Cat was still too caught up in what had happened in the bar to understand the question. Her eyes bounced between the group of young Slayers and the closed panel leading back to the warehouse barroom. What was going on in there? Faith had pushed Tara farther than Cat had seen before, and Tara... Cat flushed, remembering the cool, controlled sound of her voice as she'd handed out orders.
"Leave her alone, Janice," Sam said. She watched Cat closely. "We just ripped her right out of a scene; give her a minute to find her footing." She moved next to Cat but was careful not to touch her.
Sam's comment was correct. Cat did need a minute. Not to recover, though. She spun and headed back for the bar. At least, that was her plan. She hadn't allowed for Sam's lightening reflexes and muscles of steel. "Let me go," she said quietly. "I need to go back in there." It was wrong for her to be here, to not be with Faith. Faith needed her and Tara. She struggled uselessly against Sam's grip before slumping in defeat.
Maintaining her hold, Sam told Janice, "You and Emily finish the patrol. Cat and I'll get a cab back to the Council HQ."
The anger management problem Faith had noticed in Cat threatened to erupt. Only this time, there were no vampires for Cat to use as therapy. Her hands curled into fits so tight her fingers ached.
Sam's fingers flexed around Cat's arms. "Lock it down. Now."
Sam was no Tara. Cat felt no need to obey the softly delivered warning. However, the fact that she had to even say the words brought Cat back from the edge. "I'm good," she lied. Her emotions still swirled wildly, and Cat wanted to rush back to the bar (and Tara and Faith) more than anything. "Sorry."
Visibly on guard, Sam let go and stepped away. "No problem. Ignoring a Slayer in post-battle frenzy isn't easy." She waited a moment. When Cat didn't immediately go berserk, Sam began walking away from the warehouse. "I'll have our doc check you out back at Slayer Central. I told your Domme you'd be pure as the driven snow when she came for you in the morning." Her grin was infectious. "I want to know if there are any of my finger marks on your arms and if I should start running now."
"Tara's used to me. She'd know who to blame." Cat grimaced comically. "You should have seen her when I didn't report in from an undercover assignment on time."
Sam's peal of laughter rang out. "No, thanks. I watched her quietly and politely shred one of the Watchers when she and Faith first hit Boston. Wow. We get tons of Alpha Dominants. It comes with the whole Slayer gig. Tara could flatten any one of them and smile the whole time. You're either brave or crazy to wear her collar."
For an instant, Cat's neck warmed as if Tara had locked the delicate collar on her neck again. Then the warmth disappeared, and Cat shivered convulsively. "About that..."
"Crazy?" Sam asked. "It's a common trait for anyone bonded to Slayer or witch."
"No." Then Cat chuckled. "Well, probably. In fact, my parents are convinced yes." And her behavior lately only seemed to support that idea. "But I was referring to wearing Tara's collar. I don't. Wear it." She sounded like an idiot. With a sigh, she tried one more time. "Tara's not my Domme. I don't have one. I'm a cop with the taskforce. Faith asked me to tag along tonight."
Poor Sam. Her mouth dropped open comically. "Not your Domme," she repeated.
Rather than adding to the hilarity and echoing her, Cat held up her right hand. It was dark, but Sam wouldn't need her enhanced Slayer sight to recognize the red leather for anything other than the truth.
"Sorry. Um…I…" The younger girl floundered. All of her self-possession drained away.
Cat took pity on her. "Don't worry about it. I would have thought the same thing, considering what you walked in on." With a little distance from the scene in question, Cat understood where Sam had gotten the impression she and Faith and Tara were a triad. "Guess that means you don't have to hold my hand and baby-sit."
That earned her a raised eyebrow. Dominants must learn the move in their cradles.
"Oh, put that away." Cat rolled her eyes. "I get it. Tara scares the crap out of you so I get a sitter for the night."
"Tara or Faith. Take your pick." Sam grinned and took Cat's hand, deliberately linking their fingers. "I'll keep you safe from the fangy wonders, and you'll tell Tara not to turn me into a frog." She swung their hands back and forth as they walked. "Oh, and Faith won't beat me to a moaning pile of pulp."
Sam was priceless. Laughing, Cat started skipping and said in a grating whine, "I'm huuuungry. And my feet hurt. When are we gonna get home?" If Sam wanted a free pass from Tara and Faith, she was going to have to earn it.
"You really are crazy." Sam wasn't upset. In fact, she seemed pleased. "I might turn you loose on a couple of new kids. They showed up last week, convinced of their immortality and innate superiority. They wouldn't know what to do with you. The whole Council system is set up to be serious and tied up in red tape. And, hey, did I mention serious? No one's managed to make a dent in their arrogance - except on the mat. And that's too much like kicking a puppy to be fun."
Cat was willing to try. She remembered her training officer her first year in patrol bemoaning the cocky attitudes of recent Academy graduates and how often they ended up dead. If she could help keep even one new Slayer on the job... "I'm your girl." As soon as she said it, she couldn't resist adding, "Lady Tara even said so. I'm all yours, Ma'am, until she leashes me in the morning."
"Don't push me." The warning would have been more effective if Sam wasn't giggling. They staggered down the sidewalk like a pair of drunks, laughing and holding each other up.
When the laughter finally wound down, Cat's face and sides hurt. "Oh, my God. What was that?"
"That's the post-Slayage syndrome. The Watchers and doctors on the Council call it Post Battle Epinephrine Curve, or PBEC." Although Sam's voice wavered with the last dregs of merriment, her eyes were sober. "It's a common problem for anyone on the front lines. Slayers have increased physical skills and stamina. Using it in battle causes an adrenaline rush. If you're part of the battle like you were tonight - or you're bonded with a Slayer, it's easy to get swept along for the ride."
"In other words, I can blame Faith for making you drag me away from the bar and for the schoolgirl giggles." Cat shook her head. "If she'd let me die of boredom, buried in piles of paperwork, I wouldn't have been ready to try beating you to a pulp. Or the vampire I questioned." And she might not have gotten primed enough to throw herself at Tara when she'd gotten so Dominant. Cat considered that thought a second time and discarded it. Tara's brand of Dominance would always affect her.
Stopping at an intersection, Sam scanned the street. "The official explanation makes us sound like animals. Increased aggression, sex drive, and appetite. Possible uncontrollable rage. Depression." A quicksilver smile lightened the mood. "The Slayer explanation - and I'll let you guess who came up with it - is that we're just hungry and horny after patrol."
Another bout of laughter threatened. Cat cleared her throat and counted to ten until the giggles subsided. "If you hadn't set it up like that..." There was only one possible answer. She could easily imagine Faith's smirk as she attempted to shock some Council stuffed shirt. "Willow, right?" she said with a straight face.
"Exactly," Sam said dryly. "Because Willow is all about kidding and non-scientific comments."
She was. Or, she could be. Cat had seen her in action with Faith. She didn't say mention that, however. Sam was a younger Slayer. Willow probably fostered her reputation as an all-knowing science nerd. Turning the conversation in a slightly different direction, she commented, "I bet that makes for interesting bonds. Faith said something about multiple-person pairings." In case she was pushing Sam's boundaries, she quickly added, "And we don't have to talk about it. I can ask Faith or Tara."
"I don't mind." Sam shot her a curious look. "It's not a secret"
"But..." It was clear there was something more.
"I guess I'm surprised you don't already know." Sam blew on her hands. "Where are all the cabs? It's a long hike back home. When you were all 'grrr' earlier, I thought you'd just never seen PBEC up close and personal. It sounds like you'd never even heard of it, though. How did you miss the Basic Slayer classes in school?"
Great question. Cat answered with part of the truth. She wasn't sharing her life story with this kid, no matter how much Cat liked her. "Private tutors. I guess they decided to skip that part of the curriculum."
"Sucks to be you. Well, maybe not. You probably didn't have to worry about getting harassed because you preferred sports to flirting with the pretty subs. Or sit in a classroom the size of a closet with thirty other kids." Sam didn't ask Cat about her experience, thankfully. "We're a pretty messed up bunch. All the super powers are great, but they come with a price."
"Faith mentioned some of that." Cat very carefully skirted the details of Faith's life. "Something about getting Called and how it hits you out of the blue." They turned onto Summer Street. Hopefully, there would be at least one cab in front of the Convention Center. Or a bus. Someplace warm where Cat could sit down.
For the first time, Sam didn't seem comfortable with the conversation. "That doesn't happen most of the time, Cat."
"What do you mean?" Sam's reaction made Cat uneasy. Had Faith experienced something out of the ordinary? And why hadn't she mentioned it when she and Cat had been talking?
"Being a Slayer isn't an accident. We're created, I guess you could say." Sam grimaced. "This is so not my strong suit. When we get to the Council HQ, you might want to arrange a meeting with one of the Watchers for all the details. Most of the time, the Council knows who will be Slayers. They're called Potentials. They get a Watcher assigned. Like your private tutor - but after school." From Sam's aggrieved tone, it was clear after school studying was a sore subject. "We learn about Slayer history and all kinds of fighting techniques.
"You don't ever really expect to get Called. I mean, it happens when one of the active Slayers dies. Not good news. But it doesn't hurt or freak you out. Unless you managed to slip through the Council's identification program. Then you'd really be surprised," Sam clarified.
Cat wanted more information on that. Only not from Sam. "That makes sense," she jumped in. She'd see if Faith would be willing to talk some more. This was definitely on the private end of the scale. "So you get Called. Now you're a Slayer. What's next?"
"Oh, not much," Sam mocked. "Just your usual, every day thing. Fight demons and vampires. Save the world. Get banged up a lot. Hopefully not get killed before you're legally old enough to drink." She spun around and glared at the street. "I've never not seen a cab out here. It's not very late!" With a scowl, she dug through her pocket before triumphantly holding up a cell phone. "Someone can come pick us up. I might even get a pat on the head from my Watcher for saving us money on cab fare." She dialed a number from her contact list, remaining stationary while waiting for the contact to answer.
"Damn it. Voicemail." Sam hunted for another number.
"I could call Dispatch and get a radio car," Cat offered. And then have it deliver her home instead of the Council building. She was getting tired, and she really didn't need a babysitter.
Sam disagreed. "We had this conversation. No flaming fireballs or really pissed off Senior Slayer in Sam's future." As Sam scrolled to her next possible ride, she froze. Her eyes darted up and down the street.
"What's wrong?" The hairs on the back of Cat's neck rose in response to Sam's actions. She turned in a slow circle, looking for whatever had Sam on edge. There was nothing and no one on the street. "I'm calling in."
"Don't bother." Sam shoved the phone into her pocket and drew a stake and a dagger from inside her coat. "Follow me and stay close." She took off in a ground-devouring lope.
Cat hurried after her. They dashed between two businesses across A Street, and Cat spotted three men surrounding a pair of women. There was enough illumination from the sole street light to see the forehead ridges denoting the men as vampires. As if to confirm Cat's thoughts, one of the women screamed. Despite running at top speed, Cat was left behind as Sam zipped down the alley.
From the moment Sam grabbed the first vampire, Cat knew there was a problem. The vampire was well trained. Professionally trained. He moved like a trained killer.
Sam didn't stand a chance. Cat dialed 9-1-1. "Badge 937. Officer and Slayer need assistance in an alley near Summer and A." With no regard for the phone, she dropped it on the ground and drew her weapon. It wouldn't kill Sam's attackers; it might give her a fighting chance.
She managed to fire two rounds before something sharp and burning jabbed into her the muscle at the back of her neck. "Sam!" Cat tried to turn, tried to swing her gun around. Hands held her still and yanked a hood over her head. The night went completely black, first from the hood then from whatever had been in the needle.