This fic is by the very talented, very filthy author Laure Alexander. Her site is listed on my links page, but you can also get to it by clicking here. Author's note : The first P.O.V. is Rona's.
I still can't believe this is happening. The last five days have been a nightmare, and I've tried and tried to wake up, but it's hopeless.
It's all so hopeless.
Five days ago this man came to my grandma's door and told me that my life was in danger, that I was something called a Slayer Potential, that I had to get to Sunnydale, California, to safety. I thought he was crazy or a pervert, until a knife came out of nowhere and thudded into the door between us.
Mr. Hanby grabbed me and we ran. For the next day, as we drove across Indiana and Illinois from Fort Wayne to St. Louis, he explained to me about vampires and demons and Slayers. I wouldn't have believed any of it if I hadn't seen the face of the guy who threw the knife at us.
He didn't have any eyes.
I listened and I took it all in, but it just kind of numbed me.
In St. Louis, outside of a Burger King, another eyeless guy's knife slit Mr. Hanby's throat, and all I could do was run.
Somehow I found a bus station and, since Mr. Hanby had known this was a possibility, I had enough money for a ticket to California and a few days worth of food.
Not that I could eat.
When he died, his eyes were so full of fear.
*****
I was eight when they came to our summer house in the Hamptons. There were three of them, all men, all English with those wonderful accents. My parents were impressed by their tailor-made suits, their Corinthian leather briefcases, their proposal.
I remember sitting on the edge of the Louis XVI settee, trying not to swing my legs like a tomboy, listening.
I remember I wasn't really surprised when the men spoke of demons and vampires and other things that go bump in the night. Still a child, I believed in those things. My parents were skeptical, of course, but too polite to laugh in the mens' faces.
And eventually they were convinced.
And I've only seen them twice since then.
I get letters and cards from them on my birthday and Christmas, monthly phone calls that last for hours. I have pictures of them and my half-sister growing older, growing up.
But I was whisked off to England and only the destruction of the Council brought me back to the States.
I look around at the other girls, the other Potentials, and I see such fear and uncertainty in their faces. None of them have known of their calling for long. From my studies I know that until the middle of the twentieth centuries almost all Potentials were located by the time they were five, removed from their families and trained, so that by the time they were eligible to become the Chosen One, they were ready.
You'd think that with the technology available now we'd be found quicker, but that's not the case. Some, like Buffy, totally slip through the cracks. That she wasn't trained at all prior to being called gives me some hope for these other girls.
I'm the best trained of all of them. I'm nearly eighteen.
But I still don't feel ready.
*****
Still dressed from the fight, afraid to change into their clothes for sleeping in case it wasn't over, the Potentials sat around the living room, not talking, not paying attention to whatever episode of Seinfeld was playing on the television, not even eating any of the many snack foods that teenagers tended to devour.
Finally Chloe, the youngest of the group, said softly, almost to herself, "I wish she'd come back."
Dawn looked up from putting away her sword. "She has to rescue Spike."
"Why?" asked Vi.
"And if he's a vampire, really why?" Molly added.
"He's a vampire? But..." Rona looked around in bewilderment.
"He's a vampire, but he's...different." Dawn sighed softly and dropped onto the floor. "He has a soul, but even before that, he was different."
"Why?" several of them asked.
Dawn shrugged. "Dunno. All I know is that he loves my sister."
"Vampires can't love," Kennedy insisted. "They're just animals. We saw that tonight."
"Yeah, well, not Spike. You'll see."
The front door opened and Buffy walked in, supporting Spike. Dawn jumped to her feet and ran to help, the part of her that knew he was her friend pushing aside the part of her that was still bitter and confused over his actions the previous year. Together the two sisters maneuvered him onto the couch.
"'Bit..."
Dawn smiled at him, though her lower lip trembled at the sight of the wounds marring his pale chest.
"I'm going to go get bandages and some blood. Dawn, why don't you introduce him."
As Buffy left the room, Spike blinked his one good eye over the girls on the floor who were eyeing him with varying combinations of fear and curiosity.
"Power," he mumbled. He could feel it coming off them in waves.
"Yeah, these are the Slayer Potentials. Well, so far. Hopefully there are more coming. These are Molly, Vi, Kennedy, Rona and Chloe."
"'Lo." He gave them a weak little wave, then chuckled mirthlessly. "I'm guessing they know what I am."
"No one's really sure what you are anymore, Spike." Gingerly Dawn brushed her fingertips over a cut above his heart.
"Me neither."
Buffy returned carrying a bowl of water and a box of supplies, followed by Willow with a mug of blood. The redhead handed it cautiously to the vampire.
"It's pig. We thought it best for you to go cold turkey on the human."
He nodded and sipped the warm blood. "How long was I gone?"
Buffy sat down on the coffee table and began to clean his wounds. "Four days. I'm...kind of surprised it was so easy to find you."
"Maybe with the Uber Vamp gone, the First's in retreat," Dawn suggested hopefully.
"Gone?" Spike asked sharply, his eyes going to Buffy.
"I killed him tonight," she said matter-of-factly.
"The Turikan aren't easily killed," he said, his voice full of wonder as he finally noticed the wounds on her face, the bruises on her collarbone.
"I'm the Slayer."
Spike smiled. "That you are." He nodded past her to the girls who were watching the proceedings like hawks. "And if I have my way, none of these girls will ever need to replace you."
"They wouldn't anyway." His wounds clean, she began applying ointment.
"Huh?"
"Why?" Rona asked, her voice full of fear. "Do you know something we don't?"
"Yeah, but not what you're thinking." Buffy glanced over her shoulder and noted that all of the girls looked more bewildered than usual. "The Slayer line doesn't pass through me anymore. I'm an evolutionary dead-end. Kind of like the shark."
The truth finally dawned on Spike. "...The second Slayer."
"We need her," Buffy admitted grudgingly.
"What second Slayer?" Chloe asked.
And Vi added, "I thought that was just a rumor."
Done with Spike, Buffy swivelled around on the table to explain. "When I was sixteen, I died for a few minutes, long enough to activate the next Slayer. The line now flows through her and her successor and will someday flow to one of you or another one of the Potentials. The current Slayer's too mean to die anytime soon, so it'll probably pass all of you by."
"Well, where is she?" Rona asked. "Why isn't she here helping?"
"She'd probably be more likely to side with the First," Dawn muttered.
"Dawn..."
The younger sister gave the older a militant look. "Well, she would. The last time she was here, she tied me up and stuffed me in my closet, and I had to go to the bathroom the whole time."
Buffy tried to explain to the girls without scaring them further. "There's a fine line between light and dark, good and evil. Slayers walk that line more closely than normal people. It's...easy to fall into darkness. That's what happened to Faith."
******
Faith...
I don't like thinking about her for a lot of reasons, not the least being that the relationship she has with Angel bothers the hell out of me.
Plus the whole stealing my body, trying to get me killed, having sex with my boyfriend thing really bugged me, too.
Still, we do need her. We need anyone we can get. That's why I've spent the last two hours trying to get through to Angel. The phone lines to L.A. all seem to be down, even the cell towers. The news reports are sketchy--they're covering something up. If it was an earthquake or a riot, we'd be hearing about it.
I wonder if it has anything to do with the First or if L.A. is dealing with its own apocalypse? Either way, I'm sure Angel's in the middle of it.
It would be just like the First to pull something in Los Angeles in order to keep Angel and his group away from Sunnydale.
I really, really want to hurt him.
Especially after seeing Spike's condition.
I can't believe he didn't break.
The wounds he bears are horrible, layer upon layer of bruises and cuts. It's obvious that just as they'd start to heal, more were inflicted. He must hurt to the bone, but he barely flinches when I touch him.
When I found him, when he finally accepted that it was really me, his belief in me shone in his eyes. I almost broke down right there. He knew I would come for him. He believed deep down inside that I would.
I always knew I would, too.
Sure, I tell everyone it's because he's my strongest and nastiest fighter, that I need his decades of experience, and his surprisingly quick mind.
But...
In the deepest part of me, hidden from everyone, even myself sometimes, I know why I really needed to rescue him.
I care for him.
I can't help it.
All he's done for me...how could I not?
*****
Something big's going down.
Whatever's happening in L.A.--this fiery rain thing--that's not the biggie. What's coming to eat us all is heading North.
Since September I've been dreaming about them, little girls from infant to teen, all dying at the end of a knife.
I know what's it like to be stabbed in the gut, but I got lucky.
They just get dead.
And it's my fault.
It took me a while--the resources available to me in the prison library and on the limited 'Net access prisoners are granted weren't very useful--but I finally realized who the girls were.
Me.
Potential Slayers to follow in my footsteps, as I follow in hers.
They're being killed, one by one, along with their support system.
How many are left?
Being stuck here, out of the loop, is so frustrating. I finally got up the nerve to call Sunnydale, and the lines are down. Is it because of what's happening here, or has the Big Bad landed on the Hellmouth?
Are any of the potentials alive?
Is the Slayer?
Buffy?
I can't be the last one, not chained here, helpless and useless. Somehow I have to get out of here.
I thought my redemption would be gained behind these bars, but now I know I've just been waiting. Forgiveness waits out there, in the war zone.
In Sunnydale.
Fighting beside my sister.
We're at the two ends of the spectrum--light and dark.
We have to meet in the middle, or we're all going to die.