FOLLOWING FRANKENSTEIN


Chapter 3: Surprises


Buffy came home to her London flat and collapsed on her secondhand couch. She pulled her salsa dance shoes off her feet, but not before she practiced her latest steps around the kitchen a few more times. She grinned and opened her cupboard. A jar of noisette-a gift of the Parisian deities, still sat half-full. She only let herself partake after particularly strenuous activities or on special occasions, thus preserving her precious stock for months.

She smothered a generous amount on a biscuit, poured herself some milk (who knew fresh milk was so much better than powdered?) and collapsed onto the couch for a binge-watching marathon of her latest show. Before she took a bite, she lifted her biscuit in her customary solemn salute.

"Here's to you, girl," she said to a large photograph of herself. In it, she stood at the base of the Eiffel Tower holding a hand-drawn sign that read, "Badiyah was here."

Then she took a bite of her chocolaty hazelnutty deliciousness and praised the French again for their gifts to the world. She checked her watch. She still had two hours before Vivian's 30th birthday party extravaganza. She set an alarm, just-in-case (and promised herself she'd heed it, no matter how good her show).

Twenty minutes in, as she sat riveted, she was surprised to hear a knock on her door.

Probably just Billy asking her to take in his mail tomorrow or Sherry wondering if she would come out for a stroll.

She opened the door, looked up into the face of the man towering over her there, and screamed.

Before her stood none other than her creator, or so she thought at first. The man was the same height with the same face, but the longer she stared, the more she questioned her first assumption. For one thing, he stared at her out of a peachy, flushed face, with bright green eyes, and very short auburn hair. For another, he stared at her as if he thought he knew her, but was surprised to see her, and then questioned his own assumption.

A man in a black suit stood beside him, his hand on his arm, and a yellow envelope in his hands.

"Ms. Slayer, I apologize for startling you. I'm Agent Smith. I understand what a shock it is to see your brother-in-law again after he was presumed dead for so long. I am afraid he is suffering from a bad case of amnesia still and can't remember how to speak, let alone anything about his identity. When he came to my office's attention yesterday, we sought to locate his next-of-kin and I'm afraid you are his closest remaining relative. I have all his paperwork for you, here, and I've come to discuss his case with you as we determine the best course of action. May we come in?

Buffy nearly choked out her response. "Come on in," she said and invited them both to sit on the couch. She tried to hide the empty chips bag under the couch as she sat and she brushed crumbs off the cushion as covertly as she could.

She couldn't take her eyes from the man. He was thin, too thin, and his stumbling steps had the clumsy air of being out-of-practice. Still, it was the vivid eyes that threw her completely for a loop. Had Edward gone mad, stopped drinking blood, and turned into this? Or maybe taken up drinking grass instead?

"Before we begin, I suggest you read this. Mr. Masen here carried this letter on his person when we found him. It is addressed to you," the suited man said as he handed her the letter. She opened it and there in a cursive script that would have been elegant (if it didn't look like it had been written in a bumpy car), were these words:

My Dear Ms. Slayer,

There is no one I can think of so qualified to take on the care and education of Anthony Edward Masen as yourself. The human life of Edward Anthony Masen ended in his 17th year. Anthony, my human replica, will finish the life I was unable to live. As you were given the opportunity to complete a life so tragically cut short, I ask you give him the same opportunity. You have both been gifted a second chance, a second soul, a second life. Make the most of it.

Do not hold my past misdeeds against him. He is innocent of all iniquities except of carrying my cloned human DNA.

Within this envelope you will find all he needs to start his new life. I only pray he proves wiser than myself.

I would ask for your forgiveness, but I know I do not deserve it. The only other gift I can give you is the promise that you will never hear from me again.

Sincerely,

Edward

"That unimaginable bastard," she hissed as she read it. She crumbled it up and threw it on the ground and turned to glare at the intruder. His cheeks flushed with nervousness and he gave her such an oblivious, open expression that he reminded her of a little, lost boy. She couldn't help but shake her head and let her anger drip off her face (for the moment).

"Thank you, Mr. Smith. I'll take that envelope now," she said with a sigh.

The Remnants, Chapter 13

Ooooooo

There was a passport (complete with stamps), a birth certificate, even a basic biography of his life in that envelope. It was better not to leave Buffy in charge of writing his faux life-story. She'd tell him he was a garbologist from Florida who loved cleaning house so much he needed to clean her flat every day. No, Edward was quite thorough.

Medical Researcher. Born in Chicago. Lost in Egypt at a medical conference, turned up in Chad with amnesia.

There were more diplomas and deeds and wills than she could bother reading through at the moment, so she put the yellow envelope away. Anthony looked almost relieved when Mr. Smith left. She didn't want to look at him, but she knew she had to. He didn't take his eyes off her. It made her shift uncomfortably and turn away.

"Sorry, man. I guestroom is a disaster. I promise I'll clean it soon, but I, uh, well, haven't ever had anyone use it so it just started piling up with junk. Tonight, you'll have to sleep on the couch," she prattled on, just to try to fill the silence and help her figure out what she was supposed to do now. He didn't answer.

So, that's why Edward gave me a two-bedroom flat. She mused to herself. I should have seen it coming. It was too easy. So, he's sent me a carbon copy of himself to kill me in my sleep. Perfect. Why search for vampires under the bed when I can find one in my guest room? I don't think I'll ever sleep again.

Buffy sighed and ruffled her hand through her hair. The man didn't make a noise. She looked back at the glazed, uncomprehensive expression on his face and she stopped her thought mid-sentence.

"Do you understand a word I'm saying?"

He gave her a forced, confused smile but did not answer. He was so pale and thin. He couldn't be more than a year or two old, max. She had never seen him in the works before she left, so that meant he couldn't have been in the tanks till after June of 2176 and that was 15 months ago. She knew how long it took to get a clone from eye-lid fluttering stage to become a walking-talking human. By the growth of hair on his head and face and the stilted way he walked, he had rushed through some of the intermediary stages and the focus had been on his movement and not on his mind.

Damn. She'd have to teach him how to talk.

Just when she thought she had put it all behind her, forgotten it all, finally moved on and got a hang of this whole 'being human' thing, Edward thrusts himself back into her life. In the flesh. How could she forget him when she would be forced to stare into his face every single day until she could get rid of the bastard? Could she ever get rid of him?

He was, like her, completely and utterly alone in the world. Without a single friend or family member. Without even a childhood or country of origin. They were stuck together.

It was comforting. In a sick, twisted way.

Well, on the bright side, she could make sure he learned to speak British fluently so he'd fit in better. She wished she'd known she was going to end up in London and had not started off life with an American accent.

She crossed over to the kitchen and began to prepare a small meal for him. Heavens knows when he'd eaten last and how much solid food he could even handle. She would have to pick up some applesauce and oatmeal during her next trip to the market. In the meantime, she rummaged through her cabinets searching for anything remotely soft and easy on the stomach.

"Well, sorry Baby Vamp, I am afraid I don't have much in here other than popcorn and hot chocolate," she said while she opened up the fridge. "Oh, I do have some milk! You'll love this. Real milk. Not the powered stuff. And, here, let me introduce you to the wonders of a croissant with butter. There's benefits to living in the real world, Tony, let me tell you. I mean, we may have a shortage of zombie brides for you to ravage and consume, but we have lots of other wonders. You know. Like milk… and showers… and taxes… and cockroaches. All the things you never got to experience back with our vampire lord!"

She carried a plate and mug over to the table and set it before him. He warily poked at the croissant and then lifted it to his nose to sniff it. He peeled off one flaky bit and tentatively tasted it. He grimaced and tried another. When he caught her expression, the grimace fell off his face and he cracked a crooked half-smile in response. It reminded her so much of Edward that she shuddered and looked away.

She could not tell whether he liked the food or not, but he ate it without further protest. It was strange to see "Edward" eat human food and she still couldn't get used to those flushed cheeks and green eyes.

When he finished, she decided to give him the formal tour of the flat.

"Well, you have seen the kitchen and here's the hall closet where I keep the cleaning supplies and a year's worth of movies, just in case the world ends and I can't get access to the internet. Oh, here's your room… or, it will be your room, just after I return all these packages that I've been meaning to return for like a year. That one there is mine, but there really is no reason for you to go in there. Ever. Not even if you are dying. Yeah. Just don't try it.

"Oh, here's the loo. I have my own in my room, so we won't even need to share. Isn't that splendid? Oh, I had better show you how it all works. Unless something has changed, I doubt Edward's installed a shower or any running water faucets. Really, you've been missing out. I hardly left my bathtub my first week in this place. So, here we go."

She demonstrated how to turn on and off each of the faucets and tried to explain what they were for, the best she could. This worked well until she came to the toilet. He knelt down and tried to wash his hands in the bowl.

"No!" she shrieked and moved to stop him. "Yuck!" she grimaced. "That's for, you know, your, uh, wait… no… that underground lair did have a toilet. It might have been on a low-water septic system, but it had a toilet… how could you… Oh no!" she gasped. "You traveled through airports and airplanes…you have to have seen a toilet…unless…" Buffy closed her eyes and grit her teeth while she clung to the counter to control her temper. "I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna fly right back to that sandpit and then I'm going to blow up that bunker myself. Jackass. I can't believe him!"

Then, she walked up to Anthony, grabbed him by the collar, and forced him to stand. Well, he didn't exactly fight against her, which was good, because he was really, really tall. Then, he did not so much as flinch when she moved to undo the zipper on his trousers. She really hoped she wouldn't find what she thought she was gonna find. Sure enough, a very full bag of urine was attached to a catheter.

"Bloody hell. You aren't even toilet trained."

Edward had sent her a bloody baby, a man-sized infant. She'd have to raise him all by herself.

Oh, his revenge was thorough.

She left Anthony in the loo with his trousers still around his knees and she pulled a pillow out of the hall closet so she could scream into it. Then, she slammed the door of her bedroom so hard, it shook the entire flat. After she had loudly cursed Edward to an eternity of flames and torment and without a single virgin bride, she reemerged to find Anthony stock still, right where she had left him.

"Damn it all, I've never changed a catheter on a man! I'm a pro at catheters on a woman. I could probably become a nurse if I hadn't sworn off the profession forever. However, every single patient I ever had was myself. Which you, very clearly, are not. Oi vey, this is awkward! I'm really glad you don't know how awkward this is. So, I can empty the bags, but I don't have any extras on hand. Do you even have extra clothes? Wait, there was a bag! I know I saw a bag."

She rummaged through the duffle bag Mr. Smith had left by the front door and found two changes of brand-new clothes, a handful of urine bags, a bag of adult diapers, and powdered vitamin supplements. At least there was that. She returned to Anthony and made sure his urine bag was tended. Then she made him wash his hands and face.

"Well, I don't even want to think about showering you. I have never showered a dude and I don't really want to start now. Just, you know, don't poop your pants or anything tonight, ok. Tomorrow, we can start on the 'personal hygiene' lesson. For tonight, I think let's just put you to bed, ok?"

He did everything she instructed him to and followed her out of the loo like a well-trained dog straight back to the couch. Buffy grabbed a blanket and pillow from the hall closet and spread a sheet over the couch. Then she motioned for him to move so she could make the couch into a bed.

"Baby Vamp, you will sleep here," she said, as mimed sleeping.

He blinked once. Then, in one broad step, he crossed the room, lay down on the couch, and closed his eyes.

"Hey, you can take off your shoes, you know," she said.

He opened one eye.

She pointed and repeated herself. When he didn't react, she approached him and pulled his shoes off his feet.

"You'll be more comfortable that way."

He was asleep before she left the room.

Poor guy.She remembered what it was like, back then. When just eating a bowl of soup left her utterly exhausted and learning how to dress herself left her arms sore for two days. Yet, he'd just crossed continents and been thrust into company with throngs of people without any preparation or knowledge of what was going on. He must be completely spent.

Just as quickly as it had come, her pity evaporated again. He was a clone of Edward, not just a clone. Somehow, that made her feel like he deserved whatever challenges he faced, like she could somehow bring torment onto Edward through his human embodiment.

He isn't Edward any more than I am Isabella Swan, she tried to remind herself. Clones are people too. Even ones that look like Edward.

Oh, why had her life had become ever so much more complicated than it had been that morning?

oooo


Buffy woke with a start, her body soaking with sweat and her heart pounding.

Another nightmare.

She lay still for a few moments as she tried to orient herself to her room, her flat, her body, and remind herself that her dream was just that. A dream. When her breathing slowed and the adrenaline cooled, she got up. She moved to the living room to pop in a movie and drink a glass of milk.

During the day, most of the time she could forget. Until she passed something that reminded her of Before. At night, though, it was harder to forget.

It was early into her conscious life that she discovered the power of movies to distract and cover up some of the most unpleasant parts of her existence. When the halls of the temple echoed with eerie screams and blood-curdling cries, she could simply turn the volume up and drown it all out. She could try to forget. Even if she was trapped underground, her mind escaped and traveled the world. She was no longer so alone. She had friends and companions. Even if they were all imaginary, it was better than she could find amongst the bunks of mute, frail, corpselike women who would all face death before they had even seen the sun.

Sometimes movies made it worse. She could watch other people live lives so vastly different from her own and she wished she could be like them. They went about their days with trees and open spaces and jobs and families and spend entire episodes debating over who would be a bridesmaid in a wedding. It made her even more acutely discontent with her own lot in life.

Now she had all that she once only dreamt about. Or, she she had a much higher chance of experiencing all she saw in movies now that she was in the wild. She hadn't actually been a bridesmaid yet… or even been to a wedding, but it was on her bucket list. She didn't have a family, yet, either, but she did have a job and she saw trees on a daily basis. There wasn't a corpse or clone in sight anywhere. It was wonderful, really, how rarely she saw dead people at all. And no one ran through her apartment naked… well, except her, on occasion… but she did that intentionally… well, kind of intentionally… Ok, so she nearly caught her kitchen on fire and had to run from her shower to turn off the burner and grab the fire extinguisher… but she had been nude when she did it, so it counts. She definitely didn't have to listen to the last cries of vampire fodder as the life was sucked out of them and the only vampires she met were the ones on Halloween and they didn't have red eyes. Overall, she was quite satisfied with her new life, even if it wasn't exactly like what she saw in movies. It was still better than Before.

Still, at night, in the depth of her dreams, it all came back to her again. Then, she did what she had always done. She escaped.

Except she forgot that there was now one other clone in her life… and he was sleeping on her couch… and he looked more like a vampire than any other vampire wannabe she'd yet seen. However, her brain only remembered all this after she unceremoniously sat on the couch. In the middle of the night. In the dark. The unexpected feeling of flesh beneath her followed by a male cry of surprise was enough to make her scream. Switching on a light didn't help because that left her face-to-face with the main occupant of the nightmare she was trying to run from and she shrieked so loud, she was pretty sure she woke up the whole street.

If she had been smart, she should have just given Anthony her bed and slept on the couch herself. She spent more time sleeping on the couch than her bed anyway and so she should have expected this. She blamed it on the shock of the day, the desire to place a door between her and her pet unfanged vampire, her aversion to letting anyone else in her room, whatever. Still, she could have just moved the TV into her room or set up her laptop or something. She wasn't that smart, however, and she nearly gave herself a heart-attack because of it.

This was one of the reasons she never had anyone stay the night and had a debilitating fear of napping on the tube. She had discovered, unfortunately, that she had a tendency to talk in her sleep.

"You aren't allowed to talk about vampires. It's a secret. Your life depends on it," Edward had warned. Well, he forgot tell her subconscious that and it was rather inconvenient to cry out "Don't suck her blood you evil vampire!" in crowded, public spaces. So, she tried to make sure she only slept when she was alone… until said vampire decided to make sure she would never be alone again.

She managed to calm herself down enough to calm down her panicking pancake of a flatmate.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry!" she said. "I forgot you were here!"

She got him settled back onto the couch, found her laptop, and retreated back to the safety of her room. Then she popped in Buffy season three. She was asleep before the third episode.

Oooo


He slept for nearly fifteen hours. She wasn't sure if it was jetlag, his undeveloped body, or drowning in novelty which made him so tired, but it was probably a combination of all of the above. When he did finally wake, he was more alert than he had been the night before and she was pleasantly surprised to find he wasn't entirely mute. He could ask for food and water and at least try to feed himself. He could say "yes" and "no." He knew the names of the basic body parts and a few objects, like tables and shoes. That was about it. Every now and then, he took her completely by surprise by spouting out a word or phrase she did not expect.

The first time it happened, was when she happened to stumble upon him just as he woke. She was tiptoeing to the kitchen when he heard her stub her toe on a table. At the sight of her, his groggy green eyes blinked open, a wide grin broke over his face and he sat upright in a hurry.

"Hello, Darling!" he boomed, so clearly and infused with so much warmth, that she gaped.

"Oh, so you can talk?" She mused. "Darling, huh? Well, I guess you don't take any time to warm up to someone. You can barely speak, yet he taught you to say that? Seriously?"

From then on, every time he woke, he addressed her the same way, at least, until she stopped him.

"Look, it's sweet and all for you to call me 'darling'," she said. "But, just call me Buffy, like everybody else does."

"Buffy?" he asked, hesitantly.

"Yeah. That's it."

"Not Darling?"

"No. Buffy."

Oooo


She dreamt about Badiyah that night. She couldn't remember much but a disjointed series of sand-colored images and a feeling of deep loss. Maybe, if she had finished the dream, she would have remembered something, but she startled awake again and she lost it all.

She stretched and turned to check the time. It wasn't yet two in the morning. She yawned, her mind still muddled by her sudden wakefulness. Then her eyes caught movement. She startled and swung her head to where a dark figure loomed in the shadows. Her hands desperately sought for the crowbar she kept under her bed.

The figure didn't move, but in the dim light cast by the hall lamp, she realized it was not a thief or a vampire. It was Anthony.

"What are you doing in here?" she hissed. She tried to get her heartbeat under control, but she doubted she would be able to sleep again. She pointed the crowbar at him and scowled.

He approached her slowly, cautiously, and motioned for her to set down the crowbar. In the next moment, he reached out and ran one hand through her hair. Before he could finish, she swung around and struck him square across his jaw with her palm. It was an instinct, but one she found she did not regret.

"Don't you touch me!" she screamed. "Get out! Don't you ever, ever come in here."

He fled the room without another word and didn't come back.

The next day, he skirted around the house like a dog with his tail between his legs. It wasn't like they could talk about it or discuss what had happened. He wouldn't understand. She did try, but she sure as hell wasn't gonna let him start sneaking into her room at night to watch her sleep and run his nose through her hair… or worse.

She installed a bolt lock on her door that night, but not even that helped her find sleep.

ooooo


As quickly as she could, she cleaned out the extra bedroom. It took a few days, especially since she had to spend all Anthony's waking hours in training him to be human. Somewhere in there, she still had to go to work and remember how to be human herself, so that didn't leave a lot of spare time for spare bedrooms.

She really, really missed her couch, so she stayed up late three nights in a row to get the room cleaned out. She was rather proud when she finished and set Baby Vamp up in his own little lair. It was powder blue with birds painted around the edges of the walls. If she squinted, she could pretend they were bats. It had its own vanity with a mirror, a white daybed, and a chest of drawers. It looked as if it had once been a child's room, which Buffy decided was rather perfect.

"You are gonna sleep here, now," she told him. He didn't comment on it. Buffy was tempted to teach him, "you are the light of my life and the goddess of all that is good," but refrained. There would be time for that later. Besides, she had made him spend nearly an hour lifting books to develop his arm muscles and the guy was literally panting by the time she let him have a break. He'd probably be sore for the next three days so it was not exactly the best time to teach officious flattery.

He collapsed onto the bed just as she remembered she really, really needed to train him to change his clothes before sleeping. She added that to the "lessons for tomorrow" list and went to bed herself. Not that she'd find much sleep.

Inevitably, she woke again, pulled her lap out from under her bed, and continued on with Buffy season five. Yet, in her mind, all she could think about was Edward's letter. She replayed it in her mind over and over again. He had the audacity to recognize his need for forgiveness... that he had wronged her. He promised she would not hear from him again. She did not know if that was a relief or if it made it all worse.