Chapter title from "You're Still a Mystery" by Bleachers

This fic follows in the footsteps of the grand tradition of Reggie as Julie's stepbrother, but Reggie and Julie were five years old when Ray and Reggie's mom got married, so they were raised as siblings and they'll only ever refer to each other as brother/sister.

August 2015

"But why not?" Defiant, Julie crosses her arms over her chest.

"Because you're untrained, and it's dangerous," Luke insists.

"I'm untrained because you won't train me!"

"Because I'm not your Watcher."

"But why aren't you my Watcher?"

"Because I'm dead, and therefore retired." Luke gestures around the loft of the abandoned warehouse they're standing in to emphasize his point. He has no money, and no actual need to sleep, so this is where he's been living. Because he's dead. And therefore retired.

"You're not properly dead."

"Dude, I was a shit Watcher. Believe me, me training you will make things worse." Julie opens her mouth to argue, but Luke cuts her off. "Okay, prime example, your identity as the Vampire Slayer is supposed to be secret, okay? That's, like, the number one thing. People can't know about your secret identity. What do you call this?"

He gestures to Alex and Flynn, who watch their discussion like a game of ping pong.

Unashamed, Julie holds her head high. "People knowing about my secret identity. BUT that's not your fault. I told my best friends. I can't tell my dad that I want to fight vampires because he'd freak out, so I needed to talk to someone about how I have a destiny and how my Watcher is a cute ghost."

For a second, Luke's reminded that he's seventeen and a pretty girl is calling him cute. But he's a dead seventeen and, while he isn't technically her Watcher, it's been a week since she was called and the Council hasn't sent her an official Watcher yet, so he lets the cute comment sail by. "I'm not your Watcher."

"I really thought you'd focus on the cute thing."

"Molina."

"He's my brother, okay? Vampires kidnapped Reggie, and as the Vampire Slayer, I'm not going to leave him there."

"I'm not asking you to. I'll scope it out-"

Flynn snorts loudly, finally interrupting. "No offense, but what are you contributing to the war effort? Decorative pecs? At least I can throw a punch."

"Neither of you," Luke points at Flynn and Alex, "should be going anywhere. Molina at least has supernatural strength, agility, and healing. You're mortal. You have no idea how fragile you are."

"I'm not fragile." Alex flexes. "Just last week, I did a single push up."

"Proves my point, dude. None of you are taking this seriously."

"Come on." Flynn rolls her eyes. "We just found out that vampires exist. It's either curl up in our beds forever and cry, or be sarcastic."

"I plan to do both." Alex rests his elbow on Flynn's shoulder.

Desperate, Luke spins back to Julie. "Look, I know some demons in Sunnydale who are decent dudes. I can scout things out, and they'll be the muscle, okay? But I'm not leading you guys into battle."

"You're not leading us. We're choosing to go into battle, and you're hanging back and yelling out helpful hints."

Alex pipes up. "Julie, maybe not your strongest argument?"

Julie scrunches up her curls in frustration. "Well, what do you suggest?"

Flynn rubs her friend's shoulder with a soothing hand, then meets Luke's gaze, steely-eyed. "We're going for Reggie whether you help us or not."

Luke groans loudly. He doesn't know how to argue with them. In their shoes, he would be saying and doing the same things. Hell, he'd already be at the vampires' nest. But he knows what they still don't—the very real human cost of fighting the forces of darkness.

It's partly his fault—he's been avoiding bringing it up. Julie told him that her mother died in childbirth, so Ray's obviously never told Julie the truth about Rose or vampires. How can Luke tell her why he doesn't want her in battle without opening up some painful wounds about her mother's death, her father's lies, and her own fate? She hasn't yet seemed to grasp the "all Slayers die young and die painfully" element of her destiny, and he hasn't had the heart to push it beyond making vague comments about her safety. Why does he have to tell yet another Molina woman that she's due to die prematurely for the sake of the universe?

But maybe this is an opening for him to stress the whole "you may die horribly" thing without sending Julie into an existential crisis.

"Do you wanna know how I died?" He pulls out the neck of his muscle tee to reveal the bite scars on his shoulder. All three of the humans' eyes widen. "I spent my whole life studying vampires and training to fight. It took one hungry vamp about twenty seconds to drain all the blood out of me."

"That's so cool!" Flynn's eyes widen for a moment. Then her face quickly turns apologetic. "Sorry, not cool. Tragic."

Julie steps closer to him. "Look, maybe we're being a bit… immature?" She glances at Alex and Flynn.

Alex nods. "Yeah, that's fair."

Expression unusually serious, she turns back to Luke. "I promise we get that it's dangerous. But you can't say 'I know you can rock this'"—she imitates him in a way that feels both unnecessary and spot on—"and then put me in bubble wrap. And you can't tell me I'm the Vampire Slayer and tell me I can't slay vampires." She has a point, and he knows it. But that's not why he relents. It's because of what she says next, as she pleads with wide, vulnerable eyes. "Do you not believe I can do this?"

"Of course I do." Fuck. There's no other choice. "If you want to save Reggie, we have to go now." Flynn and Alex cheer, but the vulnerable look doesn't fully leave Julie's face. "Alex, you were closest to Reggie when they took him. Where do you think they were heading?"

The plan is for Luke to use his ghost abilities to poof in to the sewers where they suspect the vampires' nest is. If the vampires see Luke, he reasons, the worst that can happen is that they try to punch thin air.

Unfortunately, he's the one who ends up getting the surprise when he poofs into the sewers right next to a vampire. He grins cheekily and waves—hey, might as well enjoy this whole ghost thing, right?

Nope. The vampire swings a fist at his face and it makes contact with a sharp crack. Luke staggers back, more shocked than hurt, and poofs out.

He reappears beside Julie on the sidewalk by the sewer entrance in the industrial part of Sunnydale.

"What happ-Are you bleeding?"

"Okay, some news. Turns out that I'm not noncorporeal."

Flynn immediately tries to squeeze his bicep, but her hand goes through him. Julie smacks her friend lightly on the arm. "I was just checking!" Flynn cries, unapologetic. When Julie turns away, Alex gives Flynn a fist bump down low.

Julie pointedly ignores her friends. "Okay, so, what? Vampires can touch you?"

Luke squeezes his nose bridge and winces. "Lemme check real quick."

He poofs away and then back twenty seconds later, his face covered in multiple bruises and an unruly amount of pain.

"Where did you go?" Julie asks.

"Willie's Place. Demon bar in the city. I was wondering if other demons can touch me. Turns out they can. Also they don't like it when people suddenly appear out of nowhere."

"That shocks me," Julie deadpans. "Truly." He grins sheepishly at her. An answering grin slides across her face, like she's won some sort of prize. "Look at that—he smiles."

Okay, yeah. She's cute.

He pulls his attention back to the problem at hand. "Okay, so I can touch demons. That means I'm back in play." He grins at Flynn. "Not just decorative anymore."

"About time you pulled your weight around here."

Julie grins. "You ready for take two?"

Luke assumes that there is a way to utilize poofing in and out effectively in a fight, using it to confuse and surprise the enemy. But he's only been a ghost for a week, and so far the poofing in and out is more confusing and surprising for him than anyone else. Every time he arrives in a new place, he needs to take several seconds to get his bearings. It doesn't help that Julie, Alex, and Flynn are moving ahead in the tunnels. Every time he tries to poof back to let them know what's up ahead, he ends up missing, either too far forward or too far back. After six tries, he stop trying and just walks with them, his head spinning.

"Okay, so," Julie asks. "Wood through the heart, beheading, fire, sunlight? Anything else slay vamps?" She says "vamps" like she's trying out new slang she's not sure about, and he can't help but grin.

"Um, holy water, but you need a lot of it to actually slay. Not super practical. Religious symbols don't kill vamps, but they burn, so they're a good deterrent for a moment if you don't have anything else and just need to get away. Though I did meet a vamp once who, uh, liked the burn, so that's not 100%."

"Liked the burn?" She looks confused for a second, then her eyes bug. "Oh, like a… sex thing?"

"Really didn't ask questions, more focused on running for my life."

"Okay, ew. Um… no reflection, flying, hate garlic, can't come in unless invited?"

"Yes, no, no, yes." She shoots him an exasperated look. "They can't fly, and garlic won't do anything. Though my Slayer once chased a vamp out of a Trader Joe's by chucking garlic cloves at him like they were hand grenades, so, you know. If you throw hard enough and believe in yourself."

"You had another Slayer?"

The vampire who steps out into the hallway has perfect timing. Julie ducks her punch and slams her stick into the vampire's chest. She disappears into dust.

"The dust thing is cool," Alex observes. "It's like they're self-cleaning."

Flynn raises a dubious eyebrow. "… except for the dust."

"I mean, unless Julie's planning on slaying in her living room, I don't think the dust is really going to matter."

"What's up there?" Julie points to a door at the end of the hallway. Luke poofs in and out.

"Teenage boy, black hair, red flannel?"

"Reggie!" the three humans exclaim and sprint toward the door.

Julie breaks the doorknob clean off with a simple twist of her wrist and they hurry in. Reggie is sprawled on the floor in the corner, pale. Julie collapses at his side, shaking him awake. "Reggie, Reggie!"

His eyes blink open slowly, and a groggy voice groans out of him. "Jules?"

"Well, that was easy," Alex sighs with relief.

"Yeah, you really oversold how hard this would be." But Flynn looks skeptical.

She has a point—it was way too easy. Everything about this screams "trap." And it's only then that Luke notices a bite on Reggie's neck, just barely hidden by the collar of his flannel. And, more importantly, the tint of blood at his lips.

"Julie, get away from him."

"What? Why?"

Reggie lunges for her. Not about to force Julie to use her Slayer powers against her own brother, Luke grabs him by the shoulders and slams him into the wall.

"They turned him. He's a vampire."

Luke manages to hold Reggie at bay until the three humans escape, though he has a new selection of bruises and has learned that apparently his blood (or whatever it is that flows through his ghost body) is "totally undrinkable, dude."

The four of them take refuge in Luke's warehouse. He rummages up some blankets to drape around the humans' shoulders, trying to help alleviate the effects of shock. The three teenagers huddle together on the floor. Alex and Flynn can't stop crying, but Julie just stares vacantly in disbelief, like she can singlehandedly undo her brother's murder by simply not believing it's happened.

Luke takes a deep breath as he sits across from them. He hates to say this right now, but this is the kind of thing a Watcher needs to do. "You know how the vampire turning thing works?"

"They suck your blood, you suck their blood." Julie's voice sounds distant, the way it did in the cemetery the day they met.

"After that. You know…" God, this is the last thing they need to hear right now, but he has to be sure that they know. People get killed for thinking a vampire is the same person they used to be. "Reggie's soul is gone. He's not in there anymore. The thing in his body is now a-"

"Demon, yeah," Flynn cuts him off. "We got it when you could touch him, thanks."

"I'm sorry. But vampires are a mindfuck, and we have to be on the same page." His eyes meet Julie's again. "I'm so, so sorry."

He wishes he could give her a hug, but the closest he can get is putting his foot next to hers and pretending that he can nudge it if he wants to. They sit in silence for a while. Eventually, the deep, steady breaths on either side of her let him know that her friends have fallen asleep.

But Julie fiddles with the protection amulet around her neck, dragging the locket back and forth on the chain. She clears her throat and meets his gaze. Then starts listing facts, as if laying out the pieces to a puzzle she's trying to solve.

"You knew my mother." Dread pools in his stomach. "She died the day I was born. So did you. You were killed by a vampire. You came out of this necklace. Which I found in a box of my mom's old stuff. You've worked with a Slayer before." Of course she put it together. "My mother didn't die in childbirth, did she?"

What's he going to do? Lie to her when she semi-trusts him? Deny Rose her legacy of bravery just like the rest of the world?

"No, she died saving the world."

Julie bursts into tears. Again, he desperately wants to hug her, to comfort her. But all he can do is watch her cry. (And god, people crying still makes him uncomfortable, even after seventeen years of being dead.)

It takes several minutes for her breathing to calm down. "Why didn't you tell me when we first met?"

Trying to figure out how to put his thoughts into words, he sighs. "When you're called as the Slayer, it's all excitement and superpowers and grand destiny. No one really wants to talk about the price you pay for it."

"I knew this was dangerous."

Shaking his head, he leans forward. "Every Slayer 'knows,' but they don't really know. Slayers don't run in families or friend groups. One girl in all the world, randomly chosen from around the globe. They never actually know each other. They know they come from this line of hundreds of other girls for thousands of years who lived short, violent lives. But it's abstract—it's faceless girls and it's so much pain and death that it's impossible to think about concretely. And they've got all this supernatural strength and power and it's easy to feel like they're invincible and they're gonna be the exception. That's not gonna be the case for you. You'll know in a way no Slayer has ever known before. I just wanted you to get to feel like a superhero for a bit before…" He can't finish the sentence.

Julie processes everything he's said, but sticks on one thing. "How short? How long… do girls live after they've been called?"

"It varies. Depending on what forces they have to face, how well they're trained, what kinda support group they have-" He gestures at the sleeping Alex and Flynn, and only then realizes that Flynn's eyes are open and she's been listening the whole time, fresh tears streaming down her face. Luke's heart sinks.

"But on average?" Julie asks.

"The Watchers' Council doesn't keep that kinda data."

But Julie won't be bullshitted. "I don't believe that."

He tries again. "I dunno the exact number off the top of my head."

"I don't believe that either."

How on earth does she read him so well? "It's not gonna be helpful for you to know."

"Fuck." She leans back against the crate behind her. "So it's shorter than I think it is." Again, he's stuck watching her take in that information, wondering what she'll do with it. So far, her mind never goes where he expects it to.

"Why don't you want to be my Watcher?"

Because he remembers being Rose's Watcher like it was just two weeks ago because, well, for him it was. Even though he'd known the statistics and he'd known the reality, there had been something about actually knowing the Slayer that had made it feel impossible that she could die. Rose had been vibrant and fierce and powerful and unapologetic, and every day that she survived seemed like evidence that she always would. He won't have that hope this time. Or he shouldn't. But looking at Julie, even tiny and wrapped in a blanket and grief as she is right now, he can't imagine her dying. It'll be the same thing all over again, and does he honestly think he can put himself through that again?

But her eyes meet his and he knows that he doesn't really have a choice. He was there when she was called. He got her to pick up a stake before she knew it was her destiny to do so. She's his Slayer, no matter what he's afraid of.

But he also knows the Council and he knows that the choice won't be up to him. "I do want to be your Watcher. But they'll never let me."

She cocks her head. "Why not?"

"First of all because he's far too young." Quentin Travers, the head of the Watchers' Council, sits across from Julie. He sweeps his eyes disdainfully around Luke's warehouse loft. Luke isn't sure if the seventeen years of being dead have given him more perspective on Travers, but the man definitely sounds even more condescending (and somehow more cartoonishly English?) than he had when Luke was alive.

"But he was old enough for my mother?"

"Circumstances were… different."

Luke snorts loudly. The part of him that wants Travers to suffer for the way he treated Rose longs to force him to explain why it's different. The part of him that cares about Julie doesn't want her to know how little her mother's life mattered to the Council.

"Second of all, he is dead. His abnormal presentation of the afterlife leaves us unable to ascertain his true nature, and we cannot risk tasking your safety to an unknown supernatural entity." Oh god, there are already Watchers writing impossibly dense doctoral theses about his "abnormal presentation of the afterlife," aren't there?

"So… what? He's not like other ghosts and you're worried he might be evil?" Julie turns to Luke. The gesture warms the place where his heart should be—she's already acting like they're a team. "Is that a valid concern?"

"I don't feel evil, but I guess you have to take my word for it."

"I don't think I could take you seriously as an evil force. You're allergic to sleeves and you remind me too much of a puppy."

"What breed of-"

"Third of all," Travers cuts in loudly, "and most importantly, Mr. Patterson has been operating in an unofficial capacity as your Watcher for less than two weeks, and already your identity as the Slayer has been revealed to two civilians who, as I understand it, then accompanied you into the field. I also understand that a family member was turned several days ago and, in spite of having numerous encounters with him since then and multiple opportunities to slay him, you have not instructed your Slayer to do so."

Julie stills, her face a war between rage and grief. Every time they've run into Reggie over the past few days, Luke has held him off so that Julie can escape, and he stands by that decision. "Yeah, I thought it'd be rad if we let her mourn her brother's death for at least a week before we asked her to murder him."

"And how many other people's families will have to suffer for your coddling? Sentimental and sloppy, Mr. Patterson. I'm recommending you be replaced, effective immediately, by Mrs. Harrison. Miss Molina, you will benefit greatly from her tutelage, she's-"

"No." Travers jerks back as if the word is a personal affront. But there's a look on Julie's face, the same look she had when she figured out that her mother was a Slayer. Like she's figured out a truth that the man across from her can't hide anymore. "Patterson is my Watcher."

"I'm afraid that you do not get a choice in the matter. The Council is best positioned to make these kinds of decisions. You will welcome Mrs. Harrison as your new Watcher."

Julie raises an eyebrow, and she looks so like Rose in that moment that it breaks Luke's heart. "Or what?"

"Pardon me?"

"What are you gonna do if I don't?"

"… it's the Council's orders."

"So, nothing then."

He rises to his feet. "Miss Molina-"

She gets up too, meeting him. "I'm the Slayer." She spits it out with such force that Travers takes a tiny step back. "And he's my Watcher."

"That Watcher got your mother killed." It's an absolute gut punch. There's meant to be a code of honor on the Council—unless a Watcher bears very clear responsibility for a Slayer's death, no other Watcher ever dredges it up. Everyone's Slayer dies, no matter how good the Watcher. Throwing it in someone's face, even if every fibre of Luke's being privately agrees with Travers, is just tacky.

But Julie doesn't bat an eye. "No, a Council that put the fate of the world on the shoulders of one woman right after she gave birth got my mother killed. And the only person at her side in that battle was that Watcher." Sneering, she looks Travers up and down. "Where the hell were you?"

Luke feels like his face may literally be glowing with an awestruck smile. He's never seen anyone so much as disagree with Travers, let alone dress him down so thoroughly. The fact that that dressing down is coming from a tiny teenage girl just adds to his joy.

"If you want an active Slayer, he's my Watcher. Those are my terms." Luke can tell from Travers' resigned eyebrow raise that he knows he has no choice but to cave, so Luke jumps in.

"Actually, two more things: she wants a salary, and she wants an Orb of Thesulah."

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Julie's confusion, but he doesn't want to explain yet in case his plan doesn't work.

Travers sighs impatiently. "Only Watchers receive a salary-"

Julie's mouth drops open. "Excuse me? Watchers are paid but Slayers aren't?"

"Miss Molina, you have a sacred destiny-"

"Yes, my destiny is to receive payment for my labor." Luke can feel that glowing smile return to his face. This girl is his actual hero.

Travers exhales again. "We could possibly negotiate… a stipend-"

"Salary or slay your own damn vamps."

Travers glares at Luke, who just smiles innocently back. He only regrets that he didn't realize the Slayer had this kind of bargaining power back when he was first assigned to Rose.

"Fine, a salary." He turns his attention back to Luke, a knowing look on his face. "But there are no more Orbs of Thesulah in this world."

Hundreds of underground vaults in the Council Chambers storing artifacts of the occult, and not a single Orb of Thesulah? Luke takes a page out of Julie's book. "I don't believe you."

"Mr. Patterson-" This is when Luke loses his patience.

"You owe her this. I asked you to send backup to that hospital. The Special Ops team, anything."

"That was seventeen years ago."

"For you. Two weeks for me, a lifetime for her." He can guess the mental math the Council did—they didn't like Slayers to be mothers, especially new mothers. Too much focus on a life outside slaying. Calculations had been made, and Rose had been left on her own. They may not have killed her directly, but they might as well have. "The Orb. Bare minimum you owe her."

"Even if we had one, none in the Council's employ will cast that spell." Julie opens her mouth to argue, but Travers holds up a firm hand. "That's not something you can bully your way into. We're not risking the souls of our witches on that ritual."

"We don't need the Council's witches. Just the Orb."

Julie still doesn't know what's going on, but she crosses her arms and tries to look intimidating to force the point. Luke struggles to keep a grin off his face at her stern expression.

Travers sighs heavily, and sticks out his hand for Julie to shake. "Mr. Patterson as your Watcher, a… salary, and an Orb of Thesulah. I do hope the rest of our communications won't be this hostile."

Based on Travers' wince, Luke assumes that Julie is shaking his hand with a bit of her Slayer strength. She forces an ugly smile at him. "Don't call us, we'll call you."

Julie is curled up on her bed, apparently trying and failing to sleep when Luke appears in her room. Jerking backwards, she lets out a soft shriek.

"Don't you knock?"

"Um…"

"Boundaries! Doors exist."

He chuckles sheepishly. "Right, sorry, forgot about those."

But she slips out of bed and approaches him. "Are there vampires or something?"

He shakes his head and rests his hand on her desk as he roots in his pocket for something. Pushing all his focus to his fingers, he holds up a small black box and holds it out for her to take.

"What's this?"

"The only Orb of Thesulah left in the world. According to the Council."

"Are you finally going to tell me what that is?"

"Ingredient in the Ritual of Restoration-"

"Patterson, I'm really not in the mood for mystical nonsense."

"It's not nonsense; it's very real."

"That doesn't make it not nonsense."

He can't help but laugh. Her impatient disdain for all the pomp and circumstance of slaying, magic, and demonology may be the best thing that's happened to him since he died. "The Orb of Thesulah retrieves a human soul. The Ritual of Restoration puts that soul back in the body it belongs to."

Brows furrowed, she tries to connect the pieces. He can see when it clicks because her jaw drops, no words coming out for a moment as she looks to him for confirmation. "Reggie?"

"He'll still be a vampire. But he will be Reggie."

Her fingers trace the box gently, tears filling her eyes. "How do we…" She opens the box, finding it empty.

"Already done. I know a warlock at the Bronze. He finished the Ritual five minutes ago." For the price of basically Luke's entire yearly salary, but hey, benefit of being a ghost. What else is he going to do with money? "Your brother should be home soon."

Disbelief and joy take over her face, and she stares at him like... he doesn't know. No one's ever looked at him like that before. "I really want to hug you right now."

"Well, don't, cause you'll fall on your face."

She sets her hand next to his on the desk, fitting her fingers in the gaps between his. She's not smiling exactly, but beaming with a fierce internal light. "Thank you," she whispers fervently.

"You're welcome."

He's suddenly conscious of the silence in the room, their proximity, the lateness of the hour. It feels private and tense, overwhelmingly intimate, and he's acutely aware of the fact that he died before he got to spend too much time in other people's bedrooms.

From downstairs, they hear a knock on the door. It breaks the tension. Her head spins wildly from him to the direction of the front door, as if she can see through the floorboards. He gives her a soft smile.

"Go invite your brother in."

Episodes of Buffy referenced in this chapter:
• "Helpless" (one of my favorites, so I had to give some nod to it)
• "Welcome to the Hellmouth"/"The Harvest"
• "Becoming"
• Not a direct reference, but the Travers scene was very inspired by "Checkpoint," which is another of my favorite episodes