Dark Moon: Pt One - Waxing Moon

“Giles, did you know that Kendra, Faith and I were all related?” Buffy asked him when he stopped by her house on Revello Drive to tutor her.



Giles removed his glasses and started to polish them with a cloth. “Technically, all Slayers are related, but it isn’t a very close relation,” he told her, “After thousands of years, you’re no closer related to them as you are to perhaps Willow or Xander.”



“Oh,” said Buffy, slightly disappointed.



“I wouldn’t concern yourself with it too much, though,” he continued, “Technically, all Slayers are also related to all Vampires, through the Demon blood they carry within.”



“I really don’t like the way that sounds,” she told him, her brow furrowed, “It makes me feel less than human.”



“You’re as human as the rest of us, Buffy. You just happen to have certain... advantages, that the average human does not possess.”



“It’s not just that. It also makes me feel as though what I had with Angel was dirty, like it was incest or something.”



“Aside from him being a much older man who just happens to be a Vampire, what you two had was almost normal.”



“Almost?”



Giles sighed, and replaced his glasses on his face. “It was probably as close to normal as a Slayer is going to get,” he told her, “Most slayers die before they leave their teens. You’ve been a great exception so far.”



“Ya, but I’m only eighteen, remember. And I have already died once.”



“I’m sorry, Buffy. Sometimes I forget how young you really are. In many ways, you are much older than other girls your age.”



“Do... do you think there’s any chance I’ll ever get married or have children of my own?” Buffy’s voice was shaky, and her eyes glistened with tears that were threatening to overflow, “I know it’s a dumb thing to think about, but sometimes I can’t help but wonder...”



“To be honest, you did have a small advantage over any of the other Slayers I’ve heard of,” he told her, “When you ‘died’ and came back, another Slayer was waiting to fill the spot you were supposed to vacate. But with Faith missing, there’s no one to take over now. If she were dead, your problems would be over, as a new Slayer would soon emerge. But as long as she’s alive and out of commission, you’re the only one we’ve got.”



“So what you’re saying is that if she dies, I can retire?”



“You can try. But the very creatures you hunt may come after you. Of course, it would work out very well for a Vampire to keep her alive, for if they were to defeat you, there wouldn’t be another Slayer until Faith dies.”



“I guess I used up my one shot, huh”



“I supposed that’s one way of stating it.”



“So, hypothetically speaking, if Vampires did have her, and they tried to turn her into a Vampire, wouldn’t that count as her dying?”



“I don’t know, and I rather hope we don’t have to find out.”



“Because if it doesn’t count,” said Buffy, fully realising the situation, “then we have an immortal demonised Slayer on our hands.”



“Yes.”



“Oh my God,” said Buffy, “We’d all be doomed.”



~ * ~ * ~ * ~



In a dark room, Faith lie on a large bed, her face still covered with several dark bruises. The only illumination was provided by a few flickering candles. A pale hand gently wiped her face with a damp cloth, and a faint voice mumbled a few words in a foreign tongue.



Slowly, Faith began to regain consciousness. First, her eyelids twitched, then her limbs. Finally she opened her eyes, and squinted into the dim room around her. Her eyes felt gravely, and her throat hurt. Her head throbbed with a unbearable headache. She saw a blurry figure in front of her, and opened her mouth to speak.



Her throat constricted and no words came out. She sat up in the bed, and had a small panic attack.



“Damnit!” she thought desperately, “Where the hell am I?”



The hands before her held a glass with a small amount of water in it to her lips, and Faith began to drink greedily. The water soothed her raspy throat instantly, and when she emptied the glass, she tried to talk once again.



“Where am I?” she asked, “What happened to me?”



“I took you out of the hospital,” a quiet female voice said, “They couldn’t do anything more for you, and I wanted to help.”



“How long was I in the hospital?”



“Almost three weeks. You were in a coma.”



“Well, duh, I realise I was in a coma” said Faith impatiently, “I certainly didn’t spend three weeks reading a book or watching TV.”



Faith’s vision started to clear a bit, but her head still pounded unmercilessly. She could see that the woman before her was actually no more than a girl about her own age, with long dark hair and large violet eyes.



“Who are you?” Faith asked, as she brought a hand up to her head, feeling the tender flesh.



“My name is Ciorstaidh Brandt,” the girl told her, placing a slight Irish accent on the name.



“Care-stee?”



The girl smiled. “Close enough,” she replied.



“Man, I gotta tell ya,” Faith said with a grimace, “My head is killing me. You wouldn’t happen to have anything for the pain, would ya? Like Advil, or morphine or something?”



Ciorstaidh got up and walk to the far end of the room. Now that her eyes had adjusted somewhat, Ciorstaidh was able to see that she was in a small bachelor apartment. Ciorstaidh walked over to an electric kettle, filled it with water from the refrigerator, and plugged it in.



“It’s nice to see that you’re not living completely in the dark ages,” Faith said sarcastically, referring to the candle light as opposed to the electric kettle. Then it suddenly clicked into place for Faith.



“You’re a Vampire, aren’t you!” Faith stated, suddenly on guard, “You can’t stand the bright light from overheads, can you.”



“Well, you’re half right,” replied Ciorstaidh as she pulled at jar filled with herbs from a cupboard, “The bright light does bother my eyes a little, but I also thought that it might hurt yours after being in a coma for so many weeks.”



Ciorstaidh measured some of the herbs into a large mug, then added the boiling water from the kettle.



“And no, I’m not a Vampire.” she told Faith as she stirred the contents of the mug and walked back over to Faith’s bedside. “Drink this,” she said, “It will really help with the pain, as well as the mending of your ankle.”



“My ankle?”



“You broke your ankle when you fell. Of course, it is healing rapidly as it should be, but a little extra help never hurt.”



Faith took a small sip of the tea, and made a horrible face. The concoction was sweet-tasting, but also very bitter at the same time.



“What is this crap?” she asked, “It tastes disgusting!”



“Well, there’s willow bark in it, licorice root, some red clover and some cat’s claw...”



“You put cat toe nails in it?”



Ciorstaidh laughed quietly, then said, “No, cat’s claw is a plant. No animals were harmed in the making of this tea.”



Faith gulped the hot tea back rapidly, trying to get the experience over with as soon as possible. Once finished, she handed the mug back to Ciorstaidh, who took it over to the sink to rinse it out.



“So,” said Faith, “Now that you’ve got me, what will you do with me?”



Ciorstaidh smiled again, and said, “I’ll take you home. I imagine your Watcher must be missing you.”



Ciorstaidh paused, then continued, “That is, if you want to go back. I know that as a Slayer, you have strayed from your path, but I think those errors can be remedied.”



“First of all,” Faith demanded, “What do you know about Watchers and Slayers? Secondly, what do you know about me ‘straying’ from my path? And third, what the hell gives you the right to run my life?”



“One, I have been observing both Watchers and Slayers for a very long time. Two, as a Slayer, I’ve been observing you too; ever since you arrived in Sunnydale. I’ve also seen the Watcher’s reports on your past activities. Three, I’m not trying to run your life. All the decisions are left up to you. I’m just trying to help. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have woken you up, and instead would have let the Vampires get you.”



“Just maybe the Vampires have been better friends to me than the stuffed shirts at the Watcher’s Council. And just maybe I’m a little sick of being in Buffy’s shadow!” Faith yelled angrily, “And I really bet you’ve been ‘observing the Watchers’ for a long time; how old are you? Sixteen? Oh ya, that’s a really long time.”



The yelling had begun to make Faith feel dizzy, so she rested her head down on the pillow again. Within a few minutes, she was fast asleep; the result of the tea she had consumed so rapidly only minutes before.



Ciorstaidh tucked the blankets in around Faith, and whispered, “I hope you’re feeling better in the morning. You’ve got a big day ahead of you.”