Hello! I’ve redone chapter 2 nearly completely, and just tidied up chapter 1 a little bit. Both have been reposted. Please read them first or this won’t make any sense. I had to do this as the story would not go anywhere otherwise. I needed this chapter to do something that it wasn’t doing with the story the way it was. Thanks for understanding! R&R if you are so inclined. Also, I did not finish at NaNo this year, but I got a lot farther this year than I did last year, so I’m confident that I will eventually win. Some year. ^.^ Thank you all for your patience throughout November.
----------- New Origins, Same Great Slayer Chapter Three: Information Overload
“Hank’s parents left you a trust fund, but they left access to it when you turned eighteen. I didn’t think you were mature enough to use it then. I thought you’d blow it all on clothes. I am sorry, Buffy. I didn’t realize just how grown up you were until this all happened.
Buffy sighed, her green eyes shining with hurt. She could maybe understand a little bit, but for her mom to not even tell her it was there was a blow to her. “How much?” she asked, sounding tired. “How much did they leave me?”
Joyce eyed her daughter with concern, but merely answered her question. The total amount staggered Buffy, and she suddenly understood much more why her mom didn’t even tell her. She was still hurt, but she got it. Mostly.
“I’m going to go now, Mom. I love you, but I don’t think I can be here right now.”
Leaving the room, Buffy wandered slowly back to her hotel room. She had a lot to think about.
Buffy had made some decisions the night before. First thing she did was go to the local branch of the bank that handled her inheritance. It had been put into an account in her name when she was small enough to remember her grandparents actually being alive. She spoke to the branch manager about what she wanted to do, and he assured her it was well within her rights to do so. So she took her next step. She went to a realtor. With her mom having cancer, no bank would lend to her for a mortgage. And Buffy herself had no credit at all, which would make her APR a bit higher than she would have liked. So Buffy went to a realtor with the intent of paying for any home upfront. It took her only one more day to find the perfect house. It was a big ranch style, had three bedrooms upstairs complete with a finished basement. The basement was an open floor plan, so perfect for training, but had an additional bedroom built into it, as well as a laundry room and half bath. And its own entrance in addition to the one in the house. The upstairs was fabulous to her. She entered through the living room slash den, which opened straight through into a solarium with heated floor and fireplace. To the left was the door to the downstairs and the kitchen. The kitchen had a little breakfast nook with sliding doors onto the deck out back, and straight through was the hallway with the first bathroom right at the beginning of it. Down the hall were two bedrooms on the right, and the master bedroom on the left at the end. Just before the master bedroom was the turn into the formal family room and formal front door. The family room had another fireplace, and the hallway and entryway to the door were laid with hardwood flooring. Through the family room, back towards the living room was the dining room, sliding glass doors there as well, opening onto the long front porch. There was a doorway leading right back into the kitchen. Out back she had half an acre of land, with a swimming pool and pool house to one side. Surrounding the backyard was a privacy fence and trees. Tall, beautiful trees. The best thing about it was that it was empty, and since she was paying with a cashier’s check, she’d be able to close on it within the week. She bought it.
Nearly two weeks later, House sat in his office, his head on his cane as he thought about the girl he helped create. He should have waited to open the results until Buffy was there, but he couldn’t help himself. He just had to know. He looked up as Wilson entered his office.
The younger man took one look at his friend and sighed. “C’mon. We’ll go see if she’s home.”
They got as far as the store around the corner from the new Summers residence. While sitting stopped at the red light, the glass blew out of the store window and something landed on the hood of Wilson’s car. A blonde something that looked remarkably like House’s daughter. And she got up and went back
into the store?
“Pull over,” House told his friend.
They got into the store in time to see Buffy fighting something that was over a foot taller than her and had a good hundred and twenty pounds on her and have it go flying from just one kick from the petite girl. They couldn’t understand how it was possible. Martial Arts training, yeah, but she shouldn’t have had the kind of power in her little body to send something like that thing
over six yards away. It should not have been possible. Both men gaped as she spotted them, rolled her eyes, and pulled a small sword from a sheath on her back, slicing the thing’s head off and showering them all in purple blood.
“Ugh! Gross. This stuff never
By now, the docs had their mouths shut, but their eyes were as wide as they could go. Buffy sighed as she dragged them out of the ruined shop, smiling apologetically at the owner as he peered out from the office. Spotting Wilson’s car, she continued that way, shoving the oncologist into the driver’s seat as House got himself in on the other side. Climbing in the back, she flicked his ear and told him to drive.
Buffy unlocked the door to her place, leading the docs through the living room and straight into the kitchen. She pointed to the door just out the other side of the kitchen, pushing House towards it. “You’re gooier. Shower. I’ll get you some clothes.” With that, she turned on her heel and glared at Wilson. “You move out of this room and I will personally see to it that you have an impromptu sex change. Without anesthesia. Once House is done, you’re next. Towels are in the closet in the bathroom,” she told both men. Wilson was a bit pale and looking over at House, he grimaced.
Buffy returned with two pairs of sweats and some t-shirts, laying them on the bathroom sink. “I’ll be out in about ten minutes,” she explained as she moved towards the back of the house, and her bedroom. “Help yourself to whatever’s in the kitchen,” she called back down the hall as she went.
It actually took House longer to shower than Buffy, but she chalked that up to experience getting demon slime off. She made herself an after-slay snack, meaning an exorbitant amount of food which she graciously decided to share with her guests. Once both of them were showered and dressed in the extra clothes she purposely kept around for just this reason, she showed them into the family room. She was pacing as she considered just how to begin when she was saved by a knock on the door. Glancing quizzically at them –they were, after all, the only ones she knew that would come here this late—she headed off to see who it was. Only to find three more doctors on her doorstep. Rolling her eyes, she held the door open in a silent invite. She was just shutting the door when a car roared into the drive. The two men and one woman with her were startled at her squeal, and shocked with the speed she moved at as she launched herself at the man getting out of the driver’s seat.
“SPIKE!!!” she shrieked, throwing herself at him. “You’re here! Oh goddess it’s so good to see you! I wasn’t expecting you until next week. How’d you manage to get here so quickly?” she nearly burst with all her questions.
The low chuckle that met the ears of the five now standing on the porch was warm and dangerous. “Nice to see you too, pet. You gonna let me in?” he asked as he squeezed her to him. Her legs went around his waist for a moment as he lifted her, uncaring of how they looked. Until the sound of voices penetrated her happy haze.
“Who’s the punk?” House demanded.
The others shrugged, Chase glaring at the picture the two blondes made. “Why is she wrapped around him like a blanket?” he wondered.
“Dunno. Maybe he’s her boyfriend?” Cameron speculated.
“Who cares?” Foreman said.
Wilson just wandered back into the house. He’d find out whatever House did eventually.
Buffy grinned and slid back down Spike’s body, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the door. Her grin only widened when she saw the dark looks she was getting from House and Chase. Pausing as she crossed the threshold, she very particularly stated, “You can come in, Spike.” With a wolfish smirk, the bleach blond did just that, followed by the others who seemed more perplexed than anything, now.
“Are we not invited in, then?”Chase asked petulantly.
“I’m not stopping you,” Buffy replied.
“But you’re not actively asking us in, either,” he grumbled.
“And I make a habit not to. You will never ever hear me invite anyone, including Spike, in again.” Turning to the vamp, she gestured to the door just before the kitchen. “Your room’s downstairs. Shower’s just the other side of the kitchen. If you need one, we’ll wait. If not, the old men saw something they shouldn’t have. Sunnydale denial factor isn’t in effect here, apparently.”
Spike nodded, opened the door, and simply tossed his bag down the stairs before following the diminutive slayer into the family room. He whistled in appreciation as he looked around before leaning on the mantelpiece. Gesturing the doctors to all take seats, Buffy began her pacing again. She wrung her hands a moment, then stopped and turned to the ducklings. “Hey! Why are you here, anyway?” she asked.
Cameron looked at the other two, then at House. Buffy groaned. “Never mind. I got it.”
The slayer sighed, leaned against the other side of the fireplace and closed her eyes. Softly, she began to speak. “Once upon a time, there was a girl. She was a desert girl, strong and able. Once upon a time, there were beasts. Demons, they were called. They tormented and ravaged and slaughtered and ran rampant. Then Man took over the world. Once upon a time, there were three men. They thought themselves so wise because they were strong in the magicks. Once upon a time, these three men chained the girl up and shoved the essence of one of those demons into her using their magicks. Once upon a time, there was a girl. Then she became more than a girl. She became a warrior. The Slayer. She died just over a year after she was violated, but the gift,
” Buffy spat the word like the curse it was, “they gave her lived on. ‘Into every generation a Slayer is born. One girl in all the world, a Chosen One. One born with the strength and skill to fight the vampires, to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers. She is the Slayer.’ On and on over the centuries did this come to pass. When one dies, the next is Called; Chosen by the Powers That Be. Then one day, in the city of Los Angeles, a cheerleader was Chosen. Vain, vapid, vacuous; this girl didn’t know which end of the stake to stick in a vamp, much less how to hit the heart.” Buffy glanced at Spike, opening her eyes only long enough to smile a little ironically at him before sliding them shut and continuing. “It took the death of her Watcher for her to become serious about this new vocation that was thrust upon her. She died a year after that. She was only sixteen.” Buffy’s eyes finally opened and settled on her father, watching for reactions from the other’s as well, but mostly interested in him. “This sixteen year old had friends, though. Something no slayer before her ever had. One of her friends remembered his CPR lessons and revived her. She is now nineteen, and the longest lived Slayer ever. Questions?”
House had one. “Purple goo. WHY
was it purple?”
“Purple, pet? What was it?” Spike inquired.
“Gol’ga’riche or something. Giles said the head had to come off, he never said anything about the slime shower. I mean, really! He should know better. I should make him buy me a new outfit. I just got
that one!!!” Buffy whined. Spike chuckled, Wilson and House gaped stupidly at her, and the other three were torn between believing everyone had gone off their rocker to knowing that Buffy, at least, was insane. Seriously. Vampires
“Vampires?” Chase asked skeptically. “Right. Next you’re going to tell me you know them personally.” He shook his head, wondering how he could have been so wrong about this girl.
“Damn. I was hoping you wouldn’t need proof since both House and Wilson saw vamps and
a purple-slime-blooded demon.”
Spike chuckled. “That why they smell like you, Slayer? And wearing your extras?”
Buffy nodded and gave the vamp the big puppy eyes and her patented Buffy pout. “Game face, pretty please?”
Spike groaned but complied, making Cameron shriek and the others give off manly yells of fear as his face shifted, eyes yellowing, ridges forming on his forehead and fangs descending in his mouth. Growling at them, he shook it off and smirked at the blonde beside him. “Fancy taking them on patrol?”
“Buffy…” Wilson began and Buffy groaned. She knew that voice, and she knew she wasn’t going to like what he said next. “You said that this slayer is now nineteen. You are referring to yourself, right?” When she nodded looking highly relieved, Wilson smiled. Then continued. “You also said you were the longest lived Slayer ever. What’s the average life span, then, if a nineteen year old is… well… old
?” House perked up at this, too.
Buffy sighed and raked her hand through her drying hair. “It’s kinda misleading. I mean, I did die, after all. But since Xander knew CPR, I didn’t stay dead, so really I lasted as long as most of the others. Most slayers, however, don’t even make it to their eighteenth birthday,” she said. “Lucky for them,” was muttered, but heard by Spike and House.
“Why does that make them lucky?” House demanded.
“Because they didn’t have to deal with the Council trying to kill them. But that’s a story for another day. Right now, I’m answering Wilson. Fully half of the slayers die within their first year of being called. Those who live past that usually don’t make it to eighteen, but there are some exceptions. Some get called later, although that’s really rare. Some are lucky, others are just that good. I’m one of the lucky ones. Without my family, my friends, I would be dead right now. But they are my anchor, my rock, my reason. I live and fight to make this a better world for them. So yeah, I’m going to keep on being the longest living slayer for as long as I can. And I can only hope the next one lives at least long enough to beat my record. And no Spike, not tonight. I’m a little done in.”
If you made it here but are a confused reader, then you most likely didn’t read the note at the top stating that I redid chapters one and two and reposted them, so you should read them first to get this one to make any sense. I have decided that my Buffy cared about how the slayer line came about years before she did in the series, among other things. It’s fanfiction, folks. I will not be following canon. Deal. Final Chapter Word Count: 2571. ~CT.