Chapter 5: The Opponent Team has a Ghost
For a moment, I was disappointed. This was not what I had expected of heaven. It was pure white, sure, but everything else felt real and tangible. I could have sworn cotton was crunched beneath my fingertips and my heels touched woven cloth. I was in a bed, made of pure white and immediately this wasn't heaven. Because, heaven wouldn't hook a needle into my arm and connect the needle to a beeping monitor. With a swift flush of horror, I realized that I was back in a hospital room, and the cops had found me. Lying next to a dead body.
Oh God, that boy. I shot him, actually shot him and he died. That hissing ring of the gunshot, the sudden crunch of metal hitting flesh and the falling glance those shockingly blue eyes gave me before he fell to the ground, into a pool of his own blood; they were fresh in my memory and slicing my chest like a lashing whip. I would surely be sent away now, after literally holding a smoking gun whilst standing over a dead body.
Would I ever see Dina again? No, that part of my life was over. Dina must not exist because if she did, escaping now would not be possible.
"Oh dear, look at that heart rate!"
The white curtains surrounding me had not moved, yet I heard as clear as day a brisk female Irish voice. Was that a nurse?
"Is someone there?" I called out.
"Course, silly. Now, calm down, nothing's going to happen to you. You're safe."
Still, I saw no movement behind the white curtains, no move of shadows or heard the scuffle of feet. Childishly, I immediately thought of ghosts. But I knew that wasn't true, and yet, the only thing that was with me in the room, that I could see, was the heart rate monitor.
"From what?" I asked as I stared at the monitor, hardly believing. Then, before my eyes, the steady lines grew and sharpened, forming eyes. Then the boxes filled with numbers morphed into a nose and a mouth and, what I could have sworn was, a pair of dimples. A mechanized face was staring at me with was a certainly warm smile.
"You tell me, deary," the monitor said dryly.
There was only a moment of absolute clarity, when shock had made my mind totally clear, then the realization set in and I screamed. My arm jerked to grab the IV from my arm, but suddenly there was a sharp pinch and leather belts leapt around my forearms, bolting them to the bed. I let out a gasp and started to kick, only to have more belts appear from nowhere and strap me down.
"Honey, there is no need for so much worry!" The monitor said, in almost a condescending voice. "You're safe!"
"No way in hell I'm safe when I'm being strapped to a bed," I growled fiercely and reached in vain to my other arm, trying to free something, "by talking furniture!"
"Just take a deep breath and realize you're okay!"
For a moment I froze, for the once brilliantly white curtains now had smudges on them in the shape of a face, the big wide mouth grinning towards me, comforting as a talking curtain could be.
"Let me go!" I bellowed but the only response from the usually inanimate object was more calming words.
"It's alright! Everything's fine!"
"NO IT'S NOT!" I screamed and kicked, my movements shaking the bed. I thrashed and turned but the leather manacles around my arms and feet bit deeper and deeper into my skin. For a moment I stopped and gasped, the pain so terrifyingly real. Up until this point, everything had been so surreal, a part of me said that this was a dream, none of this was actually happening. But that pain sent a shockwave of reality into me and a wild, fierce, primitive panic exploded in my chest. My screams reached a higher pitch, hysteria rushing through me like poison.
"Somebody HELP ME!"
Suddenly a door burst open and a small redheaded girl came barreling through the door, followed by a man with an eye patch and jet black hair. They came flying into the room and as they skidded to a stop at the foot of my bed, I realized the boy had a crossbow in his hands.
"What's wrong?" The girl asked in a flurry. Her green eyes immediately checked my vitals and then raced down to the manacles restraining me.
"Wrong question, girl," I said fiercely. Suddenly I realized I was panting, out of breath from screaming. "What the hell is going on?"
The boy standing behind the redhead raised the crossbow and with a jolt of surprised, I realized he was aiming it at me. His face wasn't harsh or judging; he looked at me with a bizarre glare of familiarity. I, of course, had never laid eyes on anyone like him, but by the way his mouth curled slightly, he seemed to know exactly who I was and clearly did not like it.
"Xander, I don't think we need crossbows now…" The girl hissed. She wouldn't take her eyes off me and neither would the boy, Xander.
"Not a chance, Will." He replied. Will, the girl, stepped forward, obviously trying to ignore the man with the crossbow behind her.
"Look, I'm going to let you go, but you promise you can't just run off. Okay?" The girl asked quietly and took a step forward. The boy shifted in his stance.
"No," I said firmly. The girl froze. "I'm not making any sort of deals until you tell me exactly what this is."
She could tell I was desperate, rash. There was no beating around the bush with this one. "That particularly is magic. I enchanted the monitor and the curtains to help make those with the acheys feel more at home. More safe. They weren't supposed to scare you."
"The manacles kind of defeated that purpose," I snapped and gave one more fierce tug, trying to turn a deaf ear to the words "magic" and "enchanted." The boy shifted again.
"Well, we installed those when we knew you were coming," replied the girl, uneasiness creeping across her face.
"Why?"
"We've had Slayers go homicidal, a-wall before," the boy replied, his voice in a deadly monotone. "We can't risk it a second time. Not now."
I stared at the pair of them in complete disbelief. Were they on drugs or something? Crossbows, magic, Slayers, was I taken hostage by some occult who actually lived the Dungeons and Dragon's lifestyle? Was I-
Slayer.
Images and places rushed to the surface of my memory. The dream of the vast cavern. The note left by the stalker. Ani's last words to me. They all called me a Slayer. As I stared at a point on the floor, my mouth slightly open, I remembered how undeniably strong I felt in that dream. How powerful I was and how I was connected to thousands of girls, women that had come before me.
The magic and the crossbows might be completely fake, but for all the certainty in the world, I knew I was, whatever it meant, a Slayer.
"Ok. I'm a Slayer. Why am I tied up?"
Will, the redhead, opened her mouth but before she could speak Xander, the man with the crossbow, spoke with a tone that cut like knives.
"You're dangerous."
A pool of ice melted in my stomach, a sharp pinch dashing in my chest.
"I haven't the slightest clue of why you think that." I replied calmly. What was on the other side of those windows? Say if I jumped through them, where would I go?
"You shot-,"
The door opened a second time and a blonde girl followed by an older man in grey sweater entered the room.
"Is this the new one from Manhattan, Willow?" The blonde girl asked sharply.
"Yeah, Buffy, this is Reid." Will, Willow, replied.
"Why were you screaming?" The blonde girl spoke again and I realized she was addressing me.
"Things that shouldn't talk talked to me and then I was strapped down by manacles that came out of nowhere. Then he showed up and brandished that lovely crossbow in my face." I added, smilingly sweetly to Xander.
"We're taking precautions. But you were obviously just startled." The redhead answered and stepped forward. She paused for a moment, glanced at the blonde girl and then unbuckled the manacles.
I hopped off the bed, rubbing my wrists. "What precautions? Why am I here? I could have you arrested for kidnapping."
"You could try." Xander said, the tip of the arrow following me as I moved from the bed to the floor.
The man in the grey sweater and glasses stepped forward. "You as a Slayer are in grave danger," he said and I was momentarily thrown by his British accent. "We were waiting until the signs called you to us, but it is becoming obvious that we are running short of time."
Fine I was a Slayer but what honestly did that mean? Those women in the dreams could have just been my ancestors and a Slayer could be another name with blood type O positive. But these people, they were of a different breed. A certain breed I certainly did not want to get mixed up with and I was sure, if they knew who I was, the feeling would be mutual. The man began to speak again but this time I only listened with feigned interest. I was figuring how much force it would take to break through one of those glass windows.
"…but, as of right now, you as a new Slayer need training now more than ever. We couldn't risk him finding you first. There are too many uncontrolled variables right now, which was why we sent Spike out after you."
I froze in my unnoticeable move toward the closest window. "What did you say?"
"Yes, Spike-,"
The older gentleman didn't finish, for the door flew open a third time, the handle rattling as it bounced off the wall. My eyes grew wide and my lips grew lax, dropping my jaw as I stared. My hands were suddenly sweaty and I could barely stand. For the hand that opened the door was followed by an arm dressed in a black sleeve. Then came a chest and finally, that same brilliant, unnatural blonde hair, sharply angled cheekbones and the most stunning blue eyes that I've only seen on only one occasion. I've only seen this boy once before and that was the night he died. The night I killed him.
"The natives are getting restless," he said.
*~*~*
"Vi is waiting on you to start the class. What do you want me to tell her, Buffy?"
Everyone twitched his or her stares between the boy that had just come in and I. One of his pale eyebrows twitched up. "What?"
There was a sudden stunned silence, before I whipped up the needle that had been previously in my arm and flung it hard as I could at the boy coming in through the door. Nerves screwed up my aim and the needle thudded into the wall behind his right shoulder.
"What the bloody-,"
The blonde girl, 'Buffy' apparently, stepped forward, her body suddenly tense, like she meant to leap forward. "Hey, back off!"
"You!" I howled, that same panic causing me to shiver. "I killed you."
The pale boy scowled. "And what? You're sully that it didn't work? So you've come out a three-week coma to finish the job? I suggest-,"
I gasped, my heart thudding painfully against my throat. "Three-weeks?"
Buffy stepped towards me, a hand outstretched as if fearing I would throw something again.
"Reid, that's Spike. He's a vampire. A good vampire with a soul. He came to help you." She said speaking very fast, her hazel eyes locked onto my face. I noticed this out the corner of my vision; I refused to look anywhere else besides the boy near the door.
"Help me with what?" I growled. The girl was right to come and try and pin me down, if that was her eventual intention, because I wondered how long it would take me to grab something sharp out of the drawer beside the bed and fling that at him.
Hang on, why did I want to kill him?
"Help you-,"
"He's a vampire?" I interrupted. "As in Immortal, as not going to die if shot in the chest?"
"Yes," Buffy said quickly. "You didn't kill anyone. You reacted with the weapons at hand and did what any normal Slayer would do."
"That was a while ago," I said, my legs itching to hop over the bed, and find just anything sharp. "Why do I still want him dead?"
"Like I said, vampire. Slayer. They're unmeshable things."
For the first time since she stepped into the room, I turned and looked straight at the girl called Buffy. Her sunny blonde hair was pulled back and her white tank top was spotted with dirt. Her tiny nose was impeccably perfect, with straight lips that were on the borderline of pouting constantly. Fingerless gloves covered her hands. She looked ready for war, dressed in gardener's clothes. If they didn't kill me, I'd have to watch this Buffy.
"You're in a institute of sorts for Slayers, on the outskirts of South Oregon," she continued, realizing she had my attention. "We took you from Manhattan and brought you here to be trained right."
"What about this anger?"
"Yeah. I know. It's Slayer instinct. I want to kill him too."
"There's a surprise." The vampire muttered.
"But we can't," Buffy said, ignoring the remark. "He's good. He fights evil, with a soul."
"I don't know, Buff," Xander, said. He seemed to have finally come down from Def Con 1 and was now shaking a disapproving head. "Maybe we should let the newbie have a go at Spike. Might do some good."
"Like I couldn't snap her like a twig, you bugger." The vampire said indifferently. He did not look at me, only glared in mild annoyance at Xander. But with an inward shudder I seriously did not like, I knew he most certainly could.
"Exactly." Xander replied with a smile, a light happy smile, but there was something darker beneath that made the smile bore resemblance to the Sad Clown combined with Chuckie. It was an offsetting smile at the least, and when the grin fell away I wondered what emotion this Xander would show when it all came out.
"So you're a vampire, he's trigger-happy," I said pointing from the vampire to Xander. I continued to Buffy and Willow. "You're top dog around here, where ever the hell here is, and you're-,"
"The witch." The redhead replied and waved a suddenly glowing hand. The crossbow Xander had been holding squawked and turned in a rubber chicken before flipping back to the weapon.
"Esh, Will, you know I hate you doing that." Xander grimaced and for a terrifying second I was reminded of someone else who grimaced and sighed in that same tired way. In the way that meant they had given up, on whatever they were trying to do. Xander was simply defeated. The witch giggled, seemingly not noticing his dragging face.
"I know but I just love your face when you remember fourth grade."
Xander winced again. "I wasn't actually thinking of that this time, but now that the image's there, thanks."
I ignored the giggle-gang. "What are you?" I asked the older gentleman who had taken a seat on one of the other hospital beds. "Demon? Werewolf? Queen of the Damned?"
"Ex-Watcher, I'm afraid." The man said and took a white napkin from his pocket and began to clean his glasses.
"Well, that's a lot less impressive than 'hello, my name is Eddy Munster'." Xander frowned.
"My name is Rupert Giles. You may call me Giles," the older man said, addressing me again. " I used to be a Watcher. I train Slayers to their full potential. You will meet many more at your stay here."
"Oh, no, no, no," I said and stood back up from my relaxed lean. "I'm not staying here for any amount of time."
I took a step forward and immediately everyone was on edge. Giles stepped back, while the vampire and Buffy stepped forward. Willow tensed and for a second, I could have sworn her hands glowed. Xander inched a hand towards his crossbow. They all stared, as if I was about to take out a rocket-launcher and start to blow them to smithereens.
My eyes narrowed. "What's with the third degree?"
"We just want to talk," Buffy said firmly as though she was talking down a terrorist. "No funny movements from our side. Want to keep that deal?"
"Fine." I said. "Talk. But I ask. Why did you kidnap me and why won't you let me leave?"
"You can leave. Just don't come sniveling back when you've got your arm wrenched off by the opponent team." The vampire scowled. I glared at him. What was his name again?
"Spike, shut up." Xander said and when I looked, he was carrying the crossbow again. Apparently he was very fast too.
"What 'opponent team'?" I asked.
"Something very big and powerful is killing new Slayers all around the world before they can get their full training," Giles interjected, adopting that fast smooth speech as Buffy had. I felt like a criminal being interrogated. "We are rounding up Slayers as fast as we can to protect them and keep them safe as long as we can."
"Then why didn't you just come up to me and talk? I would have called you completely nuts, but still, it's better than thinking you're being stalked."
"If you don't like the way I hunt, deal with it." Spike snapped. Under his crossed arms, I could see his hands were balled into fists.
My jaw set, I came up with something truly nasty, but Giles cut across me before I could reply.
"We had heard of your…er… background and hoped that once back here we could talk reason with you. It was better planned than executed." He said pointedly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Willow flinch slightly.
"At work, a customer left a note asking if I had 'awakened'. What the hell is that about?" I asked fiercely.
"What?" Giles asked looking at me with deep grey-brown eyes. "Spike, did you have something to do with this?"
Spike, the vampire, wrinkled his nose. "No, mind games were never my plate of bacon o' eggs."
"But if Spike did not arrange for the note, then…" Giles began pacing then turned to stare at Buffy, whose head dropped and her hazel eyes turned razor sharp.
"Razikel. You were his next target." Buffy said, her head turning slowly to me. "You're were going to die."
"Who the hell is that?"
"An extremely powerful servant of the First."
I looked at Giles expectantly. He sighed and continued.
"The First is the original evil. All the demons fought and killed by the Slayer are descendents of the First. Last year, Buffy faced by this primordial demonic force as it was trying to end the Slayer line by killing girls all over the world that had the potential to become the next Slayer. With the magical help of Willow here, those girls gained the full power of the Slayer, breaking the rule that there was only one Slayer per generation. And now we believe this demon, Razikel, is trying to finish his master's work by killing off the new Slayers. However, this is going to be much more difficult, as these girls have strength and skill unmatched by anything. So with that taken into account, our new hypothesis he only needs a certain amount of deaths, or a certain amount of Slayer blood, for some dark purpose."
"So, basically, with this new revelation, you're saying you saved my life." I asked, my eyebrow twitching up.
Giles frowned. "If you consider the circumstances and the recent events, yes."
"Gee, now is there a group hug coming?" I snarled, again, harsher than I meant. The fact that I owed my life to any one of these people deeply upset me.
"No," said Giles, obviously slightly shocked by the intensity with which I asked my question. "It simply means I might need some help of yours in the library, as to identify the man that came into your work. Assuming you're staying, of course…" Giles added.
I stared at the pack of them, wondering vaguely if this was all a dream and I was in fact still unconscious in a jail cell. Was I a human or a Slayer? Was I dead or alive? Could I trust these people? No, was my immediate thought. But they hadn't tried to harm me, or force me to do anything, even after I chucked the needle at the vampire. If I could find my gun, I would a much more agreeable position. But from the looks they all gave me, if I asked for a weapon of any sort, Attack Pattern A would be initiated. Besides, it's a place to crash and eat. Necessities of life, right?
My chin rose slightly, I glared at each one of them before giving a low nod.
"Fine, just call me Reid, the Vampire Slayer."
There was an inaudible sigh of relief. Giles reacted first.
"Wonderful. I hope your training begins well tomorrow," he said, his head dipping towards me in a respectful nod and he left the room. "See you all in the morning."
"That'd be my cue to follow." Willow muttered. "I promised to help him alphabetize his notes on the Garlash demon clan outside of Ontario if he took over my laundry for the week."
The witch grinned a goodbye before tottering off out the door.
"I just don't want to be here." Xander shrugged and without another word, left the room. There was a sizzle of electrified air that passed between Xander and Spike as the human with the crossbow crossed in front of the vampire and left.
Buffy glanced at Spike, as if waiting to hear his excuse for leaving. Spike shrugged. "Got no where else to be except with you, pet."
Buffy smiled in a way that was almost painful to watch. Perhaps once it had been a smile but now it was a horrible grimace. Spike didn't seem to notice and continued staring at Buffy.
"Look," Buffy said and turned away from him. "I know it's scary, being a Slayer and all-,"
"I don't even get what we're suppose to do. Kill things like him, I got that much," I said and pointed towards Spike who still didn't look at me. "But what else? Kill the vampire, the occasional demon, how complicated that get?"
"Oh, don't be so sure about that," Spike said. His blue eyes finally unpeeled themselves from Buffy and drifted slowly over to me. He looked like a shadow with gems for eyes. "Don't ever underestimate how horribly complicated things can get."
With that, he pulled away from the wall and slunk out the door.