Disclaimer: I do not own BtVS or Angel.
Earn the name
"Talking"
"Thinking"
Chelsea did not want to be here. She made that obvious by how much hate she glared at the house. How could they move her here? The higher ups were just overreacting, like they always did. There was no need to ship her out to Cleveland!
It was tempting, very tempting, just to walk away. There had been another passenger on the plane who seemed to know just what Chelsea could do. He gave her a card and told her to call the number when she wanted to "put her talents to good use." Only problem was, she didn't have a phone. The house would have one, she was certain of it. So she would hang around for a while and if things went like she knew they would, she'd make the call.
The door opened after she rang the bell. A girl about two years younger than Chelsea looked at her. As their eyes met, they knew who the other was. A fellow Slayer. "Who're you?" the girl asked, keeping her voice guarded as she looked at the black-haired, blue-eyed stranger.
Chelsea stared at her. "I could ask the same of you," she replied, using that tone she knew grated on people's nerves.
"You're the one knocking on the door. Start talking." The threat to slam the door in her face was left unsaid.
It was cute how she thought she would be able to do it too. Well, Chelsea decided to indulge her. "I'm Chelsea. I was sent over from London." Which meant she was from Council HQ and as such, ranked a little higher than the Slayer she was talking to.
The girl glanced back inside the house. "XANDER!" Her voice was quite loud. Chelsea winced and moved to cover her ears.
"What?" a man's voice came back.
"THE PROBLEM CHILD'S HERE!"
Her hands twitched as she scowled. That's what they call her? The problem child? "Send her up to my office," the man ordered.
The girl looked back at Chelsea. "Up the stairs, second door on the left."
"Thanks." She walked in, dropping her bag as she headed for the stairs. "Take that to my room, would you?" She'd unpack later. Or not, depending on how things went. There were eyes watching Chelsea as she went upstairs. She looked around and saw no one but that didn't stop the feeling. It would've made anyone else feel nervous. She knew it was just the Slayers watching her. So it didn't bother her.
She found the door and walked in without knocking. Harris was there, leaning against the desk. He must've thought it made him seem cool. Personally, after hearing people talk about the Xander Harris, Chelsea didn't see what was so impressive about him. He was just a man and not even an impressive one. The eyepatch certainly detracted from his appearance. Oh, she knew the story behind. She thought it was a bit pathetic. How hard is to keep someone from poking your eye out?
"Hello, Chelsea," he greeted her. "I'm Xander."
"Yes, I'm aware," she replied. A quick look around told her they were the only two in the room. "Shouldn't Lehane be here too?" She had thought the Prime Slayer was attached to the Cleveland house.
"Faith's got a situation she's handling down south. She'll come back when she's done." The Slayer standing in front of him took the news and dismissed it. She clearly didn't think highly of Faith. "Do you know why you're here?" he asked, getting right to the point.
Oh, Chelsea knew. It had been obvious when the Head Watcher told her she was going to America. "I was sent because the other Watchers couldn't handle me and my skills. They seem to think that you'll be my saving grace." She didn't bother hiding just what she thought about that. It matched her disdainful look.
She expected him to be outraged, or angry. So it surprised her when he chuckled. "Well, you certainly believe your words. What I've been told is much different. Every team you've been assigned to, including Buffy's, Willow's, even Dawn's, had nothing good to say about you. But it was the G-man who gave me the best description: a Slayer with substandard skills and an ego that's about to outmatch the Earth." He looked right at her. "Essentially, since everyone's washed their hands of you, I'm your last hope."
Anger roared throughout her body. How dare they say such things about her? Substandard? Just because they couldn't keep up with her, it didn't give them the right to say such things! And it looked like the man standing before her thought the same. Well, if he was going to be like that, why should she disappoint him?
"If you don't want me, I'll leave," she said, turning to the door. "I doubt you could even try and stop me."
"Chels, you're—"
She whipped around and glared hard at him. "My name is Chelsea!" she snapped. "Not Chels!"
His expression didn't change. "Chelsea, you're currently a British citizen in the States on a green card. Do you really think you'll be able to go far?"
Oh, he wanted to play that trick? "I could go as far as the nearest police station," she told him with a smug smile. "All I have to tell them that you're behaving rather inappropriately around me, perhaps there's even been some bad touching, and I'll be safe while they arrest you. It would be quite shocking, wouldn't it?"
The last time she used that threat, the pathetic ass that had been her Watcher paled and backed off. Xander Harris didn't do either. All he said was "That's assuming you make it out the front door."
Chelsea scoffed. "Like I said, I doubt you could try and stop me."
To that, he smirked. "It wouldn't be me." He gave her a moment to understand the implications. When she stayed silent, he continued. "I wouldn't have to say a word. No doubt the girls have been listening in since you showed up. So now they know just what you'll try to do, and they'll respond in kind."
It wasn't a threat. At no point did he try to threaten her. Yet Chelsea felt a shiver run down her spine. "I'll be able to hold my own."
"Against all of them?" She didn't have an answer to that. He smirked. "That's what I thought. Bottom line, Chelsea, is that you're here whether you like it or not. The others sent you to me so you would be a proper Slayer. And I'm going to make sure that you are exactly that."
The following weeks showed Xander Harris meant what he said. Chelsea had always thought she was a good Slayer, even a great one, able to hold her own in a fight and kill vampires without any difficulty. The training she was put through showed her how wrong she was. She wasn't even sure it could be called training. It was more like torture.
Harris would have her do impossible tasks. If she failed something, all he would say was "Again." There was no anger or frustration in the word, just a calm order. At first, Chelsea threw her performance, thinking it would be enough, yet he still told her to do it again. Using her anger to complete the training seemed like a good idea but it only left her out of breath and Harris telling her to do it again.
She tried to get back at him with her usual tactics. She started talking smack about Harris, using her usual insinuating comments and questions. It was a tactic she had used before, and she could always find someone who had their doubts about their leaders. But here, the other Slayers only glared and ordered her to shut up. They wouldn't hear a bad thing about their Watcher.
Chelsea found it odd how much they adored the man. Yet the more she watched, the more she saw how Harris managed them. He listened to them, was patient yet firm when he had to, could offer kind words if they were needed and wasn't above separating Slayers if they got into a spat. Yet he never took sides, always listening to both of them before declaring punishments. And no matter what he said, the Slayers listened.
It was ridiculous what she saw, and she was very tempted to scoff at the sight. But there was something else she noticed about the Slayers here.
They were locking her out.
Every time she would walk into a room, any Slayers there would look at her like she was a stranger who wouldn't leave and then go back to what they were doing. When she tried talking to one of them, another would come in, saying she needed the Slayer in question, and they would walk away, leaving Chelsea alone. The attitude also occurred at mealtimes. Chelsea might've sat amongst them but each time she felt alone.
It wasn't just their silence that stood out either. When Harris had said they had been listening, Chelsea had scoffed. But when she was directed to her room (a small thing that could barely hold a bed, a desk, and a drawer) her bag had been left open and most of her clothes damaged in some way, her makeup kit all but destroyed. She had wanted answers, was ready to demand them, but she knew from their looks alone none of them would confess. Whenever one of them was called to spar with Chelsea, she would end up on the ground, bruised to no end. And each time, the other Slayer would just stand over her, daring her to get back up.
Another aspect to her isolation was the fun they had. Chelsea had thought coming to Cleveland would be just like being attached to a different team. At least then, she could go out and party. But Harris kept her in the house, saying going out was a privilege earned from slaying. And Chelsea wouldn't be allowed to slay until he said she was ready. So each time the Slayers went off to have fun, she was left watching them leave.
The longer she stayed at the house, the more that number she got seemed appealing. She wasn't respected here. Even a shit demon got more attention than her. Each time she got close to the door or the phone, there was someone nearby, watching her. If she wanted to get out, she was going to have to make an excellent plan.
That alone took weeks of watching, seeing when every Slayer left the house, slept, got distracted. Chelsea noted the time it took to get from her room on the ground floor to a door, which floorboards could creak, and how loud the doors could be when they opened. If she wanted to escape, and snag a phone in the process, she would have to get this done right the first time.
Bu as she did all this, there was a sense of uncertainty. And that came in the form of Harris. Ever since she arrived, it had felt like Harris was watching her. No matter what she was doing at the time, that brown eye was watching her. Chelsea didn't know why he was doing this. Hadn't he already made his decision about her?
One night, just as she had the plan all set, Harris decided she was ready for a test run. Chelsea wasn't the only one who had been surprised by that, but the other Slayers didn't argue when she joined their squad. Harris would come too, to watch her in action.
The night had been uneventful, until they had been ambushed. Chelsea felt something was wrong, but the others ignored her. The vampires jumped them two blocks from the house, going for Mandy first. The only reason she stayed alive was because Chelsea knocked her down and took out the vampire first.
The enemies had seemed slower than they were supposed to be, weaker too. When the fight was done, Chelsea looked at the dust that used to be vampires, then at her hands. Had she done all this? "Of course, I did," she decided. "I'm a Slayer." But it had been more than that. Usually there was a fight with vampires. This had been a massacre. Was the training hell she went through?
Someone shoved her before she could ponder the question. "What the hell is your problem?" Mandy demanded with a hard scowl.
She didn't need to ask what the Slayer meant. She knew. "I saved your life," she said. "You only have to say thank you. No need to be rude."
"I saw him coming. He was handled."
"Didn't look like it from my perspective." Anger started running across her veins. She looked at the younger Slayer with a dismissive sniff. "There's no need to behave like a bitch."
"Look who's talking!"
Her sword rose slightly. "You got something to say?" She looked at the others for support but there was none. They were all standing behind Mandy.
"Alright, break it up," Harris ordered, getting between them. The eye looked at them both, demanding they stand down. Mandy complied but Chelsea took another moment. "It's the end of shift and we could use some sleep. Let's head home." That ended the argument. Didn't stop Chelsea from scowling at Mandy's back, though.
The next morning, before breakfast, Harris told Chelsea to meet him in the training room. He was decked out in training pads; the kind even Slayers couldn't destroy. Chelsea could guess what was going to happen next. It was strange. Harris was the one person she hadn't sparred against since coming to the Cleveland house.
"What's all this then?" she asked.
"Nice Monty Python reference," he said with a smile.
She didn't see the humor. "I asked a question, Harris. What are we doing?"
"Getting some answers."
She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "You actually believe that Matrix crap about knowing a person through fighting?" She always thought those movies were weird and didn't make any sense.
He sighed and shifted his shoulders. "Just start, Chelsea. We'll stop when I say we're done."
Oh, he was going to regret that. She stepped onto the mat and quickly went on the attack. But he blocked her strikes with ease. She couldn't even get him to move from his spot. His defense was strong, but she was sure she could get through.
"Who did you lose?"
The question came out of nowhere, surprising Chelsea. She froze and he took advantage, leaning in and tagging her. It was a short burst of pain, enough to annoy her. "What?" she asked him.
"Who did you lose?"
She frowned as the anger started to build. "It's not important."
"Yes, it is. Who did you lose?"
"Shut up." She spun high, kicking him in the head. He blocked it without any trouble.
"Who did you lose?" he asked the question again. "I'm guessing it has something to do with your name. How you don't like it being shortened? That right, Chels?"
Her anger turned into fury and exploded through her veins. "It's CHELSEA!" she screamed. She launched herself at him, wanting to break him into pieces. But all he did was block. No matter what she threw at him, he blocked and deflected. She didn't care. She just wanted to beat him into nothingness.
A step went too far, and she found herself looking up at the ceiling. Her body refused to get up, no matter how much she wanted it to. It was like the fury burned through all the energy she had. Harris sat down beside her. There was no anger in that eye, only calm patience. "You lost a friend, a close one, didn't you?" he asked.
Chelsea froze on the mat. How could he know that? "…Yes," she admitted.
"Who was she?"
"…Her name was Mary." She didn't know why she started talking, only that she did. "We were so different from each other, right down to our accent. Only reason we knew one another was because we went to the same school. But we were the best of friends. The two of us, Mars and Chels. Even after I became a Slayer, after the Slayers Organization found me, she was still my best friend. She said she would stay by my side and be my Watcher."
"How did she die?"
The tears came as the memory floated up to the surface. "It was my fault. I had gotten too far ahead and thought the fight was over. I started celebrating when I heard Mary scream. I turned and…and…"
"And there she was, with a vampire at her neck," he finished for her. She was surprised by that. He didn't care. "What happened after that?"
"What do you think happened?" she snapped. She didn't care how fast the tears flowed now. "She died! She died because of me! Because I was too far away and too absorbed on how I won the fight! I should've been paying attention. I should've noticed there was another vampire. I should've kept her alive!" she all but screamed into his face.
He took the scream without blinking. After it died away, leaving her breathless once more, he said, "And that's why you shoved Mandy away, because you were back there, when Mary died. It's why you've acted so reckless each time you went out on patrol."
The words weren't judging, just a simple statement. Yet Chelsea stared at him as if he revealed her deepest secret. "What…how…?"
"I read the reports, Chelsea. All of them. The only time you've brought your A-game on patrol is when you thought someone was going to die. But since you never explained your actions and you let others think what happened, opinions started to form about you. Opinions that you decided to take advantage of. You think that if you act like you're the best, eventually you'll become the best. And the others will keep away from you, so you don't have to worry about losing any more friends."
Chelsea was lost. How? How could he have summed up how she felt so easily? He didn't know her, never met her before she arrived at Cleveland. So how could he know? She could find no explanation. All she could do was stare.
Harris's smile was gentle. "Chelsea, that's how the old Slayers worked. It's different now. You have sisters to watch your back. If you can't reach your friends, relay on the fact they will."
"What about the friends I already lost?" she asked, her voice barely a croak.
The smile held but there was a look of pain in his eye. "Keep them in your heart, talk about them to share their memories, but don't let them chain you down. We've all lost someone, Chelsea. But we can't forget about them." The pain disappeared and the smile turned warm. "I bet that's why you keep changing your accent, to remember Mary."
He was right. Mary's accent had been completely different from Chelsea, thanks to their backgrounds. Ever since her death, Chelsea had used her accent to annoy people and keep her memory alive. But how did Harris know it was faked?
He got back up and held out his hand. She took it without thinking and was pulled up to her feet. He had a strong grip and well-worked muscles. She hadn't noticed that before. "There's no need to close yourself, Chelsea," he told her. "The others are willing to welcome you in. You just need to give them a chance." He glanced at the clock. "Looks like it's breakfast time. Why don't you wash up and join the others? Maybe talk to Mandy about last night."
Why did that suggestion scare her more than anything else? Yet it dogged her as she took a quick shower and joined the others at the table. No one said a word to her as she sat beside Mandy. That was nothing new. But instead of returning the silence, she spoke. "I'm sorry."
The hum of conversations stopped, and they all looked at her. "You're what?" Mandy asked, staring right at her.
"I'm sorry about last night. I didn't think. I just…reacted. It looked like you were going to die. I…I didn't want to see that." It was hard, looking Mandy in the eyes as she spoke. But Chelsea did it. Once she was done, the silence that followed felt heavy.
Mandy smiled. "Nice to know you had a reason. And hey, your accent changed." The others agreed, intrigued by the fact.
Chelsea hadn't noticed that happened. "Yeah, this is my actual accent. The other one used to belong to…my friend."
No one needed to ask what happened. Her sad expression said it all. Mandy's smile turned heartfelt. "Is it why you shoved me out of the way?" She nodded once. "I'll take it. Thank you, Chelsea."
"Chels." The word came out without thought and it got people's attention again. "Call me Chels." Xander was right. They could be her friends. She just had to give them the chance. And that included her nickname.
"Alright, Chels." Mandy had to admit, it sounded pretty cool.
Xander walked, devested of any and all training gear. "How nice," he remarked as he took in the scene. "You managed to hold yourselves together and let me get some food first." The Slayers giggled at his little joke while throwing pointed looks at a few. Everyone knew who was responsible for that one.
Chelsea found herself watching Xander as he gathered up his breakfast. It was like she was seeing him for the first time. He didn't have the grace a Slayer did, but he walked with precision and power. His clothes might've hidden his body, but she knew there were muscles underneath, the well-worked kind that meant he stood beside them. And there was that eyepatch. At first, Chelsea thought it had been a sign of weakness. Now she saw it gave him that experienced air, not to mention a slightly mysterious one. All in all, he was a handsome man.
But that's not all he was. He paid attention to his charges, cared for them, and protected them. This wasn't a boy posturing so he could look cool or someone who wielded their authority like an iron glove. This was someone who knew where he stood, accepted it, and did his best to support those around him.
This was a man, loving to his people, able to make a joke, but more than willing to fight their enemies too.
Why did that give her a warm feeling? Why did her cheeks feel warm at the sight of him? When did she start thinking of him as Xander and not Harris?
Mandy noticed the same thing and smirked. "Looks like someone's got a crush," she whispered in a sing-song voice.
"What? No, I…" Her half-hearted protest died as the other Slayers gave her very knowing looks.
"Ah, don't worry, Chels. You're not alone there. He's quite lovable, isn't he?" Chelsea was mortified at where the conversation was going. So Mandy looked to their Watcher. "Hey, Xander, did she pass the test?"
"That she did," Xander said as he sat down. "She passed with flying colors."
All the Slayers looked at their new addition and gave her the same smile. "Congrats, Chels," Mandy told her. "You're one of Xander's Girls now."
Hearing the name, and seeing all those welcoming smiles, it felt as if a door had opened, inviting Chelsea in. She didn't hesitate stepping through and becoming a part of their group.
The number she had stashed away remained untouched for a long time. By the time she had found it again, and everything it held, she didn't waste any time tearing it up and throwing the scraps away. Chelsea didn't need what might've been offered. She had friends, sisters who were willing to fight alongside her and a big brother figure that watched over them all.
She was home.
End
Author's note: Thank you for all the reviews you've sent me.
Maybe it's because I haven't been looking in the right spots, but I haven't read a lot of stories where Xander teaches the Slayers. Sure, most of them show how they look up to him, but they don't go much further. So, I wrote this.
Hopefully I did Chelsea's transition from outsider to part of the group right. She wouldn't be the first Slayer with an ego Xander had to deal with. He knew what to do with her. It certainly helps that he's got a house full of Slayers who won't tolerate any shit thrown at him. Now that Chelsea has seen who he is and what he does, she'll be a part of it too. They take their title very seriously.
That phone number bit will come back in some other form. This is the same universe as Youth Problem, and there's something in the world operating against the Watcher's Council. The more I write this universe, the more I'll get to reveal about it.
I'll see you all next chapter!
