Welcome to the Hellmouth

Friends


Black duster trailing in his wake, William strode down the alleyway toward the Bronze, well aware of the fact that someone was following him. Each time he halted, his stalker ceased moving as well. Smirking, he leapt into the air and caught hold of an old pipe, the hem of his duster trapped between his legs as he held them perfectly straight above his head. There were some perks to being the slayer, he admitted. As he waited for his pursuant to reveal himself, he wondered if his mother had known he would become a slayer – correction, THE slayer, as in one and only.

Finally, a slight shift in the darkness alerted him to his shadow, and he pounced, trapping a slight body beneath his. In the next instant, he was on his feet, stake drawn and legs braced apart. He found himself looking at one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She wasn’t traditionally beautiful, but with her onyx eyes, obsidian hair, and maroon velvet corset over tight black pants, she was intoxicating.

“I thought you’d be taller,” the woman said softly, her voice low and husky.

“I thought you’d be less annoying,” William retorted, gradually lowering his weapon once he was certain the woman meant no harm. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Smiling as though she had just heard something amusing, she shook her head. “You have to watch your back, young William. A slayer must always be careful.”

“Was there a soddin’ memo? Was it in the paper that I’m the slayer?”

“You know what they say, know thy enemy.”

Scarred eyebrow cocking up, William asked, “Are you my enemy?”

“I’m a friend,” the woman replied. She took one of William’s hands and pressed a small box into his palm, turning to walk away.

“I don’t need any friends,” he huffed.

“I never said I was yours.” Without further adieu, she vanished into the darkness again, leaving William confused and intrigued.

“Strange bird,” he muttered to himself. Giving into his curiosity, he opened the box and found a simple silver cross. He rolled his eyes and clasped the pendant around his neck, tucking it under his shirt. He continued down the alleyway until he reached the club, and as he pocketed the empty box, he handed over the cover charge and slipped inside. He never noticed the petite blonde watching him from the cover of shadow, nor did he sense her presence.

Once inside, he quickly located Willow, who seemed to turn a bright shade of red the moment she saw him, or perhaps it was a trick of light, he wasn’t certain. “So, this is the Bronze…”

“Y-yeah,” she stammered. “Xander should be here soon. Drink?” She thrust a Coke in William’s direction, looking everywhere but at him.

William, thinking that the girl was searching the crowd for Xander, paid no mind to the fact that she refused to look directly at him. “Have you ever seen a girl ‘round here, about this tall, black hair, dark eyes, pale? Looks a bit like somethin’ from that Gothic Beauty magazine.”

“You met a-a girl?” Willow asked disappointedly. “No, I don’t remember seeing anyone like her around here, and I would remember someone like that. People around here tend to dress alike, and when you’ve lived here your whole life like I have, they start to look alike, too.”

Suddenly, realization dawned. She had a crush on him! Flattered, he grinned and took the drink. Willow wasn’t his type, but she was a nice chit, and he could do far worse than having her as a friend. He was saved from embarrassing her further when he spotted Giles making his way up the stairs. “Bloody Hell,” he muttered. “I’ll be right back.”

“Y-you don’t have to c-come back.”

“I’ll be back,” he said sincerely. Rising from his seat, he hurried to catch up with Giles, and together, they halted at the loft to look down on the rest of the club. “What are you doing here aside from givin’ the girls from school the creeps?”

“You’re wearing her coat,” Giles said in answer. “I’m glad. I know she wanted you to have it.”

“She also wants me to give you a chance,” William muttered.

“And will you?”

“You’re my father,” he said disdainfully. “Don’t really see another choice. Besides, from what she… from what my mother said on the tape, you can’t be all bad. Not if you loved her.”

“Love. I’ll always love her.”

“So, Watcher, is that what you plan to do now, watch?”

“N-no, I, uh, I plan to teach you, if you’ll allow it, of course. A slayer must be able to sense vampires, to see them without really looking, to, um, to feel them in their blood,” the watcher replied.

William scanned the room for a moment and finally indicated a blonde woman weaving through the crowd with preternatural grace. “There. The way she moves is so effortless, too effortless.”

“Yes, but you didn’t use your senses. You watched.”

“And that’s your job.”

“Yes. I mean no!” Giles protested. Sighing, he added, “You’ll learn quickly enough. Sunnydale is a center for mystical convergence.”

After a pause, William inquired, “How did she die?”

“Your mother died… saving the world,” the Englishman answered quietly. “There was a demon from a Hell dimension –”

“You mean there’s more than one?” the slayer asked incredulously.

Wearily, Giles responded, “No one really knows exactly how many dimensions there are. It was, um, a rather powerful demon, and… The blood of a pure soul was needed to end the apocalypse. As I said, she died saving the world.”

“But how?” William insisted. He knew that it was painful for Giles to speak of it, but he needed to know and, in a moment of selfishness, refused to wait for the answer.

“Sh-she took her own life, as was required. She, ah, she committed seppuku.”

Looking vaguely green, William cupped his forehead for a moment, regretting his curiosity. His mother had died saving the world, true, but she had died one of the most painful deaths known to man. “You were there, you saw it.”

“I held her hand as she drew her last breath,” he whispered. “Your vampire has escaped.”

“Bugger it. There’ll be another one.”

“There always is.”

Both remained silent for what felt like hours but in reality was only a few minutes. When Giles settled his hand on William’s shoulder, the younger man made no attempt to push it away, though he didn’t return the gesture, either.

“I had better be going.” Giles finally let his hand drop from his son’s shoulder. “Don’t stay out too late or you’ll worry your mother.”

“You don’t have to call her that,” replied William as he lit a cigarette.

“She is your mother, William; she has been since you were two years old. And you should stop smoking.” Never meeting the slayer’s eyes, Giles retreated downstairs and out of the club as quickly as his legs would carry him. He needed a drink, and possibly a good cry.

Taking a moment to school his features, William returned to find that Xander had taken his seat and was even drinking his Coke. “Oy, now! I don’t know how things are done here in Sunnyhell, but in LA, no one would take a man’s drink. They’d drug it.”

Laughing guiltily, Xander set the drink back down. “Glad you could make it, man,” he said lightly. “There’s something Will and I have been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Um, Xander, are you sure this is really the best place?”

“Yeah. Crowded, lots of drunk people who won’t remember anything if they do overhear us.”

“What’s this about?” William asked anxiously, glancing between the two.

“We overheard you and Giles talking,” Xander admitted.

“Just now?”

“Now as in now? No, at t-the library. When you were talking about… about…”

“Slayers,” Xander finished in a whisper.

“Oh, bloody, buggering Hell…”

“W-we won’t tell anyone,” Willow assured him. “And… and it explains a whole lot.”

“Plus, the whole we-have-a-secret thing is of the good.”

“Of the what?”

“Nevermind,” said Willow. “The important thing i-is that we won’t tell, and we’ll help.”

“No.”

Xander blinked in surprise. “Huh?”

“I’m the slayer, not you. This is my job.”

“Um, from what Giles was saying, I kinda gathered that it was more of a calling than a job.”

“Calling, job, soddin’ destiny, whatever. Point is, it’s mine. I don’t want either of you gettin’ killed.”

“Oh, ye of little faith!” Xander exclaimed good-naturedly. “We’ve already stocked up on silver bullets and stakes.”

“Silver bullets are for werewolves, Xander,” Willow corrected.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. I’m sixteen bloody years old. I don’t need blood on my hands, all right?”

“We could help in other ways,” Willow said hopefully. “Like with the researchy stuff.”

“And with an armory.”

With a sigh of resignation, William finally nodded his agreement. “Fine, just don’t do anything stupid,” he muttered. “C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”

“Hey! I’ve been walking Willow home by myself just fine for the past few years. I’m perfectly capable of keeping her safe,” the dark-haired boy protested, moving to stand so quickly that he toppled his chair back and landed in a heap on the floor. “Okay… maybe not so much with the walking.”

“Oh, my God, Xander!” Willow exclaimed, sliding down from her chair to help him to his feet. She turned to glare at several girls who insisted upon laughing at his misfortune.

“Here.” William offered his hand, pulling Xander to his feet with ease. “Now, the next one to object when I say I’m walkin’ you home stays in the floor.”

“O-okay…”

“Gotcha.”

“Good.”