Disclaimer: I do not own BtVS or the Anita Blake universes. I make no profit form this fic. it's just for fun.
Notes: this is a sequel to my earlier story "Omens", but this will stand alone.
I’d just finished my last zombie raising of the night, and I was the last one in the graveyard. Or so I’d thought. I spun around in place, my hand going for my gun.
“Easy now kid. That thing won’t kill me.”
I drew the gun anyway. A man in a bowler hat and cheap leather coat stood under the nearest tree, watching me with his arms crossed.
“Who are you?”
“The name’s Whistler. I’m a messenger.”
“A messenger? For who?”
What the hell kind of an answer is that? He pushed off the tree and started to step towards me. I re-aimed the gun at him, opening my senses to the night. Mystically, he wasn’t there. I couldn’t sense anyone. I was getting a bad feeling about this. Either I was hallucinating or this was going to get very ugly.
He quirked an eyebrow at me, and then I felt it. Power. Ancient, the oldest I had ever felt. It pressed on me behind my eyes and I thought I would be smothered in it. So old.
And just like that it was gone. There was no smile on his face now.
“I’m not from around here. Let’s just leave it at that shall we?”
It was all I could do to nod. He flashed a smile at me.
“Things are happening kid. Things are coming. Only way to deal with it is to make changes of our own and hope the balance can be restored. Things that should have stayed asleep are waking up, and you’re on the front line.”
Oh great. More preternatural shit. Couldn’t I ever have a quiet month?
“I’m here to warn you. You have to remember that when She comes, She chose you and Jean-Claude for a reason. The Slayer chose him for his power, and because she’s attracted to his kind, just like the vamps will be attracted to her. You on the other hand… we think it's because you remind her of who she was, from Before. She’s going to need you kid. She won’t know it, not for a while, but if she survives her Calling, she’s going to need someone to watch out for her, bring her up to speed.”
“The Slayer? What? Chose us? What the hell are you talking about?” From his expression I don’t think my anger fazed him in the slightest.
“The Slayer found you worthy kid. Don’t let her down.”
“What the hell... I don’t know who you are, but …”
“I told you kid. I’m just the messenger. You think you know? Who you are? What’s to come?”
A twig cracked behind me, and I spun on the spot, my Browning raised in both hands. There was no-one there. I spun back to my mysterious visitor, but he was gone.
A voice echoed in my head, “You haven’t even begun.”
I only had one word to sum it up.