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Astra looked up from the computer screen to see her teenage grandson
staring out the window like
he was possessed.
"Let me guess; blonde, beautiful, blue eyes…"
Will's voice was getting excited. "And coming this way, Gramma! You
weren't casting love spells
again, were you?"
Astra gave him a flat look. Will was a 16 year old bundle of nervous
energy, handsome with a
wildness in his eyes, skinny as a rail, but he was cursed… With a height
that had him looking up at
nearly everyone he met. At 5'2", there weren't too many people he could
tower over, but his heart
more than made up for the stature.
"You know very well that you don't need any love spells. How long were
you stuck with that girl
from Baton Rouge?"
"Three days," he mumbled.
"Three days, and did she leave your side for more than a second?"
"Well, not really…"
"I imagine going to the bathroom must have been interesting. And what
about showering? Did you
even shower?"
Will's face was becoming a nice shade of red, she decided.
A sharp knock on the trailer door stopped the discussion from going
into more embarrassing places.
Will took this opportunity to move quickly to the latch and open the
door, his face not changing
much in the way of colour.
From her seat, Astra couldn't see who was at the door, although she
assumed it must be this blonde
girl Will was already mooning over, and if his current expression was
any indication, she must be
quite a looker. For some reason, beauty never bothered Astra like she
thought it should, like she saw
how it bothered others. Then again, pushing the underside of sixty
years old, and this gaunt, lean
body to attend to, she wasn't going to enter any contests either.
Will's voice came out in a nervous squeak. "Can I help you?" He coughed,
cleared his throat, and
continued in a artifically deep voice. "Sorry. Must be the helium."
"It's okay. I'm looking for Astra." The girl's voice sounded business-like,
authoritative. This girl's
used to getting her own way.
Will sighed. "Isn't everybody?" He gestured for the girl to enter.
"Oh, my," Astra muttered under her breath. It was her eyes that caught
you; her body was shapely
enough and her face was quite attractive, but it was the eyes, with
the fire and confidence that
disguised the darkness. And there was something…
The young girl walked up to the fortune-teller and held out her hand.
"Hi, my name is Buffy. I guess I'll be working around here a little
while. Rya said you were the
person to talk to for a place to live."
Astra took her hand to shake it and
(blood stake fire red death teeth pain blood vampire cross grave snake
naked blood wolf punch
sword hell fangs kick blood)
drew it back in shock.
There was something all right.
She couldn't quite keep the awe out of her voice. "Vampire Slayer. It's been a few decades."
Buffy stepped back in surprise. Behind her, Will crept out of the trailer and closed the door.
"What are you talking about?"
Astra smiled. "I haven't been a fortune-teller for forty years by being
blind. You haven't been the
Slayer long, I imagine. Two, three years at the most? And you've faced
tragedy, girl, I can feel the
pain from here."
Buffy shook her head. "I'm sorry, you must be mistaken. I just came
here to get a place to sleep. If
you're not into that, I can find a blade of grass for a mattress."
So the girl wishes to remain anonymous? Well, that is her right.
"Will, take… Buffy? Take her down to the girls' trailer; I think there
is still an empty bunk, if my
memory hasn't deserted me completely."
Everyone was motionless for a moment; Astra watched the Slayer wrestle
with a decision, but it was
clear the truth wasn't going to be faced this afternoon.
"Thank you," said Buffy, as if the middle of the previous conversation had never happened.
Will led the way.
* * *
It was a long day. The marks streamed in through the fairground gates
like blood through a vein,
eager to find some fun, some laughter, some escape from the day-to-day
grind of normal life. Buffy
found herself playing the part of jack-of-all-trades, getting change
for the ring-toss lady and the
bottle-pitch kid (who looked all of eleven years old, but damn if he
couldn't talk up a crowd),
lugging a small case of caramel sauce for the candy apple booth, fetching
more cardboard cones for
the cotton candy man, cleaning up a mess at the Tilt-A-Whirl when a
little boy had one too many
hot dogs for lunch, taking tickets and managing the lineup for the
bumper cars, dumping the grease
bin from the chip truck.
And it was funny how that fortune-teller's grandson kept popping up
at the oddest times, like when
the change purse she was carrying tore open, scattering coins all over
the hard-packed grass, and
before she had picked up the first quarter, Will was there to help
her. Like when she was handed a
roll of tickets and told to bring them to the Whip, she took two steps
before realizing she didn't
know what the Whip was or where it was located on the midway, and there
was Will to show her.
Finally, she had to say something. This time, she was about to stop
at a grab-stand for something
unhealthy and fattening to eat when Will emerged from between two tents,
holding a garden salad in
a large bowl.
"I thought you might be hungry for something that didn't have four thousand
calories." Will
grinned nervously.
Buffy sighed. Best to succumb to the inevitable; that way, perhaps you
can control it. Somehow.
"You know, it's amazing how you always seem to be around when I - look
- like I need help.
Perhaps you're not aware that stalking is a serious offense."
The grin remained, and to her surprise, grew stronger and more confident.
"Oh, I am. You should
have met my last girlfriend. Shall we find a place to eat? I wasn't
sure what dressing you liked, so
I've got a couple different packets in my back pocket."
"Packets of dressing, right?"
"Yeah, of course. What else would they be?"
She smiled. "You find innocence in the strangest places…"
"Why did you lie to my grandmother?" asked Will, looking at her curiously.
Buffy paused her private little battle with a chunk of celery. "Uh,
she was mistaken. End of story,
not enough box office for a sequel."
Will laughed. "Gramma is wrong about as often as the sun sets in the
east. Besides, you're not a very
good actress. I mean, maybe you are around people you know, but with
strangers? Especially ones
that know about the things that go bump in the night?"
"That's actually pretty common - it's called sex."
"You're pretty funny - is that part of the job?"
"And what's your job?"
"Well, so far it involves helping you whenever I can, or at least keeping you out of trouble."
"Really? Did it ever occur to you that I might not need help? I'm not
a helpless young maiden over
here."
"Oh, that's right, I forgot - you're the Slayer."
"What is this obsession your family has with this Slayer person?"
"Want to see a magic trick?"
His abrupt change of subject caught her off-guard. She blinked.
"What?"
"It's a good one, you'll like it."
He stood up and reached over the table, cupping a hand around her ear. "What have we here?"
She bent backwards away from his hand, not quite trusting this strange
young man with her secret in
his mind.
He brought his hand back in a closed fist and sat back down, fist held
up in front of her. He opened
it.
"Hey, Merlin, your hand is empty." She smiled sweetly.
He smiled in return. "Maybe so, but what's in my other hand?"
He brought his other hand from where it was hiding and dropped what
it carried on the table. The
object was a nicely sanded stake.
Her eyes widened. Almost faster than he could see, she checked her right-rib
holster. Empty. She
growled.
"Stay away from me." She snatched up the stake and walked off.
Will sat there for a few moments, bemused. "I guess I'm not getting a round of applause."
* * *
"Well, I didn't expect any applause, certainly, but a few words indicating
some sort of agreement
might be in order," said Giles uncomfortably.
Willow coughed politely. "You really think there's a big Buffy conspiracy
involving Principal
Snyder, the police, and the government?"
"I, uh, grant that, on the surface at least, the notion seems a little farfetched."
"Farfetched?" retorted Xander. "How about beyond-the-horizon-fetched?
'Far' isn't enough to
describe it."
"Yeah," agreed Oz. "I mean, if that were true, this place would be,
you know, bugged. Serious bug
action, with wings and everything."
Giles' face turned an alarming shade of pale. "Bugged? I never thought…"
He spun around, looking
for - ah, there it is. He pressed the play button on the portable CD
player, and the melodious sounds
of Nine Inch Nails filled the library. He motioned for the others to
huddle close.
Cordelia grimaced. "Is this pathetic Goth-rock really necessary?"
"Listen, if I'm wrong, then no harm is done. If I'm right…"
Willow grasped Giles' arm. "What are we going to do now?"
"We have to find Buffy. That much is certain. But the how of finding
Buffy is the tricky part." Giles
removed his glasses and wiped a lens absently.
"We have to retrace her steps, think like Buffy, follow any leads,"
said Willow, tapping her chin. "I
can scan the newspapers for any supernatural occurrences."
"Why would you do that?" asked Oz.
Giles shrugged. "Sunnydale may be a strong focus of supernatural activity
because of the
Hellmouth, but there is a theory of mine…"
"Oooh, that's a shock," said Xander.
"…that the Slayer is drawn to evil, in much the same way that iron filings
are drawn to a magnet.
Wherever she is, she'll find dangers without even trying to look for
them."
"So that's another reason to mount the posse," concluded Oz.
"Yes, exactly."
Willow frowned. "This is going to require all of us."
Oz smiled. "A summer roadtrip, cool."
"Right now?" asked Cordelia frantically. "This summer? But I've got
a summer job lined up at the
Gap, how am I supposed to save for college… or buy the latest outfits?
I mean, Buffy needs help,
that's as plain as Martha Stewart, but you really don't need me, do
you?"
Xander patted her on the shoulder. "If you can't make it, you can't
make it. It's all right. Listen,
when the vampires start looking for someone to blame for last week's
disaster, make sure to have a
lot of stakes handy. I hear they're allergic."
She hit him in the arm. "You would use fear as a motivator, wouldn't
you? God, I don't know why I
let you hang around me."
Willow coughed, a sound that, to the ear, resembled the word 'masochist'.
Giles clapped his hands for attention. "Right then, are we decided?"
He looked at them one at a
time, pausing only for an answering nod. "Fine. Oz, will it be all
right if we use your van?"
"The Oz van?" exclaimed Cordelia. "Do you mind if we hose it down first?"
"I was at a car wash just last week," Oz countered.
"I think she means the inside," explained Xander.
Oz pondered this for a moment, then said, "Oh."
"Okay, we'll meet here tomorrow morning at 6 a.m.? Pack light, please,
it's not an R.V. And yes,
Cordelia, I am directing that request in your direction." Giles ignored
her resulting frown.
"So we're leaving on the Buffy quest tomorrow?" asked Xander.
"That's right," replied Giles.
"Who's gonna tell Mom?"
* * *
The other girls tried to interest Buffy in a poker game, but she shrugged
them off politely and
retreated to her bunk, which had a serviceable mattress, an improvement
over the hard ground she
had slept on the night before. She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling,
waiting for the anger to pass.
I'm not gone from Sunnydale a week, and already strangers know who I
am. What, do I have a big
'Slayer' sign on my forehead? Why can't I just leave all that behind
for a while? Don't I get time off for
good behaviour? Saving the world has to win you some brownie points
with somebody.
"Even wars end," she muttered to herself. In the ceiling she could see
random faces, Willow, Xander,
Giles, Kendra, Angel, Spike, her mother. That last one hurt more than
she would have thought. For
a precarious second, she almost allowed herself to face the whole thing,
her situation, her
responsibilities, her reasons for leaving, her fears, her hopes, everything.
She sat up abruptly. If I can't sleep, I might as well walk.
Outside, the stars in the sky twinkled heedlessly above her. Off to
the west, clouds were approaching,
but she couldn't tell if they were light or dark. The fairgrounds were
quiet, the day done, and the
gypsy-like residents of the carnival home in their trailers, doing
the sort of things you would expect
of any community: watching television, reading books, listening to
music, making love, whispering
secrets, spreading gossip, and planning mayhem and destruction.
In that order, usually.
She moved on towards the midway.
After wandering around the silent, unmoving rides, she found herself
in front of the Ferris Wheel.
That's something she missed; riding in a ferris wheel. She remembered
doing it once as a child, a ten
year old girl at the carnival with her father. The day had been bright
and colourful, and she couldn't
remember a moment when she wasn't smiling, or giggling at a ridiculous
thing her father said,
pointing at cute older boys and saying, "How about that one, Buffy,
want me to set you up? He
might want to kiss you, though." And she would laugh and stick out
her tongue, saying, "Dad, boys
are disgusting. I sure wouldn't want to kiss one." He brought her up
to the ferris wheel, and teased
her about having to be her date, since she didn't like any of the boys
he had lined up for her. They
got in the basket and he locked the arm, telling her not to rock the
boat, and what did he do once
they were up in the air? He rocked it back and forth just to hear her
happy scream, laughing as she
punched him repeatedly in the chest, saying, stop it, stop it, I'll
never go on a date with you again,
and that seemed to work.
Too well, she thought, looking up at the dark, skeletal wheel. The topmost
basket was rocking. She
frowned. There wasn't any wind. None of the other baskets were rocking.
In the silence of night,
Buffy heard a wet sound, like something, a bone perhaps, snapping.
She was all too familiar with that sound. Moving back several feet to
get a better view, she squinted
up at the topmost basket.
Looking down at her was a vampire.
Buffy made a frustrated noise and ran up to the base of the wheel.
You're going to climb this, Buffy?
A muffled scream.
All signs point to yes.
She started up, surprised to find that the collection of struts, braces,
and rivets provided plenty of
handholds. Her Slayer agility speeded her ascent, as she swung upwards
from one support bar to
another like an Olympic gymnast. She reached the main girder that held
the topmost basket and
quickly climbed up, slowing as she approached her destination. There
were no sounds from above,
and she took a quick look down.
The wild assortment of girders and bars looked like a game of steel
pick-up sticks. Falling would not
be good. Duh. She glanced back up at the basket, which was rocking
slowly. Off in the distance,
thunder rumbled. Great, a thunderstorm, too. Maybe Spike and Drusilla
will drop by to make things
interesting. She pulled herself up, grasped the edge of the basket
railing and leaped in.
Buffy had joined a young girl, who at one time had been alive, but with
her throat torn open like a
candy wrapper and her neck at such an odd angle, that was no longer
the case. But no vampire. She
looked around quickly and saw a black form scoot along the connecting
girder to the next basket.
Monkeybars you want, monkeybars it is. She climbed out of the basket
and started along the girder,
which was nearly wide enough to walk on, if you were accustomed to
tightropes. She felt a few drops
of rain fall, and groaned.
"Hey, fang-boy!" she called. "Why are you running away? Too much perfume?
Not enough
deodorant?"
The vampire had reached the next basket and crouched there, watching
her approach. The few drops
became several, then hundreds, then thousands. The steel was slippery,
but it was the soaking she
was getting that was really annoying her. She got to within five feet,
and stood up on the girder,
pulling the stake from her holster. The rain fell around her, and over
the next hill, she could see
lightning strike.
"You look like you need a hug," she said, jumping into the basket and
tackling him against the seat.
He pushed her away and stood up.
The vampire swung a fist, which she blocked easily, kicking him in the
side. There wasn't a lot of
room in the basket, which was now rocking dangerously. Buffy grabbed
the safety bar for some
balance, ignoring the rain, and the vampire came at her, pushing her
body against the bar.
It held.
She wriggled the stake out from between their bodies and raised it up.
That made the vampire jump
back from her, landing on the far end of the seat. She regained her
balance, grabbed his hand, and
used her momentum to swing the vampire around, slamming him into the
bar. With her foot, she
unlocked the bar, and the undead creature fell out of the basket. This
made the basket rock so wildly
that Buffy rolled out as well, grabbing the slippery bar in time to
prevent herself from tumbling to
the ground below.
She looked down and saw the vampire had caught a strut just ten feet
down, and was inching his
way down to the center of the wheel.
"Leaving so soon? Don't you want a goodnight kiss?"
A flash of lightning illuminated the carnival, and the thunder hit three
seconds after. Suddenly she
realized that the Ferris Wheel was the tallest thing around. And it
was metal. One big lightning rod.
With a panicked gasp, she swung herself over to the main girder and
descended with all the speed
she dared to make. Going down was harder than coming up.
She slid down a strut and swung over to a lower bar. Looking down, she
realized that she couldn't
see the vampire. Forget the vamp, let's get the hell off this wheel.
She dropped to another strut,
inched along it, reached out for the next foothold, reaching, reaching,
where is that damn thing, oh,
there it is.
Lightning. Thunder, two seconds later. Her left hand lost its grip on
the bar, and she flailed for a
second before finding another bar. Finally she reached one of the lower
girders, and she scooted
along it.
A fist came from the darkness, knocking her back off the girder, and
she fell four feet before
stopping abruptly. One hand, her hand, now holding a rivet, kept her
from falling the remaining
twenty feet. She flailed again, reaching for something, anything, and
lightning struck again. She saw
the vampire standing above her with a toothy grin, bending down towards
her handhold. There has
to be another rivet somewhere, come on, it's either the fall or the
electrocution, but let's get it over with.
Crying out in triumph, Will swung down from a higher bar and knocked
the vampire off his feet.
The demon slid to the bottom of the girder, where he shook his head,
laughed, and continued his
descent.
The next lightning flash allowed Buffy to see Will's outstretched hand. "Take it, let's go."
She grabbed it and he pulled her up. The electricity in the air was
palpable; Will's hair was trying to
stand on end. They moved down the girder, helping each other down to
the next strut, and the next.
Buffy felt her stomach suddenly fold in on itself. They were still
twelve feet from the ground.
"Jump!" she yelled, and they leaped for the muddy ground below; it rushed
at them, but not fast
enough for Buffy, whose mind was babbling, ground is safe, ground is
good, ground is not metal.
They landed one-two, splashing into the mud with the grace of natural
acrobats, rolling away from
the wheel.
Behind them, lightning struck the Ferris Wheel with a WHAP!, knocking
Will and Buffy back
another few feet. The electricity ran through the steel like wildfire,
lighting it up with a blue intensity
before finding the ground it so eagerly sought.
They sat there in the mud catching their breath before Will finally
said, "So, Slayer, what else do
you do for fun?"
She tossed a handful of mud at him.
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