On a side note, the prologue reveals nothing in the previous "Two Slayers" fanfic.
March 1917
The night started off simply enough, as a young man in his twenties and his family sat down for a nice quiet dinner. It was their second day in their new England cottage, and they still had yet to arrange everything to their liking.
Rhys looked around at his loved ones: his attractive young wife, Lysette, their six year old son, Lysette's uncle, and the nanny he had recently hired. He had never felt more complete than he did now.
This is exactly what a family should be like, Rhys thought. Warm, loving, and togetherness. How did I get to be so lucky as to obtain it all?
Lysette had just finished saying grace, and they hadn't even begun to eat when there was a knock at the door. Startled, the four adults glanced at each other, all wondering who would come calling this late.
Gentleman that he was, Rhys stood and went to the door to greet the uninvited guest. Much to his surprise, it was a young woman, perhaps in her late teens or early twenties.
She looked up at him with innocent, sparkling navy blue eyes, face framed by a cascade of light blonde hair. But she wore the oddest clothing: a lime green outfit that resembled a tightly fitting dress. And the sleeves, when he caught a glimpse of them, were enormous, several inches too big to fit her arms.
The girl gave a nervous giggle, aware of his scrutiny. "I'm sorry to interrupt," she said quietly, in a musical voice soft as bells. "But I was hoping you could help me... I was out with my family on a hunting party, and I got separated from them. Do you know where I could find the Jamisons' house?"
Rhys paused, then nodded. "They live more than four miles from here though," he answered. "It's too far to risk riding in the dark." Graciously, he extended his arm in a gesture of hospitality. "You're welcome to have dinner with my family and I, and spend the night if you like."
With a soft smile, the girl stepped inside, introducing herself as Darla. Rhys led her to the dining room, failing to catch the mischievous glint in her eyes as she followed. Nor was he aware that he had just invited death into his home.
Darla did a lightning-quick scan of the room, delighted that a large meal awaited her and her two companions outside. Faster than the human eye could see, Darla went for the nanny, taking on the demonic visage that would allow her to feed.
Rhys barely knew what had happened until he heard Lysette screaming. He looked up, terrified at the scene that was playing out before him.
Darla's first feeding of the night was over in an instant, and she dropped the nanny to the floor, wiping at her lips with the back of her hand. Before anyone could act, she then went to the child, hands placed on his shoulders in a motherly gesture.
Lysette screamed again when she saw where this evil girl had gone next, while Rhys remained frozen in terror. "Please," he pleaded at last. "Don't hurt him."
Darla smiled, which made her vampire face look all the more wicked. She gently stroked the brown hair at the boy's scalp to further unhinge the parents. "That all depends on you," she said methodically. "And on how quickly you're willing to walk out of this house."
Terrified, Lysette reached for her uncle's hand, prodding him to help her up and start walking with her to the front door. Rhys soon followed, all too aware that Darla, with his son in tow, was right behind him.
Much to his dismay, Rhys found two other creatures like Darla were waiting beyond the threshold. But these two were both male, and somehow looked even more compassionless.
The one on the right was short and frenetic in his movements, as if he couldn't wait for whatever lay ahead. With his demonic face, it was impossible to tell the real color of his eyes (they were yellow like Darla's), but his hair was a glossy shade of vermilion.
The third of these monsters, on the other hand, was tall and lanky with dark ebony hair, exuding a disturbing sense of calm. Yet, he too looked almost eager for whatever awaited, wetting his lips with his tongue.
With a smile and although it wasn't necessary, Darla introduced her two kin, referring to the frenzied redhead as Thierry. And from the way she looked at the tall one, Rhys caught on to the fact that she loved him, if such demons could be capable of love.
Darla's words confirmed it for him, as she pointed to the idle dark-haired one. "This is Angelus, my one and only mate," she said, obviously not caring how vulgar her statement sounded.
Thierry looked on impatiently, her remarks winning a response from him. "Are you done playing with the food, Darla?" he asked. "I'm ready to eat."
In the blink of an eye, Darla reached out for the uncle, tearing him from Lysette's grip and thrusting him towards Thierry. "Help yourself," she answered, watching as Thierry disappeared around the corner of the house.
With that done, Darla once more looked down at the child in front of her. Then, she picked him up, holding him close in a nurturing way and ignoring how he screamed and began beating at her helplessly.
Her instincts were far from maternal, and Rhys knew that he'd never see his son alive again if he didn't act. He took two steps forward, intending to snatch Toby from Darla's arms. Only he had forgotten that a third vampire was present. Before Rhys could reach Darla, Angelus grabbed him from behind and threw him in the direction of the cottage.
The fight was over in an instant. Rhys lay on the ground in a daze, his head hurting where it had hit the stone wall. On the verge of conciousness, he hardly noticed that Lysette was at his side, holding him to her and wailing.
Lysette could only look on helplessly as Darla took off with her beloved son, tear streaming down her face. But her attention was soon caught by the slow approach of the third monster, the one called Angelus.
"No!" Lysette cried, pulling Rhys even closer as if to shield him from this. "Please don't hurt him!" She didn't care what happened to her, as long as her husband at least was given a chance.
Angelus ignored her pleas, his mind only focused on one thing. He pulled Lysette to her feet, sinking his fangs into her neck. Once he was sure he had drained her fully, he discarded her like one would a chicken bone or sour milk.
Angelus then started towards Rhys, but stopped short when an unfamiliar noise filled the air. Looking around, Angelus was startled to see a big black crow perched on a nearby fence, staring at him and Rhys as if in expectation.
For a moment, Angelus wasn't sure how to act, as this was the first time any animal had dared come this close to him (most of God's creatures tended to steer clear of the undead). But then, the vampire remembered that he still had one last meal awaiting him, and immediatly turned his attention back to his victim.
Rhys had no fight left in him as he noticed Angelus' approach, but not due to his injury. Lysette and Toby, his wife's uncle and the innocent nursemaid, he knew, were all gone, and it filled him with infinite sadness.
Only twenty minutes ago, we were together and we were happy, Rhys thought as he felt his life slipping away. How can it end like this, when we didn't have a chance to defend ourselves?
In the instant before death, Rhys' gaze drifted to the crow. A dozen thoughts suddenly flooded his mind at this last sight, among them the bizarre sense of knowledge that his time for vengeance hadn't yet passed.
Not even as he slipped quietly from this existence into the next...
I really should be getting used to this by now, Rupert Giles thought as he lay down on the couch in his office, a cold compress pressed to his forehead and feeling as if one of his ribs may be broken. It was early on a Friday night, and he had come to the school library for a training session (which basically consisted of martial arts) with the newest vampire slayer to appear in Sunnydale.
Her name was Stefanie Marks, and Giles had only known her a mere three months and had enjoyed teaching her. But as of lately, he was beginning to doubt his adequacy of being the right Watcher for her. More notably, his physical well-being.
Giles sighed, thinking back on what she had told him of her life. She had started out as a slayer (the one girl in all the world who could fight vampires successfully) back in the 1960s.
Stefanie was unique in the sense that she had been integrated into the vampire society herself. But, being the slayer that she was, her soul managed to remain intact, while others of her kind tended to lose theirs when made. No remorse and no conscience made it easy for the evil ones to kill the way they did.
However, Stefanie's strength (slayer and vampire combined) was extraordinary, and she often had trouble holding it all in check. Thus the reason Giles was now lying on his couch in pain, wondering why he kept holding out hope that she'd learn to control herself.
Stefanie stood a few feet away from where Giles was resting, once more looking mortified. She was a pretty young woman, eternally seventeen, with blue eyes, porcelain skin, and light brown hair.
Sitting down across from him, Stefanie began wringing her hands together nervously. "Giles, I am so sorry," she said. "Are you going to be okay? Should I call someone?"
Giles shifted around to make himself more comfortable, groaning slightly, then looked at her. "A chiropractor, perhaps," he suggested in his usual British accent, adjusting his glasses. "No, scratch that... Call my wife. She's getting used to taking me to the hospital."
Stefanie quickly went to do so, having his home number memorized. Once that was taken care of, she quickly brewed up a cup of herbal tea for him. Giles thanked her as she handed it to him, taking slow sips and feeling glad that this night couldn't get any worse.
But it did get worse, the moment that his former student, twenty-year-old Buffy Summers, entered the office, chuckling when she saw him lying there. "Rough night again, Giles?" she asked, setting her purse down and pulling up a chair.
He looked over at Buffy in annoyance. "You would not think it was so funny if you were in my shoes," he chided.
Buffy eyed his outfit: the dark brown trousers, the gray sweater, the plaid vest. "Giles, no offense, but with your fashion sense, I wouldn't want to be in your shoes," she quipped.
Giles sighed, silently admitting that her wit did amuse him sometimes. In fact, he missed the training sessions he and Buffy had used to share together. But with her expecting her first child (Buffy was five months pregnant), it couldn't be helped.
Stefanie remained silent for a moment as she watched her two friends bickering, still feeling guilty for what she had done. She wondered, not for the first time, if it was right for her and Giles to continue with this routine. Surely, there was someone better qualified, someone she wouldn't have to worry about injuring.
Someone who was a vampire like herself.
With this in mind, Stefanie looked up at Buffy, feeling that now was the best time to broach the subject with her. She started out by interrupting Buffy's and Giles' quarreling, then asked how Angel was doing.
Angel (formerly known as Angelus) was another vampire who was Buffy's true love and the father of her baby. A gypsy curse had given him back his soul many years ago, and he had been unable to kill since that day. Buffy plainly adored him, and Stefanie had grown fond of him as well.
"He's fine," Buffy said with a smile. "Why do you ask?"
Stefanie exchanged looks with Giles, seeing that he knew what she was thinking and that he approved. Relieved that her Watcher wouldn't raise a fight, Stefanie felt free to request that Angel be the one to coach her physically from now on.
Buffy was in total agreement, for which Stefanie was glad. The discussion ended moments later when Giles' wife, Jenny, arrived to get him. The two young women then made a quiet exit, heading for their mutual home.
For them, at least, it was a fairly normal night. But for Angel, it was about to take a turn for the worse...
Halfway across town, at this exact same moment, Angel was just exiting the hospital, several bags of blood he had stolen for himself and Stefanie stored in a backpack he carried. Even vampires with souls still needed the same sustenance that others of their kind did. Much as he wished it wasn't true, that fact remained unchanged.
With a sigh, Angel hoisted the backpack onto his shoulder, starting down a dark alley on his way home. To get himself into an upbeat mood, he thought of Buffy, how much her love warmed him. Strange, he mused, that the very person sworn to destroy my species has become my one reason for living.
Falling in love had certainly been a surprise, considering the irony of such a relationship happening. Angel had first started out with the intention to meet Buffy from time to time to guide her in her vampire battles. Considering his extensive knowledge of such creatures, it had been a big help to her.
What he hadn't counted on was the way she had of drawing him to her like a magnet. It hadn't been long before his role of informant had turned to the basic need of wanting to be near her on a more personal level, even though he knew it was wrong. But when Buffy made it clear later on that she had fallen hard for him as well, there was no turning back.
Angel remembered the terror Buffy had expressed when she at last discovered what he was. He had fled her that night in shame, expecting that she would never trust him again. The two of them had made a perfect modern-day Romeo and Juliet: enemies by circumstance, lovers by choice.
In spite of it all, Buffy had given him a chance to explain himself, and her love for him never died. It took four years, but the two of them had eventually found their way to each other. And much to his joy, he and Buffy had a soon-to-be-born child to show for it.
So caught up in his cheerful thoughts, Angel didn't catch sight of the crow until it gave out a loud caw. Startled, he stopped in his tracks, eyes focusing on the bird that was perched on a dumpster a few feet ahead of him.
For some reason, this sight filled Angel with alarm, all his senses screaming out that something was wrong. The feeling was compounded when he heard the footsteps approaching from behind.
Turning, Angel swore that nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. Ordinarily, he wasn't given to remembering the faces of his many victims prior to the gypsy's curse, but the presence of the crow helped with this one.
The only difference was that Rhys' face had been painted white, with long black lines around his lips and eyes. That and the fact that he was dressed in modern clothing, complete with leather jacket, and he held a sawed-off shotgun at his side.
Rhys took a step forward, an angry grin plastered on his face. "Remember me, demon?" he asked in a cruel tone, raising the shotgun to fire. "I'll give you one chance to redeem yourself, as long as you tell me where I could find your two partners."
Angel was too stunned to reply for a moment. He swallowed nervously, then simply said, "You won't find them. I'm not even sure where Thierry is nowadays, and Darla..."
Angel wasn't given a chance to finish as the shotgun pellets tore into his chest. Wincing, he toppled to the ground, clutching at his wound in immense pain. Looking up, Angel watched as Rhys left him to die.
The crow, too, soon took off, apparently thinking the job was finished. So neither it nor Rhys noticed when Angel agonizingly pulled himself to his feet. Bullets alone couldn't kill a vampire, merely hurt them beyond belief. But only provided it wasn't a close-range shot to the head.
It was with this in mind that Angel slowly made his way to Buffy's house, feeling lucky that he wasn't dead, but also troubled by the appearance of his former victim. The questions plagued him all the way home, but Angel's only concern was that there wasn't a single answer...
Buffy lived in a grand Victorian-style house only a mile and a half from Sunnydale High. If it were just her, she knew she would never be able to afford it. Fortunately, Buffy had three people living with her: Stefanie, Angel, and an old high school pal, a vain girl by the name of Cordelia Chase. All of them pitched in to pay bills and house repairs, but the majority came from Angel, who had built up a sizable bank account over the past sixty years.
As she entered, Buffy looked around for her boyfriend, expecting him to at least come to greet her, but there was no sign of him. Concerned, Buffy walked to the bottom of the staircase, calling for him. After a moment, Angel called back that he was in her bedroom.
Buffy went up to investigate. She found Angel sitting on her bed half bent over, his back to her. She blushed when she saw he was shirtless, taking a moment to admire his muscles and the tattoo of a bird behind his right shoulder. Feeling amorous, she walked over and wrapped her arms around him, nuzzling one side of his neck with her face.
Had the circumstances been different, Angel would have welcomed her attention. As it was, he stood, breaking out of her grasp and turning to look at her. Buffy stared up at him in shock a moment, surprised by his brusqueness. It was a sudden change from when she had last seen him two hours ago. "What's wrong?" she asked.
Angel shrugged, face clouded with a troubled look. During his hesitation, her gaze strayed to the angry red punctures that marred his chest. "Oh, my God!" Buffy said, a numb feeling descending over her. "Angel, what happened?"
He paused, reluctant to tell her the truth and thus worry her. So he quickly made up a story. "I ran into a very old friend of mine between here and the hospital," Angel said. "Needless to say, he wasn't too happy to see me."
She nodded and said, "Well, are you alright? Is there anything I could do?"
Angel gestured towards the nightstand, where a few tissues holding the small pellets lay. "Don't ask me how, but I already took care of removing the bullets," he said, reaching for his shirt and pulling it on. "Thanks for offering though."
Buffy sighed, then decided to tackle another topic. She quickly explained to Angel about Stefanie's request, then waited for his reaction.
He smiled slightly. "To be honest, I figured Stefanie would turn to me on this sooner or later... Actually, I thought it would be a little sooner. I'm surprised our resident Watcher endured it as long as he did."
"Our little secret circle is just full of surprises," Buffy quipped.
Angel gave a brief laugh, then grew serious. "Well, what did Stefanie do this time? Giles isn't on the critical list, is he?" When Buffy shook her head, her boyfriend added, "That's good. This vampire I ran into tonight... There was something weird about it. Do you think Giles would be up to a visitor? I was hoping he could shed some light on it."
Buffy nodded again. "Want me to drive you?"
Angel gave her a small smile, hoping it didn't reveal how worried he was. "It's okay," he told her. "I'll walk." He kissed her goodbye, then walked downstairs and out the front door, praying that this mystery could be resolved without involving her in the slightest...
On their way from the school library to home, Stefanie had decided to detour towards the Bronze (the town's one hot-spot) for a few hours. It was a dance club located in the bad part of Sunnydale and was a common place for vampires to show up at.
She sat alone at her usual table, eyes cast downward at the fries and soda she had ordered. Feeling blue, Stefanie casually stirred her drink with the straw, remembering a time when such things had been appetizing to her.
I can pretend that I haven't changed, that I'm still human, Stefanie thought, but reality always comes creeping in. I'll always be the same nocturnal, bloodthirsty creature I've been for the past thirty years.
Just then, Stefanie became aware that the crowd was stirring around her. She snapped alert, in expectation for her first battle for the night. But when she saw who was heading her way, Stefanie froze, an electric current running through her.
The new arrival was simply gorgeous, even though he looked out of place with the way his face was painted. The black and white streaks seemed to add an aura of mystery to him, and it appealed to Stefanie in a way she hadn't imagined possible.
As if aware of her scrutiny, this stranger looked her way, hesitating a moment before walking over and sitting across from her. Stefanie was sure her face was glowing even before he opened his mouth to speak.
"A beautiful girl like you shouldn't be sitting here all alone," he said in a deep English accent, his dark eyes shining like pearls. "Are you here by yourself?"
Stefanie took a moment to collect her thoughts, glad that at least she wasn't drooling. Slowly, she nodded, absently shoving a french fry into her mouth and chewing.
Her answer prodded Rhys to ask her to dance, rather than leave her to her miserable thoughts. Stefanie let him escort her to the dance floor, a soft, almost unnoticeable smile coming to her lips.
As if by magic, the next three songs that played were slow, romantic ones. Stefanie and Rhys glided across the floor in each other's arms, soon completely caught up in the mood. She didn't want it to end, and felt a wave of disappointment when at last he pulled away.
Stefanie watched him walk away for a few seconds, then hurried after him, gently shoving her way through the crowd. She caught up to him outside, determined not to let him get away without knowing his name.
He turned at the sound of her approach. As if reading her thoughts, he said, "Rhys... My name's Rhys."
She remained silent a moment, aware that she was shaking like a leaf, then said, "I'm Stefanie... Well, um, do you live around here, or are you new to Sunnydale?"
He smiled warmly. "I'm just passing through," he answered. "On a business trip, you might say."
Stefanie bit her lip. "Well, how long will you be around? Maybe we'll run into each other again." I hope, she added silently.
Rhys stared at her for a long moment, suddenly wishing that he could take back the last half hour. In his case, he knew, it was unwise to get involved with someone. But the damage had been done, as he realized she was already infatuated with him. "We'll see," was all he said before he turned and climbed on his motorcycle, taking off into the night...
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