Determined
Fred skipped down the steps early Friday morning. She'd awoken at 5:30 feeling so good that she had showered and dressed even before her alarm's set time to buzz her awake.
The bagels and doughnuts sat on the counter as she filled Mr. Coffee.
Fred's smile dissipated slowly when she noticed Wesley's form slouched over his desk, asleep. He had been researching Akoshta. She knew as much, but he had never asked for help. She worried he would make himself sick.
Fred slowly filled the percolator with water and set it to make a fairly strong "wake up" beverage. She strode beside the desk strewn with books and legal pads. It was a mess to say the least. She read over a few of his notes. She felt guilty. Wes had never "asked" for help, but he had never said "don't help." With that, Fred grabbed four books and walked to her desk, complete with laptop and one hell of an Internet connection. One way or another, she was going to help.
Within an hour she had, not just a good idea, but an extremely clear idea of what was going on. Wes had written down almost everything that had relevance. She knew it was more cryptic in words than in meaning.
The simple truth was that the Slayer, chosen and resurrected, was the influence, the guide, even the anchor when two vampires set forth on separate but connected paths. Fred had easily figured out that Buffy was the Slayer whom Angel had the connection with. It was The Second's identity that eluded her. The names of various Vampires that Angel had spoken about whirled through her head.
Darla was out of course. She had dusted herself. And this was supposed to be, albeit one of the undead, one that could walk and talk.
She ventured into her short memory of Angel's past. What little she knew of it.
Dru. Somehow she knew that was wrong.
Spike. No. He wanted to kill the Slayer, and was with Drusilla.
"No," she said to herself, "No, it's someone connected to the Slayer. Was one of her friends turned?" She tried to think back.
Cordy is here, Willow is a witch. Xander is... no one knew what Xander was, but they would have gotten word if he had been turned. The others that helped to make up the crew had come and gone over the years. Fred knew that ever since the "Harmony" incident, Willow updated Cordy on "turned" friends.
The slender brunette returned to the translations, and by the time Gunn had walked in she knew something more. The Slayer's lover...but it wasn't Angel. This vampire had no soul...and it WAS a vampire. "Oh...my," Fred said as she read on. "Oh, my!"
Gunn stood behind the counter. "Oh my what?"
Fred looked up. She couldn't seem to breathe properly. There were two major details in here that she hadn't been expecting. Gunn whipped around the counter and wrapped his arms around her.
"What!?" He watched her face become paler. "God! What!?"
After a few moments it occurred to Fred that warm familiar arms were holding her. She slowly became aware of her surroundings. Gunn saw her begin to recognize him and the world she was in and loosened his grip.
"Oh, Charles. It's...it's crazy. Akoshta isn't meant to be a test for a wish to be granted. At least not for Angel and his Second." She caught a tear before it rimmed her eyelid. Gunn watched with intensity. Pain was in her face, and he hated to see her in pain.
"What is it, Fred?"
"They are already on the path. It says they are on the path." She took a deep breath and tried to voice her thought. It came out as a whisper. "They are on their path. This is a test to see if they are worthy of the path. And if they aren't...if Angel isn't..." This time Gunn caught the tear as it fell. She looked into the dark pools that held her attention. "If they don't pass the test...they will die."
"You caught on to that did you?" Both turned in the direction of the voice emanating from the previously drowned in sleep ex-Watcher. "It's a bitch knowing everything, isn't it?"
Wes's body gave out once more. He slumped unceremoniously, back on the pile of books, and passed out from exhaustion once again.
Gunn and Fred watched him, and decided to return to the research.
After twenty minutes, Lorne came down the steps with a cooing Connor. The baby played in turn with Fred and Lorne while they took turns with the research until almost noon.
Gunn was content to watch on as Fred giggled with the infant.
She sat at her desk bouncing the boy on her lap. He wiggled and waved his hands, accidentally hitting the keyboard of the laptop. Fred stopped, and looked at the screen to make sure Conner hadn't made her lose her place in her research. Suddenly, an idea came to her.
"Lorne, can you take Connor?" Lorne quickly cradled the baby and began singing to him.
Fred got to work. She set up a link to e-mail AI about any information anyone had on Akoshta. It was a long shot, but anything was possible.
A few hours later, Fred, Gunn, and Lorne looked over the information gained throughout
the study session. It was more detailed than expected.
Akoshta.
Determined by Demon twins, supposedly sisters.
Often a test to be rewarded by a gift, but also a test to approve a foreseen gift.
The gifted are: Heroes, Champions, Those Chosen...
Was around before documented time.
Specifics on the prophecy were more elusive. Simply that it was the Slayer-- Buffy--and
Vampires with a connection. Both a lover's connection, but so much more. Obviously set on his true path by Buffy...or at least Buffy's existence...was Angel. The Second...who was The Second?
Fred also saddened when no one had answered her e-mail information request. She turned on the "notification" so that a message would sound if anyone did e-mail AI.
Wesley began to rouse. He had had a faint memory, a dream, Fred knew what was going on. A baby laughed in the background. Lorne sang...
"Bloody terrific. It's not a dream." Wes tried to focus his eyes on the group at the lobby's counter. He soon realized he had lost his glasses. He felt around his desk until the familiar shape of his spectacles was under his fingers. He looked again and saw the stack of books in front of the group.
This confirmed his suspicion. Everyone knew.
~~`~~
Sunnydale in the AM
Buffy's hand came crashing down on her alarm. At that moment she realized that was the fourth alarm clock in as many weeks that she had sent off to an early grave. She sat up and stretched. "Buffy, the Alarm Clock Slayer," she grunted into the early morning. The sun had just risen and she had an actual agenda for the day.
After a hearty breakfast of sugar covered corn cereal, Dawn met up with a group of friends for the walk to school and shortly after, Buffy was letting herself into The Magic Box.
No sooner had she shut the door, then a knock reverberated through the store.
Buffy opened it to reveal not one, not two, not even three, but four men in blue coveralls, with dollies full of crates and assorted boxed items. She led them to the training room and let them deliver the packages.
She quickly found out that this was only their first trip into the room to discard their burden. All four men made at least five separate trips from vehicle to training room. The pile of boxes, crates, PC disks...it was amazing.
The Slayer's eyes bulged as the stacks grew. Finally, a hefty man with thick glasses and short black hair held out a clipboard with a space for her signature. She signed and then sighed as the crew walked out the door, slamming it behind them.
Buffy's eyes scanned the markings on the side of the parcels. She noted something familiar on one. It resembled...no, it was. It was the design on the forearm of a Watcher she had grown to love like a father.
This particular box was low in the stack. She quickly uncovered the crate and opened the top bare-handed.
The first book she laid eyes on was "Slayer Diary of Kendra" and she knew she had the correct crate.
Buffy opened the Diary of her sister and fallen friend. Even with their opposing perspectives on Slaying, Buffy had considered her family. Her diary was full. From her birth to her death, she had been raised on the lore of Slaying. She had had a life, sheltered, but she had lived. Buffy smiled at that thought and set aside the book.
Each book she picked out went back a few years more. She skimmed through them, but nothing interesting popped into view. When she reached a separately wrapped package at the bottom, she immediately felt as though she had found the answer.
"Buffy, I hope you find what you seek" was written on a piece of paper lying neatly on the top of the book inside of the package.
"So do I, Giles...so do I," and she began to read "Slayer Diary of Samantha."
Buffy scanned the first few pages. They were nondescript as far as the woman who was being written about, mostly because she was not yet called. Even more difficult for Buffy to imagine, she was only four years old when the first entry was made.
What Buffy was reading here had compared in similarity to Kendra's Diary. It started in the very beginning. Where hers would have started if her family had been at all aware of the lineage the blood rushing through her veins carried.
~~`~~
The girl's mother had sought out the man who became her Watcher, and with permission from both natural parents, he became Samantha's legal guardian. She was, what is now called, home schooled. Not only taught the ins and outs of Mathematics, English, and Science, though. She was schooled in languages, both dead and alive. Martial arts training from the age of five. It was vigorous, but never without patience and love from her guardian.
Samantha's Watcher, whose name appeared to be Crawford Emerson, allowed frequent visits from her mother and father. Unfortunately, her father died during an accident while at work, before Samantha had reached the age of ten. Samantha grieved, but had ultimately kept up on her studies. Her mother became a fore figure in the girl's pubescent years.
From what Buffy read, the Watcher had been extremely grateful that his charge could be told about "the facts of life" by a woman, and not by a nervous, unknowing male.
~~`~~
Buffy looked up at the clock in the training room and stood to see if Anya had opened the store yet or not. Of course she had. It was well after 10:00 A.M. Buffy smiled as she heard Anya give a departing customer one of her more colorful 'thank you' phrases.
"And when you wish to spend more money, we are always here to help." Anya smiled as the man gave her a strange look and walked out.
"Interesting tactic, Anya." Buffy stifled a giggle and sat at the research table. A box and almost a dozen books sat atop it from yesterday's project.
Anya watched as the Slayer looked over the piles on the table. "I take it you did not find everything you were hoping to last night?"
"Not even close," Buffy answered and looked back into the training room. "But, luckily, I have enough research in there to keep me busy until the next apocalypse."
She shook her head and set the Diary on the table.
Anya was a bit confused. Sarcasm was definite, but about what...? "Well, good for you!" She nodded at her comment and went back to the paperwork the last customer had taken
her from.
Buffy watched Anya settle back into 'shopkeeper' work and decided she should get back to 'Slayer Samantha 101.' She sighed and opened the book to the page she had been on as she settled into a seat at the research table.
~~`~~
Samantha's strength grew with her training, but she had not been called. Four weeks before her fourteenth birthday, the Watcher knew she could be called at anytime, and kept to the schedule used for girls discovered at such an early age.
Three days before her fourteenth birthday, she disappeared.
~~`~~
"What!!" Buffy yelled at the book.
She quickly scanned the shop in the hopes that Anya and she were the only ones there.
Unfortunately, a woman with short-cropped red hair, wearing a long black gown, was standing directly behind her. Buffy smiled sheepishly at the woman. "Sorry." And she turned back to the book.
~~`~~
Crawford had spent nearly five days contacting everyone from The Council of Watchers to enemies of them. Family, friends, anyone and everyone who may possibly have a reason to kidnap a 'Slayer-to-be.'
Four days after Samantha's birthday, she walked into the living quarters she and her guardian called home and announced that she would be called on her eighteenth birthday.
Many hours of questions and very few to no answers later, they knew almost nothing.
Samantha simply had no real memory of where she had been. Just that she had been safe, given motivation and hope.
The Watcher and The Council of Watchers believed she had been called by The Powers for some reason. Possibly to make sure the young woman would be fully prepared. It was highly unusual, but Sam, as she had asked to be called after her return, put her all into her training for the next four years. She had no friends outside of her calling, but she was extremely happy. She knew and understood her purpose in a way she could never properly convey.
Sam's seventeenth year was spent in practicing three European languages, routine workouts, and trials with different styles of hand to hand combat. Her Watcher had suggested this because of the turmoil in Europe. In all likelihood, she would be sent there at some point. German, French and Russian were the languages she had learned through her youth, but they were perfected with constant repetition.
Her Watcher never needed to push her studies or training on her in this final year of preparation. She reveled in picturing the most vicious Vampire she could, being pummeled by her fists, and dusted by her favorite, albeit unused, stake.
One week before her eighteenth birthday, her Watcher decided she should be taken out to
see what she could do. Sam vanquished three Vampires on her first night out.
~~`~~
"Wow." Buffy stared at the page in disbelief and respect. "No Slayer powers yet, and she got three." Buffy smiled. "Cool."
~~`~~
The test that all Slayers must go through on their eighteenth birthday had not been overlooked.
In the guise of concentration training, and with the aid of crystals for focus, Sam's yet unknown powers were taken from her. The test was grueling for the young woman. She was nearly killed on two occasions. In the end she passed and so had Crawford.
After that, everything changed.
When the serum wore off, Sam's strength was immeasurable. The strongest Slayer any one of the Council members had seen. Shortly after, and before her own country was, she was drawn into the war. She was ready, and excited to fight the demons that fed on the chaos hatred and war created.
~~`~~
Buffy took a moment to try to imagine having to be 'tested' even before her 'Slayer' powers had been invoked. She was about to go off into the world. Better trained, and raised with more knowledge than Buffy had. The common link was the idea that it was up to the Slayer. She had to save the innocents so intent on destroying themselves.
Buffy read on, trying to put herself in the shoes of this young woman, raised differently, but fighting the same fight.
~~`~~
The war was raging. Sam was sent to Europe. Her ability to speak five languages fluently had not hurt at all. She spent more time on ships and trains than Buffy could imagine.
Sam rarely went home, and when she did, it was to stop an unspeakable evil.
Buffy read of five different apocalypses and several demons fully intent on lengthening the war that supplied the fear they fed on. Vampires were everywhere, of course, but usually were not the main goal. A lot of Sam's conventional training went out the window within the first year of true fighting.
~~`~~
The next section of type began with an odd symbol. Buffy was sure she recognized it but
could not place it. Somewhere inside she felt it was somehow important.
~~`~~
While in England, Sam came across a very unnerving sight. In a back alley, a Vampire, tall and muscular with long black hair, was beating a demon she herself had been tracking, into a very bloody pulp.
Sam hid in the shadows. She was clad in dark blue slacks and a matching blouse. Her raven hair was pinned into a bun on top of her head. She stayed hidden until she was sure of what she was seeing.
A demon was killing another.
Demon fighting for dominance was normal, but if this Vampire was ever found out he would be shunned. No demons would speak to him for fear of also being alone.
The Vampire in question was almost done thrashing the demon who had dared to hurt one of the few humans he could call friend. He himself had been an outcast in the demon world for almost 200 years, and found solace in the nights with humans he had entrusted with his secret. Most were gone now. Too many years had passed. The few he had left were old and weak from age, but he watched over them to be sure they could live as long as their lord allowed.
His friend, now in his early 70's, was standing off to the side against the same building Samantha was. In the shadows, he watched the woman on the far side, spying on his undead friend.
When the bloody carcass in the Vampire's hands no longer moved, he dropped it. He looked over to his old companion. An odor he recognized as human female wafted to his nostrils.
Giving the aged man a warning look to stay put, he turned his head to see a woman staring in disbelief.
"You had better clear out of here, Miss." He spoke with perfect English, although the accent was Russian. "There's nothing good on these streets that a lady would want to see."
Her eyes widened as the old man, who had been hidden, stood behind the Vampire for protection. She stood there, frozen for what seemed like hours, as she tried to figure out exactly what she had seen and was still seeing. The old man was cowering from her. He was hiding from her behind a Vampire.
She wasn't sure what to say. Finally, she was able to form a voice and words.
"Like Vampires?" she mustered up. "Because, sir, I believe I have seen that already." She walked towards the Vampire in human visage. She looked him over. He was most definitely a Vampire, old too, powerful...but protecting humans?
He looked back at her with equaled curiosity.
"Who are you?" The Vampire eyed her from head to toe. She was not dressed like most women he knew did these days. She didn't quite fit in.
Once more he asked. "Who are--" Somewhere inside, he understood the woman's calm.
"The Slayer. You're...you're her, aren't you?"
"I am," Sam answered, but did not move.
The Vampire gazed at her and began to grow impatient. "Well?!"
"Well, what?" Sam asked.
"Well, isn't this about when you stake me?" He had managed to avoid Slayers for quite a few years. He had no real desire to die. But the odds were, well, not good.
Sam had been taken aback. "Yeah, Sam...aren't you supposed to stake him?'' she asked herself, but didn't answer her question.
"Generally." Sam thought quickly. "You see, you have given me a bit of a gift here." She looked over at the demon whose thick blood was coloring the cobblestone with a sick green ooze. "That was my mission for the night," she said with a slight shrug and gave the Vamp a smile. Oddly, the Vampire returned it.
"So you're not planning on driving a piece of wood through me tonight?" He waited hopefully. He wanted to be sure his friend got home safely, and he could not do that in the form of Vampire dust.
Samantha, with all her training, had never thought about not killing a Vampire on sight.
Somehow she knew her Watcher would not be pleased, but her conscience would not allow her to kill a being, demon or not, that would fight to save a human. It was a bit too much. It was much too much, in fact. "You," she called to the gray haired man cowering behind the dark, undead figure. "Come out. I won't hurt you."
The old man looked up at the younger looking one. "Ashton?"
"It's ok, Mike, she wouldn't hurt you. It's my kind she kills." As swiftly as the old man could manage, he stood protectively in front of his undead friend.
Sam watched the scene, and tried not to laugh. "Sir," she began to the old man, "I already gave my word that I would not kill him...tonight." With that, Sam walked out of the alley and in the direction of her flat, with more confusion than she had ever felt before in her sheltered, but enriched, life.
"Why am I leaving?" she asked herself as she continued to her home.
~~`~~
When Buffy finished the last page of the recount, she looked up and smiled. She noticed the odd symbol again, and decided to sketch it so Tara could help her find its meaning later.
The Slayer took notice of the time and decided she could read a little further before Tara arrived.
~~`~~
Most of the text was vague, like the beginning had been. It had no references to Ashton, right up until Sam's seventh apocalypse. It was here that Buffy noticed that the Slayer was no longer alone.
By the end of her fourth year as Slayer, she had a Vampiric ally. His existence in her life was hidden from her Watcher for almost two years. It hadn't been hard to do, considering the Vampire lived in England, and Crawford still lived in the U.S...
~~`~~
"Wait!!" Buffy reread the last paragraph. "He had to know, how else could he...the symbol." She looked again at the sketch. "It's the symbol of The Council of Watchers. Oh, God!!" Her eyes widened while she stared at the page. "They were watching her!" Shaking her head she mumbled, "Watchers.humph." She quickly flipped back to the meeting of the Slayer and Ashton, the Vampire.
That was it. It was too descriptive. Her Watcher knew about it... knew about it from the start...
"What the hell?" Buffy shook her head, wondering if they had kept this bad habit of following Slayers. Giles knowing was one thing, but the Council?
There were too many questions. She settled back down, and decided the answers were in the book, or Giles wouldn't have sent this particular one. Resigned to find out what the whole story meant, and how it ended, she read what seemed like the last of the pages.
~~`~~
It continued, more fights, one last apocalypse. Buffy noticed Ashton's presence referred to more often, but neither the Watcher nor the Slayer ever seemed to actually reveal their knowledge of his existence to each other. She skimmed many of the last few pages, then stopped when she recognized a familiar phrase at the bottom of a page just before turning it. Buffy began the paragraph again and read more thoroughly.
"I fear for her. She has disappeared once again. Last time she was returned with a new fervor and purpose, but she has fulfilled all of her duties as Slayer. All that is left is her death. We do know, however, that she has not died. No other has been called. I only hope he is unaware of her disappearance."
~~`~~
Buffy turned the page, but it was blank. That had been it. The final entry made by Samantha the Vampire Slayer's Watcher. Buffy was baffled.
"That's it? That doesn't tell me a damn thing," she whispered to herself. "What happened? Did she come back? Did Ashton find her? What?"
Buffy stood and spoke to herself out loud while pacing. Anger rose and she stomped towards the book. She grabbed the binding and shut it with so much frustration it flew off the table and landed unceremoniously, opened facedown on the floor. The Slayer scanned the used leather binding with worn gold embossed letters telling anyone who looked that this was "The Diary of Vampire Slayer Samantha."
Buffy sighed and bent to pick up the Diary of a sister. Writing that had gone unnoticed came into focus just below the book's title. "1918-1943." Suddenly, a part of Buffy's brain that had not been paying much attention clicked on as she picked up the book. A small white piece of paper fell from the book and hid itself under the table.
Buffy reread the dates and went white. "Holy Crap!!"
Anya's head whipped around. "Buffy, if you are going to use inappropriate language, would you please go into the training room? It's soundproofed." Anya turned to apologize to her current customers. "She always gets so excited with our range of quality merchandise."
Buffy thought while she sat back in her seat and waited quietly.
Anya wished her customer one of her usual departing thoughts. "Thank you for sharing your prosperity. It's very patriotic."
Buffy headed towards the ex-demon. "Anya, I need your help."
"Sure, Buffy. What can I help you with?"
Buffy's request was simple. She wanted to hear the story Spike had told Anya about Akoshta, and anything Anya could remember about the Slayer in the tale. Anya happily retold the story, making sure to include Spike's quote of that Slayer's words.
"For another to be called so my love and I could live what would have been our 'natural' lives."
"That's it!" Buffy hugged Anya. "He didn't have a natural life, not that she did, but..."
Buffy looked at Anya who was looking curiously at her. "The Slayer, the one in Spike's story. Anya, the love she's talking about, I'm sure he was a Vampire."
At that moment, Tara strode into the shop and became acutely aware of Buffy's overwhelming emotions. "Buffy? Are you ok?" she asked worriedly.
Buffy looked up at her friend and smiled.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm just gonna let you tackle this one.
Chapter End Notes:
Don't hate me for naming the Slayer Sam, I know, there's already a Sam but that poor gal has to deal with Riley so I just kinda went with it.