I’ve been one helluva busy girl lately. It never seems to stop, but adrenaline keeps me on my toes. I’m in charge of training three hundred new Slayers and dispatching them all around the United States when they’re ready. Some of them I keep as my assistants – the ones who already lead their units when they were in training, the ones who knew how to make themselves heard.
Girls come and go. They arrive here just out of puberty, the youngest of them only thirteen, confused and scared about the sudden strength they acquired and their first encounter with some keen vampires who can smell a Slayer when they see one. They’re far away from their parents, submitted to harsh training and hours of studying. Their first missions almost always go wrong – it’s a good thing the demon world is rather in a pitiful shape these days. Their team mates berate them, their elders boss them around, and I’m here to show them that there’s no place for weakness or failure in a Slayer’s life.
But when they leave, they’re ready to take on anything. They’re confident, and they’ve made friends for life. Sometimes I wish we could’ve had the same thing instead of learning everything from scratch, and all alone on top of that. Though I can honestly stay, as bleedin’ cheesy as it sounds, that it’s made me the woman I am today.
Anyway, I was on patrol the other night in Queens with two of the girls. We’d heard there were some vampires dealing a lethal drug to humans that made them as high as kites and therefor completely unaware that a nasty set of fangs was hovering above their neck.
We were making our way down an alley, keeping our shade, when we heard a heated discussion just around the corner.
“What’s the idea, you lousy freak?” a low, menacing voice growled amidst some grunts of approval.
“You’re going to pay double for the humans you just scared off, bum.”
“Stop selling your shit or I’ll be the one putting the holes in your brain – through your eye sockets.”
I grinned. I recognised that voice. Unbelievable. “Well, what do you know,” I murmured.
Agnes and Kimberly glanced at me warily. They weren’t picking up on the humour of the situation.
“Are we go?” Agnes asked under her breath.
“No, stay back and watch this one, girls,” I whispered. “This is a real pro we’re dealing with.”
The argument was getting very nasty. “Since I can’t kill you, I’ll have to settle with kicking your balls until they burst open like grapes.”
“Spare yourself the trouble - you’d be better off with a functional pair if you want to replace yours.”
Unsurprisingly, this got the brawl going. A wondrous melody of kicks, punches and bodies getting thrown against the wall or down on the asphalt followed.
“Faith,” Kimberly said, grasping my arm. “Are we just going to let him -”
I laughed. “Naw, we’re going to have to stake them eventually.”
I didn’t wait for the group to be completely knocked out before letting Kim and Agnes do their job – what good would it be for them to learn on unconscious vampires? It was a easy as pie, though – didn’t take them two minutes to reduce the vampires to dust. They were so enthusiastic they almost staked Spike along the way.
“Hold it!” I cried as Agnes unsuccessfully tried to terminate him. “Stop! He’s one of the good guys.”
“You heard her, sweetheart. Pointy stick the other - ” Spike paused mid-sentence and turned towards me. “Well, I’ll be damned. If it isn’t Slayer number two.”
“Number one around here, Blondie. And for God’s sake, put your vampire face away if you don’t want Slayers to try and kill you.”
“Sorry about that.” Spike returned to his normal self and smiled. “I was wondering when I’d run into you, Faith.”
Kimberly glared at me. “You know this – this vampire?”
“Damn right she knows me,” Spike said smugly. “She even tried to hit on me once -”
“Shove it, Spike. He’s an old friend of mine,” I told the girls. “We saved the world together. He has a soul. Spike, meet Kim and Agnes – they’re Slayers in training.”
“Pleasure to meet you, ladies. I can tell you’re on your way to greatness.”
Both of them looked thoroughly confused.
“Listen, girls, why don’t we call it an evening?” I said. “You did a good job. Head on home and get some rest.”
Agnes and Kimberly didn’t have to be asked twice. Spike walked up to me and we watched them leave, stake in hand, with that particular supple and alert stride all Slayers seem to have.
“Fancy a drink?” Spike asked pleasantly. “All that fighting’s got me thirsty.”
“Only if you’re treating,” I replied, amused.
We ended up in a little joint where rock music played from an old juke box and the drinks were cheap. We had a lot to catch up on – after all, not six months before, I still thought he was dead and disintegrated. I told him about the training and the new Slayers, but he didn’t have to much to say about himself. He’d been traveling, he said, trying to enjoy himself with a couple of other rogue demons none too preoccupied by the recent Apocalypse.
“So you like it here?” he asked, taking a long, slow sip of port.
“As much as anywhere else. I’ve always been a city girl at heart.”
“And does Robin?”
I smiled and looked down at my glass, tracing my finger on the rim. “That’s really none of your business, now, is it?”
“Come on, give a bloke a clue,” he said with a taunting smile. “Are you two an item or what?”
“Yes,” I replied. “We’re what you could call an ‘item’, but before you start imagining a prim little house and a score of kids, let me tell you, we’re a very liberated couple.”
“I like the sound of that,” Spike said, raising an eyebrow. “Although I’m sure any kid of yours would be awful cute.”
I gave a small laugh and ordered another round. “Shut up.”
I was very tempted to ask him if he’d seen Buffy again during his “travels”, but what he’d told me wasn’t really an invitation to inquire on the subject. Angel had been the one to tell me Spike was alive – had he told Buffy too? I wasn’t sure. Perhaps Spike preferred to keep his return a secret rather than having her reject him, and this time for good.
Poor little Summers girl, with two vampires pining after her, and no proper guts to make her choice between the two of them. Well, she can’t keep running forever… but it didn’t look to me as if Spike had any desire to start the chase again.
“We’ve come a long way from the Hellmouth, haven’t we, baby?” he said, downing his drink in one gulp and looking at the beat-up jukebox. “A bloody long way.”
Not as far as you think, I thought. But then, the same man had been sharing my bed for two years – I guess that was something major.
I didn’t see him again after that night, nor did any of the Slayers, thank God. Word had amongst various undeads that he had gone south and left the country. But if anything, it’s a small underworld – no doubt he’ll resurface soon.
After I left Sunnydale, I thought it might be best to put a good number of miles between me and the Hellmouth. But I can’t stand the cold, and despite the fact that I burn pretty easily – us fair-skinned guys have to be careful about that – I decided that I had rather go somewhere hot and where the moon was bright.
That’s how I landed in Mexico. It’s a wonderful country – great food, lots of sand - and it’s pretty funny because all the demons on the run seem to wind up there for some reason. And let me tell you, there were a lot of those after the Hellmouth permanently left the key under the rug.
All these poor souls without a thing to do, scared even to go out prowling at night because they were afraid to run into a pack of rabid Slayers, was a really pitiful sight. Personally, I have nothing to fear – I’ve always been an honest demon, trying to get along with everyone, paying my taxes, minding my own business. But faced with the distress of my pals, I knew I had to do something.
So that’s why I created a kitten farm. Oh, it only took a small investment to start with and a little ingenuity – there’s really nothing to breeding cats. You only have to remember to keep some of them alive long enough for them to produce more kittens.
It was a smashing success at first. Imagine me, good ol’ Clem, providing all the demons in the area with nice, fresh kittens to play poker with, or simply for their own personal use. And of the best quality, too – they weren’t any pedigree kitties for sure, but when the medical inspector dropped by, I can tell you he didn’t find a single sick puss in all the farm.
I was pretty proud of myself, that I was. But then things started to go a bit awry. There were some weird rumours floating around – of course, there can’t be anything other than darn rumours in the underworld, where no one will bother to actually confirm information. Geez! Anyway, some of the more popular demons and vampires were starting to say that those of us who were left should find a way to fight against the Slayers.
I guess some demons believed them, because they moved back North of the border. But I realised something was definitely wrong when some of the guys started to steal my kittens. Just breaking in to their pens during the day and grabbing what they could. It nearly broke my heart when they got the little tabbies.
Now I have to sleep with a holy-water gun next to my pillow. Me, Clem, who hates even the idea of harming anyone! And that thing almost caused a real tragedy the other night, too.
I was washing the dishes when I heard a strange noise outside, coming from the pens. The kittens started mewling like crazy. I knew something was up – usually when someone wants to do business, they come straight to me.
Well, I thought, if they start pilfering kittens during the night, I don’t know what a poor demon can do to save his business. Holy-water gun in hand, I entered the barn.
“Hey you,” I called out to a shadow in a corner. “I know you’re here! Stop that or I’ll – I’ll -”
I gave a squirt of holy water just to show him.
“Ow! Bloody hell, Clem – it’s me!”
I almost dropped the gun when I heard that voice. At first I couldn’t believe it, but then he stepped in the moonlight, and there he was, the same as I remembered him.
“Spike! Is that really you?”
He rolled his eyes. “Of course it’s me – who do I look like to you, Father Christmas?”
“Oh, Spike! I thought you were dead!” Shucks, I just had to give him a hug, I was so pleased to see him. “I mean, not just vampire-dead, but really -”
“I get you – and I was,” he said. “Don’t ask, it’s a long story.”
“Well, come on, I’ll show you my place,” I said, leading him towards the house. “One bedroom, kitchen, mud pond and crypt. Groovy, isn’t it?”
“Wonderful. And it’s a nice – er - kitty farm you have,” he remarked, glancing back at the pens. “Never knew you had it in you to start your own business.”
He sat down on the porch swing and I scurried about inside for some drinks. “To be honest, things haven’t been going so hot lately,” I called out to him, taking a bottle out of the cupboard. “Demons are getting awful jittery and light-handed, if you see what I mean. But where have you been all this time? It must’ve been at least two years since Sunnydale imploded.”
“About that, yeah. I’ve just been hanging about – spent some time in Paris, some time in New York… a sort of holiday, you might say.”
“That’s great,” I said, bringing out the bottle and two glasses. “Hope you got lots of rest and some nice brawls – a vampire’s got to stay in shape, eh?”
I filled the glasses and we clinked. “To all those good times we had,” I said, feeling rather emotional. Spike always told me I was a big softie. The martini was good, but it could’ve used a slice of lemon. “Sorry if it isn’t too good – I wasn’t expecting any company.”
“Doesn’t matter what you’re drinking, it’s who you’re drinking with,” Spike said, a somewhat wistful expression on his face.
“Aw, stop it, you’re gonna make me all weepy again. By the way, how’d you find out I was here?”
“I asked around in the kitten-poker playing community,” Spike said, grinning. “You’re as famous as bloody Dracula now.”
“Nonsense,” I said, feeling the skin flaps on my arms colour with pink. “It’s really all one big family – everyone knows everyone. Hard to go anywhere without half the undead learning about it.” I slapped my knee, struck with a thought. “Say, that reminds – did you know that Angelus moved out of LA?”
Spike looked at me, surprised. “You don’t say?”
“Moved to San Jose. Heard the rent was lower over there.”
He pondered on this for a moment, rolling his glass between his palms. “Angel – bloody long time since I’ve seen him.”
“And what about our fabulous Buffy? And her sweet little sister, Dawn?”
Spike continued to roll the glass in his hands. He looked more thoughtful than ever. “They’re fine – but I haven’t seen them either.”
“Oh, okay.” I took a sip, feeling a bit stupid. Obviously that hadn’t been a good question to ask him. “Well, that’s good. Yup.”
“Ah, never mind me, Clem,” Spike said suddenly, laughing and draining his glass. “I’m just too daft for my own good. Come on, let’s have another one.”
Spike stayed with me a week or so. It was just like the good old nights – playing kitten-poker, escaping countless numbers of evil curses after wiping the guys out, visiting the ruins of Aztec temples and the zombies that live there… A real fun time. I was sorry to see him go.
Don’t know where he went – it’s always hard to tell where Spike’s off too. He promised he’d come visit during the holidays. I hope he does – I’ve set up a guest-room in the crypt.