Buffy hung up her phone and continued her walk back to her apartment. Angel had rented her a nice one-room apartment with no windows right in the heart of town, close to everything she would need to be comfortable, but still right in the thick of it, so that she could properly guard the Hellmouth.
She had become this ‘guardian’ at Angel’s urging two years ago, just after Drusilla had dumped her with Angel again. Buffy found it difficult to live amongst the humans as Angel had shown her when she was with Dru, so she hadn’t been upset when Dru announced that she was going on holiday indefinitely out of the country.
Her sire was crazy. She had what some would call the gift of second sight, but her insanity made it difficult to decipher what were her mad rants, and what were prophecies of things to come. Drusilla had turned Buffy in the 1920’s, claiming Miss Edith, her porcelain doll, told her she needed a new dollie. And poor Buffy, was the prettiest one she saw that night.
Buffy had just turned twenty, and was out for the evening with her fiancé, Owen. In her thin, sequined flapper dress, Buffy had made the mistake of sneaking out the backdoor of the nightclub they were at to have a cigarette. Dru had been waiting for her in the alley.
Dru had sought ‘daddy’s’ location out, and had traveled to America to show him her new dollie. Angel had been furious, but had seen something special in the fledgling vamp. He taught her his way of surviving as a vamp, how to live the dead life, without killing.
Drusilla had left this time with no notice, and Buffy ended up with Angel and his band of merry do-gooders in LA. Angel had stepped in to train her many years before, a responsibility he took on out of guilt.
Angel had sired Drusilla in the 1800’s by driving her insane before turning her. He had been known as Angelus in those days. Evil was his forte back then. He raped and pillaged his way across Europe with his sire, Darla, leaving a bloody trail that put all others to shame.
Angelus’ reign of terror ended abruptly when he took the life of a young gypsy girl, and found himself cursed. Cursed with his soul.
With his soul thrust back into his body, Angelus had to deal with the guilt and horror he had plagued the humans with. With his guilt, he had decided he needed to atone for all his wrong doings. He had also changed his name to Angel.
The Powers That Be had been so impressed by his self-imposed penance; they had chosen him to be their own personal champion. He was a helper of the helpless, as he liked to call his job.
This had led to Angel Investigations, or AI. He had started a business to seek out and help anyone who needed him. Along the way he had picked up several unlikely team members, but the PTB had seen fit to gift each team member with something they desired as a reward for their service.
Buffy wanted her soul back, and was working hard to earn it. . .
Clem and Spike drank and discussed Buffy, Angel, and Drusilla into the wee hours of the morning. Willy had announced last call and the two friends decided to head back to Clem’s and watch a bit of television.
Clem lived in a spacious crypt in the same cemetery Spike had met Buffy. He had taken up residence shortly after Buffy began patrolling, taking advantage of what was basically private security.
“So, Spike, tell me more of your story. All I know is that you came from England two weeks ago and that you came in search of the hellmouth. How about you enlighten me?” Clem was anxious to here more details of Spike’s history. He was usually a good judge of character, but he had noticed Spike’s interest in Buffy. He owed her for making his town safer, and would lookout for her every chance he got.
Spike considered his request, deciding that it was only fair. Besides, he had nothing to hide. He was here on a mission, and maybe it was better the demon population knew about him.
He told Clem about the events at the orphanage that changed everything. He told of his running, his hiding, and his seeking of revenge against vampires.
“So you’ve been on the run for over a year? Wow, I’m impressed. So you never knew of the line of slayers? Because, they’ve been gone for a while, and I never knew a guy could be one.” Clem looked at Spike with admiration.
“I never knew there were other Slayers, Clem. Not 'til tonight. Any idea why they went extinct?“
They had reached the entrance to Clem's abode, and quickly settled on a ratty old couch in front of an old console television. Clem had aluminum foil-covered rabbit ear antennas on top of the set and actually got decent reception. They’d grabbed snacks from a makeshift kitchenette and had selected the Late Late Movie to watch while they continued their conversation.
Clem picked up where he’d left off. “The way I heard it, was that an old vampire by the name of Darla was here trying to resurrect her Sire, The Master and the last Slayer, a chickie named Faith, came to stop her. Now, Faith, she did stop that nasty ancient vamp from rising, but Darla killed her for it.” Clem crunched on some cheese puffs.
“So, wasn’t someone supposed to name the next slayer?” Spike grabbed a handful of cheese puffs from the bowl between them.
“It didn’t work that way back then. Used to be, one died, another was called. Somewhere in England, an organization called the Council of Watchers, assigned someone to locate and train the new one. Not sure of all the details, but Slayers had Watchers. I’m not sure the Council is still around, or they should have gotten someone assigned to you too.”
Spike pondered this for a moment. “Any idea who might know more about these Watchers?”
Clem brushed the orange crumbs off of him as he got up to get more drinks. “Angel would know. He’s in LA, not to far away. Another soda?”
“Yeah, please. Well, I guess I’ll be doing some traveling soon.”