I flip the windshield wipers up a notch. "Told Buffy once, after Dru left me the first time, I was love's bitch. Always have been. Goin' this way, the way. All over the goddamn planet for a bleedin' woman. Cecily, Dru, Buffy. Thought I loved every one of em. Not so sure now."
"I think she still loves you."
I shake my head. "Feels for me. That's how she said it. But it's not love. She's a Slayer. Slayers don't fall in love with vampires." Silence. Driving feels good. Bloody amazing to be doing something other than lying in bed headed straight for Bedlam. At the same time, I feel like a kicked dog creeping away to lick his wounds and whimper.
"Why'd she tell us about the Watcher then?"
"Maybe." She sighs and changes her position again. "She killed Ethan."
I had heard that too. Would've been more shocked if I hadn't already been picking my jaw up off the floor. "Bastard deserved it. Would've done it myself if I'd had another shot at it. Ripped his throat out." I'm glad he's dead but unnerved that it was Buffy who'd done it. The memory of her suggesting the gang go out for dinner has turned chilling. She wanted us out of the way so we wouldn't know and wouldn't stop her. It wasn't the Buffy I had known.
"She's changed."
"Won't disagree."
"I'm glad." The words are muffled by the blanket. "That he's dead."
"I can imagine." More silence. It's not awkward. Somehow it's comfortable to just be together. Quiet.
"Do you feel like a coward? Running away when the world might be ending?"
I risk a glance toward her. "A little. Didn't particularly fancy the Watcher's remedy. Not quite ready to be fittin' in an ashtray just yet." It shouldn't matter but it does. I'm not ready to leave this world. I don't want to die. That makes me laugh. The undead vampire doesn't want to die. She raises one eyebrow over the edge of the blanket.
"What's funny?"
"Whole rotten soap opera. Vampires with souls. Slayers. Load of rubbish and fairytales, the lot of it."
"I guess." She hesitates. "Ever wonder if none of it's real? Like it's just a dream. I used to think about that. In prison. That maybe I was just crazy and none of it was real."
"Hurts real enough." She doesn't respond but I know she agrees with me
"Do you think the world is really going to end?"
"Eventually."
"I mean this time."
"Maybe."
"What if they're right? About you?"
"You lookin' for somethin' deep and thought-provoking, luv? Or is the Sartre kick just passin' the time?" She wraps the blanket tighter around her legs and leans forward, resting her temple on the dashboard as she watches me. No answer. I sigh. "You mean, if there's no other way to save the world but to send my poor soul back to whence it came?"
"Yeah. If they can't find anything else. It's you or the world. One vampire for the whole wide world."
"You get the honors then. Not too keen on doin' it myself." She blanches at the statement and turns away. "Only proper. Seein' how I killed you. Right poetic in a way."
"But I can't bring you back from dust."
"Wouldn't want to come back, luv." A rest stop comes into view and I pull off of the highway, distracted by the conversation and my own disturbing thoughts. "I've seen things, done things. More than a hundred years. More than any man should have to live."
"Don't want to feel guilty anymore? About the people you killed."
"Faith." I pull her into my arms, brushing her hair back. "What I did before I got the soul back, that was the demon. Little different. Not trying to say it was right or that I don't feel every one of them screamin' inside my head all the time. But it's different. Vampires kill to survive."
"Like animals."
"I'll never be anything but a vamp, luv. Never have a family. Bloody immortal unless someone sticks a piece of wood through my heart or chops off my head. Too much of a coward to take an afternoon stroll on my own."
"You mean that everyone you love is going to get old and die."
"Fact of life. Humans age, I don't." Nuzzling her hair, I breathe in the scent of magnolias. "Hard to watch people you care about die."
"You could turn them."
"Not the same. It's a demon starin' out of their eyes." Like my mother. I don't add that part. Not ready to let Faith in on that bit of my history. Turned me off of the whole Sire gig entirely. "This world doesn't hold much for my kind. Good body count and a chance to go down fighting. That's all."
"Spike." She looks up at me, her dark eyes full of an emotion I can't read. "What if there isn't another way?"
Cupping her face in my hands, I kiss her lips gently. "You're a Slayer. Part of the job description." She pulls away, shaking her head sadly. "You'll be fine, luv." Part of me has already accepted that there might not be another way. There's that death wish again. Longing for the dance to finally end and let me out of this existence.
"Just isn't right." She tries to smile. "You saved me. I should be able to save you."
"You saved yourself." Another kiss. She responds fervently this time, wrapping her arms around my neck tightly. We're locked together, a little afraid and a little desperate. Nothing but the undeniable connection between us. I don't know what it is or what it means. I'm not sure it has to mean something. All I know is that in her arms, wrapped in the heat of her body, everything fades away. For a moment, a fraction of a second in my very long time as a walking corpse, I'm alive.
Angel found Cordelia working at her desk. Getting a head start on the paperwork for federal taxes was what she had told Wesley before he went home. He watched her from the shadows for a few minutes. No hint of an expression on her face, just sad, tired eyes. It was late. She worked too hard, driven by demons of her own making. By the past she wasn't responsible for. He knew what it was like to feel guilty for crimes he hadn't really committed. For lives a demon had taken with his hands and his face. Cordelia refused to listen.
"In or out, Angel." She didn't look up, just continued to punch numbers into the computer, occasionally stopping to write something down in a notebook.
If someone had told him that she would ever turn into the woman he saw now, he would have laughed. Someone who spent more time with computers and books, who only left the office to sleep and eat, who refused to date or pursue even a benign social life. Cordelia Chase? In a worn plaid skirt that covered waist to ankles and a conservative cream blouse. Impossible. But there she was. And there was nothing he could do to reach her.
"You're working late." He stuck his hands in his pockets and glanced around the dimly lit office. The screen and the desk lamp were the only sources of light.
"Has to be done sometime. I didn't have any plans." She still wasn't looking at him.
"About that." He sat down on the couch. "There's a new club Gunn says is pretty cool. Thought I'd check it out."
"Because you do so much dating." There was the barest hint of the old Cordelia sarcasm. It was because she knew he was lying through his teeth.
"Maybe I was going to ask you to come with me."
"Don't have anything to wear."
"We could go shopping."
"Not interested."
Angel wanted to shake her. He knew better than to get close to her. The last time he tried, he'd been thrown through a wall for his effort. "How long are you going to do this to yourself?"
"Do what?" She was almost flippant.
"Shut us all out. It wasn't your fault."
Finally she looked at him. "Last time I checked, I'm the one who gave birth to the psycho hypno lady who tried to take over the world and oh yes, killed your son. Who I slept with and manipulated into trying to kill you. Sounds like it was pretty much my fault."
"Gee. Funny how the guilt doesn't really lose its edge. Wouldn't you agree?" she snapped coldly, turning back to the computer.
"Cordelia."
"That's me."
"It's not your fault that the visions have stopped." Angel looked down at his hands, still numb from hearing the news himself. "Fred called. I think I know what happened."
"What? Is it the Hellmouth?"
"No." He shook his head. "It's me. I'm not their Champion. Not anymore."
He saw her squash the impulse to come to him, gripping the edge of the desk tightly. "That's impossible. You've done everything you could have. You've saved the world half a dozen times."
"Apparently it's not enough." Good old Cordy, always coming to the defense of others.
"Whatever Fred told you, it has to be wrong. What did she tell you?"
"There's another vampire. With a soul."
"That's impossible. The scrolls only talked about one. That's something they would mention." She lost the battle and moved away from the desk, hesitantly sitting on the opposite end of the sofa. "Wouldn't they have told us? Sent a vision or something. They wouldn't just abandon you." She paused. "Does this mean no shanshu?"
"Probably."
"That's not fair!" She got back to her feet and began pacing angrily. "You've worked so hard! Too hard. They can't do this. You don't deserve this just because some Angel wannabe decides to get himself cursed."
"It's Spike."
"Spike? As in William the Bloody? As in too much bleach melted my brain, Spike?"
"One and the same."
"That's it." She glared up at the ceiling, hands on her hips. "Get your high and mighty butts down here! I know you're watching. I've been up there too, remember? I'm going to give the Powers that Screw Us Over a piece of my mind. You're a champion. They can't treat you this way."
"Cordy."
"What?"
"It's not your fault." He watched her features twist through an array of emotions. She struggled to force them back under the blank mask she'd been wearing for the last three years.
Then she went completely still. "Angel?"
"Cordy?"
Her eyes closed and she stumbled away from him, grabbing onto the desk and knocking over a mug of pencils and pens. They scattered onto the floor and she reached out for him. He was at her side instantly, steadying her and pulling her into his arms.
"What was it?"
"Vision. Vampires." She stared down at the pencils rolling away from the desk.
"Where?"
"Sunnydale."
Waking in the hospital was the first time Cara had felt clean since leaving Sunnydale. She'd never seen a hospital; it was strange. Most everything in the United States was strange. Sitting up carefully she checked her shoulder. It was healing nicely. There was a tube attached to her hand with a needle sticking into her skin. She peeled back the surgical tape, grimacing as she extracted the IV. Lying next to the bed was a bag with her clothes, dirty and stained with blood, and her boots. Her knapsack was missing.
Careful not to rip at the bandages on her shoulder, she got dressed as quickly as she could. She was on unfamiliar and potentially hostile territory. They would want to know who she was and where she was from. Questions she could not answer without betraying her calling.
"Miss? What do you think you're doing?" The nurse frowned, holding the clipboard at her side.
"I have to go."
"Why don't you lie down and I'll get the doctor?" Her nametag read Lily. She stayed in the doorway, one hand against the frame to completely block the exit.
"I'm sorry." Cara started forward, wondering if she was supposed to push the woman out of the way or initiate a conversation. Her training had been egregiously lacking in similar scenarios.
"Dr. Anderson!" Lily yelled over her shoulder, watching Cara with more annoyance than apprehension. There were three more female nurses in the hallway, two men who could have been doctors, and a security guard.
Cara wasn't supposed to fight innocents. Hurting them was the most probable outcome of any confrontation. Frowning, she glanced around for another way out. There was a window next to the door looking out of the room and she could see a cart of linen supplies on the other side of the hallway. What floor was she on? She didn't remember seeing anything over two or three stories when she came into town.
An older man moved into the room, his hands up in a gesture of peace. "Miss. Just calm down. We'll get you out of here as soon as-"
She pushed off the chair to gain momentum, one boot catching the top of the radiator to give her the rest. Arms folded in front of her face, she crashed through the window, tucking into a ball as she fell. Her shoulders hit the cold linoleum, curving her into a roll that brought her back to her feet. Steel met her fingers and she dragged the cart to the side, throwing towels across the floor and blocking the hallway. Surprised faces raced by as she scanned the walls for the green Exit sign. There it was. Stairs. Using the handrail as part support, part slide, she took the stairs in two steps. Another door led to the lobby. A few confused looks and one shout for her to stop and then she was blinking into the bright light of the sun as she wove her way through the parking lot. Getting her weapons was the first priority. Food and shelter were next.
Finding the gutted remains of the Carlisle's house was easy. She remembered the address perfectly. At least that part of her training had proven useful. Retracing her path from the night before, she found the church and the brick home behind it. Hesitantly, she climbed up the steps and knocked twice on the wooden door.
"Coming!" The priest's voice was muffled. There was a click as the deadbolt slid back and he opened the door. "You! Are you all right? What are you doing out of the hospital?"
"My bag." She pulled away as he took a step toward her. "I need my bag. Do you have it?"
"Of course. Come in." He stepped back through the doorway.
"You shouldn't do that," she said quickly. "Don't invite strangers in."
"Yes. Vampires. I remember." He was uneasy and smiling too brightly in an attempt to hide it from her. She could see the knapsack sitting on top of the small round table, the handle of the sword sticking out of the zippered opening. Waiting on the porch, she watched him pick up the sack. She took it from his outstretched hands with a nod of thanks.
"How is your shoulder?"
"Fine." She wavered, knowing that she should leave immediately. "The family?"
"Safe with friends. Their house was lost but they managed to save a few of their belongings. Water damaged but intact." Kind eyes were trying to look through her. "Do you have friends here? Family?"
She shook her head and took a step back, starting down the steps slowly. "I have to go."
"Where?" He moved forward. "Where will you go?"
She didn't know.
"I'm just trying to help."
Cara blinked with sudden comprehension as he took another step. This was how it started. This was how Xander Harris had gotten involved. A moment like this had nearly cost him his life. She had been sent to kill him. The air caught in her throat. Stumbling backward, she turned and ran until her lungs burned and her shoulder was throbbing painfully. Defiance, Ohio faded into the background as she plunged into an endless field of tall grass.
Gasping for breath, she finally stopped and sunk to the ground. They had sent her to kill him. An innocent. Like the family she had saved and those who had been slaughtered. Innocent. She had almost done it. She hadn't questioned them. Just followed orders. Obeyed. She always obeyed. Fingers sunk into the soft earth as she curled into a ball, breathing raggedly and trying to ease the aching in her chest. She didn't understand why it hurt, why it bit into her like fangs or bullets, ripping her apart. She should have stayed in the hospital. Something was wrong with her. Shaking her head futilely against the assault of pain, she began rocking back and forth, eyes burning with tears. She had never cried before.
Eventually the sobs lessened, tears dried up, and the heavy weight inside stopped stabbing into her heart. Leaning back on her heels, she looked around at the waving grass, blinking into the sunlight. Her training instructed her to return to England. Return to the Watchers. Report back. Receive new orders. They would probably send her to kill more innocent people.
Brushing the dirt off of her hands, she started back through the field, jaw set tightly and lips pressed into a grim line. She didn't need new orders. She didn't need any of their training or their lies. The only thing she needed from the Watchers was more bullets. And she would find those somewhere else.
The demons scowled into the forest. This was supposed to be easy. They'd gotten a tip that William the Bloody was in Sunnydale. Cable had promised them an obscene amount of money to return with his beaten corpse. It was a small town. It had a Hellmouth. It should have been easy.
"We've been walking in circles." Tipoc slammed his fist into a tree trunk to vent his frustration. "Cable's going to be furious when we go back without the vampire."
"We're not going back without him." His long time hunting partner, Lyhgi, squinted into the night. One clawed hand rested on the blade of his knife. Always be prepared was his motto. "The trees are moving."
"Trees can't move, dung-brain." He cursed a bit more in his native tongue, knowing his dear momma was probably rolling at the bottom of her funeral mound.
"I'm telling you they're moving," Lyhgi insisted. The forest was making him nervous. It watched him. It was following him and stringing him along. It was toying with him. He hated it. "Let's get out of here. It's almost dawn. We'll try again tomorrow night."
Dejected, they trudged through the brush in the direction they thought was the way out of the forest. Trees stretched out as far as the eye could see. Which was pretty far for a Morva demon. Sunnydale hadn't seemed that large and Lyhgi was sure the forest wasn't. His two hearts almost skipped a beat when he saw the faint rays of light piercing through the tree trunks.
"There. Light." He pointed, motioning to his partner to follow. They hurried through the bushes toward their first sign of hope. Bursting into sunlight, they were surprised to find themselves on a rocky beach.
"How did we get here?"
"Doesn't matter. We can follow the coast. Find a road."
"What's that noise?"
"What noise?" Lyhgi cocked his head to the side. A low hiss or rumbling, like wind through the trees. He turned back to the forest, searching the shadows for the source.
Tipoc tapped his shoulder. "Lyhgi?"
He brushed away the contact. "Shut up. I'm listening." The roaring was getting louder, closer.
"Lyhgi?"
"What?" He turned around an instant before the tidal wave struck them. The force of the water drove them down against the boulders and dragged at their feet, pulling them into the bay. Fighting for the surface, the riptide caught them and yanked them further out to sea. It didn't make any sense, this part of the coast was calm. He blinked into the murky water as it filled his lungs. Everything went black.
On the shore, a young girl was dancing over the boulders singing a nursery rhyme. She giggled as the waves lapped around her ankles. Clad in a pale green dress that fluttered with the breeze, she wandered barefoot into the forest, long dark hair slipping through the branches like water. She paused at the tree trunk the demon had struck.
"Are you better?" The tree rustled its branches in answer. "I have swept them away into the ocean for the fish to feast." Gaia laughed as she wrapped her thin arms around the tree, green eyes twinkling mischievously. "They shall not harm you again. And they shall not find Chronos' vampire. Do you suppose it's a pet? Perhaps it knows tricks." Returning to her song, she twirled and hopped through the forest, carefree and unburdened.