A/N: Thanks for reviewing! Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up.
I'm not the best when it comes to updating. This chapter is mostly
dialogue, but the story will get some action soon, don't worry.
"So how do you know so much about me?" I asked.
"Everyone knows about you, love."
Well, considering my war with Harth involved the entire warren, killing some huge demon that nearly ate me whole, and Erin's calvary of laws, I guess that made sense.
"So how do you know so much about Slayers?" I asked.
He didn't answer, at first. When he did, it wasn't the answer I wanted. "You cared about some kid ... Loo, right?"
My jaw clenched, but the memories came anyway. Coming back from Erin's after my encounter with Harth, my eyes still burning from crying ... my apartment was ransacked, lurks no doubt ... moving the table and finding her, her head in an impossible angle .... "Yeah," I answered, scarcely recognizing my voice.
"Well, lurks killed someone I cared for, too. Now, do you want to learn how to kill them faster and better, or do you want to spend all day chatting?"
"Well, at least tell me what to rutting call you."
"Spike."
"So, Spike, what exactly are you going to teach me?" I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest. "And how do I know that you're not trying to mess with my head?"
"Do you know why you're the only Slayer that's been around in over two hundred years?"
"No."
"Do you know what happened to the last known Slayer?"
"Some battle."
"Do you know anything about your powers?"
"I know tons! Like, I'm strong, and fast ... and, I'm supposed to have the dreams and the heritage, but –"
"Harth got them."
"Exactly."
"Well, I'm here to give you that heritage, bit by bit."
I rolled my eyes. "And how, exactly, are you going to do that?"
"I've got a few Watcher's Diaries, if that's what you mean."
That caught my interest. "Watcher's Diaries?"
"Yeah, each one of those wankers was required to keep an account of what their slayer did, how they trained her, and all that rot."
"Wankers?" I asked. God knows I was never the best in school, but I'd never heard anyone use that word.
"I don't like them."
"That is obvious." I hesitated. "What to they say?"
"The diaries? Ah, tons of stuff. I don't have all of them, though."
"Where are the rest?"
"Wish I knew, pet." Spike glared at the menu on the wall, not pleased with the selection. "Bloody gits. No one has any decent beer anymore."
"Huh?"
"Never mind."
"Which diaries do you have?"
"Well, I've got Giles's diaries, and Wesley's. And what's-his- name's."
"Can you be any more specific?" I growled.
Spike just grinned. "I forget his name, the guy who was Nikki Wood's watcher. She lived in the 1970's. Giles and Wesley both have notes on Buffy and Faith, Slayers at the turn of the millenium. And I've got a few others."
"Can I see them?"
"NO," he said emphatically, then paused. "Later. Not now."
"So, what exactly do you know about Slayers? I mean, how did they fall, why –"
"Did they disappear for two hundred years?"
"Right."
Spike sighed. "In 1996, a slayer named Buffy Summers was called. She was fifteen, and turned out to be one of the best damn slayers ever. She started slaying in LA, now known as Ellar, but after awhile moved to Sunnydale."
"What's Sunnydale?"
"Little town north of LA that doesn't exist anymore."
"Why?"
"I'll get there. Back then, though, Sunnydale was the Hellmouth. All types of beasties liked to make Sunnydale their home."
"So she killed them," I said, starting to get bored.
"Can you listen for five minutes? There was also an ancient vampire, the Master, trapped under Sunnydale. A prophesy foretold that he would kill Buffy." I didn't see how this was important. "Thing is, when he did, he did a bloody horrible job. He only took enough blood from her to make her faint, so she ended up drowning in a nearby pool of water that she fell in. And you know what? If you die from a vampire bite, nothing can bring you back, but if you drown there's a window if time where somebody can bring you back with CPR. And that's what happened. And, unfortunately for all the vamps, she had died – which meant that –"
"The next Slayer was called," I said, getting it.
"Yeah. Years later, in 2003, The biggest of all the Big Bads decided to make a direct attack on the slayer line. It got its henchmen to kill the Potential Slayers, the girls who might one day become the Slayer. Buffy and Faith, of course, decided to do something about it. Buffy got a friend of hers to do a mighty powerful spell which turned all the Potentials into Slayers. Every single last one." He leaned back in his chair. "Thing is, the vamps and other demons didn't like that. They started killing the Neo- Slayers, starting with the weakest, and turning them into vampires. Do you know why vampires don't turn slayers?"
"Two reasons. One is that the slayers-turned-vampires are way too powerful. Vamps don't want a super-race of vamps taking them over. So these under-trained slayers that they turned became killing machines, which the vamps pointed directly at the remaining slayers. There was a huge battle, where so few slayers were left that it was ridiculous. The remainder of them went into hiding. Then the vamps got payback for turning the slayers. You see, if you turn a slayer, you have to pretty much keep her occupied with killing humans 24/7, because if you don't, her slayer instincts kick in and they start butchering vampires. Tons of vamps died, but the remainder combined their strength and killed the slayers-turned-vampire. It was too late to save the Slayer race, though. After the few remaining Slayers died, their weren't enough Neo-Slayers popping up. Urkonn was wrong when he said that Slayers weren't being called. They were, but before anyone could do anything about it, vampires ripped their throats out."
I sat there in shock for awhile. Then, finally, I managed to choke out a few words. "Why not me?"
"Ironically enough, your archnemesis, Harth, saved you. They couldn't find a Slayer – just a suspiciously strong girl and her wimpy brother, who acted as if he had the dreams, but of course that's impossible, because he's not a girl."
We were silent for awhile.
"So, Spike," I said finally, "How do slayers get killed?"
For some unknown reason, Spike started to laugh.
"What?" I asked, confused.
He shook his head. "Nothing. Irony, and all that rot. C'mon, I'll show you."
TBC
"So how do you know so much about me?" I asked.
"Everyone knows about you, love."
Well, considering my war with Harth involved the entire warren, killing some huge demon that nearly ate me whole, and Erin's calvary of laws, I guess that made sense.
"So how do you know so much about Slayers?" I asked.
He didn't answer, at first. When he did, it wasn't the answer I wanted. "You cared about some kid ... Loo, right?"
My jaw clenched, but the memories came anyway. Coming back from Erin's after my encounter with Harth, my eyes still burning from crying ... my apartment was ransacked, lurks no doubt ... moving the table and finding her, her head in an impossible angle .... "Yeah," I answered, scarcely recognizing my voice.
"Well, lurks killed someone I cared for, too. Now, do you want to learn how to kill them faster and better, or do you want to spend all day chatting?"
"Well, at least tell me what to rutting call you."
"Spike."
"So, Spike, what exactly are you going to teach me?" I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest. "And how do I know that you're not trying to mess with my head?"
"Do you know why you're the only Slayer that's been around in over two hundred years?"
"No."
"Do you know what happened to the last known Slayer?"
"Some battle."
"Do you know anything about your powers?"
"I know tons! Like, I'm strong, and fast ... and, I'm supposed to have the dreams and the heritage, but –"
"Harth got them."
"Exactly."
"Well, I'm here to give you that heritage, bit by bit."
I rolled my eyes. "And how, exactly, are you going to do that?"
"I've got a few Watcher's Diaries, if that's what you mean."
That caught my interest. "Watcher's Diaries?"
"Yeah, each one of those wankers was required to keep an account of what their slayer did, how they trained her, and all that rot."
"Wankers?" I asked. God knows I was never the best in school, but I'd never heard anyone use that word.
"I don't like them."
"That is obvious." I hesitated. "What to they say?"
"The diaries? Ah, tons of stuff. I don't have all of them, though."
"Where are the rest?"
"Wish I knew, pet." Spike glared at the menu on the wall, not pleased with the selection. "Bloody gits. No one has any decent beer anymore."
"Huh?"
"Never mind."
"Which diaries do you have?"
"Well, I've got Giles's diaries, and Wesley's. And what's-his- name's."
"Can you be any more specific?" I growled.
Spike just grinned. "I forget his name, the guy who was Nikki Wood's watcher. She lived in the 1970's. Giles and Wesley both have notes on Buffy and Faith, Slayers at the turn of the millenium. And I've got a few others."
"Can I see them?"
"NO," he said emphatically, then paused. "Later. Not now."
"So, what exactly do you know about Slayers? I mean, how did they fall, why –"
"Did they disappear for two hundred years?"
"Right."
Spike sighed. "In 1996, a slayer named Buffy Summers was called. She was fifteen, and turned out to be one of the best damn slayers ever. She started slaying in LA, now known as Ellar, but after awhile moved to Sunnydale."
"What's Sunnydale?"
"Little town north of LA that doesn't exist anymore."
"Why?"
"I'll get there. Back then, though, Sunnydale was the Hellmouth. All types of beasties liked to make Sunnydale their home."
"So she killed them," I said, starting to get bored.
"Can you listen for five minutes? There was also an ancient vampire, the Master, trapped under Sunnydale. A prophesy foretold that he would kill Buffy." I didn't see how this was important. "Thing is, when he did, he did a bloody horrible job. He only took enough blood from her to make her faint, so she ended up drowning in a nearby pool of water that she fell in. And you know what? If you die from a vampire bite, nothing can bring you back, but if you drown there's a window if time where somebody can bring you back with CPR. And that's what happened. And, unfortunately for all the vamps, she had died – which meant that –"
"The next Slayer was called," I said, getting it.
"Yeah. Years later, in 2003, The biggest of all the Big Bads decided to make a direct attack on the slayer line. It got its henchmen to kill the Potential Slayers, the girls who might one day become the Slayer. Buffy and Faith, of course, decided to do something about it. Buffy got a friend of hers to do a mighty powerful spell which turned all the Potentials into Slayers. Every single last one." He leaned back in his chair. "Thing is, the vamps and other demons didn't like that. They started killing the Neo- Slayers, starting with the weakest, and turning them into vampires. Do you know why vampires don't turn slayers?"
"Two reasons. One is that the slayers-turned-vampires are way too powerful. Vamps don't want a super-race of vamps taking them over. So these under-trained slayers that they turned became killing machines, which the vamps pointed directly at the remaining slayers. There was a huge battle, where so few slayers were left that it was ridiculous. The remainder of them went into hiding. Then the vamps got payback for turning the slayers. You see, if you turn a slayer, you have to pretty much keep her occupied with killing humans 24/7, because if you don't, her slayer instincts kick in and they start butchering vampires. Tons of vamps died, but the remainder combined their strength and killed the slayers-turned-vampire. It was too late to save the Slayer race, though. After the few remaining Slayers died, their weren't enough Neo-Slayers popping up. Urkonn was wrong when he said that Slayers weren't being called. They were, but before anyone could do anything about it, vampires ripped their throats out."
I sat there in shock for awhile. Then, finally, I managed to choke out a few words. "Why not me?"
"Ironically enough, your archnemesis, Harth, saved you. They couldn't find a Slayer – just a suspiciously strong girl and her wimpy brother, who acted as if he had the dreams, but of course that's impossible, because he's not a girl."
We were silent for awhile.
"So, Spike," I said finally, "How do slayers get killed?"
For some unknown reason, Spike started to laugh.
"What?" I asked, confused.
He shook his head. "Nothing. Irony, and all that rot. C'mon, I'll show you."
TBC