84 Years Later
I really should be getting used to this by now, Rupert Giles thought as he lay down on the couch in his office, a cold compress pressed to his forehead and feeling as if one of his ribs may be broken. It was early on a Friday night, and he had come to the school library for a training session (which basically consisted of martial arts) with the newest vampire slayer to appear in Sunnydale.
Her name was Stefanie Marks, and Giles had only known her a mere three months and had enjoyed teaching her. But as of lately, he was beginning to doubt his adequacy of being the right Watcher for her. More notably, his physical well-being.
Giles sighed, thinking back on what she had told him of her life. She had started out as a slayer (the one girl in all the world who could fight vampires successfully) back in the 1960s.
Stefanie was unique in the sense that she had been integrated into the vampire society herself. But, being the slayer that she was, her soul managed to remain intact, while others of her kind tended to lose theirs when made. No remorse and no conscience made it easy for the evil ones to kill the way they did.
However, Stefanie's strength (slayer and vampire combined) was extraordinary, and she often had trouble holding it all in check. Thus the reason Giles was now lying on his couch in pain, wondering why he kept holding out hope that she'd learn to control herself.
Stefanie stood a few feet away from where Giles was resting, once more looking mortified. She was a pretty young woman, eternally seventeen, with blue eyes, porcelain skin, and light brown hair.
Sitting down across from him, Stefanie began wringing her hands together nervously. "Giles, I am so sorry," she said. "Are you going to be okay? Should I call someone?"
Giles shifted around to make himself more comfortable, groaning slightly, then looked at her. "A chiropractor, perhaps," he suggested in his usual British accent, adjusting his glasses. "No, scratch that... Call my wife. She's getting used to taking me to the hospital."
Stefanie quickly went to do so, having his home number memorized. Once that was taken care of, she quickly brewed up a cup of herbal tea for him. Giles thanked her as she handed it to him, taking slow sips and feeling glad that this night couldn't get any worse.
But it did get worse, the moment that his former student, twenty-year-old Buffy Summers, entered the office, chuckling when she saw him lying there. "Rough night again, Giles?" she asked, setting her purse down and pulling up a chair.
He looked over at Buffy in annoyance. "You would not think it was so funny if you were in my shoes," he chided.
Buffy eyed his outfit: the dark brown trousers, the gray sweater, the plaid vest. "Giles, no offense, but with your fashion sense, I wouldn't want to be in your shoes," she quipped.
Giles sighed, silently admitting that her wit did amuse him sometimes. In fact, he missed the training sessions he and Buffy had used to share together. But with her expecting her first child (Buffy was five months pregnant), it couldn't be helped.
Stefanie remained silent for a moment as she watched her two friends bickering, still feeling guilty for what she had done. She wondered, not for the first time, if it was right for her and Giles to continue with this routine. Surely, there was someone better qualified, someone she wouldn't have to worry about injuring.
Someone who was a vampire like herself.
With this in mind, Stefanie looked up at Buffy, feeling that now was the best time to broach the subject with her. She started out by interrupting Buffy's and Giles' quarreling, then asked how Angel was doing.
Angel (formerly known as Angelus) was another vampire who was Buffy's true love and the father of her baby. A gypsy curse had given him back his soul many years ago, and he had been unable to kill since that day. Buffy plainly adored him, and Stefanie had grown fond of him as well.
"He's fine," Buffy said with a smile. "Why do you ask?"
Stefanie exchanged looks with Giles, seeing that he knew what she was thinking and that he approved. Relieved that her Watcher wouldn't raise a fight, Stefanie felt free to request that Angel be the one to coach her physically from now on.
Buffy was in total agreement, for which Stefanie was glad. The discussion ended moments later when Giles' wife, Jenny, arrived to get him. The two young women then made a quiet exit, heading for their mutual home.
For them, at least, it was a fairly normal night. But for Angel, it was about to take a turn for the worse...
***Halfway across town, at this exact same moment, Angel was just exiting the hospital, several bags of blood he had stolen for himself and Stefanie stored in a backpack he carried. Even vampires with souls still needed the same sustenance that others of their kind did. Much as he wished it wasn't true, that fact remained unchanged.
With a sigh, Angel hoisted the backpack onto his shoulder, starting down a dark alley on his way home. To get himself into an upbeat mood, he thought of Buffy, how much her love warmed him. Strange, he mused, that the very person sworn to destroy my species has become my one reason for living.
Falling in love had certainly been a surprise, considering the irony of such a relationship happening. Angel had first started out with the intention to meet Buffy from time to time to guide her in her vampire battles. Considering his extensive knowledge of such creatures, it had been a big help to her.
What he hadn't counted on was the way she had of drawing him to her like a magnet. It hadn't been long before his role of informant had turned to the basic need of wanting to be near her on a more personal level, even though he knew it was wrong. But when Buffy made it clear later on that she had fallen hard for him as well, there was no turning back.
Angel remembered the terror Buffy had expressed when she at last discovered what he was. He had fled her that night in shame, expecting that she would never trust him again. The two of them had made a perfect modern-day Romeo and Juliet: enemies by circumstance, lovers by choice.
In spite of it all, Buffy had given him a chance to explain himself, and her love for him never died. It took four years, but the two of them had eventually found their way to each other. And much to his joy, he and Buffy had a soon-to-be-born child to show for it.
So caught up in his cheerful thoughts, Angel didn't catch sight of the crow until it gave out a loud caw. Startled, he stopped in his tracks, eyes focusing on the bird that was perched on a dumpster a few feet ahead of him.
For some reason, this sight filled Angel with alarm, all his senses screaming out that something was wrong. The feeling was compounded when he heard the footsteps approaching from behind.
Turning, Angel swore that nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. Ordinarily, he wasn't given to remembering the faces of his many victims prior to the gypsy's curse, but the presence of the crow helped with this one.
The only difference was that Rhys' face had been painted white, with long black lines around his lips and eyes. That and the fact that he was dressed in modern clothing, complete with leather jacket, and he held a sawed-off shotgun at his side.
Rhys took a step forward, an angry grin plastered on his face. "Remember me, demon?" he asked in a cruel tone, raising the shotgun to fire. "I'll give you one chance to redeem yourself, as long as you tell me where I could find your two partners."
Angel was too stunned to reply for a moment. He swallowed nervously, then simply said, "You won't find them. I'm not even sure where Thierry is nowadays, and Darla..."
Angel wasn't given a chance to finish as the shotgun pellets tore into his chest. Wincing, he toppled to the ground, clutching at his wound in immense pain. Looking up, Angel watched as Rhys left him to die.
The crow, too, soon took off, apparently thinking the job was finished. So neither it nor Rhys noticed when Angel agonizingly pulled himself to his feet. Bullets alone couldn't kill a vampire, merely hurt them beyond belief. But only provided it wasn't a close-range shot to the head.
It was with this in mind that Angel slowly made his way to Buffy's house, feeling lucky that he wasn't dead, but also troubled by the appearance of his former victim. The questions plagued him all the way home, but Angel's only concern was that there wasn't a single answer...