Chapter 3
Angela was released out of the hospital after a couple days, leaving mesmerized med-workers behind. They couldn’t figure out what had happened. She seemed fine inside and out, with no trace of ever being in a coma at all. They had wanted to keep her there for more tests, but Angela refused with tremendous force. No way was she staying a second more than she had to.
At first, home was a big relief. She went back into her normal routine: work (as a waitress), friends, jogging, and the other mundane things she did during the day. Something was lacking, but she didn’t know what. All she knew was that she wouldn’t find it if she stayed there. Angela struggled to push the feeling away. This was her home, the place she belonged.
Things that had been right before weren’t. Like her hair. Brown just didn’t do it for her, so she dyed it blond. Judy, her best girl-friend said it looked sexier. Her mother, on the other hand, didn’t understand. Then there were her clothes. Pastels and flower-patterns had to go. They were replaced by tight jeans and leather. Laps around town weren’t enough. She transformed the downstairs into a work-out center. There was a horse, mats, treadmill, stair-stepper, and weights. She loved to get hot and sweaty, a sensation she despised before. Exercises turned to gymnastic moves she didn’t even know she could do. Flips were done with such grace and accuracy. Judy told her that the Olympics were waiting for a champion like her.
These changes revived her, filling her with confidence and more energy than she had ever felt. She was becoming a woman she didn’t even know she could be.
“I’m moving to California,” Angela announced to her mother.
Mrs. Reese set the plates on the table with shaky hands. She took a deep breath before looking at her daughter. “Angela, what the hell is going on with you? I hardly recognize you anymore. What happened to make you transform into someone else? I feel as if my baby girl is slipping away from me,” she stated. Her eyes scanned Angela’s face with emotion.
“That’s the problem, Mom, I’m not a baby anymore. I’m a grown woman, and I’m finally discovering who I am,” Angel replied.
“Are- are you happy, Angie? Is this really what you want?”
Angela nodded. “Yes, it is. Almost dying let me realize just how precious life is. I don’t want to waist it. And I belief that opportunities await me in California.”
Mrs. Reese touched Angela’s cheek. “I love you. All I want is for you to be happy. If this is what you want . . .”
“It is.”
“Then we’ll arrange an apartment for you. But I’m coming to visit every chance I get.”
Angela smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Why she chose Sunnydale, she had no clue. She hadn’t even known it existed. It was a tiny town not even on the map. But searching on the internet for apartment openings led her to the discovery. Sunnydale was the place for her. The place called to her.
Her apartment was small. It was cheap, yet cozy. The best part of all was that it included furniture, an actual nice set at that.
Angela unpacked her few belongings. Afterward, she plopped down on the bed. Her bed. In her dwelling. All hers. She reveled in that thought until she fell into a dreamless, quick nap. At nine- o’clock, she woke up. Restlessness filled her. She needed to get out.
Grabbing her newly bought leather jacket, she headed out the door. Maybe she should check out the town. There couldn’t be that much of it, considering its size, and she would be home at a reasonable hour. Tomorrow would be spent going through want-ads.
Traveling through the streets, she was overwhelmed by déjà vu. There weren’t many stores, but what did you expect in a place so dead? She almost laughed at that thought. Somehow it seemed like a joke.
Angela’s head shot up. A wave of disturbance swept over her. The cemetery stood in front of her. How did she end up here? A chill ran down her body, and she zipped up her jacket.
Her feet had a mind of their own. Before she knew it, she was surrounded by tombstones. She moved in a trance. A force pulled her deeper into the burial ground. She came to a spot where it was clear. There should be something here, she thought. Glimpses of a worn out chair and tv-set filled her mind. She blinked a couple times to clear it.
Something charged at her. It came out of nowhere without a warning. She was knocked onto the ground. She had no time to comprehend what was going on. She caught peeks of wrinkles and then fangs. The teeth neared her throat. She whimpered, shutting her eyes in fright.
A poofing sound filled her ears. Dust settled on her. She tilted her gaze up to see a man. He had short bleached-blond hair, and wore a long duster. His blue eyes peered down at her, and she was drawn into them, becoming lost.
“You okay?” he asked. He offered her a hand, which she accepted. He hoisted her up to settle on her feet.
Angela blinked, a little disoriented. Her eyes fell on his weapon. Pointing to it, she spoke. “Yeah. Remind me to bring on of those wooden thingies next time. They get rid of the fangy creatures, right?”
He smirked at her. “That’s right,” he replied.
She smiled back. She brushed herself off, and then ran a hand through her disheveled hair.
They guy gave her a curious look. “So, what are you dong out here at night? Sunnyhell is not the place to wander around after dark.”
She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Oh, uh . . . to tell you the truth, I don’t know. I just moved her from Illinois. I was checking out the town, what there is of it anyway. I don‘t know how I got here of all places.“
“Well, stay clear of it from now on. This is where the nasties roam free,” he advised. He placed the stake back into his duster.
“Sure will. I don’t want to have to deal with baddies like the one again. That gave me the wiggins.”
His head shot up, eyes wide. “Buffy?” he whispered.
“Huh?” she asked, confused.
“Luv, where did you learn that word?” he questioned, taking a step toward her.
“I . . . I dunno. It just came out.”
“You remind me so much of . . . “ He breathed in through his nostrils, fighting to gather himself together. Pain was clearly written all over his features.
She had the strange impulse to pull him close in a comforting embrace. She wanted to whisper, ‘I’m sorry, but it had to be done. It was the only way.’ Her head began to spin. The surroundings fuzzed, going out of focus. She moaned, her legs giving out, as the blackness folded around her.
|} - - -> <- - - {|
Spike caught the young woman as she fell. He held her in his arms, stunned. Okay, what do you do with a strange female who just fainted? He was at a loss. The hospital? He hated that place. The morgue was there. Joyce had been there. Buffy had been there. Dawn, Tara, and Xander had been there. The place was filled with death. No, he wasn’t going back there.
Pushing the past away, he racked his brain for a suitable retreat. There was only one place that he could think of to go. So he did.
|} - - -> <- - - {|
Spike pounded on the door. Fredrick appeared wearing a blue robe. The watcher was apparently woken up from slumber. He gave Spike a questioning look as he let him in. “Who’s the girl?”
Spike set her down on the couch. “I think she could be the chosen one.”
Fredrick lifted an eyebrow. “What makes you think that?”
The vampire studied the girl closely. He shrugged. “Something I sense. Usually a vampire can feel power and strength. This one has it.”
Fredrick gathered a blanket and pillow. He handed them to Spike. Spike placed them, trying to make Angela comfortable.
“What happened to her?” Fredrick questioned.
“A vamp attacked her. Luckily, good ol’ Spike was there to save the day. . . Er night. Thing is, she fainted,” he explained.
“Understandable. Seeing the undead for the first time can do that to a person.”
Spike turned to the watcher. “That’s just it, this happened minutes after the attack. We were having a nice chat before.”
“Stalled reaction?” Fredrick offered.
Spike’s gaze shifted to the girl again. “I’m not sure.”
“Well, I guess all we can do is wait. When she wakes up, we’ll talk to her.” After a pause, Fredrick added, “And test her.”
|} - - -> <- - - {|
She staked the vampire. He disintegrated as the wood met his heart.
There was clapping. She spun around to spot a figure coming out of the shadows. “Nice work, luv.”
“Who are you?” she asked.
“You’ll find out Saturday.”
“What happens on Saturday?”
He gave her an unnerving grin. “I kill you.”
|} - - -> <- - - {|
She bolted up, eyes shooting open. The sight of the bleached-blonde man came into view. She flinched as he moved closer.
“Welcome back, luv,” he said.
She noticed a blanket over her. She held it closer. “Who are you?”
He smiled. It was sincere, caring, unlike her dream. “Spike.”
“It’s not Saturday is it?”
He gave her a strange look. “No, it’s Sunday. “
She couldn’t help but be relieved.
“So what’s up with Saturday?” he asked.
“Nothing. Just a dream.”
He was quiet. The expression on his face showed that he was in deep thought. She wondered what he was pondering over so intently.
Another man came into the room. “You’re awake I see. I’m Fredrick. So, what’s your name?” Fredrick commented.
She tightened the hold on the blanket. “Angela Reese.”
“Congratulations, Spike here thinks you’re our next slayer.”
Dread filled her chest. “Slayer?” Why did that sound horrible? And somehow familiar? All she knew was that she didn’t want it. She didn’t want it at all. She hadn’t come here for this.
“The one girl chosen to defeat evil. Namely vampires,” Fredrick informed.
Angela was completely confused. She wanted to hide underneath the thick blanket. She could stay there forever, sheltered from the outside world filled with chaos and suffering.
“Ok, you don’t understand, obviously,” Fredrick deduced from her silence. He went on. “Once the land . . .” He started to spin the tale of how the land had been covered with demons from hell.
Spike laid a hand on the watcher’s shoulder. “Let me handle this, mate. “ He faced Angela. “Sunndydale is located over a hellmouth. Many evil big bads come here because of it. They kill people. That is where you come in. You kill them. Got it?” He grinned over at Fredrick. “Simple, ey?”
“Nice explaining, Spike,” Fredrick commented, sarcastically.
“So, let’s get on with it.” He grabbed Angela’s arm. She whimpered at his clutch. She seemed so tiny and weak. Could it be that his instincts were incorrect? Maybe she was an ordinary girl. There was only one way to find out. Dragging her, they went outside.
Spike stood in front of her. He cocked his head and smiled. “Let’s dance,” he provoked.
Fredrick came out at that moment. He shook his head when he realized what Spike had in mind. “I don’t know about this, Spike.” The poor woman was traumatized. If she was a normal person and he fought her . . .
“Trust me,” Spike said.
A groan came out of Fredrick. That was the problem, he knew Spike too well . . . and he didn’t trust him very much.
Spike opened his arms, invitingly. “Show me what you got.”
Angela stood there, unmoving. Puzzled, she protested, “There’s no music.”
Evil, unsettling, laughter came from the depths of Spike. “Sure there is. I know you can hear it.”
He punched her hard. It had taken him years to finally accept the fact that no headache would follow any violence toward humans. He had sent blows to his slayers during training, and for the longest time he expected his brain to zap him. But now he had forgotten that he ever had a chip.
Angela touched her cheek. Redness marred her skin . It throbbed from the impact of Spike’s fist. Her eyes flared. Something built inside her, something hidden deep within. Hidden, rusty, awakening from a long sleep. She released it at him.
They moved around each other. There spirits were connected. They could feel the other. Anticipate how to react to the other’s action.
Spike sent a kick her way. She avoided it, kicking him instead. He smiled, then grabbed her. He slammed her to the ground. She rolled, jumping to her feet again.
He circled her. “You move with the grace of an angel. That how you got your name?”
“Don’t know,” she replied. She hit him hard in the chest.
Spike moved at her. She did a fancy flip to get out of the way.
“Maybe I don’t need to train you,” he told her.
Angela wasn’t sure where she learned this stuff. She’d never been in a fight, not even at school. It came naturally, though, like she had been doing it all her life.
She dodged a punch. With all her might, she charged. Her body flung at Spike. They both landed on the cushioned grass below.
Panting, Angela tossed her hair aside, away from her face. “You’re a vampire,” she accused. It was a known fact to her. Another thing she didn’t get.
“Yeah.” He saw no use in denying it.
“I’m a noble vampire. I fight for love and justice for all.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That is so lame.”
He chuckled. “I know. It’s a bunch of rot really.”
Their eyes met, locking. He was amazed. She really was so much like Buffy. But something was missing. A flare.
Angela released him. She stood up. She was refreshed, more alert than before. She directed her gaze to Fredrick. “So, am I this slayer gal?”
The watcher cleared his throat. “Everything seems to point to yes.”
She nodded, surprised that she was so okay with this. “I’ll start my duty in the morning. Right now I’m going home to bed.”
Spike came up. “Oh yeah, Freddie . . .?”
Fredrick glared. “Never call me that. EVER again.”
Spike ignored the comment. “I need a place to stay for the upcoming day.”
“Oh no! I’m not letting you stay here with me. I don’t think I could stand to be around you that long,” Fredrick said.
“Geez, watcher, I’m insulted.”
Angela listened to their conversation. She yawned. It was getting late and she just wanted to crash. She became weary of the bickering fast.
She stepped between the two males. They shut up.
“Look here, it’s getting late. I’m tired.” She pointed to Fredrick. “Go get back to bed. I’ll come by around ten for my sacred duty.” Then she turned to Spike. “You, come with me.”
She didn’t wait for a reply. She walked to the street, heading home. She didn’t look back, assuming they had obeyed her. God, it felt good to be boss. What else was a slayer good for?
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It is one o’clock in the morning and I’ve been typing for quite some time. I really don’t feel like going over this to find errors, so I’m sending this out as-is. If there are any big problems to fix, let me know so I can change them later. Hope you are enjoying this, and be sure to let me know if you are.
~Sinister Chic (Heather Martin)
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