Part Six
Shadows. That’s all they were. All she was. Darkness, created by light.
Shadows were her dwelling ground, just as the shadows would always be his. There was nothing left but shadows.
That, and her thoughts. As the years had progressed, years where the vampire was awake and at large, the bond had become stronger. Frighteningly so, at times. Corliss could sense the vampire, and she knew he could sense her. They played a constant game of cat and mouse, the Slayer always just one step behind her prey.
The bond had other effects as time went on, too. Corliss was stronger and faster than any Slayer ever created. Her senses were sharp; she could see clearly across a darkened room, smell things most humans would never notice. Simple wounds healed almost instantaneously, larger wounds never lasted more than a day.
It never occurred to Corliss that the changes were going both ways.
Slowly, steadily, she and the vampire were reaching a middle ground. A state of equilibrium.
No, it never occurred to Corliss that the vampire had things to gain from the bond as well.
That was, until she awoke to the fact, quite literally. Tracking the vampire by night had caused a substantial shift in Corliss’s life, not the least of which was her nocturnal living habits. She slept now when the sun rose and awoke when it set. In her light moments, which were few and far between, she laughed that she slept like the dead. There came a day, though, that she stopped laughing.
It happened when the sun was at its peak, in a small town in South America. Corliss was sleeping soundly as usual when it awoke her. A hunger - a terrible hunger. Anger and pain. Hate and cruelty. Finally, dark lust, then hunger sated. As quickly as it had exploded in her brain, it was gone, leaving her sitting up in bed, panting for breath. For a moment she thought it had been a nightmare, but she knew she had already been awake.
Corliss scrambled from her bed in the tiny, hot hotel room. She dressed quickly, pausing only to grab her large, shady hat and a stake, which she hid in her voluminous sleeves. She didn’t know exactly where she was going, but she didn’t have to know. The sense of her vampire, that very sense that a moment ago had changed into a truly frightening sharing of minds, lead her unerringly to where she would find the truth.
She found the place soon enough, and she was not the only one who had been drawn here. Where she had been drawn by something unnamable, however, they had been drawn by something much more tangible. Screams.
A small crowd had already gathered, but the body had not been touched. Rather, the villagers backed away in fear, gawking at a safe distance. Corliss wove through them, fearlessly approaching the young woman who lay dead in the street. Her face was frozen in terror. Gently, Corliss moved her head so she could see the wound that had killed her. There, clear as day, was a vicious bite mark.
A woman sobbed at the street corner, her head buried in her husband’s shoulder. “Vampiro, vampiro,” she sobbed.
The wound was new. The dead woman’s skin was still warm, and the blood on her neck had not yet had time to dry. Suddenly Corliss felt a new fear. This attack had taken place in broad daylight. Her vampire could walk in the day.
She had little time for that concern, though, before she found another. Her hands were damp with the woman’s blood, and something stirred at that. A very dark part of her, one that merged slowly with the vampire, reached with desire towards the blood. It was hungry.
Corliss pulled away with a sob, scrambling away from the vampire’s kill. She knew now. She could deny it no longer. The longer she stayed connected to the vampire, the more like him she became. It turn, he became more like her, walking in the day, bringing chaos as he walked among the humans. It was her fault - her fault that he could do this, her fault that he was alive at all.
No one bothered her as she
cried in the street. In the dark corner of her mind that belonged
to him, the vampire laughed.
December 30, 1999
Neither the vampire not the ex-Watcher had slept all night. This wasn’t unusual for Angel of course, because, well, he’s a vampire. He could still go for a while without sleep. Giles, on the other hand, had also gotten very little sleep the night before, so this morning he sat nursing a mug of coffee to stay awake while trying to make some sense of the information the two of them had managed to put together.
The items spread out on the table were an odd lot. Two strange necklaces, the markings on which Giles was still trying to interpret; several books on magical artifacts plus a guide to non-human, non-demon beings; a purple feather too large to have come from any known bird, and a large pile of assorted papers and notes. None of them had really gotten him anywhere.
The two of them did not speak to each other now as they worked. They had not come up with much during the long night, for all that Angel’s mysterious girl had said that the Watcher should know what the necklaces meant. The nearest thing he could find to them in any of the books were talismans used for an ancient marriage ritual between mages. However, the markings were completely wrong. Staring at his notes, Giles rubbed his eyes briefly in fatigue.
Angel stopped writing suddenly, looking at the paper he was holding critically. “I think I’ve got it,” he said, and handed the paper to Giles.
It was a sketch; an amazingly lifelike sketch of a young girl. This was the girl Angel had seen die and disappear, who now peered sadly from the page. Giles had the oddest feeling he had seen her before.
When the realization came to him, he silently berated himself for not thinking of it earlier. He had seen the girl before, in drawings at least. Angel looked at him oddly as he stood, muttering.
“What is it?” the vampire asked.
Giles returned to the table where they had been doing their research, carrying another book. “I can’t believe I did not think of this,” he muttered. “Buffy’s been having dreams lately, of a Slayer in the distant past.” Giles quickly flipped open the book he held, until he found the picture he wanted.
Angel’s eyes widened when he saw the same girl on these pages. He looked at Giles questioningly.
“It never occurred to me that this girl might be connected,” Giles explained. “They’re one and the same.”
“How?” Angel asked. “She said she was 700 years old, remember? I’ve never heard of an immortal Slayer.”
Before Giles could reply, the door opened noisily. “Giles!” the familiar voice said as she entered, closing the door behind her, “I had the worst dream last night! You see . . .” Her voice trailed off as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. “You look awful. Did you sleep at all last night? And why is it so dark in here?”
Angel moved subtly, drawing her attention to his presence.
Buffy looked stricken. “Angel,” she said.
“Buffy,” Angel replied softly.
Giles cursed inwardly. This was not going to be good. “Don’t any of you know how to knock?” he muttered.
Buffy did not hear him. “What are you doing here?” Buffy asked Angel coldly.
“I-“ Angel began to say.
“No!” Buffy said, yelling now. “You agreed to stop doing this to me! If you’re going to be away, than stay away! Stay out of my life!”
Angel said nothing in response. He caught Giles’ gaze with his own for a moment, then silently walked out of the room.
Giles looked at the Slayer, still seething in anger. “He had something to give me, Buffy,” he explained. “He would have left last night as soon as he’d done so, but he wouldn’t have made it home before sunrise.”
Buffy gritted her teeth. “I don’t care,” she said slowly. “Couldn’t he have just written you a letter? Sent whatever it was in the mail?”
“No,” Giles explained. “It was too important. It . . . well, it has to do with your dreams.”
“It does?” Buffy asked oddly, her anger not forgotten, but momentarily ignored. She crossed over to the table where Giles and Angel had spent the night researching, her eyes falling on the picture, the feather, and the necklaces. She picked the last item up, then looked at Giles sadly. “She’s dead, isn’t she?” Buffy asked softly.
Giles nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“How?” Then Buffy shook her head, dismissing the question. “No, I know how. She had to kill the vampire that saved her life. That was all she had left, that duty. She must have finally done it.” She sighed, replacing the necklace besides its mate, her fingers briefly grazing the feather. “How did Angel get these?” she asked softly.
“He was there when she died. Two nights ago. She gave them to him, told him to bring them to me.”
Buffy sat at the table, staring at the picture in silence.
Giles knelt in front of her to catch her gaze. “What exactly is wrong?” he asked.
Buffy shook her head. “I don’t know. I guess . . . with these dreams, I felt really close to her. Almost like she was a part of me. A very good friend who had let me see her life. And now she’s dead . . . and I don’t know what to think of that.”
“What did you dream of last night?”
Buffy shivered. “It was really weird, Giles. She could, like, feel the things the vampire did. She felt when he made a kill, and it was in the middle of the day. Because of the bond, they were becoming more like each other. She was terrified, Giles, and she knew then that she had to kill him. As much because of the part of her that was becoming him as because of what he could do.” She looked up at Giles seriously. “That’s how I know how she died. Because there was nothing left in her life but to kill that vampire.”
For a long moment the two of them sat in silence. Buffy glanced at the picture Angel had drawn, sighed, then stood abruptly. Giles stood as well. “I have to go, Giles,” she said, glancing in the direction Angel had gone. “I’ll . . . I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Before you go,” Giles interrupted gently, “you haven’t had any . . . trouble yet, have you?”
“You mean, have any of your ex-friends shown up to try and kill me?” Buffy asked, smiling slightly. “No, I’m fine. And only two more days to go.” With that she spun around and walked out of his house before anything else could keep her there.
Giles stared at the door, which closed behind her. “You heard everything?” he asked the vampire he knew was standing behind him.
“Yes,” Angel replied softly.
Giles could see the pain in his eyes, and reluctantly felt a bit of sympathy for the vampire. “It’s the spell that makes the Slayers,” Giles explained. “It will be unable to call any new Slayers once the new year comes. There has already been an attempt on Faith’s life.”
“She can’t die,” Angel said desperately.
“I know. Could you . . . stay around for a couple of days?”
Angel cringed. “She won’t like it.”
“She won’t know.”
“Yes, she will.” After a moment, Angel continued. “You know, it’s not going to just end come the new year. If the vampires ever get wind of this, it’s just going to get harder.”
“I know.”
On to Part Seven
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