Big thanks to Shadowsdancing for betaing this chapter. Any mistakes you still find are my own.
-
Sunnydale
Marie took reasonably well to driving. She was still nervous, but that was to be expected. The location of the Slayer however, proved harder to learn. Of the few people still out after dark, none would give them any information. In fact, most seemed extremely reluctant even to talkMethos was starting to despair at finding the Slayer, whoever that might be, tonight.
A group of teenagers was standing together on a street corner. Perhaps they could tell him what he needed to know. If they couldn't, he would be forced to find a hotel for the both of them and continue tomorrow. Methos got Marie to pull over. He rolled down the window and tried to attract the kids' attention. They turned towards him, but didn't say anything. It seemed as if they were waiting for him to get out. He could oblige. As Methos opened the door, Marie began to undo her seatbelt, intending to get out. He stopped her before she could follow through.
"Stay in the car. Just to be on the safe side."
The group appeared to grow as he approached it. There were about half a dozen kids here, high school seniors, maybe college freshmen. They separated to surround him. Their spokesman stood right in front of Methos. The boy was tall and made good use of his height; Methos had to look up to see his face.
"You were looking for someone?"
"Yes. Someone called 'The Slayer'." Mention of the Slayer sent a murmur through the group. So these kids did know something. "Can you tell me how this 'Slayer' can be found?"
"Sure." The young man grinned. Then his face changed, contracted into a grim mask. "If you scream loud enough, maybe she'll turn up."
Before Methos could follow that advice, however, two of the others standing behind him had grabbed his arms and a third had clamped a hand over his mouth. Several started to head for the car, but Marie caught on. They were left watching her taillights. Good girl.
Time to deal with his own attackers. The leader was approaching him now, coming very close. The others held Methos tightly. He couldn't move his arms or even turn his head. Well, there was always the ladies' option. He waited for Number One to come close enough, then brought his knee up as fast as he could manage. Success. The big guy doubled up instantly. That shocked one of the kids holding his arms enough to loosen her grip. He used the leverage of his free arm to twist around and unbalance the other two. It didn't work quite as well as he'd hoped. He managed to free his other arm, but the one that had been clasping a hand over his mouth was still hanging on. Now both hands were around Methos' throat in an impressive stranglehold. To top it all off, Number One had recovered and, now extremely pissed, came in swinging. Methos ducked, dragging Number Four down with him, so that the face of the strangler was right in the path of the oncoming fist. To thank One for getting Four off his back, Methos tripped him up and administered a well-aimed kick to the head.
He had some room again. Time to assess the situation. At least five against one if One stayed unconscious. If Four's grip was anything to go by, their strength more than made up for their less than intelligent fighting methods. Bad odds. Time to run. He set off after Marie.
He hadn't gotten very far before two of the kids caught up with him. He drew his knives, displaying them threateningly. His menacing stance didn't impress them at all. Two and Three attacked simultaneously, perhaps counting on a reluctance on his part to hit women. Survival instincts had drilled that reaction out of him a long time ago. Not that he was hitting them now. His knives drew thin lines of blood and sent both girls shrieking. The three young men that attacked then needed a more thorough treatment. Before he had to resort to lethal methods, however, there came an opening and he took it. Methos started running again.
After turning a corner in the road, he was confronted with the wreck of his rental car. When he approached it, he had just enough time to see Marie lying next to it, unconscious and covered in blood. Then the gang caught up with him again. That did it. No more holding back. The first one that attacked him got a knife through the heart. His other knife drew blood on another, before ending up in a third's kidneys. He drew his sword.
How many of them were there? He had seen six when he'd gotten out of the car, but now there still were six, and he had certainly killed two. That was the only thought he had time to complete before all six attacked, all at once. He picked a random direction and extended his sword. The kid attacking from that side swerved just in time to avoid impaling himself. He could not avoid the upward stroke that cut his torso in half. Methos took in the deliciously startled expression on One's face.
Then One exploded into dust.
Without even pausing to consider what had happened, the Old Man slipped through the opening this caused. In three steps, he was on the roof of the car. He decapitated one of the girls. This time the resulting cloud of dust barely surprised him. The other four were also starting to climb onto the car, Two, Five and Six on one side, and Three on the other. A few seconds and two satisfying dust clouds later, only Six and Three were still standing. Now Methos brought the Ivanhoe around in a great arc, first taking off Six's head, then spinning on his heel and changing hands to take Three's in the same stroke.
He halted mid-spin, nearly losing his balance by doing so. Three was already gone, her dust dissipating in the evening breeze. Instead, his blade had passed over the head of a young woman. She had dropped into a crouch to avoid it, but was now straightening again. By the looks of it, she hadn't even needed to crouch. With him standing on the roof of the car and she only on the hood, he would have missed her no matter what. He brought the sword in close, taking the standard guard position.
"That was sort of impressive."
Her tone was just slightly on the sarcastic side. She certainly didn't seem all that impressed. In fact, she seemed distracted, as if she'd just stopped by on her way to somewhere else. She did keep staring at him, though. Almost as if she had intended the statement as a question, and was now waiting for the answer. Methos stifled the equally sarcastic sneer he wanted to give her as a reply. He wasn't really in a mood for answering questions, but maybe he could get an answer for one of his own. This girl looked like she might have it. He lowered his sword further and set his voice in the calmer tones of Adam Pierson.
"We were looking for the Slayer."
Something about the question or the tone of his voice must have answered her questions as well, because all curiosity disappeared from her expression. Instead it became exceedingly solemn.
"You found her." She turned around to look down at Marie. "Only just a little too late, it seems."
Marie! The near trance of the fight had all but driven her from his mind. He jumped down from the car to kneel at her side. The Slayer did likewise. She felt for a pulse. It was quite obvious she wasn't going to find one. If the bloody mess that had been Marie's throat wasn't enough, there was also the deformation of her forehead. It looked like it had been flattened with a hammer.
"So close, and yet so far." The Slayer spoke the words softly, a goodbye to a girl she had never known. Then she looked up at Methos. "I'm sorry, but there's another girl like her out there that I still might be able to save. I have to go." She glanced down at Marie. "If you want, take her to my place. I...I could call an ambulance, but the local morgue is probably busy enough already. And it would invite a lot of questions."
"Let's avoid questions, indeed." Methos got up, then held out a hand to the Slayer. She didn't take it. "I'll take her to your house. If you could tell me where it is?"
"Revello Drive. Take the right there, then the second left. Keep going until you get to the house that looks like it's been condemned. That's it." After pointing out the street, the young woman wiped blonde strands of hair out of her eyes and picked up the stake she had dropped when she kneeled. She turned towards him, as if to say something else, but thought better of it. Then she ran off, presumably following some sort of trail.
Methos turned back to the car. There was a deep dent in the front fender, as if it had driven into something. The windshield was nothing but splintered glass, some of which was bloodied.
He opened one of the doors to get out his bag. The airbag had deployed, but the seatbelt was still rolled up in its holder. From the looks of it, Marie had tried to do exactly what he had told her to do. She had still died. There was a lesson in that.
He slung his backpack over his shoulders. Travelling light was once again proving useful. He picked up Marie, cradled her in his arms, and set off for the Slayer's house.
Marie was still warm. In the way she lay in his hold, it was almost as if she was just sleeping. A sleep she wouldn't wake up from. He hadn't known the girl long, but she had shown bravery and a fine sense of humor, both of which meant she had had enormous potential to become a great woman. So many chances nipped in the bud. Why?
The fight had awakened his more savage side. That now responded to his feelings of grief and loss by coming back stronger than ever. Methos quelled all of it. Rage would only bring on more misery and he did not, at the moment, have the luxury of grieving. The streets weren't safe, and he also had to think.
The men in the cloaks had been after the Watchers. That was how he had gotten involved. Marie didn't know anything about the Watchers. Her connection was, somehow, to the Slayer. Did that mean that the Slayer was connected to the Watchers? None of his experiences suggested it, but not even Methos had access to everything in the Watcher network.
There was one other fact that might connect the Watchers and the Slayer, and Marie was in the middle of it again. A man had interposed himself between her and the assassins. That man had told her to find the Slayer. Had he been a Watcher? With the incredible amount of Watcher deaths in the past months it would be almost impossible to determine. It did seem a very proactive thing to do. Then again, the Watcher oath of non-interference had been a joke for a long time already.
The Slayer had seemed to accept him on no other evidence than his voice and his admission he was looking for her. Again, why? Did she know about Watchers and had she simply assumed him to be one? In that case, why hadn't she been surprised about his sword?
How did vampires fit into all of this? Obviously reports of their extinction had been greatly exaggerated. But tonight's fight was the first time in centuries he had seen them. The attack also didn't seem to have been planned to catch him and Marie specifically. They'd just stumbled onto a group out for the hunt. There was no connection to the men in the cloaks that he could see. Except the Slayer. The Vampire Slayer, to be precise.
When he'd come across the stories on the Internet he had been skeptical. But they had contained at least a grain of truth. So then, somehow, the Slayer was central to all this. He would have to get more information to draw better conclusions.
While the Old Man turned the corner, still deep in thought, the figure of a man appeared next to what was left of the car. He was clad in leather armor, and one half of his face bore an elaborate tattoo. A large scar marred the other side. He picked up a white rose, drenched in blood, and smelled it. He grinned.
"Welcome to the Hellmouth, Brother."
