Meredith:
Ah, the joy of class letting out. I’ve always loved academia; when I’m in a classroom, I lose touch with the outside world. Every other thought in my mind will fade, and it’s just me and the flow of new information. Even so, I've been in school for 25 years, and there's nothing quite like the rush of freedom at the end of a long day of classes.
As I wander towards the parking lot and my car, I notice a pretty redhead on the steps. I mean, come on; I’m dating, not dead. Someone got REALLY lucky in the girlfriend department. Not that my boyfriend is anything to sneeze at, but I sort of miss dating women. Before I get a good look at Ms. Ireland, I'm distracted by one of my study partners from Fundamentals II, and when I'm finally moving again, the redhead is gone.
I'm dragging what feels like a ton of books around with me, and although my strength has been drastically improved since I was Called, it's still tiring after seven hours. Of course, when I get to my car the back seat is so crammed full of the detritus of my hectic schedule, the only place to put ton-o-books is on top of my surfboard; which just SO would not be copasetic. I check carefully that no one is watching before I lift the heavy board with one hand to place the bag beneath it.
Today I feel distracted, and my life feels like something out of a movie. Or worse, an After School Special. Medical student by day, Slayer and 'Assistant Watcher' by night, surfer girl by dawn when I can fit it in. I keep the secret of the Slayer, pass my classes, fight evil without getting myself killed (so far), and even have a man. I wonder if the girl who stopped me earlier might be interested in having a drink…
I don't get it; I used to be so normal. Even when I was in training with David, I had an ordinary life; well, other than the violence, and the bisexuality. When I lived in England I went out any time I wanted, had friends, partied. These last four years traveling the world, researching my thesis, enrolling in Med school, and finally being Called; these are the years that messed me up. Or maybe I was messed up before, and I just spazzed and never noticed.
I crank my stereo and push all thought from my head as I battle afternoon traffic through the city. LA driving is bloody awful stuff, but I've adapted to it by having a crap car with a really awesome stereo. If I hadn't been a Potential when I was younger, I probably would have gone into music. My Watcher used to tease that I wouldn't have been able to slay anything without background music. That line of thinking reminds me that David is dead now, and destroys the peaceful, easy feeling I had a minute ago. Once again I push the bad thoughts away, and concentrate on singing along with Bono as I weave my way home. I wouldn’t wish this mess on my worst enemy. Of course, I don’t have any enemies, but, you know.
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It takes me less than an hour to get home from campus for the first time in a week, and I celebrate by cleaning my car. I really shouldn't let old coffee sit like that; it was starting to smell pretty funky.
I don't even notice Ms. Ireland until after my fourth trip back from the garbage can. I feel no impending doom, so I risk ignoring her and see what develops. I've got my car mostly cleared of nastiness and useless debris before I see her approach out of the corner of my eye.
"Excuse me." She has a chipper voice, almost childlike, and I wonder idly if she's old enough for me to have a go at her. "Are you Meredith Cunningham?"
Bollocks. She's looking for me. This is majorly bad; who knows what she wants, and the following me is so not cool. I consider lying, but looking up into her hopeful green eyes I just can't. I'm a stupid, stupid girl. "Yeah, I'm Meredith." I sound nervous, and make an effort to calm down. "Most people call me Merry. And you are?" I extend my hand, and act like I can't crush her into pulp, in case I need to surprise-attack later.
Ms. Ireland gives me a huge grin, and it really does feel like a gift. "My name's Willow Rosenberg. I'm a Watcher, and I was asked to come visit you." Her voice is carefully low, and I can tell that she's checking for anyone who might be close enough to hear. Very wise; and direct, which counts for a lot in my book.
She has a name! Well, of course she does. It’s a pretty name, though; it suits her. I'm not supposed to speak to her without consulting my superior, but there's something inherently trustworthy about her. I've learned the last few months that instinct won't betray me. Plus, hot chick in my living room, yay! "It's lovely to meet you, Willow Rosenberg. Why don't you come up to my apartment, where there's more privacy." I risk reminding her that being alone with me could be hazardous, to convey understanding of her concern for discretion. Then I hold my breath.
She nods, suddenly shy, letting go of the hand I hadn't noticed her holding longer than necessary. "Thank you. That sounds good. I mean, having some privacy…To talk, and get to know one another…Talk about work…I mean…"
I giggle. I can't help it; the babbling and blushing she's doing are precious. I know giggling is juvenile for one pushing thirty, but oh well. She sure is a sweet little thing. Well, not so little, she towers over me by at least four inches. "It's all right, we can talk about…Almost anything. Let's just go inside and cop a squat, I'm too tired for standing around, ya' know."
I dig in the back seat again, and come out with my mammoth bookbag and my beachbag. I slept at the beach last night; well, I tried to sleep. I have no idea how I didn’t notice it earlier, but some really vicious demons are attracted to water. Not to mention the vampires. To think of the sheer number of vamps I must have missed killing when I lived in Hawaii; it hurts my brain! I really need a shower. "Hey, Willow Rosenberg, since you came over unannounced and all, do you mind if I take a shower first thing? I feel totally icky." I lead her inside, dropping my bags with a grateful sigh.
"Sure! Not that I'm that eager for you to shower. I mean, sure, if you feel like you need to shower, you go right ahead, and I'll just stay sitting in here where I will not be thinking about you being naked…Umm…Forget I said that?" She's blushing again, but there's a gleam in her eyes that says it might not entirely have been an accident that she let that slip. Nice to know I can still attract the right kind of girl; I was starting to think that I was sending out men-only vibes.
I flash her a wide smile as I walk backwards, tour guide style, towards the bathroom. "I refuse to forget about pretty girls paying me compliments, Willow Rosenberg. Doesn't bloody happen every day, you know."
She frowns at me a little bit, and nods. "Umm, you know, you can just call me Willow, right?"
I giggle again. "Now I do. And please, call me Merry." I shut the door behind me before she has time to reply.
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I'm back in the living room as quick as I can be, which is about 25 minutes without makeup or blow-drying. I calmed enough in the shower to realize I'm in a dangerous situation. She could be anyone, a witch, or an immigration officer even, and she's in my living room.
Willow is wandering around, looking at my pictures and bric-a-brac, and I spend a minute admiring her figure before we have to get serious. I need to stop admiring her and start interrogating her. Any minute now…
"Who sent you?" I ask quietly. The beginning seems as good a place to start as any.
Willow turns away from my bookshelves to meet my eyes. She studies me for a minute, almost as if she's looking inside me, and begins to speak. "Like I said earlier, I'm a Watcher, I work with the new Council. I was asked to come here by Buffy Summers." She stops to see if I recognize the name and, of course, I do. I was planning to visit Buffy in Sunnydale, to offer my help and such, but before I made it down, both Council headquarters and Sunnydale were lost. "I hear you got a visit from Faith a few months ago. Wanna tell me why you told her to go to hell?”
Willow plops down onto my couch, leaving me to tower over her for the first time. I want to talk about Faith about as much as I want a root canal, but I have a feeling Faith left out a large chunk of intel in whatever she told Willow. “Did Faith happen to mention how she approached me?”
Willow frowns, and I lower myself into the chair across from her, watching her carefully. I take a deep breath to calm myself, and settle back in my seat. I have a feeling it’s going to be a bumpy night.
Before she replies, Willow reaches into the briefcase at her feet and removes a thick sheaf of papers. “This is all the information I have on you, and on three other Slayers in the LA area. I only know what’s written here.” She sets the papers on my coffee table and meets my eyes. “Why I came, really, is to find out why you’re giving up. You spent almost fifteen years working with the Council.”
I sigh. “Do you know anything about the way the old Council worked?”
“Well, sure, Giles explained its basic structure to us when we started reforming it. There were lots of Watchers, even though there was only one Slayer, well, there were two Slayers, really… Anyway, there were Watchers for the potentials, and Watchers who only did research, and one Watcher for the Slayer, and one who ran the whole shebang.” Willow looks a bit sheepish, but I motion for her to continue. “You joined the Council because you were a potential, which is why you’re a Slayer now. When I cast the spell to give Slayer power to all who had the potential to carry it…”
I gasp. “YOU cast a spell?” Oh, crap. This…Little girl in front of me may very well be the most powerful witch in the world. If she decides I need to be dead, or a toad, or be stripped of my powers, there’s pretty much nothing I can do other than kill her. Which would be a shame; there aren’t enough sexy redheads in the world that I could actually talk to about the whole Slayer thing. Come to think of it, I might not be able to kill her no matter what she looks like; she might be able to read my mind. I wonder if she knew I was looking at her ass earlier?
I’m afraid of her. She’s still giving me that safe, harmless feeling, and I’m still afraid. Okay, I’m terrified. There’s no way help would get here fast enough… Willow lowers her head, and I freeze. I’ve seen dark magic at work; I know she could easily manufacture that warmth and cheer I felt from her earlier, not to mention all kinds of glamours, and spells, and other nasty stuff that could kill me before I could blink.
Willow’s shoulder’s shake, and I brace myself for the end. I offer a quick prayer to the powers of light for the safe passage of my soul… And she isn’t doing anything. She’s sitting with her head bowed and shoulders hunched, shaking. My terror fades, and I try to get her attention. “Umm, Willow…”
She sobs. One of those dry-heaving sobs, the painful kind. The last of my fear is instantly gone, replaced by concern for the young woman in front of me. “Willow…”
“I’m sorry.” She gasps. “I probably ruined your life with that spell, I don’t blame you for being angry with me.” She sobs again, and the motion of filling her lungs tosses her head up enough that I can see her face, and the tears spilling down her cheeks. “It was the only way to stop the First, and I know that’s not an excuse for what you’ve gone through, all the adjustments, and the accidental breakage of things, and I wish I’d never done that STUPID SPELL!”
With that last shrieked pronouncement, the witch I was so scared of a minute ago loses herself in her tears. She’s so upset my own eyes are tearing up. The poor thing; I wonder how many negative reactions she’s lived through to be this upset by my little outburst. I sit beside her on the couch and rub her back, trying to calm her down, and also trying to figure out what to say once she is calm. By the time she’s breathing normally again, I think I have it figured out. “Thank you.”
She wrinkles her nose at me. “For what?” She asks, her voice hoarse from crying.
“For changing my life, for making it better. For apologizing, for worrying about all the women who weren’t as ready to handle the gift as I was. For speaking to me, and I can tell you’ve spoken to others, and freely admitting that you’re responsible for the spell’s outcome, good or bad. Now, I’m going to go make some tea, and when I come back, this part of the conversation will be over. But I need you to promise me something first.”
Willow swallows, and for a moment my desire to kiss her is almost overwhelming. She needs comfort and… And I have a boyfriend, and I’ve known her for all of an hour. Bloody hell.
“What?” She finally asks shakily. “What do you need from me?”
I smile at her, because I know she needs to see me comfortable, and because I want her to stop crying before I join in. No way am I letting her know how much more messed up her spell made my life, at least not for a good long while. “Please promise not to strip me of my powers, or turn me into a toad, or anything like that, okay?”
Her smile is a bit shaky, and not entirely happy, but it’s a positive response. She nods. “Okay. No turning you into anything I haven’t already turned you into. No spells in your apartment at all. Got it.”
Well, wish me luck, I’m going in. I hope the cavalry is safe, because if I’m making a bad decision here, I’d like someone to find my body before my cats start eating me.
“Did Faith happen to mention that we’d met before she showed up in LA last month?” I hand Willow her tea and sit myself back on the couch, but farther away this time. I’m trying to be comforting, not suicidal.
“No.” Willow’s frowning again. “There’s nothing about that in the file.”
“Well, we did. We had. We’d met, is what I’m trying to say. You see, I was one of those research-type Watchers. I was never supposed to be heading out into the field. In the normal course of life, I never even would have gotten to work with a potential. My specialty… Did Rupert tell you about Watcher specializations?” Willow nods. “Good. Well, my specialty is the Slayer line. I was researching my thesis for my Watcher’s course when Kendra was called, and I was going to meet up with her on the Hellmouth, but before I got the chance, she was killed. So after Faith was Called, and the Council decided not to send her after Buffy, I paid a visit to her in Boston.”
“Wait, if you were researching Slayers, why didn’t you ever come to see Buffy?” Willow is watching me carefully, and I feel a bit silly, but also kinda flattered by her attention. Oh boy, I am in SO much trouble.
“I was researching the line; the continuity, family history, strengths and weaknesses…That stuff. The purpose of my specialization is to try to predict which potentials are most likely to be called by researching the continuity of the bloodline of the original Slayer, and why some girls get picked and some don’t. The Slayer line split once before, in the early 1600’s. Which is actually a little known fact, because it was a set of twins… It’s a bit complex, but one somehow died and came right back, but by the time she did the other had been called. The records are a bit fuzzy; there wasn’t much medical technology back then. And, of course, they were identical, so lots of people never figured it out…”
“Wait, hold the phone here. With the weirdness. If it happened before, so long ago, then how come there haven’t been two Slayers all this time.”
I sit up straighter, warming to my subject. I’ve studied this for years, I know all the ins and outs of the line, but this incident was my thesis topic, so I’m especially well informed. “Well, they died at the same time. The exact same moment, actually. Only one was called to replace the two. We’d always believed that if they had died at different times, then two more would have been called. Then Kendra died, and Faith was called, which seemed to prove the theory. Still two Slayers. Buffy caused me a great deal of confusion when she died a second time. No one was called to replace her, because Faith was still alive ostensibly. I went to Faith back then because of the split in the line, it was my thesis topic. When I came here for school, I intended to visit Buffy, maybe do some additional revisions. I never got the chance. ”
Willow’s starting to look a tad overwhelmed. Which is totally cute, but I hate to feel like I’m frying her. “Look, Willow, I’m sure this isn’t what you came here to hear about. All I meant to convey by telling you this was that Faith and I had met before, and didn’t like one another all that much, and then she showed up at the mall one day and started telling me about how there are, like, a thousand Slayers, but that you wanted me to move to Cleveland…”
“Why would we make you move?” Willow looks a little less overwhelmed, and a little more angry. I hope not at me. “I mean, if you worked for the Council, you could be assigned somewhere, but Giles wouldn’t just make you move, he wouldn’t force you. I mean, we are trying to recruit trained Watchers to teach at the Slayer schools, but there are plenty of Slayers working independently still. You could totally freelance. Except that, you know, we’d prefer it if you had company. It might be nice, for you; another Slayer that you could team up with, someone else who understands what you’re going through…” Willow sounds so earnest, and she seems to be telling the truth. I haven’t seen Rupert in years, but I remember him being very regimented and, well, boring. Once Faith told me he was in charge, I didn’t see any reason to doubt that she was telling the truth. I wouldn’t have put it past him to change my entire life around just because it was the most logical thing to do from his point of view.
I think about my options for a minute. She knows that there are other Slayers in LA, and she wants me to work with other Slayers; no problems there, we’re already working together. She also wants me to be involved with the Council, which should be okay, but that really depends on how they work. I mean, are there meetings, retreats? Is there paperwork; God, I bloody hate paperwork. As Jezzie would say, it sucketh verily. Willow starts to look antsy, so I ask another question. “Say I wanted to…Freelance. What would I have to do for the Council?”
She smiles, and I have a feeling she’s about to go into her own ‘warming to my subject’ mode. “Well, it’s pretty neat, actually. Are you already out there, Slaying I mean?” I nod. “Great! Then all you’d have to do would be to get a Slayer buddy, and keep track of what you do. How many vamps you slay per patrol, where you slay them, any demons you come in contact with or slay…Or kill, or whatever. Kennedy and some of my girls prefer to bring a micro-cassette recorder on patrol, others report in by phone, or hold a meeting at the end of patrol. Then, if you have a problem, or if you’re being overrun, we can help. With the resources, and the magic, and stuff like that.”
Doesn’t sound so bad, when she puts it like that. “Is there paperwork? I bloody well hate paperwork.”
Willow shakes her head, looking sympathetic. “No, totally paperwork free. We communicate in a non-paperworky way, by e-mail, and the phone and stuff. Hey, restroom?”
“Sure. It’s that door, the one I went through earlier.” I gesture in the general direction of my lav and Willow heads across the room, leaving her cold half-cup of tea on the table. “Would you care for some more tea?” I ask. I mean, sure, I was originally from Cali, but I spent so many of my formative years in England I just can’t help the tea bit.
Willow nods her approval and closes herself in my bathroom, and I run for the phone and hit the speed dial. I have the teacups and myself in the kitchen before the first ring is over. Of course, Jezebel isn’t answering a single phone, and I have the chance to try all three before Willow comes back out. Figures; field Watchers, never available when you need them. I miss David; he’d know what I’m supposed to do.
I brace myself in case of confrontation and head back out to the living room. “Hey Willow? Do you mind if I get back to you about this? I mean, I’m not going to stop slaying the vampires, whether I agree to work with you or not, so no worries there. I guess I just need some time to…Absorb what you’ve said. I mean, I just found out that I was called by a spell, and the thousand Slayer thing was true, but the Slayer gathering thing, not so much, and…Well, it’s all pretty confusing. And you said something about Slayer Schools, right? What’s the deal? Is that the gathering thing Faith was talking about?”
Willow looks a bit worried, but I can tell she’s trying not to. She’s very cautious when she begins to talk again, and I pay super-careful attention to what she has to say. “Well, see, there are so many Slayers now who never had Watchers, or who are way young, or have problems…We’re setting up the schools so we can teach them what they need to know with a limited number of Watchers; you know, since so many Watchers got killed, too. It’s also like a support system. Lots of the teachers are Slayers, too. There are usually dorms, the typical Slayer training, with weapons and demonology, and usually regular school-type classes; math, history, that stuff. Also it’s safe for them, a place where they belong and people care about them.
“Lots of girls lost family to the First.” Willow looks up at me. “Almost everyone lost someone. Some of them got into accidents trying to get away and are crippled, or have other physical or mental problems. We’re not only trying to train them, we’re trying to help them live with the power. See, there’s this theory that all Slayers eventually either have a death wish, or they succumb to the evil.”
“You know, that’s not a bad theory.” I can’t help but interrupt, even though the kettle is wailing and I have to kinda yell from the kitchen. “All of the data is inconclusive on whether or not an especially nasty demon or aged Vampire is more likely to kill a Slayer than a fledgling. A death wish would certainly explain it. But what’s the purpose of the schools. I mean, what happens to the girls when they graduate?”
Willow nods, smiling. God, she’s cute. Bad Merry, focus on the practical stuff, you’re going to need to report on the Slayer schools and the Council, not the fact that you can see down her shirt when you stand over her and hand her tea. “Well, when they’re ready to be on their own, we’ll send a team out. Ideally, we’d like to have a traditionally trained Slayer, a Slayer-Watcher, and a witch or a witch-Slayer working together. And of course, we encourage family and friends to participate, providing they get some training. Cooperation from friendly demon species is also encouraged.”
I arch my eyebrows at her. “That’s certainly…Liberal of you. And how are we supposed to keep the secret calling of the Slayer a secret if we tell all of every Slayer’s friends and family what she is?”
“Well, sure, it needs to say a secret as much as possible. But really, most people want to protect their kids, and the Slayers themselves are usually pretty good judges of which friends could handle the responsibility, and are loyal to them. Oh, and also, there are independent demon hunters out there; some of them have agreed to help out. They’re mainly on Hellmouths and in big cities, but that’s where we need the help, at least right now. We’re kinda keeping the newbies as out of the way as we can.”
“Willow. Hellmouths? As in, more than one? But, the Council always referred to Sunnydale as THE Hellmouth.” This is new. I wonder why I never heard that there was another one?
She rolls her eyes, giving me a little trying smile. “Yeah, some of the Council things are like that. There are actually seven; well, six now, unless a new one opens. We’ve got a school on one, and active Slayer teams on two others. The others are kind of…Less active. Like, magnets for demons and evil, but more mellow. Less magnety. We’ll get teams to them soon, hopefully in the next year or two.”
“So, you’re trying to keep the untrained Slayers out of the way, but you but a whole building full of them right on top of an active Hellmouth?”
“See, you make it sound really bad when you say it like that. Cleveland’s Slayer School is run by Faith and the son of a Slayer, Robin Wood, who was also raised and trained by a Watcher. The teachers are all Slayers, four of whom survived the battle with the First in Sunnydale, and three Watchers from the old Council are helping out there right now. They only have twenty-five students; that’s fewer than I have in Rio, and we only have three teachers right now. Well, I’m here, so three. Usually four, when I’m there.”
I nod trying to absorb all of this. It’s strange, that when I was called, when all of us were called at the same time, we never thought about how many of us there might be. I, especially, should have thought of it. I mean, I’ve seen the family tree; I know there are tons of women in the world carrying Slayer blood. “Okay, listen Willow, I really need time to figure out what I’m going to do, here. I need to talk to some people, figure things out. I mean, sure, I’m trained, and I have the power, but I’m in medical school. I mean; I can barely manage to pass my classes and have something resembling a social life. I can’t be in charge of a team; I just don’t have the time. I’d love to help, and actually I’m studying sports medicine, so I can be really useful with injured Slayers, but I need to figure this all out.”
Willow winces. “Actually, there’s a more pressing issue, as far as I’m concerned at least. There’s an apocalypse coming, or at least a possibly world-ending event. I have to get back to my hotel in a few hours to meet up with my friend Spike and get some planning done, and I have three more Slayers to try and contact. Are you interested in finding out what’s going down, and maybe helping out? Because we could sure use some Slayer-type help. You don’t have to, you know, it’s just that I promised that I’d ask.” She looks like she’s afraid of getting hurt, but she plugs along anyway. “Anyway, if you wanna tag along for the rest of the day, you’re more than welcome. Of course, I know you’re busy, so probably not so much. Anyway, it was really nice to meet you, and, um, let me give you my number, so you can get in touch with me, you know, if you want.”
Willow digs around in her purse for something, and I watch her. The world is ending? The world can’t end; I have a test next week. Wait, maybe ending is all right… No. Ending the world is NOT all right. This is part of the job, right. I mean, I was called to protect people; I’ve been training since I was eleven, and I can help. “Willow, hold on a sec.” She looks up at me as I stand, and I pat her on the head even thought I know it’s kinda condescending, just because I can’t help it. “Let me get my coat. Oh, and Willow; I know the other Slayers, in LA, I mean. Don’t worry, if they’re available, we can get them to come to us. Wait, would you rather get back to your hotel, or stick around here for a while? You're welcome to hang out here if you like.”
Slowly, Willow stops digging around in her purse, and looks up at me. That hopeful look, the one that tipped the scales in her favor out in the parking lot, is back in her eyes. I smile, and turn towards the door to get my coat. After that, I head towards my weapons chest in the window seat and grab a few extra things to throw into my beach bag, removing yesterday’s clothes and my wet suit as I pack them up. By the time I’m settled, Willow is at the door, waiting for me, which I guess means we're going. I stand, and meet her eyes again. I wish I knew I was doing the right thing. I trust my gut, which says to trust Willow. I just hope my gut isn’t being influenced by my libido…
Willow opens my front door and leads the way back to the parking lot. “So, can we take your car? I didn’t bring one.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I’d like to thank everyone for reading. You’re really swell. And neat. You know why I’m flattering you? I’d like reviews, please. See; flattery, and asking nicely, I’d say that deserves something. Oh, and I don’t own the guys you’ve seen on TV, but Merry’s my own creation, despite the stolen name. Enjoy!