A Slayer's Rebirth
I haven't quite figured out why I still slay-really. After all these years
you'd think I would walk away from it. I mean, who am I to be the judge,
jury and executioner anymore? I'm a killer-just like those whom I was
destined to kill.
But I can't help it.
It's in my blood. For years I was the one mortal girl who was chosen to
slay demons, vampires and evil beings and send all them back to Hell
where they belonged.
Okay, so I'm not a mortal anymore-I've accepted my Immortality.
Okay, at least most of the time.
But I still breathe-I still have to eat-I still bleed and from what I've
heard from the few daring vamps who have actually tasted my blood and
lived to tell about it since I've become Immortal, it's like the purest blood
they've ever had...
Hell, I even beat the run on virgin blood. I don't think that's happened
An Immortal's and a slayer's blood all mixed into one body-it's a
wonder that Angel didn't lose his soul when I made him drink from me-
apparently I'm that good.
And have been since the master killed me just a few months after my
sixteenth birthday, during Spring Fling.
Isn't that a kick? Xander didn't need to do CPR-I was a pre-Immie
walking into the Master's lair and all he did was hasten the process of
my impending Immortality.
I wonder why no one ever noticed me not aging.
Especially Angel and Spike-Gods, they were idiots.
Which leads me back to why I'm even telling this story.
Ten years ago I died-again.
Every Immortal that I've talked to always remembers their First Death.
Hell, it's actually capitalized in sentences. Air quotes surround it when
we talk to each other. And why not? It's one of the defining moments of
an Immortal's life. And it's the only time that an Immortal actually dies
with the knowledge that *this is it*, only to wake up and find out it
wasn't. Sure, when an Immortal loses his head, it's a true and real
death. But in that case, the Immortal doesn't revive afterwards and
think, 'Wow, what a mind blower.'
Nope, First Death is the only one where that happens.
Or in my case, my Second Death.
There's that breaking the rules part of my personality coming through
It was during my freshman year in college that I died again. Back then,
even though I had accepted being the Slayer-the Chosen One-I was
still a fool enough to believe I could live my life on my terms. If that
meant going to school, falling in love and battling the forces of darkness
all at the same time-I could deal.
And then came The Initiative with their fancy weapons, their
brainwashing drugs, their implants, and their genetic meshing of things
better left untouched. Maggie Walsh did what the Forces of Darkness
and Light have both been battling against for eons-she made a human-
demon cyborg that was unbeatable.
His name was Adam. As I said before, he was part human, part demon
and part Terminator. Unfortunately, he had no soul, no demon directive
nor the instinctive need to dominate or control that is a mainstay among
traits with demons.
He just was.
He killed to understand and study life in all forms, be it demon or not.
There was no remorse involved-nothing so human tainted his motives.
He actually reminded me of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. He was like a
poor, sociopathic but brilliant child who was obsessed with trying to
understand the meaning of it all. Pathetic fool, no one bothered to tell
him that there wasn't a meaning to anything.
I heard Angel actually took him out with a rocket launcher after the
thing killed me. Gotta love those modern weapons of technology-they
killed two bad guys when nothing else seemed to work. They sure know
how to do the trick when all else fails.
It was a strange time, my freshman year. Giles was out of a job. No
more Sunnydale High School librarian for him considering they never
rebuilt the school after we blew it up at Graduation. Xander was
wandering aimlessly from job to job in search for his niche. Willow at
first soared-finally feeling at home among the intellectuals. And then
Oz's wolfiness came into play and he left her-broken hearted and half a
person. Oh, and Anya. I have to laugh when I think of her-a twelve-
hundred-year-old demon stuck in an eighteen year-old girl's body. She
didn't have a soul-still demon through and through. But she was
human and stumbling through life with a strange combination of naivete
And there was Spike.
He was actually the reason we initially knew as much about The
Initiative as we did. You see, he was one of their victims. They caught
him and changed him-did something to him that made it impossible for
him to feed off any living creature. Starving, he finally came to Giles'
doorstep on that Thanksgiving and like the fools we were, we took him
I have to say-he didn't actually betray us. But I do know that he was
there the night Adam finally killed me and did nothing to stop him.
Could he have?
I don't know. Like I said before, it took a rocket launcher to bring Adam
down. He probably would've just gotten himself dusted if he had tried.
And as it ended up, I didn't stay dead anyway. My head was still firmly
attached to my body and all my limbs were still connected-thank God-
I was just gutted and bled to death.
I woke up in the morgue-alone-and instinctively knowing somehow
that my life once again had changed. Just as I was sitting up, patting
my chest-crying in relief at the sound of my heartbeat-Whistler
He's annoying-he has that Bronx accent which makes me wonder just
how old he is or if he just prefers to spend his free time in New York.
Well anyways, he came to inform of my new destiny.
See, why me? That was my first question. Why would a slayer have two
destinies? Isn't one enough? I asked him that while lifting him up by
his collar and propping him up against the wall. Of course he didn't
have an answer for me but apparently he wasn't shocked that I had kept
my slayer strength.
I found out a lot of interesting things that day. One, I was adopted. All
Immortals are foundlings. No one knows where we come from. Oh sure,
there's some wild theories, but no one knows for sure. Well, let me
rephrase that-no one knows for sure who's willing to share. I'm sure
the Powers know-but they've never been too forthcoming.
All I know is we're not demons because we're human up until our First
Deaths. But everything else after that...who knows?
But I also discovered that being a slayer is genetic. It's in my genes and
once I was called-which apparently is similar to an Immortal's First
Death-a whole gene sequence was triggered giving me accelerated
healing, supernatural strength and the ability to sense demons and
other not-right situations. It also can't be turned off-hence, I still have
all my slaying abilities and benefits.
According to Whistler, there have only been three Immortal Slayers in
existence since the beginning of time. It's like a million to one shot and
guess who got hit?
And guess what else I learned that day? The Powers That Be are not
infallible. They screwed up. Apparently, the usual procedure for an
Immortal Slayer is that once she dies her First Death, another is called
and she is whisked away by the council to be trained as a member of
one of their elite fighting teams and the Powers are contacted. But with
modern medical science and all-they actually believed that Xander's
mouth-to-mouth brought me back to life-that I wasn't Immortal. It
wasn't until another slayer had been called after my Second Death and
the Powers noticed my soul was still very much earthbound, that special
measures had to be taken.
Since I had quit the Council-and believe it or not, the Powers thought
that was a good thing-they sent Whistler to me instead and let him
take me to an Immortal who would mentor me and teach me the ins and
outs of Immortality-so I could follow my next destiny.
At first I balked. I wanted to go back to my friends and family, but
Whistler insisted that I couldn't. It was then I found out that he was
definitely more powerful than he looked. My second lesson in humility
"Why?" I asked him as I stared out the window of the plane.
"Why everything?" I turned back to face him. "If I managed to survive
nearly three years on the Hellmouth without ever running into another
Immortal-why couldn't I stay there? Wasn't I safe there?" I started
chuckling at the irony-me safe on the Hellmouth. Who would've
He took off his hat and looked at me, sighing. It was then, as our eyes
met that I realized that he was a lot older and wiser than I had ever
believed him to be before. His dark eyes were sad, and so full of pain
and knowledge that suddenly I wished I were the same girl I had
thought I was only five hours before-the mortal one.
I didn't want to live long enough to know that much pain.
"Kid, as soon as they realized that you were Immortal-everyone knew
instantly that they wanted you to throw away your stake and replace it
with a sword. The Immortals need a true warrior for their side. There
are so few left that are truly good."
So, that was my introduction into the world of Immortals.
It went downhill from there.
And now here I am, ten years older and still not looking a day over
sixteen and still fucking slaying. I just can't help it. I sense demons all
the time. Everywhere I go and with every year that passes, my slayer-
sense just seems to get stronger. Sure, I have challenges of the
Immortal kind. Every headhunter out there wants a piece of me. That
short, little blond girl has got to be an easy Quickening, you know. At
least that's what they think until they start fighting me.
Thank God for Connor MacLeod-my mentor. That's who Whistler took
me to. Apparently the two had met sometime in the last five hundred
years and Whistler liked him.
I like Connor. Oh, let's be honest, I love him. Almost as much as I do
Giles. He's a father, a teacher and a friend all wrapped up into one
person. Like I said, just like Giles. He's got this kind of quietness about
him. His eyes are sad. He's seen a lot in the past five hundred years
and sometimes I can see every year in his eyes.
But he's good with the sword. He taught me tricks with my Katana that
continually made me wish I had known them when I faced Angelus two
years before. He rode me so hard and so long-constantly on me-never
letting my mouth or my defiant nature get in the way of my lessons.
And the best thing about him? He was unimpressed with my previous
vocation. It was kinda neat knowing that someone out there didn't put
me up there with Hercules or some sort of human protector of the good.
With Connor, I was just Buffy-a newbie Immortal.
I liked it.
Until I started getting antsy.
I did manage to stay away from slaying for about six months. Too busy
learning all the facets of my new life-mourning over my past one-
dreaming of seeing Angel, but knowing that with the clause, it was best
to stay away.
And it was. Except for my mother and Giles, I knew everyone was better
off without me. Especially the way I had been acting that last year-with
the Initiative and all. I still blush in embarrassment when I remember
how much energy and time I put into Riley, when after I died, I didn't
even think of him.
I thought of Angel first-then my mother and Giles and finally, Xander,
Willow, Anya-Spike even. Riley didn't come to mind until we were
flying over Iowa. Then I remembered him.
At least I had the decency to feel ashamed.
Unfortunately, I haven't quite managed to get rid of that embarrassment
either. One of my major regrets of that last year was how I acted and my
inability to make up for it.
Maybe that's why I still slay-it's my way of making amends to my
friends and family still living in Sunnydale and LA. Maybe I can't save
the world like I used to or be the friend that they deserved, but I can
clean up some of the messes left in other parts of the world. Because
one thing I learned in my years as the slayer-everything and everyone
always ends up visiting the Hellmouth.
It's a fate sorta thing.
At first, I was determined to forget my former life-at least while I was
with Connor and awake. I never could control my dreams. But slowly
and surely, dueling with my mentor just wasn't enough to satisfy that
'slayerness' in me. It needed to fly-go out among the masses and
protect. It needed the night-I needed the night. So, it shouldn't have
really been a surprise to me when I finally just gave in and slayed once
again. Connor and I had gone out to dinner and were on our way to the
corner bar for a few drinks afterwards. He had finally relaxed my
training a bit-leaving me with more free time to enjoy this Immortality
that the Fates seemed determined to slough onto me. By then I had
pretty much mastered the sword and all of its techniques. My slayer
abilities had definitely come in handy. Apparently, what I did in six
months usually took years for normal Immortals to learn. Connor
expected it, knowing that I had been the slayer, but I know he was still
surprised, to say the least. And once he heard of Faith and the
possibility of an evil slayer, he was more than relieved to know that it
had been me that was the pre-Immie and not her.
I couldn't help but agree.
So, armed with my new identity and sword (My new name was and still
is, Elizabeth Joyce Winters, age 22) we were walking from Giavoni's, an
Italian joint just a few blocks from Connor's to Harry's-a bar that
resided on the same block as Connor's home, when I had felt them.
I had stopped as the rush of my slayerness filled me. Suddenly the
streets of New York were no longer just byways, but a haven for the
undead. My eyes instantly peered into the alley at the right of us, and
immediately I sensed two vampires walking towards me. Before I even
realized it, I had jumped into the alley, sword out and had decapitated
the two demons just as Conner had run up to the entrance.
He sighed, shaking his head and held out his hand for me.
"Done yet, kid?"
I nodded as I slid my sword back into its scabbard in the back of my coat
and jogged up to him. I took his hand and we went to Harry's.
By the end of the following week, I was going on nightly patrols.
Connor never said a word about it. Bless him for being so