Chapter 3: "Mommy's little killer's all growed up now!"
He was covered in slices of cheddar, and wearing a cheese hat like some demented and fanatical Wisconsin fan. Lifting a finger he wagged it sternly at her, "Wear the cheese." he intoned portentously: "Do NOT let the cheese wear you." She nodded, and replied, "Oh, what a Friend we have in Cheezits." Edged past him. Walking onward, she passed a clump of tiny, rock like demons with pickaxes clanking away. Her temples throbbed in time - or maybe sympathy - to the axe clinks.
"Impressive isn't it?" Faith nodded, finding herself suddenly standing at the edge of a deep, circular, did I mention DEEP?, pit. Nine terraced levels, she noted. Parts of it near enough to see were filled with an enormous city looking like a cross between a humongous industrial nightmare mating with a bio-mechanical spider, and something out of Bosch. There were unpleasant movements at the corner of her eyes wherever she looked, but nothing stirred when looked at directly. Flames, and screams - mechanical and other - erupted periodically from various parts of the structure filling the pit. The angles were wrong: they hurt her eyes if she looked at them too long.
"You have to stop them." Faith turned to the voice this time, unsurprised by the speaker.
"Queen C." Faith smirked. "Got over your case of 'deliver-the-bitch-goddess' induced coma already?"
Cordelia grinned. "No. It killed me. But no one knows yet." Faith nodded. "You know that wasn't really me, back there, right?"
"I figured it out, finally. After Jasmine's TV debut."
Cordelia nodded, and jerked her chin towards the Pit. "You recognize it?"
Faith looked, thought upon it for a time. "Hellmouth to end all Hellmouths?" she ventured. "S'got that vibe to it."
"Got it in one, kiddo." Cordelia gave her a serious look. "You have to stop them. You have to stop it."
Eye roll "Why me? Why not deliver the message to Golden Girl, B? Why bring it to The Fuckup Slayer?"
"Buffy's out of the Apocalypse Loop for now. She did her Big Thing. She has others, but not yet."
Faith snorted. "Ah. Send in the backup team, then? How 'bout Willow? Kennedy? Slayers, Inc? There's more than one of them now, yanno. Or Angel and Crew? Getcher self a real Hero or three, not a screwup?"
Cordelia's turn for an eye roll "Self esteem probs, much?" She snickered. "Not that you don't have reason for them."
"Yeah. Right." Faith frowned. "Always knew you hated my guts, C." She gestured out at the smoking pit, under a blood orange sky. "Ok. How, then?"
Cordelia frowned, looked out at the sloping terraces, the skittering movements and flames. "Don't know. You'll have to find out." She looked at Faith, levelly. "You have to understand: I'm not really here, and I don't really know. I'm just channeling the message - they don't give me details. My spirit, my 'self' if you will, is just connected to the part of me that's in your memories. All I can do is tell you I know you can do it: you're more than you know. All the part that's the Messenger has is the data, but no understanding. Figuring it out's up to you."
"Heh. Sucks working for the Powers, don't it?" Faith crossed her arms, raised an eyebrow. "Feel like a mushroom, much?" She grinned.
"Tell ME!" Cordelia grinned back.
"So." Faith raised a hand, started counting off. "Someone or something's gonna open Hellmouthzilla. You don't know who, or can't say. You don't know how, or can't say, because they didn't tell you anything beyond the 'Where I went on my Summer Vacation to Hell' slide show You just know that Someone's gotta Stop It, somehow. And I'm it, kinda like The Power's Psychotic Pokemon. That about sums it up?"
"Got it Five-by-Five, Faith." Cordelia smirked. "I'm SO proud of you. Mommy's little killer's all growed up now and like, smart and everything!"
A harsh bark of laughter was startled out of Faith, almost against her will. "Gotta hand it to you, C - you've always had attitude, in spades. And style."
Cordelia smiled. "Damn right."
She turned back to the pit, "Oh well." She shrugged. "Wasn't doing anything better right now. And it's a good day to die."
Cordelia smacked her on the arm, frowning. "Rule Number One, Faith: Don't Die." She gave her a fierce look. "Don't you dare fucking die."
"ow!" Faith stepped back, startled. That hurt, dammit.
"You listen to me, dammit." Cordelia stepped nose to nose with the Slayer, glaring. "You are NOT the 'Fuckup Slayer', damn you. You are the fucking Chosen One. You will not fucking die on me: I've lost too damned many people I care about already, and I'm going to lose more. You are not going to be one of them. I will resurrect both of us and beat the living crap out of you if you do. You have everything you need to do this, everyone around you you need. Just draw on them, dammit. They're good people you've fallen in with. They can help you, if you let them in. Lose that damned 'I'm a screwup' shtick you're so fond of and grow out of it - it doesn't fit you so well any more. You didn't let Angel down, you didn't let Wesley down, and you didn't screw up in Sunnyhell when it counted last time. You're not that beaten, terrified fifteen year old any more."
Faith stepped back again. Wow. "Damn. Let me guess: that's not a Power talking, that's the pure QueenC, huh?" She nodded.
Cordelia met her eyes level, gaze smoking. "Damn straight, Faith." She grinned suddenly, "And you're wrong: I was a Power before all this. You just never knew it."
"Guess you showed me, huh?" Faith gave her smoking look back, in spades. Pity they'd never had a meeting like this before Cordelia's coma. This was a side of the cheerleader she'd heard about, from Angel and Wes, but never knew. Someone she could have respected. And liked, a lot.
"Someone had to." Cordelia sobered; grasped Faith by the shoulders in an almost bruising hard grip. "And you're wrong about other things. I don't hate you. Couldn't hate someone who did what you did for Angel. May not always like you a lot," she said, smiling, "but it's a shame we'll never have a chance to find out if we could."
She continued, locking Faith's gaze to hers. "You're not anyone's 'backup Slayer', Faith. You're The Slayer now, have been since Kendra died. Many are Called; You were Chosen. If anyone's the "backup', it's Buffy - and even that's not quite accurate."
Cordelia frowned, like she was struggling for expression. "Buffy's been through the fires already. You're still being forged. By the time you get quenched, you're going to be one hell of a person. One hell of a Champion." She winked, releasing Faith's shoulders. "And don't forget it."
Sunnydale's former QueenC looked at Faith then with something Faith didn't recognize Couldn't recognize
She was still puzzling at it as the dream scape faded around her, taking the former cheerleader with it, and she felt the waking world draw at her. She felt a very small voice in the back of her mind whisper:
"oh. So that's what respect looks like. I didn't know... "
"Never been quenched before. Sounds kinky..." were the first words out of Faith's mouth when she awoke. She frowned, eyes still closed, wondering where that came from. Then she remembered and sat bolt upright as the Slayer dream flooded back into her head; full technihorrors and all. Ow. Mistake. BAD mistake. Ow, ow.
Imps with white hot jackhammers tunneling out through her temples? Check. Raging thirst? Check. Mouth like the bottom of a used ashtray? Check. Intense allergy to bright light? Check and double check She fell back onto the bed, eyes squeezed shut again. 'Nother Bad Mistake. Impact with pillow causes intense pain? Check. Ow ow.
"Ow ow? That would be 'Excedrin Headache Number 123: Massive Amounts of Alcohol Poisoning', I'd bet." Too loud whisper of fabric as the owner of the unrecognized - female - voice came into the room. Too intense smell of leather and steel. Damned slayer senses. Faith tensed imperceptibly, ready for fight/flight. And hoping like hell there wouldn't be any abrupt movements involved here. She suspected anything more than blinking would split her head open.
"Coffee?" the voice asked.
"Oh gods, you're a saint." Faith cracked one eye open, very carefully. So far so good. She managed to get raised up on one elbow to accept the proffered - and heavenly smelling - cup of coffee without too much agony. A far-too-hot gulp later, she felt world's better. Enough to suspect that living might be an option. She cracked open the other eye as The Coffee Goddess gave a soft laugh.
"No saint. Just someone who's survived a few hangovers myself, in the past."
Faith glanced around. Small room, cracking concrete walls and louvered steel shutters over the window. Door at one end looked like it led to a bathroom. Door Coffee Goddess came in through looked like it led to a hallway. Mid/late evening sun through the window, far too much slayer survival experience at gauging 'how far to dark/light?' telling her. She finished the coffee more slowly than her first scalding gulps, looking the Coffee Bringer over. Medium small girl-woman, maybe a bit taller than herself. Wavy brown hair. Hard muscle under the softness. Wearing a leather bodice top, tight khaki cargo pants bottoms. Not exactly beautiful, but pretty. 'Striking' was a word that suggested itself: Faith got the impression that if the girl were to focus the immense strength of personalty she was sensing on you, you'd decide that she was very beautiful indeed... Scars... a fighter, this one. A Warrior, like herself. Most importantly: smiling and carrying a tray with a coffee carafe, small iced water pitcher, a small glass of brown liquid, and a bottle of aspirin and Tylenol
"More?" Faith nodded carefully, small movement, and held her mug out to be topped off. "After that, you'd better have some water, and a couple of painkillers. You're probably dehydrated as hell."
"Definitely, oh Goddess of the Caffeine." That won a grin from the girl, she dimpled.
"Where am I?" Might as well fish for data, start trying to piece together where she ended up. She vaguely remembered far too much booze, multiple bars, a fight... burning vamps?
"Our place." Faith's raised eyebrow and unspoken 'Tells me exactly nuthin' won her another dimple and a, "Salvage yard, living quarters, workshops, several miles in from the waterfront. Depths of New Jersey."
"Oh gods, I'm in Hell!"
"No, just New Jersey. Hell's farther south."
"I'm in Hell with a hangover and a wise ass," Faith snorted and shot her a glower. "I think I'll try some of that water next."
She nodded and poured her a glass, handed it to her with a couple of Tylenol as Faith sat up, groaning. After Faith drained the water, she handed her the small brown glass. "Try this. It'll help, LOTS."
At Faith's raised eyebrow, she said "Dad's hangover recipe. You don't want to know what's in it, it tastes like toad piss, but you'll feel tons better about five minutes after it hits bottom. Old Family cure."
"For Old Families, gotcha." Faith gave the glass a suspicious look, and even more suspicious sniff. Smelled like what she'd imagine toad's piss smelled like, too.
At Faith's continued dubious expression, she snorted: "If we were planning to kill you, we could have just dumped you in the pool and let you learn to breath water while you were passed out."
Faith tossed it off, ignoring the taste. No worse than some potions she'd been fed by Willow or Wes. Burned all the way down, then settled and spread warmth through her entire body. A few minutes later, she brightened. "Whoa - damn, girl. You should sell that stuff!"
Another grin. "Ingredients list'd never make it past the FDA."
"Faith." She stuck her hand out. "And I can't call you 'Coffee Goddess', no matter it'd be appropriate?"
"Whistler." The return grip was strong, but not trying to prove anything. "Friends call me 'Abby'."
"Cool." She nodded, enjoying the lack-of-searing-pain in the movement. "Number of minor questions, none of them Deal Breakers just yet." She ticked them off on her fingers: "Who undressed me? Where's my stuff? How'd I get here? And where can I pee?"
Smile. "That would be: Me; in there; Blade brought you; that way," she pointed to the door Faith'd already figured held a bathroom. "And if you want to take a shower while you're in there, I'll bring your clothes. Don't think my spares will fit you, so you'll have to make do with what you had on?"
"Cool." Faith bounced up, grinned, and headed for the bath-and-shower. Interesting, doubly so with C's "They're good people you've fallen in with" recommendation echoing in her mind. Triply so with the resonance of the slayer-buzz she'd felt from the girl. Wonder if she knew? Way she moved, and those scars, she was obviously trained - Faith doubted she really needed a trip through the Slayer-school Mill.
She did make a mental note to not wander off blind drunk and stupid again, no matter that it seemed to land her in the most interesting places. next time, it might make for a good way to get dead, and she had it on Good Authority that that just wasn't allowed.
...
She followed the sound of voices, and the smell of food after her shower. Eventually leading her to a large, open room cluttered with work tables, shelving, books, junk, weapons, computers, and odds and ends of electronics that her experiences with messy geeks suggested wasn't nearly as haphazardly laid out as they looked. A place she could get to feel at home in, if she let herself, she thought.
Spotting her weapons on a counter, she headed for that not paying any obvious attention to the people in the room. Hyper aware of them nonetheless, and curious to see their reactions to her immediately heading to get armed and fully "dressed". She relaxed when they only followed her with curious gazes as she checked over the swords and blades, and strapped them on... until she paused scooping up her bike keys with a stricken feeling.
"Shit! Fuck!" She shook her head. "Dammit to hell..."
"What?" That would be the slim, intense white guy-with-a-beard, interesting concern in his voice.
"My bike, dammit." She turned to face the group, slumping against the counter. "I have NO damned idea where I left it. Shit!"
"S'all right. Relax." That was the big guy. Intense and very Black, but not working at it. She gave him a stricken look, hopeful and hating the feeling of looking to a not-met-yet-stranger for any kind of reassurance. "It's in the yard. Found it this afternoon in a bar lot. Brought it back."
"Oh hell." She damped down the flood of relief, not wanting it to show. QueenC or no dream-talk, she didn't like showing weakness to people, much less strangers, and her feelings for that bike were a weakness. "Thanks."
Raised eyebrow from the slender guy. "Special bike?"
"Yah. Gift from a friend." Damned near only friend, she added in her mind. Gave him the Faith Grin, patented insouciance, 'every thing's five-by-five' to cover the momentary lapse. "Was afraid I might have wrecked it while drunk, or had it stolen."
She looked them over while he digested that, not minding getting a very professional return look over back from the three. Not your typical 'two guys and a gal checking out a good looking tough chick' appraisal, although there was some of that from the slim guy. A predator's appraisal, all three: a casual, thorough 'dangerous, but just how dangerous and can I take her?' once-over mixed with a strong dose of 'is she a danger to my pack?' from the big black guy. She swallowed a smile, damned tempted to look him dead in the eyes and respond out loud with 'No. But I could bring danger to them. And probably am.' Figured he read that off of her anyway, and determined it on his own. No fool there. He nodded once, as if responding to the not-spoken. Spooky.
The girl, Abby, handed her a plate piled high with eggs and bacon with an inquiring look. "Food?"
"Oh, definitely - thanks." Faith found a seat and an empty counter spot and started shoveling it in while continuing her inspection. None of them seemed inclined to interrupt either activity with conversation at the moment. "S'good. Damn."
Slim guy - damn, she'd have to put names to these people sooner or later - ducked a grin and raised an eyebrow at the rate she was putting it away. "She eats like you, Ab - gulps it by the bucket load." Abby looked daggers at him. "She sticks around, we'll have to install two troughs." Abby threw something at him, hard.
Ko. Slender guy. Intense, lots of restrained energy. Easy grin. Trim beard. Probably a smartass: had that feel to him, and that glint in the eyes with the easy laugh lines. Reminded her of Xander, in a way. Hardass, too - nothing soft about him. He had that look about him too, like Xan... used to going up against faster and tougher things, used to getting hurt and not quitting. Ever. Had that feel to him, in the way his body unconsciously related to Abby and the other guy: they were his family, and anything that wanted to get to them, had to go through him, and usually did. At a cost. And never you mind that neither of them needed protection. Felt like a vamp to her slayer sense, but not. Something else. Definitely a soul behind those eyes, too, so not undead. Definitely bedable, if you liked them slim, wiry, and slightly manic.
The big guy. At a guess, this would be the 'Blade that brought you' Abby'd mentioned. Dark, short hair flat on top, odd tatoos on neck. Very muscled, moved like a huge panther: just damned radiated 'controlled violence' in a way that screamed 'Big Bad. Do NOT fuck with' to her slayer-honed predator detection senses. B were here, she'd be vibrating in place trying to decide whether she should fuck him or kill him. Or kill him, have him turned, then fuck him, Faith grinned around a mouthful of food at the mental image. She had a clear memory, one of the few from last night, of looking up at three of him thinking 'Damn! Schweet!' and doing wolf-whistles in her head. Definitely the alpha, here. Definitely considered the others family-and-pack, and under his protection. Also registered as 'like-vampire-but-not-something-other' to her slayer senses. Taciturn Focused. Reminded her of Oz in a way: had that whole 'Make the most of few words' and very centered Zen thing going.
She'd already checked out the girl. Young woman - have to break the 'girl' thought pattern, Abby was probably as old as she was, or a bit older. Early 20's. But she felt younger than Faith, in a way Faith hadn't in years, if ever. Slayer... and the way she moved, obviously combat experienced before Willow's screwing with the Scythe had Called her along with all the other potentials, permanently fucking up their lives sans consent or a by-yer-leave. Sure, it'd saved all their asses, and there hadn't been any better options floating around for going after the First, Caleb, and an army of Turok-han... so the bitter snark was probably not completely justified. Still: rather a rude awakening to a lot of girls who suddenly found themselves super-powered with no idea what was happening. And it'd already killed several of them, they hadn't gotten to in time, would kill several more yet, who probably never knew why they were on some monster's hit list...
Although, given that she was running with these two killers, Abby probably wouldn't begrudge the extra boost.
All three of them were fighters. Trained fighters, they had that look. More... a unit: they had that 'Divide the Universe into three parts, the part each of us watches' way of relating to each other with their bodies, and with the way they seldom met each others eyes that comes from living, working, and damned near dying beside each other. B's scoobies had had that, after years, although they'd lost more than a bit of it there at the end, after too much pain and too much stress had ground the trust off of them.
She wondered how the hell she was going to manage to break it to them that according to the Powers-that-do-Jack-Shit-While-Fucking-Up-People's-Lives, they were probably supposed to help her stave off something major and apocalyptic. Without getting killed explaining it to them. She wasn't looking forward to getting resurrected so C could beat hell out of her. The woman she'd met in the dream ways could probably pull it off, just on sheer force of will.
The air of wary not-quite-but-almost friendliness and cautious, curiosity laced acceptance she was picking up from them to her felt too damned good for her to want to break it just now. And she didn't even want to think through the implications of that.
She finally finished, both the first plate, and the next Abby'd handed her without being asked, and sat back, stifling a belch. Clean, unhungover, stuffed to slayer repletion... if it hadn't been for the hollow pain Robin'd left in her gut, life would almost be Good at this point. Was good, dammit. Fuck Robin.
"Faith." She nodded to her companions, crossing her arms.
The slender guy grinned. Tapped himself on the chest. "Hannibal King. Lover, fighter, smartass extraordinairre." Faith snickered. "You met Abby, I gather. Tall, dark, and taciturn over there - "
"Is Blade," the big guy nodded, shooting an extremely ineffective quelling glare at King.
"Cool." She continued enjoying the feeling of food digesting and decided to wait, let them carry the conversation for a bit. She was pretty sure they'd have a lot of questions by now. Also pretty sure that Blade would cheerfully sit and stare at her coolly until hell froze over, or until Hannibal exploded from curiosity, whichever came first. And give one of those almost-not-there-invisible-half-smiles she'd caught a few times already, when Hannibal did explode from frustration.
Powers sent Slayer Dreams, impending apocalypses, or no - she damned sure wasn't in any real hurry. Not like she had any place better to go, any more.
...
"So... get blasted and hunt leeches often?"
Bingo. Faith wished she'd made bets. King'd lasted all of ten minutes of semi-companionable silence, amazingly, before vibrating out of his chair to pace a few times before whirling and fixing her with a manic grin and firing off the first question. She swallowed a grin, and stared through him.
"No. And yes." And waited for the incredulous look from him and the faint not-smile from Blade when he figured out she wasn't going to volunteer more.
"Okaayyy... " King shot her a glare. "So, you don't get wasted drunk often, and you do hunt leeches often, which means you don't usually do both and stumble into someone else's hunt."
"Wasn't really hunting. Just happened to run across them. Seemed like the thing to do at the time."
That got a grin and a rueful look from him. She'd bet money he'd responded to any number of 'Are you fucking insane?!' questions in his life with a casual shrug and a 'Seemed like a good idea at the moment?' quip Didn't stop him from shooting back a growling "Damned idiot way to get dead fast."
"Hey - if it looks stupid and it works, it ain't stupid." She smirked at him. Not about to admit to him that he'd just summed up her own thoughts at the time. She cocked her head. "'Leeches'? Actual name for that type of demon, or smartass descrip?"
And that stopped him, mouth working silently for a second. "Demons? Vampires."
King was almost expecting the incredulous "Vampires? Get the fuck out.", in spite of Blade's assertion she'd known what she was doing, but the casual "Vamps puff into dust when they're dead - they don't poof into flaming sparklies and burn. I know vampires, killed hundreds of them. Demons." left him gaping.
He closed his mouth with a click, and turned to Blade with a hands out 'You tell her' air, only to stop at the raised eyebrow and rather unsurprised non-expression on Blade's face. "Blade?"
Blade gave her a curious look. "Why don't you describe 'Vampire' as you know them. Pretend we have no idea what you're talking about."
"No such thing as demons." Blade shot King a quelling look, again, and Hannibal threw his hands up, sat down with his arms folded and an offended pout. "Fine."
Faith grinned. "Cool. I get to give 'The Speech'. That doesn't happen often enough." She met Blade's eyes with a serious look, ignoring King for the moment.
"Vampires. Ok... Evil, evil, Undead oh. The earth is older than we know, and long long ago, the Old Ones walked and ruled it. Elder Gods. It was a place of demons and gods, long before humans. Time of Demons passed, and they all eventually faded from Earth: Old Ones to hidden places like the Deeper Wells, or beyond the stars, and Demons to the various Hell dimensions, leaving the world to humans. Legend that's NOT legend has it that one of the last true demons to pass brought a human near to dying, and just before he passed mingled his blood and essence with the dying human and the First Vampire came to be. As he died, his soul moved on to wherever those things go, and the demon's essence replaced it and animated and preserved his corpse, and leaving it with a thirst for blood and destruction."
She ignored King's snort as she took a swallow of coffee and continued. Abby looked fascinated. Blade had his poker-face on, and she could pick up no sense of his reactions. "And he bit another and embraced it, and they bit two friends, and they bit two friends, and so on, and so on, and so on. Vampires became a scourge upon the Earth, preying on humans wherever they found them, and creating more of their kind." She knew she was varying from the standard version, but didn't care: the differences came from Slayer dreams, and resonated true within her.
She shrugged. "That's pretty much it, unless you want the full Mystical History of the World, Part I. A Vampire is an undead corpse animated by a demon, with a thirst for blood, that likes killing and torture. Enjoys it. Majority of them are Minions, unless the siring vampire decides to create a Childer, and gives them a bit extra essence. Truly old vampires become more and more powerful as they age, and less and less human, eventually becoming Masters. Vampires have the memories and skills of the human they were sired from, but it's only software: there's no Soul there. They're merciless monsters, with a very few exceptions. Vamps in game face look demonic: ridged brows, glowing yellow eyes, fangs. The demon comes to the surface when they're aroused, pissed, or in blood lust.. otherwise they look human. Room temp bodies: they don't show on thermal or infrared."
Snort. "Horseshit." King met her narrow eyed glare with his own, not backing down. "Not bloody-freaking-undead. I know: I used to be one. I was cured." He smirked, then it faded when instead of an incredulous look, it got him a thoughtful appraisal.
Blade gave him that raised eyebrow look. "King. Define 'Vampire' as you understand the term, for our guest."
Hannibal shot him a look that said 'What, am I a professor of Remedial Vampire Lore now?' as plain as if he'd said it, but shrugged and opened his mouth. Shut it again with a smoky glare as Faith settled into her seat with her hands clasped in front of her like a prim high school girl and gave him an innocent doe eyed look, obviously ready to hang on his every word. "All right, smart ass." She smirked, then went back to doe-eyed-and-attentive.
He rolled his eyes but launched in. Abby gave both of them a look that was equal parts of fascination and alarm at someone who could obviously drive King nuts with his own childish smartass routine, and better him at it.
"O.K. Vampires, or Homo Nocturnalis as We Professionals like to call them," he studiously ignored Faith's mock-impressed 'ooohh...' and eyelash flutter, "are created by a rare and extremely ancient retro-virus. Original source, as we discovered recently, was a non-human being known as 'Dagon', aka 'Drake' aka 'Dracul' who created the first True Blood vampires." He also studiously ignored Faith's nod and knowing 'Old One, check' look, with a 'Pipe down, you' glare. Faith immediately settled back into her attentive student pose, but stuck her tongue out at him when he glared at Blade.
"Ok... I might grant you the 'Demon' thing in Dagon's case. He turned out to be this hideous shape shifting ancient monstrosity when we encountered and killed him." Faith looked suitably impressed. "But his children weren't. They bred with each other and created more vampires. Those as ages went by, learned they could create lesser vampires by draining a human near to death, and then forcing their own blood into them." He frowned, struck against his will by the similarities between the two explanations. "NOT 'undead' though. Although I guess it'd be an easy enough mistake... vampires and vampirlings have low body heat, very slow heartbeats, and they can go into hibernation for decades in a kind of near-deathlike state if there's not enough prey/food around. They can also breed with humans, rarely, creating half vampires, or 'dhampir': crossbreeds with close to vampiric strength and regeneration, and most of the weaknesses of vampires. Half-vampires are also created when a living, healthy human is given enough vampire blood to drink, or via a transfusion, that it partly changes them. A much smaller infusion is used to create thralls, 'Familiars' from humans, or minions: human servants bound to the vampire that thralled them who do the vampires work in the daytime, and in society." He made a face. "There's an entire damned Vampire Nation out there, mostly centered in Europe, thank gods... mingled with and partly controlling human society through minions." That did get a fascinated, and thoughtful, eyebrow raise from Faith.
He smirked, finishing with "Sired vampires can be cured though, unlike an 'animated corpse', although it's not easy, and it's usually not worth the trouble: most vampires sire vampirlings from people who're as nasty and evil as they are, and who're naturals to the 'bloodsucking near-immortal predator' thing. Or who're vamp groupies." He grimaced. "I was one of the not-willing, non-groupies when I was sired, and after I was brought back, became a hunter. Hate those sucking bastards."
Blade nodded. "And how do you kill them?"
King shrugged. "Sunlight, although it's hard to get them to hold still for it, but there's tricks for that. Decapitation, but you have to be good. And strong." He paused for a moment, obviously remembering that according to Blade, he was giving Vamp 101 to someone who was good enough, and strong enough to decapitate vampires. Dead drunk, yet. "Silver: blade, stake, or bullets. Fire. Garlic: allergic to it, but doesn't kill; mostly just makes them smell funny. When they croak, they burst into flaming ash."
Blade looked at Faith, who'd traded the 'annoy King' act for a thoughtful expression somewhere along the way. "Your turn: how do you kill a vampire?"
She shrugged. "Wooden stake or wooden blade, has to be through the heart. Also has to be wood: fake wood won't do. 'Theory' says it's because of the connection to once living wood and earth magic, but I just know it works. Decapitation. Sunlight. Fire: they make great torches, if a bit fast burning." She snickered at that. "Silver doesn't bother them, unless it's a blade used to decapitate them. A lot of them LIKE garlic. Holy water, crosses, holy symbols burn them, but don't kill, unless you can stick a cross up their ass. Claws and teeth of other supernatural beings. Bullets just piss them off. And they turn into dust when they're killed, along with everything on them."
She ticked off a few items on her fingers: "Unless they knew magic before turning, they can't turn into bats or wolves. They don't need their native soil or a coffin to sleep in, that's just movie crap, although a lot of them like sleeping in crypts. Running water doesn't bother them. Most of the one's I've known hate flying, but that's because it's so hard for them to know for sure it's going to be dark when they land, and plane windows: the whole 'bursting into flames' allergy. Only Masters and ancient and powerful vampires can enthrall people. They live forever unless killed, gradually reverting closer and closer to the demonic essence in them. Can't be 'cured', no cure for undeath, except with extremely rare and powerful magics. Drugs don't affect them, or at least non-magical drugs don't."
King shook his head, saying, "Ok, I can see the similarities, and how the thing could have mutated into the whole 'Undead' myth, but... "
Blade looked at him. "No."
King glared back. "What?! Going to tell me she's right, when we both know different? When I'm living proof otherwise?"
Blade shrugged. "You're both wrong. And both Right." He gave one of those near invisible smiles. "Just not complete."