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They were having a humorous argument over whether to play Pictionary or Charades – Iggy was of course pushing for Twister, as he did every year – when Zeke suddenly lifted his nose to the air.
"Hang on," he said, holding up a paw.
The rest of the gentlemen looked at each other and around them, wondering what he had sensed that they hadn't.
"Is it Paddy?" Owen asked quietly. His absence was still a mystery, and one could only hope he had simply found a dark corner to sleep off the vodka in.
"No, not Paddy," Zeke shook his head. "But someone…"
"We're about to have some more company," the Count smiled, his fangs showing. "How nice."
Zeke sniffed the air again and his tail banged the carpet a few times "Women, I think."
"Well, that'th better than charadeth," Iggy grinned.
"Oh dear," Owen groaned, fearing the worst.
Up the front steps littered with untidy pumpkins and an unkempt plastic skeleton the two slayers crept, into a foyer brightly lit by a glittering chandelier.
"Pretty," Buffy breathed, glancing up at it.
Faith smiled at her. "Wouldn't wanna be the guy who has to light all those candles though," she whispered back. "And what the hell kind of music were these kids listening to."
Buffy took a second to listen. "Sounds orchestral. Maybe its classical Goth or something."
Her Wonder Woman boots made a sharp tapping noise on the shiny tiles as she walked deeper into the roomy entrance hall. From here she could see into the grand ballroom through its double doors, and the far end of the lavish banquet was within sight.
"Wow."
"Look at all that food!" Faith said appreciatively as she came up behind her. "Think anyone's gonna eat it now?"
Buffy shrugged. "Hard to say. I don't think there are any kids left in here, but I also don't think that's the kind of spread high-schoolers lay out for the average keg party. I think it's better to resist temptation than find ourselves in a Goldilocks situation later."
Faith had wandered into the ballroom, but did no more than look around before joining Buffy again. "Okay, but I don't think there's anyone still here, B."
"There does seem to be a distinct lack of monsters," Buffy agreed, opening a closet door to find nothing more than shoes.
Faith walked down a short corridor, pushing open random doors that all led to empty rooms. In one of them a bottle of champagne, three quarters full, sat in the middle of a desk. Shrugging, she grabbed it and strolled back to the foyer, meeting Buffy at the foot of a grand, central staircase.
"Think Goldilocks'll mind if I drink this?" She held the bottle up.
"From what I can remember, it wasn't Goldilocks who had the problem, it was the bears… or in this case, werewolves and panthers."
Faith took a long swallow from the bottle. "Can't say I've met many werewolves or panthers that drink this stuff anyway… not that I've met any panthers," she added in afterthought. "Maybe all big cats are heavy drinkers, who knows?" she grinned and offered Buffy the bottle.
Buffy took the bottle and inspected it. "Don't know too many high school kids who drink it by choice either, or who can afford it. This stuff doesn't come cheap." On that thought, she took a long swallow herself. "Ooh, Bubbles!" she wrinkled her nose, laughing.
Grinning, Faith moved closer, sliding her arms around Buffy's waist and kissing her.
"What was that for?" Buffy smiled.
"Couldn't help myself. You look cute with bubbles up your nose."
"Do I? In that case…" Buffy took an even bigger swig, and leaned in for another kiss.
As soon as Faith indulged her, Buffy had to pull away again, spluttering. Waving one hand in apology she covered her coughing with her other.
"Sorry, took too much that time," she said embarrassed, her eyes still watering.
"Don't worry about it." Faith used her thumbs to gently wipe away the tiny droplets beneath her eyes. "You're still cute. So do you think we missed the monster bash?"
"Looks like." Buffy sighed, handing back the bottle and curling her arms around Faith's neck. "Oh well, we tried."
"Yep." Faith ran her free hand up and down Buffy's back. "And it's not our fault we didn't know where we were going."
"Plus it was really dark out there," Buffy's fingers slid into one of the tears on the back of Faith's t-shirt.
"Can't save the day every time, I guess." Faith nodded, her nose brushing Buffy's as her fingers fluttered over the ass of her hot pants.
"And we're supposed to be on a date." Buffy said, sounding a little huffy. "Shouldn't even be having to run off to do spontaneous slaying."
"That's a hell of a point," Faith murmured. "But just to make sure we've fully done our duty, we should probably take a look around upstairs."
"Check the bedrooms, you mean?"
"Yeah, well, just the first one we come to." Faith said casually, desperately hoping she wasn't completely mis-reading Buffy's signals here.
Buffy pulled away, her breathing already heavier than usual. "Sounds better than my plan of doing it on the stairs. Come on!"
"You sure?" Faith checked, letting Buffy catch her hand, but not instantly moving when she tugged on it.
"Well, yeah." Buffy looked down, toeing her boot into the second step. "They're all lumpy. You can't tell me that will be comfortable."
Laughing, Faith pulled her back down to the ground floor. "I meant…"
"I know what you meant." Buffy kissed her… and kissed her… boy, did Buffy kiss her. When she finally pulled away, her eyes looked bright green with desire and Faith's legs were – what the hell? – wobbly!
"Okay," she panted. "So we better motor, or its gonna get lumpy real soon."
As they started to run up the stairs a door swung open to the side of them, and there was a loud, "Ahem!"
Both Slayers froze guiltily and then slowly turned their heads to look at one another. Together, they whispered, "Damn!" and started giggling.
"I really don't think this is the right way," Miranda piped up timidly.
"Well, your way wasn't the right way either, was it?" Alison jibed back. "And neither was Cici's. And we're running out of ways to try."
"Perhaps we should just stay here until its light?" Cici suggested.
All three of them looked around at the dark, hostile, thistly, partially boggy patch and shook their heads.
"Or not," Cici answered herself.
"Find me a nice open field where I can stretch out and look at the stars, I'll stay put, but not here." Alison said.
"I believe the open fields were somewhere over that way." Cici pointed in, well, a direction; it probably wasn't the right one.
"Besides it's too cold to not keep moving." Miranda added. "And it's too damp here to build a fire."
"And none of us know how to build a fire," Cici chuckled despite their depressing situation.
"I bet I could build a fire," Alison replied, but when the other two looked at her expectantly, she added quickly, "If it wasn't so damp."
"Okay, so which direction now?" Miranda asked.
"Rock, paper, scissors?" Cici suggested.
"How does that pick a direction?" Alison asked.
"I don't know," Cici groaned. "I'm lost, I'm cold and I'm so tired I'm seeing unicorns."
"What?" Miranda and Alison asked in unison.
"Over there" She pointed wearily deeper into the thick trees. "The moon reflecting on the mist looks like a unicorn." She explained through a yawn.
Miranda's eyes bulged as they focused. "That's not moonlight!"
Alison's eyes were equally filled with wonder. "That's a frickin' unicorn!"
"You're shitting me?" Cici blurted out loudly and then covered her mouth with a grimace. "Oops. Excuse my language, but… but…"
Alison and Miranda laughed at her, both of them felt a little giddy all of a sudden. Certainly the gloomy, irritable mood that had overtaken them in the past hour had gone.
The creature had noticed them now, or had just finally deigned to look their way. It stood majestically, whiter than the mist that wreathed around its hocks, and stared them down.
"It's beautiful," Cici breathed.
"Its looks like its glowing," Alison murmured in agreement.
"Look at the size of its horn!" Miranda whispered, and then blushed.
Alison and Cici both nudged her, grinning.
"May I ask what you are doing in my home?" asked a voice full of dignified authority.
Slowly the Slayers turned around to see a motley collection of… well, people might be pushing it, in the foyer below them.
"We thought the place was abandoned," Buffy said.
"We heard there was a party," Faith said at the same time.
"But we saw lights," Buffy continued.
"So is there a party?" Faith also continued.
The man who had addressed them was clearly dressed up as a wizard, in flowing robe and a big pointy hat. Although he looked too old to be playing dress-up, he also looked vaguely familiar.
He sighed now. "As you can see, the place is clearly not abandoned, and the party is for private guests only."
"Oh, sorry." Buffy said.
"Our bad," Faith shrugged.
They walked down the few steps they'd made it up together, neither sure what to make of the group that stood in front of them. It was clear they weren't all human, but none of them seemed threatening; in manner if not in looks.
"It doesn't have to be that private," said a short, bald, lumpy man to the side of the wizard.
The wizard groaned, pulling off his hat as he turned to him, "Iggy, please. Do you not think tonight has been fun enough?"
"Shop-keeper?" Faith suddenly blurted.
"Excuse me?" He hurriedly pulled his hat back on, tugging the brim low over his eyes.
"You work in that shop." Faith pointed in the general direction of Boudenver. "You gave me the soap, and the towel."
"I… I…"
Buffy crossed her arms as he spluttered. "Now isn't that interesting."
"Slayer?" Deep, Slavic tones rolled from a figure at the back of the small crowd.
Recognising that voice with a sinking heart, Buffy's eyes picked him out easily. "Dracula?"
"Well isn't this a nice surprise," he purred, coming to the fore to stand next to the Wizard.
"Speak for yourself," she said dryly, really wishing she had a stake with her now.
"Wait… Dracula?" Faith was staring at him in a kind of awe.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yes, this is Count Dracula. Don't look so impressed, you'll only be embarrassed by it later."
"Dracula," Faith said again, smiling and clearly not listening to a word. "But wait…" she said again, and now she turned to Buffy. "… you two know each other?"
"Oh yes, we are old friends."
"No, we're not," Buffy said firmly. "He bit me, I staked him, end of story."
"Oh come now, there was much more between us than that." the Count smiled around his fangs.
"There was?" Faith turned to Buffy with an eyebrow raised.
"Not that kind of more," Buffy said hurriedly, before shooting Dracula a harsh look. "So it was you who tried to eat my little sister in the woods?"
The Count began to laugh, but curbed it when Owen turned to him. "We were just playing a game."
"Yeah, well I remember your games. They suck."
There was a growly laugh, "She's got you there, Vlad."
Buffy focused on the speaker. "And I take it you're the werewolf who chased everyone out of the house."
He looked sheepishly at the floor, pushing his big hairy paws into his pockets, muttering, "'M not a werewolf."
"Really, because those big teeth you have grandma say different."
"I'm an anthropomorphic representation," he mumbled.
"A what now?" Buffy looked at Faith to see if she knew what that meant, but the other Slayer was still sizing up the famous Vampire.
"He crossed a witch and she cursed him," the Mummy explained for him. "What, about four hundred years ago now?"
The wolf-headed being nodded. "About that."
"How did you cross her?" Buffy asked, "Must have been something pretty bad."
"I don't remember." When Buffy looked at him in disbelief, he added, "What do you want from me? I was a wolf, we don't go in much for the remembering past mis-deeds thing. I probably ate her pig or something. All I know is one minute I was hunting for my dinner and the next I was really embarrassed because I wasn't wearing pants!"
"Okay," Buffy said, still eying him warily. "So what's your story?" she asked the Mummy man.
He was about to answer amiably enough, when a little man at the back piped up, "Just who do you think you are, young lady? Coming in here and demanding to know all about us when you have yet to introduce yourself?"
Buffy stiffened her pose, "I'm not the one with the furry face or the…"
Faith cut her off. "He has a point, B. I'm Faith." She smiled, offering her hand to Dracula.
"I know," he smiled, and kissed the back of it.
Buffy rolled her eyes.
"Ath we're all getting acquainted, why don't we go back through to the parlour," suggested the lumpy man.
Owen sighed. His cover was blown now anyway, being cordial was probably the only way to prevent this appalling situation from becoming worse. He stepped aside and gestured to the door.
"You can not be serious, Olwyn?" The rude little man objected. "I understand the fiasco earlier could not be avoided, but to invite these women to join us now is simply preposterous!"
A gentle nudge to his back made him stagger forward and he turned qestioningly.
"Perhaps it would not be so bad." The whisper was deeper than a baritone and instinctively drew Buffy's eyes over and… up!
It even made Faith finally tear her eyes away from Dracula, and they widened as she did so. "Dude!"
The big man started biting on a big square thumbnail, his eyes flicking shyly between Buffy and the floor.
"Why would…?" the little man began, but then recognising something in his friend's expression he glanced back long enough to give Buffy a once over before getting a pained look on his face. "Really?"
The big man didn't have to answer, his eyes said it all.
"Very well." The little man walked back into the living room with a defeated air.
"What just happened?" Buffy asked nervously, eyes shifting from being to being for clues.
The troll sized man gave a great, gurgling giggle – more like a bath draining than a mountain spring – and ran after his friend. The floor shook slightly as he went.
"That was surreal," said the Mummy man.
"Yeth, I can count on one hand the amount of timeth I've theen him like that," said lumpy. "Thix times!"
"Huh?" Buffy asked, still feeling like she'd missed something.
He held up his hand to show her and she took a step back, creeped out. No one should have that many fingers!
"Doth that mean you don't want to thake handth?" he grinned.
"Yes!" she blurted, and then tried to remember her manners. "I mean, there's no need to be so formal. You can just tell me your name… from over there."
"Iggy." He stood aside and gestured gentlemanly for her to go into the room first.
Buffy hesitated, but Faith walked through without a second thought. So with her eyebrows up near her hairline, warily watching as many of them as she could, she followed.
The living room was beautiful in the way she imagined an English Manor house might have been centuries ago. The only modern appliance that she could see was a radio, and she was using the word modern in a very broad sense. Other than that, everything was old, but beautifully restored. The shopkeeper must have spent half his life going to flea-markets and auctions, and the other half fixing and touching up his finds.
"I'm Ptah."
She gingerly shook the hand that was offered to her. The bandages felt dry and warm, and a little crinkly. He smelled of smoke and dust and morgues, but seemed friendly enough.
"You're a Mummy?"
His eyes shone in his yellowed face and he smiled brightly. "Yes! You can tell?"
She just looked at him, her expression saying, 'Duh!'
"I suppose to the trained eye I'm a little obvious," he admitted with embarrassment. "So… you're a Vampire Slayer. How are you finding it?"
"I, ah…" Buffy perched on the edge of a long red velvet cushioned stool. "Okay, I guess. I've been doing it a while now."
"I knew one once. Well, I suppose you could say I still know her. Stunning girl. She's just as brave and vivacious now as she was when she was alive."
"How can you still know her?"
"Oh, she was locked inside my pyramid when I was entombed. I was a Pharaoh; it was law that all of my greatest warriors should join me in the afterlife. And I had no greater warrior than Ankhet," he said wistfully.
Buffy's eyes narrowed. "So you let her have to die, just because you did?"
"Of course, that was her duty…" Ptah finally caught on to how his reminiscing might sound to a Slayer's ears. "But it was all her idea!" he added quickly. "No one forced her to drink the Hemlock! And we still laugh about those days now! And… I think Victor's calling… excuse me!"
Buffy watched him stride over to the other side of the room, where the little rude man had definitely not been calling him, but looked eager for the company all the same; wondering how she'd ended up at this little soiree of the living dead.
She looked for Faith, hoping to find she was ready to excuse herself too, but no such luck.
"So you can really turn into a bat?" Faith asked as she flopped down on to the chaise lounge.
"I can." The Count followed her down, sitting close. "I would demonstrate, but Olwyn gets upset with the acidic droppings on his antique furniture."
Faith grinned. "Maybe later then?"
"Of course." He picked his glass of blood from the table and took a sip. Noticing Faith watch him, he asked, "Are you thirsty?"
"Yeah, actually." She'd put the bottle of Champagne down at some point. She couldn't remember where… or when… or why.
"Do you like blood?"
"Can't say as I've ever tried it."
"But you are open to new experiences, am I correct?" he asked.
"Yeah."
He offered her his glass and she wrinkled her nose. Not from disgust, just from uncertainty.
"It's otter, very good," he said in encouragement.
"Thanks, but I'm pretty choosy about which bodily fluids I let in my mouth," she politely declined, trying to ignore the voice at the back of her mind calling her a pussy.
"It has brandy in it," he said in a last ditch attempt.
"Really?" she looked a little more convinced, but it faded fast. "Any chance I could just have the brandy without the blood?"
"Of course," he gave in. Looking about he saw Zeke with the Brandy bottle and clicked his fingers above his head for it.
Zeke just cuffed him on the back of the head with his paw as he walked past.
"Would you like a glass of Brandy?" he asked Buffy.
"Uh," she looked up in surprise. "I think the, uh, big… man?" she made it sound like a question and he nodded. "Is getting me a glass of champagne actually."
"Oh." Zeke looked down at the bottle and the empty glass he was carrying, kicking himself for taking too long to ask.
"But thanks." Buffy smiled.
"No problem." Zeke grinned. "Can I get you something to eat then?"
"I'm not really hungry right now," she began and saw his face fall. "But maybe in a minute."
"Okay." His grin came back. "So, uh…" as he tried to think of something to say that she would find interesting, he made to sit down next to her on the big red stool, but before he could he was almost knocked off his feet as her other admirer barged him out of the way.
"Oh," Buffy uttered as the big man sat down next to her, nearly toppling her off the side, and handed her a tall glass of champagne. "Thank you."
Zeke gave a low growl and settled for sitting on his haunches close to her feet.
Buffy looked from one to the other, smiling nervously. "This is, uh, very cosy."
Haughtily, Dracula stalked towards Zeke and snatched both the Brandy and the glass from him; giving him an extremely frosty look that the wolf-man ignored. As he moved back to the chaise lounge he poured a large measure into the glass and handed it to Faith as he sat down.
"Thanks." Grinning, she took a big gulp from the glass.
Her nose wrinkled at the taste, she wasn't used to the finer alcoholic varieties; beer had generally been all she could afford before, and maybe a bottle of Jack Daniels on birthdays and Christmas… if she could sneak it without her mom realising. Which, actually, had been pretty easy on birthdays and Christmas' on account of her Mom having already drunk a few bottles of the stuff to get in the spirit so to speak. She sure as hell got into the spirit alright, any spirit she could lay her hands on…
Why in hell was she suddenly thinking about her Mom? She knew better than that. Some issues were better left dead and buried, just like the bitch herself. She shook her head, willing the thoughts away again. Obviously she really had been out of therapy too long. Or this Brandy was stronger than she expected.
She looked over to Buffy, expecting it to comfort her, but the blonde was being drooled on by Wolf-man and Monster-man – literally in the wolf's case – and seemed to be enjoying every second of it. Not so much with the comforting.
"So, Faith, tell me about yourself."
She turned to smile at Dracula – still a little overwhelmed that she was meeting the vamp himself. "What do you wanna know?"
"Everything," he said simply, but with so much feeling in his low voice and dark eyes that she found herself willing.
"Well I grew up in Boston with my Mom. My dad split when I was, I don't know, little. Went out for a beer one evening and never came back, ya know? I guess you could say that left me a little insecure with men..."
"So, uh…" Buffy looked up at the man next to her. It felt like he was towering over her, even though he was sitting on the same stool. Starting a conversation would be the polite thing to do, especially as he'd been nice enough to get her a drink. "Uh…"
His one attractive feature was his eyes. They were nice, adding warmth to his otherwise sombre face; although one was a different shade of brown to the other, she noticed.
"Yes?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble.
He couldn't be human. Nothing with hands that big, with a forehead that high, with that many stitches holding his brain in, could be human. She tried to unthink that last part. Maybe they were cosmetic, like Faith's stitches around her throat, but just really really real-looking. And the bolts in his neck too?
"So, uh…" she began again. "What are you?" she winced, oh that was polite. "I mean, what are you dressed as? What's your costume?"
"I am a monster." He ducked his head to look at his dull black size 16 shoes.
"Well, it looks very authentic." She smiled awkwardly. "That's because it is, right? Like, you're the real monsterific deal?"
He nodded. "I am sorry."
"Why sorry? None of us can help the way we're made…" she winced again. "Not made, just, uh, created." That didn't sound any better so she forged ahead with another smile. "So are you, like, the Frankenstein?"
"No."
"Oh." She felt a little disappointed. "Only if you were it would have been pretty cool." She saw his face drop, and on a face like his, that was saying something. "Not that meeting you isn't cool, you seem nice; but from the Slayer-y point of view, meeting actual Frankenstein would be as awesome as the time I met…" she trailed off, glaring at Dracula
There had been nothing awesome about meeting him! He was just another loser vampire who happened to have a few fancy party tricks up his long lacy sleeves. God, he was such a poser! And now he had his poser-y, tricky hands all over her girlfriend! Well, not literally maybe, but Buffy could tell that's what he was shooting for. And Faith was just eating it all up. Giving him the old doe eyes… since when did Faith even have doe eyes? Well, she had them, she had beautiful eyes, but she never used them like this… correction: she'd never used them like this on her!
"Father!"
The sudden shout, well, not a shout, just her new friend speaking normally, made Buffy sit up and pay attention again. She looked at him questioningly and then caught movement on the other side of the room, where the rest of the guests had congregated.
The small rude man with the slicked back hair was making his way over. Buffy wrinkled her nose at him and then turned her expression downwards to see what was making the pressure on her feet.
"Comfy are we?" she asked.
"Thought I'd keep your toes warm." Zeke grinned, wriggling a little.
He was lying across her boots on his back. From this angle he mostly looked like a big shaggy dog with his front legs sticking straight up and back legs splayed like a frog's. All she could think was 'Thank God he's wearing pants'.
"They weren't cold," she said firmly.
"Oh well," he didn't seem bothered. "Seeing as I'm here, any chance of a tummy rub?"
She saw Faith look over, so obviously she wasn't ignoring her completely, just acting like it.
Buffy gave Zeke a big, encouraging smile as she said too quietly for Faith to hear, "No chance at all."
Faith bounced to her knees on the chaise lounge so that she was facing Dracula; actually, she was practically straddling him!
"Guess what I am?" she pointed both thumbs at herself.
"A Slayer?" he asked, amused.
"Nope." Grinning flirtatiously, she tilted her head far to one side and ran a finger down her neck. "Check out my stitches."
"You are a zombie?"
"Got it in two. Which is quicker than most."
"Why would there be any doubt?" he asked. "it is extremely authentic."
"Thanks dude." She smiled at him and sat back again. "Nice to have my effort recognised, ya know."
Buffy pressed her lips firmly together and swooped down to lay her hand over Zeke's cotton shirt about where his tummy would be. Surprised, he stretched out his front legs and wiggled his back under her hesitant touch, his grin wider than ever.
"This isn't sexual, is it?" she hissed down to him, suddenly worried what his friends might think.
"It's better than sex," he promised her, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.
"Oh. Ew?"
A shadow fell over Zeke, and Buffy, so grateful for the distraction, sat up to see the small man standing in front of her.
"What is the problem?" he asked in a clipped European accent.
'No problem,' she thought, 'other than a horny wolf-man crushing my toes and a monster who gets self-conscious if I breathe wrong. Oh and a girlfriend who would rather… '
"Buffy would like to meet you," the monster-man said, his deep voice like faraway thunder.
"I would?" she asked, wiping her hand repeatedly on her cape.
"You know who I am?" The man asked, a little bit of pride creeping into his voice, but then he sounded suspicious as he asked, "How?"
"Um?" Buffy looked to her big new friend for inspiration.
He sighed, rolled his mis-matched eyes and sounded like a frustrated teenager as he said, "The book, Dad. Remember?"
"Don't call me Dad. It's uncouth."
"I'm lost," Buffy said.
Zeke gave a growly sigh and waved one of his paws in the air as he made introductions. "Buffy, this is Victor Frankenstein. Vic, this is Buffy, the Slayer."
"So I've heard." Victor reluctantly offered to shake hands.
Buffy accepted just as reluctantly. "You're Frankenstein?"
"That is correct." When she let go – as quickly as possible – he subconsciously wiped his hand on his too-big jacket.
She frowned. "I thought you'd be bigger."
"Everyone does," he lamented.
"And, no offence, but more… monster-y…" Realisation struck and she turned excitedly to the big man sat next to her. "You are Frankenstein!"
"No," he intoned slowly. "Frankenstein is my father. I'm Fred."
"Fred Frankenstein?" Buffy started giggling.
"Do you want me to help you over?" Andrew offered his hand from the other side of the fallen tree.
Naomi smiled at him gratefully, but shook her head. Having seen how he'd fared climbing over the huge rotting trunk of the American chestnut, she couldn't help feeling she would do better on her own.
They'd been following a narrow track through the woods for some time already when they'd met this obstacle. The briars on either side were too dense to push through, leaving up and over as the only sensible course of action. Funny really, considering it was liable to break her neck.
"It's easier if you use that branch like a step first," Andrew said helpfully. "And try to avoid the moss along the top if you can."
"Is that what tripped you up?" Naomi shone her penlight around, assessing his directions for practicality.
"No, that was what slipped me up!" Andrew complained, rubbing his elbow again for emphasis. "It was the creepers all over it that tripped me up."
"Creepers?" Naomi looked for them. "Ah, that's just the thing."
"Do you always carry a flashlight in your handbag?"
"A good watcher must always be prepared," she murmured by rote. "Okay, I think I have it. Could you hold this a moment?" Awkwardly she passed the penlight across to him and directed the beam where she wanted it. "That's it, keep it steady just there."
Grabbing a hold of the long smooth creepers – already checked for flickering tongues and scales so no need to think of snakes – Naomi heaved herself upwards.
"So how come you're a Watcher and not a Slayer," Andrew asked conversationally.
"Excuse me?" Naomi's pump became caught in some thorny tendrils and she had to shake her foot, feeling them bite in further before she could free herself. At least she hadn't worn heels.
"Well, I thought girls were Slayers and guys were Watchers, but you're a girl and a Watcher," Andrew mused thoughtfully; he was probably tapping his chin in that rather endearing faux-intellectual way he had. "What's up with that?"
"Well, Slayers are mystical beings. They have a… a type of magick flowing through them which makes them more than human."
"I already know all that."
"Well," Naomi felt she really should be paying more attention to what she was doing instead of trying to carry on a conversation, but still… "I don't have that. I'm human. I don't have the mystical powers that enhance my body, spirit and mind to such an extent that I can viably fight the forces of darkness on a night to night basis."
As if to prove her point, as she made it to the top of the fallen tree trunk, her foot slipped on the wet moss Andrew had warned her about. She gave a little squeal as she fell forwards, arms flailing. Andrew ran the few steps forward to catch her and she nearly flattened him.
"Are you okay?" he asked from beneath her.
"Yes, yes thank you." Embarrassed, she swiftly bolted back to her feet and brushed her knees off. "So as I was saying, er… um…"
She laughed self-consciously and then mentally told herself to cut it out. What was she worried about losing poise in front of Andrew for? Andrew had fallen off of the blasted tree three times, and only the last of those had been in the right direction.
"We should probably keep going." She took the penlight back from him. "So, yes, as I do want to fight the forces of darkness one day, hopefully soon." She sighed. "And as I don't have the mystical Slayer abilities, I choose to be a Watcher. Or rather I was chosen to be a Watcher."
"I thought only Slayers got chosen?"
"No, Watchers do too, just not in the same way. Slayers all come from the same source, that of the first Chosen one. They can be traced back through lineage to the first girl ever endowed with the spirit of the demon. Of course, that was millennia ago now, which is why there are so many potential candidates these days, and why so many Slayers were activated in May. Naturally no one would be able to trace their own ancestry back that far, but I believe there was a… a family tree of sorts in the Council library in London that had the name of every Slayer ever called… Oh dear."
"What's wrong?" As Andrew stepped level with her, she had to put an arm out to stop him. "Oh dear," he echoed.
The track ended in a black abyss.
"Any ideas?" she asked him as she shone the light downwards.
It didn't help much. Her torch was powerful, but small – it had to be to fit in her handbag – the beam was strong, but too concentrated to reveal anything more than rocks roughly twenty feet below them.
"I think I can hear water," Andrew said. "Fast water."
Naomi nodded. "Do you know of any fast running rivers near the camp?"
"No. Oh wait, um, sort of, uh, maybe…" Andrew moved his hand around as he imagined a map was in front of him.
Naomi waited patiently, now trying to pick out any sign of land directly in front of them to see how wide the gorge was.
"You know that waterfall Craig likes…" Andrew began.
"It's not really a waterfall," Naomi interrupted offhandedly.
"Yeah, well, Craig likes it and when we were down there the other day we decided to follow the stream as far as the lake road. There's a little bridge, and its gets faster on the other side. Could this be it?"
"If this is the same stream, all we have to do is follow it," she said hopefully.
He nodded excitedly, but then joined her in looking at the thick bushes on either side of them and his excitement dropped. "I'm getting déjà vu!"
She looked at him, but for once he didn't expand on his thoughts.
"Okay," she decided. "We need to get down there and walk along the edge where it's not so bushy."
"How? I don't mind falling off a log, but rocks are hard."
"We'll be okay," she promised, hoping her wince when she shone the light down again went unnoticed. "Its not a straight drop and it's probably more like fifteen feet than twenty."
Beside her Andrew made a groaning noise.
"We'll be fine," she repeated. Opening her handbag she shone the penlight inside as she instructed, "Ten yards back we passed a tree with big leafy branches, do you remember?"
"The one that tickled our faces?"
"That's the one. Go and break off as many of the branches as you can. They're only thin so it shouldn't be hard."
"How'm I supposed to see which one it is in the dark?"
She handed over the light, she'd already found what she was looking for in her bag, and the light of the half moon would allow her to do the rest.
The snapping of branches could be heard, along with Andrew occasionally saying "Ow!" – Which made her smile – as she unwound a length from her ball of string and wrapped it twice around the sturdiest tree trunk near the edge of the drop. Truthfully, the trunk wasn't as fat as she would have liked but it would do.
Andrew came back before she'd finished tying the knot; carrying so many of the branches she couldn't see his face through the big leaves.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Giving us something to hang on to on the way down," she explained. "Stand right next to me and then just drop the branches straight down. Don't throw them! Just drop them."
He did so and they heard them land with a fluttery noise.
"Could you get some more?" she asked, just to be on the safe side.
He did so and she finished making sure her knot was secure by tugging on the rope as hard as she could.
When Andrew came back, he repeated the dropping process and then asked, "Do you think we need even more?"
"Honestly, I'd be happier with a mattress down there, but if we're gonna mess about all night we might as well just walk back the way we came and hope we don't get even more lost."
"Okay. Are you sure that's going to hold us?" he asked, nodding at the string in her hands.
"Its light-weight Vectran," she explained, instead of actually answering his question. "With an enhanced design thanks to the Council technicians."
"Okay," he said, so trusting it made her feel guilty, even though she was planning on taking the same plunge as him.
"We probably shouldn't use it at the same time though," she admitted. "We don't want to over-stress it. I'll go…"
He'd been looking over the side again – he still had the torch – but interrupted her now. "No I'll go first. Just in case it's not safe."
"You don't have to do that."
"Yes I do. You're a Watcher." He took the ball of string from her. "You have more to contribute to the world than I do."
She put her hand on his arm. "You shouldn't think like that! The world would lose just as great an asset if you died as if I did."
"I just meant the world wouldn't end if I was laid up in bed with a broken leg. Sure the house might get dusty and no one would eat a decent meal, but you're a Watcher… wait, are you saying I might die!"
"No, no," Naomi chuckled. "At least, it's unlikely. Besides, Watcher or not, I actually contribute less to the household than you do right now."
"Okay, well here goes… Uh, how does here go exactly?"
"Hold the ball in your weaker hand and play it out with your stronger hand and just walk backwards slowly." She followed him to the edge and then took hold of the taught string with both hands, just as an extra measure. "Don't look down."
He faltered for a few seconds once his feet were against the ledge and he was basically leaning back over nothing but thin air, but after a deep breath, he gradually started walking backwards down the almost vertical slope.
"So tell me what it's like being a girl-Watcher?" Andrew asked.
Naomi was keeping the beam from the penlight on his hands so she couldn't see his expression, but he sounded like he was talking through clenched teeth.
"I'm afraid I wouldn't know," she replied, and her teeth were clenching a little too, although not from fear. "I could tell you what its like to be a girl-Watcher-in-training if you like?"
"How come Reece is a real Watcher but you're still a trainee?"
"Who knows? Uncle Rubear has yet to give me a satisfactory answer to that question."
"Well, I don't think it's fair. I think you'd make a much better Watcher than Reece."
"Thank you." Naomi smiled. Although she didn't doubt Reece's abilities herself, it was always nice to be compared to him and found in favour.
"Maybe Mr Giles just doesn't want you getting hurt?" Andrew's voice sounded fainter now, mixing with the rush of the water below.
"I'm already on active duty. It's only the responsibility of a Slayer I've not been granted."
She had to admit it rankled her badly. Especially when Reece had no qualms about parading Rona around in front of her. She was every bit as qualified as he was, and there was the added reassurance that she wouldn't be trying to get into their knickers, but no; and whenever she asked about it, she was told: 'All in good time, my dear.'
The thin rope went slack in her hands at the same time as Andrew called up, "I'm down!"
"Are you okay?"
"My legs are a bit shaky. And I have rope burn on my hands. And I think there's a beetle in my ear…"
Naomi grinned as she put the penlight back in her handbag and hooked it over one of her arms. "But you're basically okay?"
"Uh huh. It was easier than I thought it would be."
"I hope you're right." Naomi turned herself around, got a good two handed grip on the rope and braced her feet. "So are you really fed up at the camp, then?"
"No. What makes you say that?"
"Only, twice tonight you've said how menial you feel your role is." Naomi went hand over hand down the rope skilfully. It wasn't that different to the practice wall at the Academy if you didn't let yourself think about the jaggedy rocks at the bottom. "I thought perhaps you were becoming disillusioned with working for the Watcher's Council."
"I don't work for the Watcher's Council. I'm just Mr Giles'… maid!"
Naomi chuckled. "On the contrary, in the broadest sense, Mr Giles is the Council. That makes you the Watcher's Council maid at least."
"I guess."
"Still not exciting enough?"
Her feet touched rock bottom and she breathed a sigh of relief that it was over as she fished in her bag for the penlight again.
"I don't mean to sound ungrateful," Andrew hurried to explain. "I'm happy to serve the Council of Watchers and the Slayers of the Vampyres in any capacity I can, and, also, you know, having a place to live is nice too seeing as my bedroom at home was kinda swallowed up by the Hellmouth along with the rest of my house."
"But?" Naomi asked, wondering what to do about her rope. It was too expensive to leave behind, but then if she climbed up to untie it from the tree, it would have made the tying it up and climbing down in the first place a pretty pointless exercise.
"Is cooking and cleaning all I'm ever going to be allowed to do?" Andrew griped plaintively.
"You do more than that now. You help Mr Harris."
"Yeah, I fetch and carry and sometimes he lets me hammer stuff, but that's it. He even lets Faith do more than me, and she only just started helping him!"
Naomi decided to leave the rope for now and come back for it in daylight; it wasn't as if it was going anywhere in the meantime. The rocks were uneven and not that easy to walk on, but the moon had good access into the narrow stream valley which meant at least they could see where to step for the best footing.
"Well, what about looking after Goorzar?"
"That just gets me yelled at. Even when it's Kennedy's fault."
"Well, Craig says you can summon demons…" Naomi tried.
"That gets me even more yelled at!"
"Yes, I suppose it would. Uh, what about research? You could do research."
"I do do research. Nobody takes any notice of it. I tried explaining to Mr Giles about the Sekopiluthian Hedray's and he said 'Bless you'. What kind of answer is that to knowledge that could potentially save this town from total annihilation!"
Naomi laughed. "Well, I'm sure things will get better."
"Oh really?" Andrew snarked, getting in his groove now. "How many Watchers do you know that started out as… as houseboys?"
"Well, none, but you have your foot in the door; that's a start at least. Is that what you'd like then? To be a Watcher?"
Andrew shrugged. "I'd rather be a Scooby. You know, part of the special forces, the elite evil attack squad, getting to go where the real actions is… but they're even harder to get into than the Watchers, so…" he shrugged again.
'Blimey,' Naomi thought as they walked the rocky ledge in mopey silence. 'He really believes in it, all of it. He's more intense than half the cadets at the Academy ever were. No wonder he's so frustrated with his lot here. I know I am and I at least have the title and the training.'
A rather disturbing thought occurred to her. "What you said earlier, about being a super villain? You were joking, yes?"
"Yeah," he said despondently. "I was never that good at it. I mean, I tried hard, but Warren always took over anyway and he never let us try out our own dastardly plans. World domination had to be all about him, you know? And then when the jetpack hits the roof, who ends up in the big house? All I'm saying. Meh-hi-ko was nice though."
"Ohh-kay," Naomi said slowly. "I'm starting to wish I hadn't asked now."
"Oh, its okay, those days are behind me," Andrew promised quickly. "I'm a trainee-superhero now, but one like Batman not Superman, because I don't have any… any inherent super abilities. Hey, we're the same," he realised with a smile.
"Goody," she murmured, wondering how much boredom and frustration it might take for an under-appreciated trainee-superhero to slip back into his super villainy ways. "Does Craig know about your, er, past?"
"Um…" Andrew hesitated.
And then he was saved from answering by the giant leaf-shattering crash from above, the terrifying yelling and, finally, the huge splash as the leaf-shattering yeller hit the water at speed.
The spray of cold water hitting her stirred Naomi from her initial fright-induced paralysis and she stepped back, reaching out to pull Andrew back with her and nearly tripping on the uneven surface they were using as a path.
Their eyes went wide as a figure rose from the watery not-that-deeps, coughing and spluttering as water ran off of it.
"What is it?" Andrew whispered fearfully.
"I don't know," Naomi whispered back. "But I think we should run before it spots us."
In obvious agreement, they didn't waste any more time on discussing their plan. Side by side they ran across the rocks in the direction they hoped was home. Andrew was faster, but Naomi was more sure-footed and together they helped each other along as swiftly as possible.
The figure finished choking up the river water and wiping it from his eyes.
"Man I'm freezing!" he complained out loud as he looked around. He was surprised to find himself all alone. "Uh, hello?"
He did a three-sixty in the river in case he'd landed facing the wrong way or something, but there was definitely no one there but him. Soggily he trudged to the edge and clambered out onto the rocks.
"Well, that was a waste of dry clothes and daredevil skills. Coulda sworn I heard their voices down here."
Shivering, Craig started following the stream uphill; hoping he was going the right way this time.
Thanks for reading. Reviews/feedback/etc always welcome. More tomorrow.
