Author's Note 1: Yes, I am insane. Get used to it. :>
Author's Note 2: This little tale stems from some comments made on the XanderZone list a few months back about why no one had ever done a story where one of the people affected by the Slayer activation spell was a celebrity. I let the idea churn in my head but couldn't decide on a celeb until catching an episode of "E! True Hollywood Story" one weekend. This is the result.
Author's Note 3: This takes place just a couple weeks prior to Christmas 2003.
"So let me get this straight," said the sandy-haired man with the long, ovalish face and dark eyes as he fiddled with the controls of his hospital bed, "what I remember of tonight, that was real?"
"Yes," Xander replied, nodding.
"The fangs, the Klingon foreheads, the weird eyes and the dust? That was real? Vampires are real? Where the hell did they come from?"
Xander settled back in his chair and gave the couple a wistful smile. The petite blonde new Slayer was standing in front of the window on the opposite side of the bed from him, holding her husband's hand.
"The world," he said, "is older than you know. Contrary to popular mythology, it did not begin as a paradise. For untold eons, demons walked the earth. They made it their home, their Hell. But in time they lost their purchase on this reality. The books tell that the last demon to leave this reality fed off a human, mixed their blood. This was the first vampire."
The man, Jay, looked up at him with a tired smile and asked "How long have you been waiting to give that speech?"
"Seven years," Xander said, quirking his lips up.
"So how do I fit into this?" the woman asked, fixing her green eyes on Xander.
"For almost as long as there have been vampires, there has been a Slayer," he replied, slipping without conscious thought into Giles' "lecture-mode" speech patterns. "She alone had the strength and skill to take the fight to the vampires, the demons, the forces of darkness. At least until a couple years ago when a Slayer who drowned was given CPR. After that, the Chosen One became the Chosen Two.
"This year, things were really going to Hell in a picnic basket. We needed more fighters and we needed them faster than lightning." He cokced his head to one side. "Did you ever live in Sunnydale?" he asked. "I keep thinking I should know you."
The woman shook her head as her husband's eyes twinkled with mirth. "No, we never lived in Sunnydale. We live in Scottsdale, Arizona. What did you do to get those fighters?" she pressed.
"Some Potential Slayers escaped the attacks of the First Evil's minions and made it to good old Sunnyhell. We thought 'Hey! If we can give them the Slayer power, we might just beat this!' We found a spell to do it, but when we translated it, it gave us an 'Oh shit' moment. Care to guess why?"
"You couldn't make it local," she stated. "You zapped all of us. Everywhere."
Xander nodded and stood up. He gripped the bed's siderail and leaned forward to give the impression of thoughtful consideration. In reality, his physical and mental exhaustion were buggering his ability to figure out where he knew her from. 'Wonder if she was one of my customers during the Summer-I-will-not-think-about?' he thought.
"We were desperate," he said aloud. "No excuse for meddling in strangers' lives, but the world is still here. That alone means I don't regret it. I hope it didn't dump major stressage on your lives, but the other six billion people who are still alive were worth it."
"No apologies?" she asked.
"I can lie as well as anyone when I have to. This ain't one of those times."
She smiled and he got the impression he'd passed a test he didn't even know he was taking. "Good. So does this mean all the monsters are gonna be gunning for me now?"
"Guns usually aren't on their weapons list. But there are a lot of rituals and spells that need a Slayer's blood or body parts. If you don't join the fight -- and you don't HAVE to join the fight. There are so many Slayers now that it's a volunteer thing. If you don't join up, your senses can still be trained to let you know trouble's coming before it blindsides you."
"How many people will die if I walk away that could live if I...if we join your fight? How many?"
"Down in the ER you said that you and Jay here have been talking about kids. How will they feel when Mommy goes out one night and doesn't come home?" he asked, staring a challenge at her with his good eye.
She stared back, unflinching. "What will they think of me when they find out that Mommy had the chance to do something that really mattered and she sat on her ass instead? At least if I die fighting, they won't be ashamed of me and I won't be ashamed of myself."
Xander's voice went soft. "There are no monster hunters or active Slayers collecting Social Security. No matter how much those of us who give a damn try to keep them safe. You join us and you won't live long enough to become a grandma. You survive as many years as we have, you'll be just like us. Spontaneous Human Combustion-level burnout. Deep-down weary enough to beat the band to death with an aluminum baseball bat. Mood swings like a blitz killer with PMS. Fighting to make yourself give a flying hoo-hah. Bitter? Yeah, bitter enough to write a book of rage poetry called 'I Know Why The Postal Workers Crack.' Walk away. Hell, run away. You don't want our memories. Our guilt. Our nightmares."
He closed his eye and took a shuddering, shakey breath. Tears ran in silence down his cheeks; faces of the fallen flashing through his soul. Jesse. Miss Calendar. His classmates at graduation. Tara. Anya. A gentle hand squeezing his shoulder startled him back into the world around him. He opened his eye to find the woman dabbing at his tears with a tissue. "Thank you."
She nodded. "You're welcome. Tell me, could YOU walk away?"
He sighed and his shoulders slumped. "It's years too late for me. All I ever wanted from that son-of-a-bitch who runs the universe is the ability to keep the people I love safe. I failed so many times. If I couldn't help them, can't I at least talk you out of this nightmare life?"
She pulled him close, hugged and released him. "Whatever my critics think, I DO have a conscience. It won't let me allow people to die. If you really want to keep me safe, teach me how to fight the monsters. Be my Guardian, Knight, Protector, whatever."
Xander straightened from his slouch and his head shot up. "Watchers. They're called 'Watchers.'"
"Be my Watcher."
"You might as well say yes," Jay commented. "No one outstubborns her."
"Except you, baby."
"I'm just the exception that proves the rule," he replied with a smirk.
'They're giving me a chance to pull myself together,' Xander noticed with gratitude. "Why do I think I know you?" he asked her. "Were you in Oxnard a couple summers ago?"
She tossed him a predatorial smile. "What was in Oxnard?"
"An embarassing story. Were you ever there?"
She shook her head. "So what happened that's so embarassing?"
"No power on this earth can make me answer that."
She gave him a soft, flirtatious smile and ran her fingertips along his cheek and down his arm. "Please?"
"You can't win, you know," Jay said.
"If I strike her down, she'll only be more powerful than I can possibly imagine?" Xander asked with false innocence.
Jay let out a powerful snort and looked up at his wife. A grin forced its way across his face as he fought laughter. "Picture it," he told her, "you as Obi-Wan Kenobi." Losing the fight, he laughed 'til the bed quaked in time with his heaving breaths.
She stared openmouthed at the mental image, then convulsed into laughter herself. Heedless of her Slayer strength, she gripped the siderail for support and left an impression of her hand in the metal.
Xander was smiling and chuckling, infected by their mood. It wasn't THAT funny. Or maybe it was and his laugh batteries needed to be recharged with a good night's sleep. When the couple recovered their composure, he took a deep breath and told the story of the Fabulous Ladies Nightclub. "I couldn't figure where I've seen you, so I thought maybe you were a customer. But you weren't there. I guess that means I'm not only President of the Clueless Club for Men, I'm also a client."
"If you want him to be this 'Watcher' thing, honey, he's gonna need to know," Jay said, matter-of-fact.
The buxom blonde nodded, then made solid eye contact with Xander. "Please, allow me to introduce myself."
"You're a girl of wealth and taste?" he asked.
Jay chuckled. "She's been around for a long, long year. Stole many a man's soul and faith."
"Jay!"
Xander ignored her exclamation and, glancing down at the man in the bed, sang his response. "Was she around when Jesus Christ had his moment of doubt and pain?"
"Yep. Made damn sure that Pilate washed his hands and sealed his fate."
Barely recovered from her previous laughing fit, she was visibly struggling to speak. "P-pl-plea-pleased to meet you. Hope you guess my name," she said, managing to extend her hand.
Xander clasped and shook it. "Lucy Ferr?" he asked.
Laughing, she shook her head. "Jenna Jameson."
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