* Fresh, right off the press. Sorry if there's any mistakes, I think as always that you'll get the gist. Enjoy....
Chapter 15:Driven
“You shouldn’t have gotten angry with her Leo. It wasn’t her fault, none of this is,” said Giles cleaning his glasses, standing in Fisher’s apartment. He expected an answer from Fisher.
Fisher just looked down at his glass of scotch as he stood over it. Leaning against the counter of his bar. He didn’t even looked up, “She should know why-”
Giles was interrupted but Fisher, “My life is none of her business.” His voice was firm.
“She should know. You should tell her, she’s not just a slayer. Not just some job,” answered Giles.
“You told me, I should…be serious about my work,” laughed Fisher, he was….a little drunk.
“Where, where’s your humanity?”
Fisher put the glass to his mouth to take a drink, “I’d have to say, I lost it.”
“Doesn’t matter what happened in your past,” exclaimed Giles, “It’s your future that matters.” Fisher just looked forward, didn’t answer for a long time.
Giles waited for the answer. He got one, “Not if my bloody past, keeps coming back…to…bite me in the ass.”
“That’s no excuse to be angry at that child,” Giles felt like somehow he’d have to beat the facts into Fisher’s head, literally.
“I’m not angry at that child!” replied Fisher, he looked at him confused, “Ya know that.”
“She doesn’t though.”
It popped into Fisher’s mind. He looked up, knew what he could say, “What if she has grown a trust, with Cillian?”
Giles spoke softly, “Are you trying to find a reason to be angry with her? Trying to think up a reason?”
“Just answer the question!” demanded Fisher.
“Good Lord,” he put his hand on his forehead, stressed. Took his hand off, folded his arms over his chest, “It’s rare, I figure.”
“I need more than, ‘You figure’,” hissed Fisher.
“From my experience, yes. Ramona, probably has started something with Cillian.”
Fisher had taken a drink while he was talking and directed back his comments, “Of course, she’s not like that slayer you had. The big shining trophy.”
“You’re drunk,” said Giles, looking at him as if to examine his head, through the skull.
“But I’m not blind. I know what happened, I read the reports, happened twice. Didn’t watch hard enough did you?” growled Fisher.
“Slayer’s are human beings, they make choices, at times…Whatever happens, whatever, it’s never our fault. Never ours, you should learn that,” explained Giles.
“I’ve lost everything, and more,” Fisher looked around the room like he was sick of the place, feeling woozy from all the scotch. “Cillian needs to leave, he needs to die.” Giles watched him. Fisher suddenly threw the glass of scotch at his wall, the glass crashed drink going down the wall.
Fisher blinked…
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~ 2 Days before Victoria died:
It was night. Cillian was at his usual demon club. Having fun. Fighting other demons, eating humans. He was dancing with a blonde, she was human. She had no idea what was going on besides she just me this hot guy that seems so interested in her.
All she could do was let him dance with her, smile from cheek to cheek. Look him in the eyes. The Heavy Metal music made her heart throb from the bass. She didn’t care what music, this man had to be the best looking one she’s ever seen.
One of the vampires that ran the club went towards Cillian through the people slowly. His face turned back, human looking. He had something to say.
Cillian had to young woman by the waist, twirling around with her. Lifting her up. She’d never danced with anyone like him. The vamp got closer.
He was about done with his fun, Cillian was, almost time for the climax. The best part. Dinner. She twirled into Cillian and his face had changed.
She let out a loud shriek. He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Do it again,” he said quickly, wanted her to scream some more.
Immediately her eyes were filled with tears. Her heart throbbed with fear. She kept screaming at him hoping he’d let her go. Cillian dipped her. Going down towards her throat to bite her.
Cillian turned around before the vamp could tap on his shoulder. He looked at him, his face turning back, “What?” hissed Cillian. Had better things to do.
“Someone out back wants to see you, in the Alley,” replied the other vamp.
“I’ll be right there then,” Cillian answered cockily.
The vamp shrugged his shoulders and left Cillian. The woman was still screaming, she couldn’t get away from his inhuman grasp. Cillian’s face changed back and she let out the loudest of her shrieks. He bit into her throat hungrily.
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The back door of the club opened and Cillian walked out. He looked to the alley. That someone had just turned the corner. Cillian walked up towards the corner. Slowly. Seeing the man’s shadow. He began to follow the man, who it seemed to be Fisher.
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Cillian knew that Fisher knew he was following him. He followed Fisher to his apartment building. Followed the lone watcher up the stairs. Fisher had taken the elevator. He watched him.
Cillian waited a bit before going down the hall to Fisher’s apartment room. When he got there he looked the watcher in the eyes. Cillian smiled, but he was slightly confused.
“Come in,” replied Fisher opening the door all the way up to him.
He looked at Fisher for a long moment. Then he stepped over the threshold his boot thumping on the hard wood floor. Like a thump to a leaping heart, Fisher’s.
Fisher became that completely calm that he had been. It had lead Cillian there. It was going to stay. “You may sit down,” replied Fisher closing the door behind Cillian.
“Why have you brought me here?” Cillian turned towards Fisher.
“Talking,” Fisher walked past Cillian to the bar.
Cillian looked at him confused. Looked at him suspiciously, “Talk, really? Trust that I will just-” he paused. “’Talk’?”
Fisher poured himself a glass of scotch. “I expect you have at least that much nobility left in you.”
“Nobility. Does that really have anything to do with me, killing you?” questioned Cillian. Fisher watched him take a seat in a chair next to the T.V. “At least me being able to,” Cillian said.
“I don’t need to know that you can kill me,” spoke Fisher.
“How’s your little slayer doing, the tall one?” questioned Cillian.
Fisher replied quickly, with a different answer to a different subject, “I want you to leave town, if you know what’s good for you.”
Cillian laughed, taunting, mocking, “If I know what’s good for me?”
“I’ll give you money,” said Fisher.
“Let such a being as I live? Make me leave town to ruin someone else’s poor existence. Money- you put a lot of thought into this didn’t you?”
“You’re a threat, we all know that. But I think you’re more trouble than you’re worth is all. Leave this town, or Die in it,” Fisher threatened.
Cillian stood up and walked over towards Fisher, “Why would I want to do that? I like to test death and all it’s qualities.” He towered over Fisher, not by much, but enough.
“How much money do you want?” asked Fisher, almost in a growl.
“I didn’t say I’d leave, I didn’t say I wanted money. I don’t need money. I don’t need a bribe, especially when it won’t matter. Pour your money out at me, like a fountain for all I care. Here, I’ve got too much to loose,” explained Cillian.
“Is this supposed to be a thrill, you stay here for the thrill?” growled Fisher, he felt needlessly used and it made him angry.
“A vampire’s life is all about the thrills,” smiled Cillian.
Fisher’s eyes turned to slits as he looked at Cillian suspiciously, “What do you have to loose here?”
Cillian turned from him, on purpose, like to test him. See if the man would try and kill him, of course he expected he wouldn’t. That’s the way watchers seemed to be, the slayers were the ones that struck out with that kind of open window before them.
He went towards the door and opened it, turned towards Fisher, “I tell you what,” he cocked his head to the side. “What I have to loose…It’s for me to know and you to find out.”
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~ Present: Day:
Cillian was standing in front of the mirror looking at his burns, standing there in his clothes, his shirt unbuttoned. He could see himself, which didn’t surprise him. He could walk into people’s houses, turns out being a human has side effects. He liked them though.
His burns were gone. He walked out of Ramona’s bathroom to see her still sleeping. It was day out. It’d be hard for him to leave. She had blankets.
Stood there for a long moment, he waited to see if she’d wake up. Watched her lay there under the covers naked.
“Opening a can of warms,” he sighed to himself. He didn’t know really, what, he’d gotten himself into.
Cillian turned towards the door. He grabbed the hand and unlocked it. “Don’t.” He heard her voice and turned around slowly. He saw her laying there with her eyes wide open, “Don’t leave me. It’s day, don’t go, you don’t have to.”
He looked at her with disgust, “Interesting card you are.”
She sat up holding the covers around her, “What’s wrong?”
That disgusting look went away from him, “I’m an abomination to my kind.”
“They don’t know,” she said. “You don’t care what they think, if you did you would never act the way you do.”
“You bend the morals to make me acceptable,” scoffed Cillian.
“No I don’t,” she retorted.
Cillian went towards her, “Think, would I, a killer, ever be like you?” She looked down sadly, looking down quietly. His face looked innocent for the moment, “No. I wouldn’t. I don’t want a soul, don’t need a soul, and the killing is great-”
“You don’t have to, you-”
“I enjoy it,” he said annoyed.
“No, you don’t, you don’t have to,” she wanted it not to be true.
“I’m evil Lady Red, evil as they come,” spoke Cillian, “Not the kind of man to be making attachments to-”
“You don’t want to kill me.”
Cillian went quiet, did he want to? Did he not? He turned from her and went out of her room. He went down the hall. Ramona quickly went for her clothes.
He Stood at the bottom of the stairs. Stood there, something was wrong, it poked his mind. He forgot his coat. Cillian didn’t want to see her, but he wanted his coat. Cillian turned around.
Ramona put her hands on his face, pulling him down to her. Quickly she kissed him passionately. He grabbed her waist. She kept kissing him. Cillian pulled away seeing her in her underwear and a shirt. That was all that she could get on not wanting him to leave.
She pulled him down towards her again. He stopped her from kissing him again. Their faces were almost against one another’s. She was breathing hard, “Don’t leave me.” She kissed him again, they held for a long moment and she pulled away softly, kept a firm hold on his shoulders, “I want you, I want you to stay with me.”
They looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment. Ramona’s heart was pounding. Her chest moved with her heavy breathing. He could feel her body vibrating in his hands.
Slowly she let him pull away. He looked down at her, “I’m dead, a killer. You know the trouble I cause, you know I hurt people, but you bend the morals.”
“Please,” her eyes were becoming filled with tears, “Stay. Don’t kill, please. I just want you, only you, I think-”
“Don’t say it,” he said stopping her, his voice deep and aggressive.
“You don’t have to kill-”
“Don’t have to.”
“Don’t need to.”
“Want to, don’t want to, doesn’t matter Lassie,” he growled, “Can’t pick and choose this situation.”
“Please don’t leave,” she could almost sob.
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~ 1983: New Jersey
Fisher went into the apartment he owned at the time. He looked young, amazingly enough. Closing the door behind him quickly he leaned against it. His eyes were tightly shut. His face was pale. His chest was heaving up and down.
He brought his hands up. Looked at them. Blood all the way down to his elbow, all over his shirt. The moment that this all got on him flashed into his mind.
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Quickly Fisher ran down the hall of a white fashioned, high style apartment building. He ran down the hall passing up people. Nothing like blood on him.
Fisher ran to one of the doors. He saw the door open. No one had passed it, no one knew. No one.
He ran into the place, “BRIDGET!!” His heart was pounding hard in his head.
A young woman lay in a puddle of blood on the floor. She was blinking. Her eyes were wide opened. This woman’s beautiful blonde hair was soaked with blood. Her green eyes just looked up at the ceiling, she looked slightly sleepy. Blood all over her, the floor.
He ran to her and picked her up in his arms. He took off his jacket and put it on her wound, holding pressure, she’d been shot. She looked at him as he held her in his arms, “Stay with me, please.”
She looked up to him in a pitiful way. “He did this?” Fisher was scared for Bridget, “Did he?” his words were trembling. She was shaking looking up at him, he knew she was in shock, “I’m calling an ambulance.”
Suddenly Fisher, knew something. He sensed something. He ducked down as a man went to hit him across the head with a baseball bat. The man missed and went at him again. Fisher stood up and ducked the next passing blow.
This man was angry. He was larger than Fisher, he gripped the bat and went at Fisher again. Fisher kicked the bat from his hand. The man then punched him in the face with his burley fist. Fisher came back and hit him again. He kneed him in the stomach. The man went for his throat slamming him back against the leather couch in this living room like area.
Fisher couldn’t breath. He gripped the man’s wrist trying to force him away. Fisher kicked him in the chest, the man didn’t let go. Fisher was getting worried for his own life. He did it again and the large man went back.
The man fell to the ground. Quickly Fisher grabbed the baseball bat and hit him across the face as he went to stand up. He did it again. Rage going through Fisher, in every part of his body. He hit the man again. Again.
Blood splattered on Fisher’s face, his shirt. He hit the man again. Again, large cracking and pounding sounds. His heart throbbed hard in his head, his breathing was short. He was making him arms ache, hitting the man again, again.
The bat was broken. Fisher pulled away not being able to do anything else. His hands were covered in blood when he had started fighting, he looked towards Bridget. Sweat going down his face. His breathing still hard.
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Fisher put his hands down. The hit the door, blood laid on the wood. Fisher closed his eyes tightly.
A fit of anger came over him. Like a burning. He went forward and picked up his coffee table and threw it. The thing landed with a loud boom like sound. He grabbed his lamp and threw it. Grabbed the nightstand, threw it too.
Things crashed, glass hit his floor. Fisher pushed over his couch. He grabbed his book shelf and pushed it down. He grabbed little hard things through out the room and threw them at the windows. They went through, mostly. Crashing, destruction.
Blood was on the walls from his hands, blood all over anything touched. He ended up standing in the middle of the room. He fell backwards, let himself fall back. He laid there in the floor watching the ceiling, watching it spin.
He put his hand under a pile of books and pulled out a phone. He spun the little dial on it without really thinking. He put the phone receiver to his ear to talk.
“Head of the Watcher’s Council please,” spoke Fisher laying there on the floor.
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~ Present: Night:
Giles was sitting at the counter in a bar. Just having a drink, slightly missing his home. He had a job, he had priorities. He wouldn’t be in this place for long, and the good part was no demons would just come into the bar, unless of course they could disguise themselves, really what would be the point, hardly anyone was there.
He stood up to leave, paid the bartender. Nodded good bye/thank you and went towards the door. There was something he had to do, someone he had to find. Of course before he did this, he’d have to develop some kind of plan.
The door opened and the person that walked in stopped in front of him, “Hi, Rupert.”
Giles stopped dead in his tracks, backed up a step. Cillian stood before him, the same as he always was, that smile on his face. Giles was quiet.
“Well aren’t you going to say hi?” teased Cillian.
“You wouldn’t do anything here, you wouldn’t?” questioned Giles quickly thinking about all the people in there, there was enough to make one worry for their safety.
“I thought you knew me better,” laughed Cillian.
“Don’t, you want to fight, I’ll fight outside,” growled Giles.
Cillian stood over him, “What about that would be fun, besides the beating you part?” Giles didn’t show his fear, blocked it from Cillian. Cillian knew his fear though, “I hate to say it man, but I’m not that easily entertained.”
He didn’t think he could stop Cillian from causing a scene. He couldn’t stop all of it without taking desperate measures. Giles quickly threw his fist at Cillian’s chest ejecting a stake trying to kill him. Cillian put his hands quickly over his heart knowing what was coming.
The stake injected into Cillian’s hands. Cillian winced in pain. “Now, Giles, that’s just going to make me angry,” he spoke quickly.
He slammed his boot against Giles’s chest making Giles pull away, taking the stakes with him. Cillian had blood all over his shirt. People were wondering what was going on.
The bartender went over to them to get between them, stop the fight, “This is no happening in my bar.”
Cillian grabbed the bartender quickly and his face changed and he slammed his teeth into his throat. Giles pulled the man away. The wound created by Cillian was torn from the jerking of the teeth on the skin. The man was pulled away. Cillian just laughed.
His face turned back, blood on his lips, he licked them. Giles came away from the bartender who was apply pressure to his throat. One of his people were helping him, getting paper towels, napkins.
Giles threw a punch at Cillian, who blocked it. He kneed the old man in the chest. And swiped his right fist across his face. Giles hit the ground and rolled up onto his feet ignoring his bloody nose.
“Think you’re my destruction old man?” snickered Cillian. Giles was back up onto his feet, the scene seemed like it’d last forever, but end so quick. “Don’t you wish you had a slayer?”
“Litheptum,” Giles spoke putting his hand out to Cillian. [I don’t know spells, so we’ll have to live with gibberish.]
Cillian was suddenly thrown out the door behind him. He was thrown across the street skidding on it. Going under cars. Cillian landed under a car that was moving. His face changed and he quickly stood up slamming his hands against the bottom of the thing. The car went up and flew backwards.
The car smashed on the asphalt. The engine blew up on contact with the ground. Other cars swerved around. One almost drove into Cillian, his face changed again and he slammed his fist at the SUV. The SUV was knocked out of the way it’s brakes screeching.
Another car swerved by hitting a hydrant. Water sprayed into the air. Cillian’s face turned back, Giles walked out of the bar towards Cillian, “I see we’ve got a little wizard,” roared Cillian.
He was angry, his fists bled from the blow to the car. The palms of his hands were burnt from touching the car that got flipped. Cillian went towards him.
Giles quickly spoke another key word, magic word. Cillian flew down on the top of one of the cars and over the side. The old man wasn’t so old, so old and weak now. Giles spoke another word and the car moved out of the way.
Cillian was backing away from him, standing up. With a movement of his hand Fire from the car that had exploded shot down the sidewalk and at Cillian. Cillian turned around quickly as it shot up his leg. Quickly the flames started to grab onto Cillian. He roared in pain going back.
He stood there, Giles did waiting to see him burn. Cillian shot for the water quickly. The water started pouring down on him, knocking out the fire. His skin hurt, his bones hurt. He felt the sudden coldness of the water and moaned and ached in pain.
He laid there, breathing. It pain him to move. The water hurt the burns. Slowly Cillian forced himself up off the ground, his hair laid on his face, soaked he was. “BIANCA!!! BIANCA!!!” he yelled in pain, “BIANCA!!!”
Giles went towards Cillian, he shot a stake out of his other jacket sleeve, and he went towards him. Cillian watched him, so tired, hurting. “Not going to kill me,” hissed Cillian.
The old man spoke a quick few words and Cillian fell back on the ground. Giles was over him, ready to put the stake down. Suddenly Bianca grabbed Giles by the throat and pulled him away from her brother.
Giles fell to the ground almost hitting his head on the sidewalk. Bianca went towards him, “That’s not nice of you.”
He pushed himself up to fight her. Some how.
“What the hell is your problem?” questioned Bianca, “Finally couldn’t fight fair, the good ole hand to hand way, had to bring magic into this?” She grabbed him by the hair and tossed him over a car and into another, “Guess what, magic doesn’t want you or your watcher kind.”
Giles slid down the side of the car. Bianca kicked him across the side of the face. Giles spit up blood.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she growled.
He spoke quickly and with the words of the spell she flew back, not far, she still stood there. She just laughed. Then stepped towards him again.
Giles held his hand out and he spoke under his breath quickly. The locket like necklace around her neck shot to his hand. He had it.
“NO!!” roared Bianca. He slammed the thing down on the ground and it smashed making a fission in the air. “NO!!!! NO!!!!”
She went towards him. Giles stood up leaning against the car behind him. Quickly he looked around, he’d have to find something. Something to kill her. Did he need to kill her? Of course, she was evil, angry and evil.
Suddenly from behind Something grabbed Bianca by the head and twisted it quickly. Bianca went down. He neck broken. Cillian stood there before Giles breathing hard. A mess, his skin burnt, his clothes burnt. Soaked wet, he stood there.
“She was going to deceive me,” growled Cillian.
Cillian could hear Giles’ heart throbbed, he was tired. Cillian was tired, but he was a demon that didn’t take no for an answer. He went towards him. Giles’ was too tired to think up spells, he couldn’t do it. That’s why he didn’t usually used them.
“You tire,” spat Cillian, would have said it with a normal tone but he was a bit pissed off, “Magic works a load on you! Unless of course you’re into that dark stuff.” Cillian laughed, pain, his lungs hurt, his throat.
“You still keep yapping,” coughed Giles.
Suddenly Cillian grabbed Giles by the shirt, “THINK I CARE?!”
Cillian didn’t vamp out, he just went for it, cause the pain. He bit Giles hard in the neck. Giles roared in pain, nothing obviously like a vampire bite.
It was like being bitten like a human. Giles’ heart raced as the blood was taken out of him quickly, pain fully. He felt faint. He felt a burning sensation. His vision was going black, nothing he could do. Blood all wet going down his chest if not into that fiend. His heart slowed.
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~ Day:
Fisher sat in his living room drinking his bourbon now, not the scotch, but he wasn’t drunk. Slightly wished he was. This slayer of his dying thing was really affecting him.
There was a knock at Fisher’s door. He looked to it. Who would be coming at this time of day. Of course he asked himself a lot of questions, like who would be drunk by 9 A.M. He certainly wasn’t.
“It’s me, Ramona,” said the voice on the other side.
“Come in,” sighed Fisher.
Ramona tried, “The door’s locked.” Fisher didn’t reply, “I can leave, or…Um…kick it in.”
Fisher went to the door and opened it, “There you go.”
She looked at him confused, “You’re drunk, or-”
“Not yet,” he interrupted.
“What’s wrong?” asked Ramona.
Fisher looked down standing at the door, like he was ashamed, “You can come in.”
“Thanks,” Ramona stepped over the threshold, she turned towards him, “What’s wrong?” He closed the door and locked it. “Is it about Victoria? Fisher,” Ramona was slightly nervous about talking about it, “You hardly knew her.”
“You don’t know that,” said Fisher under his breath sitting back down in his big leather chair next to the counter, having himself another deep drink.
“What do you mean?” questioned Ramona, “You’ve only known her for what? A little over a week, two?”
“I’ve never met her,” sighed Fisher, “Not till now.”
“Why are you being this way, there’s bigger deals. Like, evil, all over the New York City area,” she explained.
“Cillian,” scoffed Fisher.
Ramona didn’t give that an answer. She just stood there, slowly she decided to sit down. He looked straight forward. She just really wanted him to keep the conversation going. She wanted to know so much more about his little problems, because she wanted to know why he was acting this way.
They were quiet for it seemed the longest of times. She sat there waiting for him to tell her just something. Hell he could tell her the weather, she wouldn’t care, she wanted things to be alright.
“When, you’ve got potentials you’re to train them. Prepare them for battle,” sighed Fisher. “None of them expect to be chosen, either some thinking they’re too young…too old. I’ve had 5 potentials in my days, 5 chances not to screw it up, but some how that always happens.”
“You haven’t screwed up-”
“You’d think,” he kept going, “- being a slayer would be great. Knowing out of so many you’ve been picked, picked to have powers, the abilities to save the world from the torment that is evil. But you just get the torment. It’s like being diagnosed with a cancer.
He held that glass, looking at it, it was empty, completely. He just looked at it though, like it’s show him something, “I didn’t really treat my potentials well, I treated them better than I treat you.”
“Isn’t that nice?” said Ramona sarcastically.
“4 of them, I treated them like they were pieces of meat. Didn’t hurt them, unless, using them was like that. Of course back then I was young. Stupid. Giles told me I should, get serious, or their life would be gone, and it would be my fault.”
“You blame yourself for Victoria’s death, but it’s not your fault,” stated Ramona, “It’s not.”
“Cillian, he did it. It’s my fault cause he’s still alive,” said Fisher, hating himself.
Ramona felt it was her fault. She really did, and She didn’t want him to know it, or feel it. “Nothing your fault.”
“I promised her mother I’d take care of her, not let her die. Promised,” sighed Fisher.
“People make promises Fisher, just-”
“Victoria was blood, she was my daughter,” said Fisher in a groan, Ramona got terribly quiet, “It’s all different when she’s blood. When you didn’t know about them, and then-” He stopped himself, he didn’t want to talk, he didn’t want to know this stuff.
Ramona swallowed, she blinked, looked at him confused, “That explains, a lot.”
“I’m not going to let Cillian get away with this. Never, never, I will hunt him to the ends of the earth if I must,” growled Fisher.
“How’d this all happen?” Ramona was asking it to herself naturally enough.
“I haven’t been able to be less than serious, not since her,” said Fisher.
“What?” asked Ramona.
“I was in love with a slayer once, back in those unheard days of me being young,” sighed Fisher, wishing he could refill his drink without getting up. He smiled a little, “Bridget. It was all my fault.”
Ramona just looked at him, “What?”
“She died.”
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~ 1983: New Jersey
Fisher was walking down the clean white hall way. [That’d he’d been in earlier in the chapter.] He had a piece of paper in his hand, looking at it, following the numbers on the doors. He put the piece of paper in his pocket getting close to the door that he was meant to go to.
# 326. He went up to the door. There was yelling in there, a man and a woman yelling back and forth. Fisher went to knock the door not hearing it. Then he heard something being thrown. It broke.
He pulled his hand away, he looked at the door. The yelling didn’t stop. The door was being unlocked. Fisher backed up from the door and got to where no one would be able to see him. A large man came out of the apartment and stomped down the hall never noticing Fisher.
For a long moment he stood there. He heard inside of the room glass being swept up. Fisher saw Bridget standing there sweeping up some glass. She threw away the glass.
“Hello?” he knocked on the doorway.
She looked startled for a moment. Fisher stood there, “Hi,” she sighed, she was a southern girl.
“Are you Bridget-”
“Yeah,” she answered quickly, “What is it?” she said, not trying to be mean, not in a mean way really.
“I’m Leo Fisher, may I come in and have a word?” questioned Fisher.
Bridget looked around, confused, then at him, “Sure. Close the door please.”
“Alright,” said Fisher, he stepped in closing the door behind him.
She stood there, “What do you want?” she didn’t sound mean.
“As I said, I’m Leo Fisher. I’m with a society known as The Watcher Council.”
“Who are they?” asked Bridget getting to the point.
“You been, somewhat chosen-”
“Is this some kind of, credit card deal?” she questioned her accent making her sound sweat and innocent, “Cause well, I’m not interested.”
“No,” laughed Fisher, “We aren’t like a credit card company. Actually, you were born chosen.”
“Think a credit card company never told me that?” questioned Bridget, “They have.”
“No, no, no, nothing like that. I have a question for you,” said Fisher.
“What?” asked Bridget, “Want something, to drink?”
“No thank you,” said Fisher.
“Then I’d kind like to make this quick, I’ve got a busy day ahead of me,” she explained.
“Have you ever experienced dreams?” questioned Fisher, “A certain type, that you would feel to be…prophecy like?”
“I dreamed my cat would die once, he did,” said Bridget, she smiled shyly when Fisher didn’t answer thinking she was going to explain more, “I kinda don’t want to tell a stranger what I been dreamin’ about.”
“That’s completely understandable,” said Fisher.
“You should leave,” she said going towards him, saying it to him as if it was for his own good.
“Why, this is important,” said Fisher, trying to find a good way to explain himself.
“It’s important that you’re not here when that man comes back,” she turned him towards the door. “Or well,” she opened up the door, “He’ll kill you.”
“What?” asked Fisher turning towards her.
“Just go on now,” said Bridget, “Sorry I couldn’t be of any help.”
“You were, you were, just-” Fisher pulled a card out of his pocket with a number and address on it, “I prefer you meet me here. Whenever you can, this information could mean a grandiose change of things.”
“Thanks,” said Bridget taking the card trying to close the door on him, “I’ll see what happens British man, or, uh…Leo Fisher.”
She closed the door. Fisher stood there, he felt a little worried but there was nothing much he could do. He’d just have to go to that address, stay there, wait.
----------------------------------
The address was a park. It was a nice park. It had said on the card that he’d meet her at the entrance. Said that it was the best place for them to go.
The Park. Not a place to be suspicious of course. The could meet there. Fisher waited there on the date, at the time that he wrote on the card. He stood there, no one else around. He had a firm grip on his weapons bag as he stood there. Waiting.
“Hi,” said Bridget going towards him.
“Good Evening,” said Fisher.
“Lets hurry this up,” she said nicely, “I hate to rush you though.”
“That’s fine. I’ve been practicing this speech in the mirror for days,” said Fisher.
Bridget looked him like he was crazy. Then she laughed, “Now I get it. What are you goin’ to tell me. I sure hope you not going to ask me out. I mean people usually only talk to themselves into the mirror if they’re gonna ask someone out. Talk in front of a crowd or something. Or if they’re crazy. Or, if they have subconscious issues, though that’s just mean they’re crazy.”
“No, no,” clarified Fisher.
“Good, cause I’m married. Dating other men, that’d just get me in trouble. Actually I might already be in trouble,” she looked up at him, “We better just hurry this up.”
Fisher kept quiet for a moment knowing something was wrong, “Walk with me.”
“I guess there’s no harm in that though,” she said, “Well, actually there could be a problem in that come to think about it. But I guess you’ve proven yourself nice enough, I’ll walk with you.”
They started walking down the walk way, “I came to your house to tell you about what I do. To tell you about what you were born to live up to.”
“Momma always said that I was going to live up to the stars, but of course I found out that’s just her metaphor for death,” said Bridget.
Fisher looked at her then started talking again, “There’s a world out here that most people never learn about. Some people have that chance. But some don’t. Like me, us. You were born to be chosen.”
“So I’m chosen to be chosen?” clarified Bridget.
“You could say that,” replied Fisher. “The world is full of demons.”
“I don’t suppose you’re trying to get me to join a convent or something.”
“No, but the world is full of actual demons,” said Fisher.
Bridget stopped a looked down. Fisher kept walking then after a moment he noticed she wasn’t following him, “What is it?”
“You asked me about dreams?” said Bridget, “Dreams being, about demons right?”
“Yes.”
“So those are real, and that woman, those women. They were gettin’ all chosen right?”
“You understand this pretty well,” replied Fisher going over to her.
“I’ve been havin’ those dreams since I was a baby, of course I understand all this. I’m possessed.”
“No,” said Fisher shaking his head ‘no’, “You’re not possessed. You’re a potential slayer.”
“Chosen to fight the world against darkness and all that, kind of runs in the family,” said Bridget.
“What?” asked Fisher, “What do you mean?”
“Kind of runs in the family, mom, grandma, aunts, all getting those visions. I only thought it was genetic,” said Bridget.
“Then you know why I’m here?” questioned Fisher.
“Sure, you’re watcher- but I’m not a slayer. I don’t have super powers,” she said bashfully, “Like my mom, aunts, grandma. They didn’t get the super powers.”
“Your just a potential, you could become the slayer,” said Fisher.
Bridget just looked down. She blinked, “This is a lot to hear. I kind of expected as much, I mean my sister got them and she was taken away by a watcher.”
Fisher started laughing. She looked up at him, “What are laughin’ about?” Fisher looked at her. Bridget didn’t know what he was carrying on about.
“It’s just,” he took in a breath. He laughed a little trying to calm himself down, “Just.” He was about ready to be in tears, “I wasn’t told all this stuff.”
She laughed a little. Fisher stood up straight, smiling, “I’ve been sent here to train you.”
“My husband, he wouldn’t be too happy about all this, training ideas,” said Bridget.
“That was your husband?” questioned Fisher.
“Yeah, Sam. He’s my husband. Doesn’t quite feel like it, 5 months, I still feel single. I mean it was all good and stuff,” she sighed. She smiled, “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”
“Now that I’m your watcher, you may rely in me,” said Fisher.
“What if I don’t want, a watcher?” questioned Bridget.
“Well, you can’t stop that. If you get chosen-”
“It’s like what, a million to one? I should just get back to what I was doing,” said Bridget.
“You don’t like your life do you?” he asked, seriously. Bridget laughed a little, “Really?”
She licked her lips looking down at the sidewalk, “Sometimes….Sometimes I don’t.”
“Being chosen even as a potential is a lot to be proud of,” explained Fisher, “Even though being a slayer would be, putting the world on your shoulders. And it’s something to be worried about-”
“You’re starting to scare me Mister,” said Bridget thoughtfully.
“I’m willing to train you for battle, for when the time comes that you may get chosen-”
“I’m too old, 23, too old,” sighed Bridget.
“No, you’re not,” said Fisher, “And I’m willing to devote myself to helping you. Cause, it’s my job.”
She looked up at him, “I’d like to learn how to fight.”
“Then I can show you,” said Fisher, “Make you ready for anything.”
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~ Present:
Fisher had refilled his bourbon. He sat back down in his leather chair, “I didn’t know the half of it, even though I expected it. She never wanted to tell me.” He looked to Ramona, “I thought she’d never be chosen, never. How’s that for irony?” he laughed, took another drink.
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~ 1983: New Jersey: Fisher’s apartment:
A couple of months had gone by. Fisher trained, and trained with Bridget. She was serious about the job, serious about it all. She was already patrolling too.
Fisher was training her at his place. Everyday. He could tell something was wrong with Bridget, she always came a bit nervous. She just said that it was because she’s never hit a man.
Bridget took up sparring well. Training. Only bad part when they were done they’d have to move the furniture back in the apartment.
Of course sometimes the afternoon would end a certain way. One time it ended badly, at least to some.
Fisher blocked her right blow and he ducked her left. She kneed him back against the counter. It didn’t hurt, they weren’t doing enough to hurt, hurt each other. He went to kick her off her feet, it worked. Bridget fell backwards onto the couch. She pulled him down automatically trying not to fall.
Fisher laid over her. On top of her. The were smiling. Slowly they stopped smiling at each other. Their hearts were throbbing hard, they could feel each other’s. Their breathing was fast.
Slowly Fisher leaned in to kiss her. She let that fluttery feeling come over her touching his lips with hers. Her eyes closed. Nothing for that long instant made them object each other.
Slowly Bridget pulled away, her eyes didn’t open, almost. Feeling her throbbing heart, she went back in kissing him again. Slowly she moved her hand up his chest towards hi neck. Her eyes opened.
Fisher was tossed off the couch hitting the floor. Bridget sat up, “I have to go.”
He sat up, “NO, you don’t have to.”
“I do,” she stood up and grabbed her coat off of the coat hanger, “I’m so sorry.”
“Bridget, you don’t have to leave,” said Fisher.
He just watched her leave. He didn’t see her for awhile.
----------------------------------
Bridget came back. She came back worse off. Worse off by something was wrong. Fisher looked at her, she had a bruise on her cheek. She seemed very quiet, even more so, very introverted.
Fisher saw her as he stood in his doorway, “I’d like to talk,” she said, that bashful way she was.
“Sure,” she Fisher, he was worried for her so much in that moment.
Bridget came into his Apartment. Fisher closed the door behind her, “Who hurt you.”
“It’s nothin‘,” she answered.
“Who?” he questioned again.
“We need to not do this anymore,” she replied bluntly.
“I’m your watcher-”
“And thanks for lettin’ me waist all your time, but we can’t, this-no,” she explained with hand movements.
Fisher looked at her kind of hurt, that was always how he did it. With potentials, if they didn’t want to live his life, he’d be hurt looking to win them back over. But that’s not why he was doing this. He actually cared, “Who hurt you?” getting more persistent.
“No one alright, I’m goin’,” she said going towards the door.
“Did your husband hurt you?” asked Fisher, he remembered that her husband like to throw things, and yell.
She burst out into tears, “NO!!”
Fisher grew angry, he felt he should protect her. He held her by the shoulders quickly, looked into her eyes, “You never let him hurt you, Never. I trained you, fight him.”
“I can’t,” she sobbed, “I tried he just made it all worse.”
“Yes you can,” said Fisher, “You’re being trained to be a slayer. How can you fight the powers darkness, if you can’t fight him?”
She started hitting his chest, “I don’t want to!! I don’t know!!!” she screamed.
Fisher took her in his arms. Bridget laid against his chest breathing hard, crying. He stroked her hair laying his head on her shoulder.
Bridget took in a deep breath, “I don’t want to go back…there.”
“You don’t have to,” said Fisher softly, “I’ll keep you from him.”
Slowly Bridget pulled back, stroking his jaw line with her hand. She put her hand in his hair. Looked up at him for a long moment. Her tears weren’t coming down her cheeks anymore. Slowly she leaned her head against his chest again.
----------------------------------
Night went by. Morning came like it always does. Fisher opened his eyes, he lay on his bed. Lay on his bed with all his clothes on. He sat up looking around, “Bridget?”
She didn’t call back. He suddenly became very concerned. “Bridget?!” he called again. She wasn’t there.
----------------------------------
Bridget sat next to the phone in her apartment room that she shared with her husband. Tears were going down her face, that bruise was still on her cheek.
There was a knock at the door. Slowly she got up, “Coming.” She whipped her eyes and went to the door.
Fisher stood there before her, “Leo.” She seemed shocked. “You can’t be here,” she spoke quickly.
“He hit you, you came back here?” said Fisher.
“Go away,” she demanded, she tried to close the door on him.
Fisher put his boot in the door, “NO, come with me.”
“Leave,” she held the door. He pushed it opened, she backed up, “He’ll kill you.”
Suddenly Fisher kissed her. His hands in her hair. She pulled away after a that moment where the world seemed to stop. She looked at him, heart broken, “No, no, no,” she sobbed, “Not this, he’ll kill you.”
“I trained you,” spoke Fisher, “You don’t have to be here. For the lover of God, you don’t have to take it.”
“Please,” sobbed Bridget, “He’ll come back.”
He held her lovingly, “Just answer me this, are you afraid for me or you?” She just looked at him tears in her eyes, on her cheeks. He smiled at her, “I’m afraid for you. Do you want more on your platter?”
Bridget looked into his eyes. Hers opened wide, “Leave, if he sees you, he’ll kill-””
“ME, I see it,” answered Fisher.
“Please,” she pushed him out and closed the door the locked it.
Fisher looked to the door dumbstruck. He leaned against the hall wall, hearing the foot steps of that husband of hers.
Inside Bridget went into the bathroom locking the door. She locked the door and sat against the wall behind her, slowly she slid down it. Crying.
Outside, “Bothering my girl?” asked the husband, in a growl.
“Yeah, I was uh,” her husband slammed Fisher against the wall.
“I find out that you’ve been bothering my wife, I’ll kill you,” growled the large man.
“I, I, I was just trying to,” he looked up at him with a new found courage, “Sell her a vacuum.”
Bridget’s husband let go of Fisher, he got his keys out of his brown coat, “Well I don’t guess she wants one.”
“Sure,” said Fisher cool, keeping perfect eye contact, “I understand.”
Bridget’s husband went inside. Fisher watched the door close. Inside Bridget stepped out of the bathroom after whipping her face. She saw her husband. He was putting up his coat.
“Who was that man?” he questioned turning towards her.
“What man?” she questioned going over to the kitchen area.
“You know, the man that said that he was trying to sale you a vacuum,” he went towards her.
Her back was turned away from him as she was washing some dishes, “I have been alone all-”
“You weren’t here last night, where?” he asked. But she just looked forward, “Turn towards me.” Bridget was still for a long moment. Reluctant to movie. The water cold on her hands. “Turn towards me,” he said softly.
Slowly Bridget turned towards him. Suddenly he hit her across the face, a pair of iron knuckles on him. Blood flew out of her mouth hitting the white tile of the floor.
He bent down and pulled her up by her hair, “YOU DON’T THINK I SEE IT?!! YOU DON’T KNOW. I KNOW YOU, what you were doing!!! YOU WERE WITH HIM ALL THAT TIME!!!”
“Stop!” screamed Bridget, “STOP!!”
He threw her towards the stairs and she almost hit her head on them. She was already crying, “I’m sorry!” she screamed, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t do anything.” Pleading.
“Lies, lies, lies!!” growled her husband. He grabbed her by the hair again.
Bridget put her wet hands in his eyes. Soap had been in the water. He pulled away yelling in anger and pain, the soap stung his eyes.
She kicked him in the crotch and he fell back down the stairs. Bridget ran up the stairs. Her insides were shaking. Her heart was throbbing against her. She felt fear cling to her throat.
She stepped down the hall getting away from the stairs when he grabbed her by the ankle and she fell down. Quickly she tried to kick him off, “NO!!” she screamed.
He bit her in the leg. She screamed, hoped something would stop him. A grown man had just bit her. He grabbed her up by the back of her neck and slammed her head into the hall window.
She screamed again. Bridget was pulled back into the window and he pulled her down the hall kicking and screaming.
She was thrown down on the bed at the end of the hall. Nobody heard Fisher come in through the 1st floor window.
Quickly Fisher ran up the stairs, ran down the hall and walked up behind the husband. She saw him and stopped screaming, just looked at him with fear in her eyes, on her face.
“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM!” roared Fisher.
Her husband stopped dead in his tracks. “LEO NO!!” screamed Bridget.
Her husband tightly held his fist. That iron knuckle was still on her husband’s fist. He turned around quickly and went to punch Fisher. Fisher blocked his hand and pulled the iron knuckles off. Then he punched him across the face and kneed him in the chest.
This made that large man, angrier. He got back up and tried to punch Fisher again. Fisher ducked the blow and pulled away. Fisher quickly went down and kicked her husband off his feet.
It’s take a moment for her husband to get up, “BRIDGET LEAVE!!” He looked to her too soon.
Her husband hit him over the head with a lamp. Fisher fell down. He grabbed him by the blue jean jacket and dragged him down the hall. Bridget ran up behind her husband, “DON’T!!” she screamed.
Fisher’s vision was blurred, he didn’t really know what was going on. Bridget grabbed her husband’s shirt pulled at his arms trying to get him to stop, “HE’S MY FRIED, HE’S NOT DONE ANYTHING!!”
Her husband dropped Fisher over the stairwell. Fisher hit the coffee table braking it just laying there. He was unconscious. It seemed.
“NO!!” cried Bridget.
The husband turned towards her. He quickly hit her in the face and she was against the wall. She didn’t care about that hit, she only worried for Fisher. Quickly he hit her again.
Quickly he was going to grab her neck. She felt her eyes blink, she felt a change she couldn’t describe. She felt a reason that she didn’t know.
Didn’t have time to think about it. She grabbed his wrists and lifted herself up and kicked him in the head with both feet. He went up and hit the ceiling making dust fall form it. Quickly she flipped onto her feet.
“What the hell?” he growled.
He stood up and went towards her, “YOU’RE NOT GOING TO HURT ME ANYMORE!!”
His anger was boiling over. Quickly she kicked him across the face, grabbed him by his hair and bashed his head into another one of the windows. It got cut like hers had.
She pulled his head back out and kicked him in the chest and he flew down the hall many feet. She went down towards him and pushed him down the stairs. He fell down them hitting the bottom. Hitting the ground hard.
Bridget watched him. Wondering what was going on. Wondering what he’d do. But he only laid there unconscious. She jumped over the railing and landed on her feet. She went to Fisher.
“Leo,” she had his face in her hand, “Wake up, please.”
He started to stir after a little bit of shaking. He looked at her, “Lets go, before he wakes up,” she spoke quickly.
“Okay,” he shook his head yes even though he was still confused.
Bridget lead him out of the place, he limped as she helped him walk. They left.
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~ Present:
Fisher was still talking with Ramona, “She was chosen. Really. I was happy for her…sad for her…I loved her. But then I screwed up. I screwed up.”
Ramona just listened, sitting there in earnest. He shook his head to himself, “I don’t know why I did it, fell in love with someone else.”
Fisher was quiet for a long moment. It seemed very long. Ramona waited, waited, he spoke again: “Bridget found out, found out and went back to that bastard. He shot her.” Tears went down Fisher’s cheeks, “I loved Victoria’s mother too. But it hurt so much, and it was all my fault. My laugh has changed…changed to these, mistakes…my faults.”
“Things just turned out a certain way,” said Ramona trying to help him, of course he’d been sitting on these deaths for a long time. It wasn’t going to help.
“Cillian just added on,” he said angrily, “And I’m going to kill that bastard if it’s last thing I do. I’m going to destroy him. He killed my child. He killed that woman. And it’s all going to stop,” spat Fisher.
Fisher got quiet. Ramona just stood up. She was allowing that quiet again. “You can’t kill Cillian,” she said bluntly. Fisher looked at her. “You can’t….I’m not going to let you, ever kill him.”
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