I miss you.

It was written in red. Blood red, spanning the expanse of the glass, along the top border of the mirror framed in lights of the vanity. Written in Red Blush, lipstick, with an unwavering, unshaking, hand. Certain in the message as if it came from a hand from beyond the every day, beyond life. Beyond death. Deep down, she wished. Who didn't want their dead loved one back? But that wasn't how death worked. Death didn't work as most assumed it did; she knew that. She'd known that years. Death wasn't the final frontier. Too many came back from death, like life was a dream, and the end of life a dream. But not a dream, a nightmare. Of pain, of endurance. And at the end of nightmare, like most nightmares, was a monster.

That was the way death worked in her new reality. Monsters and nightmares. And what did a monster have to fear? What could a demon possibly fear from shadow? What, if anything, could evil fear? What that went bump in the night could even imagine fearing from a simple little human that? Demon blooded, the ancient monsters called it. Called her. Whispers in the dark of predators turned to fear by very rumor, by the idea that their hour of reckoning was upon them. When she stopped telling herself it couldn't be true, that none of it was real, when she finally accepted what it was, what she was, all that was left upon her face was a smile. A smile in Red Blush. A smile in lipstick.

All that was left was the joy of knowing the monsters feared her: a girl, a Slayer.

With a simple message to her lost mother, Emelia Vance snuck out her bedroom window, and landed on the well groomed lawn with more silence, and better form, than a cat with nine lives left. New state, new town, new life--didn't matter. Same girl. Same Slayer. She'd go out, she'd prod the dark--shake the shadows shitless until they emptied every last bit of evil out of them. Every last monster. Red Blush lipstick, her hair freshly washed, scented Velvet Sugar from Bath and Body, tied tight into a pony tail. A single black zip up hoodie, a black tank top, and black tights with black, neon pink accented, Nikes.

She was just a little suburban white girl. No reason to fear her, no reason to suspect her. The very genius of turning the most common of victims into the most vicious of alpha predators never escaped her. She had the visions, she had the dreams; she knew what she was. She had some vague idea of who, of what, created her. Of the nigh timeless bloodline that she continued. Fate? Chance? Destiny? Who knew what drove it, she only had some idea what created it. Watchers, now, they were called.

Endlessly, it felt like, due to anticipation she waited in the largest Washington, Ohio, graveyard. It stood just on the edge of oldtown Washington, between suburbia and old pioneer mainstreet. There was a larger cemetery just outside of suburban Washington. After an hour of silence and nothing, Emy was starting to think she should've been there, instead of the current graveyard. Because nothing happened. There was not but silence. She was the most obvious of targets, the most cliche of victims. Sitting there with moleskin, and her iPhone blaring music into her earbuds.

There just wasn't an easier target for a monster.

But nothing. Every ounce of superhuman strength and speed in her body tensed, relaxed, and tensed all over again. She was restless. She wanted the violence. She wanted the thrill. Yet it was denied her. What was so different about Washington, Ohio? What was so different from Washington, D.C.? What distracted the monsters from the easy, obvious, target in the graveyard? Even her eyeliner was emo. WHAT MORE COULD MAKE HER A TARGET!?

Frustration set in like like a bright moon over a midnight field. It forced the music off, the phone back in a pocket. Her senses started firing on high, her mind began orchestrating scenarios and possibilities. Then the most exhilarating of all sounds to a Slayer pierced through the night like a dagger in the dark: a scream. It was measured, it was resilient...yet it was a scream none the less. The fear was there, reluctant as it might've been. She followed it instantly, not hesitating, not debating--just movement.

After a moment of looking, they weren't hard to track: a group. The very heat in the air suggested they were living, and the very tracks on the ground suggested the group of living were being chased by an even larger group of cold ones. Cold ones, unbeating hearts; vampires. Monsters. For the first time in what seemed all night, the Slayer smiled.

Finally.

Between old Washington and new Washington, between ancient, tourist, mainstreet and new, civic engineered, suburbia lay a not so fun part of town. Old neighborhoods left to urban decay, patiently waiting their turn for gentrification, vast swaths of trailer parks hidden behind shitty, crumbling, strip malls that were mostly corner stores and laundry mats and doller stores and head shops and liquor stores and pawn shops. Now she was running, sprinting. She knew in this type of neighborhood the dead thrived, and the living shrank into shadow.

Another yell; like a plea from one friend to another, one teammate communicating with another. Who were they? How much trouble were they really in? In a ran down, mostly abanonded, apartment building she found her answers. Twenty, thirty vampires. There were, at most, five or six living humans. And from the sounds and smells of it, they weren't much older than her, if they were older than her at all. Kids, fighting in the dark against a darkness they couldn't possibly combat. Her head turned this way, that way, and back again after long beats of her heart and prolonged exposures to sound and smells and black night air.



It was a trap. The group of humans were being funneled into the old apartment building. Her Nike'd feet took over like rubber matted lightning bursts; step, steps, leap, stairs. By the time she reached the first floor of the building, she was taking a vampire by the back of the neck, and nearly tossing it backwards into a wall. A quick stake, and onto the next one. They were so focused on their prey, they never noticed the great white shark of a Slayer that had rudely interrupted their feast. The shadow of an alpha predator lurking above the predators--ready to not steal their lunch, but fucking end their lives.

Or afterlives.

She saw dust on the stairs between first and second floors; clearly the humans weren't helpless. But they weren't prepared for the trap laid out for them. Had a group of humans become such an irritant that the local vampires plotted to end them in a bait and switch? It seemed so, Slayer instinct told her, though personally she'd never seen anything like it before. Vampires weren't usually that smart.

Something told her Washington, Ohio, vampires were a different breed.

There was little left in the brown brick apartment building but graffiti, rain decayed ceilings and walls, and abandoned rooms. In this maze of rundown rot was a group of humans and a lot of monsters. She kept moving, from first floor to second floor, catching more vampires by surprise from behind. An elbow, a quick sidestep, and another staked. Dust. Hissing, a counter-surge, but Emy Vance wasn't new. When your father was a former Ranger and leader of combat men, and women, he raised you proper. Guard, faint, faint, counter, stake. Sweep, stake. More hissing, as the vampires immediately aware of her began to realize there was a shark among the piranhas.

It didn't help them. They were dust just as quick as their buddies.

She was circling, now, the gang of teens fighting their way through the maze of interior corridors and apartments with walls knocked them, at times the gang of teens knocking DOWN walls just to advance, just to keep moving, just to not get caught in the tide of bloodsucking asshats that was hot on their heels. They didn't know she was there, much as the bloodsucking asshats on their heels didn't know she was there, either. Her body ripped through old drywall and timber like a wrecking ball; she was so fast, so strong, that the sheer kinetic force her body left no sanctuary for the monsters.

By the time the group of teens were left on the third floor with nowhere left to run, the vampires had caught up, like ink through water, squeezing their darkness into every opening of the third floor lounge the teens were in. Three, then four, then five, then six vampires with 'game faces' on and fangs out, hissing, screaming, inching forward.

Two were dusted before the other four even had a feeling something was wrong. One more was dusted before he could even turn around. Three left; one turned and jumped for her; she took the vampire by the ankle and smashed it against a wall. The last two abandoned the idea of the group of teenagers, and lunged for her. One was kicked in midair, the other dodged with a graceful, artful, twirl. By the time she landed she was already in position to counter the one who'd been introduced to the wall coming back for more. Elbow block, step in to the body, one strike turned into five with a dizzying array of fist strikes, and a quick, sudden, stake to the heart.

One tried to run; a dagger sharp stake whirled through the air and caught it in the back, heart-high. Dust.

The last frenzied, ran at her. Her body dropped like dead weight, one leg catching before it's feet, the other after, a tumbling takedown that left the vampire face first on the ground. Suddenly atop it, the Slayer took a flailing right hand from the vampire, pinned it against her own body, and pulled--HARD, snapping bone. She stepped off and out, the vampire scrambled one armed to it's feet. Just in time for her to drop kick it's right knee; the bone and ligament snapped with such violence it was audible for everyone in the room to hear. Hobbled and face down again, the Slayer came to her feet looking as lost in bloodlust as the monster.

She enjoyed hurting it. She enjoyed playing with her meal. This was personal.

The stake that appeared in her hand...was dropped. Bouncing off the ground, harmless. The vampire was in shock; not from pain, but of surprise. It didn't feel the snap of pain from the broken arm or shattered knee--but it knew it was disabled. It knew that suddenly one right leg and one left arm just weren't working. It knew it was injured. The monster knew it was clipped...and it crawled along the floor. It crawled away from the Slayer. It crawled in fear. Male, early 20s, a purple and blue teeshirt and ripped blue jeans, old boots. Whoever it had been in life, it's afterlife was suddenly considerably worse.

She pounced, taking long oily hair with a fist, lifting the head upward...until it's pale ear was level with her Red Blush lipsticked lips. Voice low, inlaid with twisted pleasure, darker humors: "Crawl home, little vampire. Crawl to your master, whoever they may be. Let them know the Slayer is here, let them know she comes for them now. And the next time I see you..."

If a monster could squeal in pain, in fear, this one came close to it. Whatever her knees did to it's back, with her right hand pulling back it's nappy head to expose it's fanged face, her free hand coming around in a hook punch--left fist smashing once into that vampiric face, than again. Than again. Than again. It was only violent ends on the face of the pretty girl, prototypical victim, turned alpha predator Slayer as her left fist smashed into the vampire's mouth again, and again.

Until those fangs were beaten out of it's mouth.

"Tell them." Words snapped from her lips as violent as her fist strikes had been, bloodied and bruised from the assault from behind on the vampiric trap sent to kill the teens left to watch the violent display that, all told, took less than three minutes. At the beginning of the fourth minute she rose from the ground, standing and letting her dark eyes look at the human teens for the first time. She looked more drunk than angry, the grin on her Red Blush painted lips spreading as her bloody left hand went up to her face, index finger covered in vampire blood coming near her lips.

Shh.

"Go home."

She walked out, more concerned with the blood under her nails than the looks on their faces, her mind busy new hurts, new bruises, and old scars. It was a daze; the entire walk home. She wanted to look for scouts, but she couldn't. Her heart beat so fast she felt dizzy, bloodlust coming down into a daze, like a hangover. By the time she was in her neighborhood, she was ashamed of the blood, she questioned whether she was dreaming, or awake. Even if she knew the answer to that, already. Her bathroom sink drowned in blood as she washed the night off her, pulling a fang out of her fist, tossing it in the toilet and flushing.

She'd heal by morning. She always did.

All that was left was her bedroom, and the vanity mirror. And the message. No matter how many monsters she struck, no matter how many demons she fought, no matter the amount of evil she faced down...it remained there like a ghost she couldn't hit. Haunting her, taunting her. I miss you. Mothers knew, right? Mothers had to know. As the tears came and Emy Vance sank onto the floor, sobbing at the demon she'd become, she promised herself that her mother knew. Knew what her little girl had to become.

Knew that her little girl was a monster because she had to be. Because she had to be the monster that kept all the other monsters from the door.

"Ms. Vance?"

Emelia Vance smiled, polished, pretty, posture upright. There wasn't a mark of blood, or hint of bruise, on her. Only the pink eye shadow and lip gloss of a pretty high school senior that beautified the new girl scared of making the wrong first impression. Tight jeans, a flowing blouse of dull metallic gold sand silk, exposed shoulders, and gold glittered leather sandals. She was trying, even at 8:30 in the morning, waiting in the front office as the guidance counselor, Mrs. Evans, called for her.

"Here's your schedule. You don't have a first period, so feel free to walk around the campus and get an idea of where your classes will be for the rest of the day. And of course, if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

Off the rack blouse, off the rack slacks, box heels and a kindly face marked the middle aged Mrs. Evans. She seemed nice enough, and tried as hard as anyone in her position could be expected given the worries and stresses and constraints of her position, of her life. Emy smiled, at least her eyes did, her head nodding quietly s her hand clutched the backpack slung off her right shoulder, and she was out the door. Halls were empty, the bell had rung fifteen minutes ago. It was nice, in a way, to be allowed the rare chance to catch your breath as the new girl.

A deep breath brought in calmer feelings, and new sensations. Or new takes on prior sensations...like a sense, or a smell. Something she'd experienced before? The night before, it hit her, like a bullet to the brain. It was an act of violence, the way the memories of the night before struck her. She'd repressed them, forgotten them as if it was all just a bad dream. What else was those parts of Emy Vance's life, but just a bad dream she could wake up from? How else does a girl stay sane from such a thing?

The door to the library slipped open on well oiled hinges as she pushed it open.



The lighting seemed moody, even if it was probably meant to be private and academic in nature, the natural light of the morning light giving it a warmth, where the dark of night, so she imagined, might have given it a sort of foreboding. There were precious few in the library, but voices caught the edge of her ear, and pulled her towards stairs. Up the stairs, to the right, to a private room marked "RM L.202 - STUDY ROOM" on the building placard just outside the room. A study room?

Her hand moved for it, for the door of the study room--but it stopped short, as a voice crept up on her like a shiver up her spine.

"Ms. Vance, I believe it is?"

Only her neck moved, eyes following quickly behind. Eyes that set upon the source of the voice, but reacted as if she'd seen exactly what was expected: a teacher. Or in this case, a librarian. Tall, dressed in clothing that seemed like it came from the best materials and a tailored hand. Eyes that seemed a little too fixated on her for her liking.

"...closed room?"

It smiled. The librarian. "No, actually. No class has it reserved until fourth period."

Her eyes blinked away from him, and back to the door of the study room. To the conversation going hot behind the closed door.

Routine had become a part of Adam's life, some would say that his parents would approve... If only it was the routine they wanted for him. Although the night before, Adam came close to honoring the wishes of his parents by going into the thick of the battle against the supernatural. Except he also came close to losing his life and possibly whatever blood he had in his body. Adam had sworn that he would never get involved in the personal business of those who come to make a purchase but he was willing to make an exception. He felt closer to the group he had hung out with the night before than any other student in the school, heck, he was hoping he could have made some friends.

You'd think that coming close to death's door would have had a negative impression on Adam but he viewed it as a blessing in disguise. The girl that saved their asses, Adam had a pretty good clue about who she was but he had to confirm his suspicions before he announced them to the group. The idea quietly cooked in his head and he appeared to be shiftier than ever when he first came into the study room. He remained silent for a while, his face serious and the constant looks over his shoulder suggesting paranoia. However it only took a short while before he settled down and allowed himself to speak.

"So dudes and dudettes, I have a new policy." He stood up from his chair, his face serious and stern. "No leading the party man of the party van into a giant death trap, sound cool to all of you?" There was something else, much more urgent on his mind and you could swear it was written on his forehead because Adam's poker face was not in top form.

The pile of elbows that cradled Danny's not-sleeping-but-trying-to head shifted slowly as he looked up, tired blue eyes blinking once and fixing onto Adam. "Your voice. It's loud." Sighing, he slumped down again, thick unruly locks spilling over bare arms and a tightly-bandaged wrist. "Stop that."

Two hours sleep. A sprain. And there was still ash in his hair, he was sure of it. Not a great day, all told - and it had barely even started. "'Death-trap' is a strong term. I'd call it a gank squad." His words were muffled, but still perfectly audible. "Anyone else thinking of skipping math this afternoon?"

Casey woke up a good bit earlier than your average high school teen, but his unconventional living arrangements sometimes made that a necessity. It still hurt to breath and he was certain the night before had left him with a bruised rib or two along with the usually cuts and bruises fighting vampires provided. He struggled a bit to gather up the possessions in his camp and tie them up in a tree, he didn’t keep anything too valuable in the woods but he’d hate to have to replace his tent, sleeping bag, or basic supplies. He grabbed his back pack and bike and headed for the gym, preferring to use the public showers there over the one at his aunt and uncle’s trailer. At least at the gym he knew the water would be on as well as hot, not to mention the significant amount of hassle he wouldn’t have to deal with. Casey kept a locker at the gym with everything he needed to clean up after a night of hunting. Usually he tried to shower before bed as it left him more time to sleep in but last night had left him drained. He still couldn’t stop thinking how amazing that girl was, she’d taken out at least a couple dozen vamps he’d made note of the amount of vampire dust that covered the house when they left. He’d never seen someone fight like that, it was artistry, she was pure skill and power demolishing everything that stood in her way. He wasn’t sure what she was or how she was so powerful but he was sure they needed someone like her in their gang.

After his quick shower, he changed into clothes from his backpack, old faded jeans naturally distressed from the thrift store, an old Iron Maiden t-shirt, and a red flannel shirt. He took a quick glance in the mirror and messed with his hair before tossing his dirty clothes in his gym locker and heading out. He stopped for coffee before heading to the school. An Americano with double expresso, which he poured from its paper cup into a thermos and secured to the side pocket of his back pack, was the only he’d be awake for the next few hours of classes. He hadn’t had much sleep after the excitement of last night. He chained his bike up and sprinted into the school but the hallway was basically empty by the time he made it inside. His first class was study hall so he headed straight for the library and into the room where they all usually had their private group meetings. He grabbed his coffee and threw the backpack down next to the chair as he took his seat.

“Come on party man, you lived to tell the tale. I don’t recall any of us holding a crossbow to your head and forcing you into our misadventures. You have to admit it was pretty fun, right? At least it wasn’t dull.” He replied to Adam as he poured some of the coffee into the thermos’s cup and drank.

“Why would I skip Math? After last night, I could really use a good nap. Nothing puts me to sleep faster than Mr. Randell’s monotoning.” He glanced over at Danny who seemed about to fall asleep on them. “You need some coffee?” He offered.

“And Blaine, you might have been the best looking one at the table but I’m here now so you’ll just have to settle for being the blondest one at the table. But seriously does anyone know who that girl was last night? I mean she must’ve taken out twenty some vampires solo. I mean we’re talking some serious super human shit right there.”

“Perhaps she’s a half demon.”

The banter floating around the room wasn’t unusual, but the undercurrent was. For a collection of humans without too much in the way of supernatural firepower they’d been doing rather well up to now. Relatively few close calls, no fatalities, and measurable success. They hadn’t encountered anything last night. They were spooked, and it showed in different ways for all of them. Spooked by so many vampires cooperating, for one, but mostly by the new player on the board. A girl, though not necessarily a human one, with enough of a punch to upend Washington’s food chain. And a sadistic streak to boot.

Victoria was feeling something similar to the rest but showed it differently. A deep chill had settled in her bones, a frigidity from the moment that girl had stepped out of the shadows. A chill in her blood at watching fangs punched out of the night’s usual predator, at the bloodlust etched so clearly on her face.

It wasn’t entirely alien. Everyone felt it, a little. It was the tingle running down your spine at a good challenge, the way your pulse quickened in a fight, the euphoria of seeing the underdog win. The feeling was written into humanity’s soul, a feeling the civilized world sought through other means. Victoria had felt it herself, and she would’ve laid down money that everyone else in the group had too. It was especially potent for them; their fights, by their very nature, weren’t equal. A vampire was their would-be-predator, something stronger than them and faster than them. Every encounter was an underdog story, a triumph of ingenuity over raw power. Adrenaline pumped, pulses raced, and that victory was a primal delight. A defiance of the fate narrowly evaded.

But that wasn’t what she had seen. The girl outclassed her prey and they both knew it. The fight could have been over before it started, as it had been with most of its fellows. It wasn’t. The girl, this ‘Slayer’, drew it out. Gave a glimmer of hope. Once it had been crushed beyond repair she beat the vampire to a pulp and left him alive but beaten, all to send a message. Not just of words, but of symbol. That she had smashed her fist into its face again, and again, and again, until it had been literally defanged as well. Vampires were evil. That wasn’t an opinion, it was an objective fact that Victoria had learned very early on. Whoever they were in life wasn’t there anymore. Their souls had been lost, and whatever was left was an evil with the face of a friend. They didn’t feel remorse, they didn’t feel guilt, they couldn’t even conceptualize what they were doing as evil. Not even sympathy for the devil could make her feel even an iota of regret that the vampire had been harmed.

No, the bile rising in the back of her throat had to do with this Slayer. A creature that could supplant Washington’s apex predator and enjoy it. That was aware of her strength and by all appearances reveled in it. She was an unknown; not just in what she was, but her intentions. It could be that she was an ally. Certainly she had been last night, when they stepped into a trap that may well have killed them. But what if she wasn’t? What if it occurred to her that humans were a rung on the food chain below even the vampires she terrorized?

Go home.

The words had deepened the chill, and it hadn’t gone away even while she slept. Her showers, already cool by preference, had paled in comparison to that cold. It was deeply unsettling in a way that she couldn’t quite put into words, stirring up feelings that humanity, believing itself the top of the food chain, had long forgotten. When she looked in the mirror she thought she could almost see the cold blue reflected back in her eyes.

These were the feelings she refused to show. She had paced the back of the meeting room with measured, feline steps while they gathered but as she began to voice her thoughts for the first time she fell still. Victoria rested her back against the rear wall of the room, surveying her friends and allies with a quietly contemplative gaze.

“It would explain how she could strongarm a vampire. And the human appearance. Whatever she is...” The teen paused a moment, taking a long sip from an iced coffee before setting the cup aside. “She isn’t like you. Or I.”

“Has anyone considered asking our friend the librarian? He often knows some things he shouldn’t. We need to talk about the fact that they’ve gotten smarter, too. Last night was definitely a trap.”

Adam smirked as he looked at Danny trying to get some sleep in the study room, at least someone was unfazed from the whole 'almost-being-murdered' thing the night before. However answers had to be found to the question and Adam looked to his 'study-buddies' to throw some ideas around before he dropped the bomb on exactly what he knew about the girl and what he could safely deduce. However their debate was turning out to be rather fruitless for the lines that Adam was drawing in his head. On the outside, it looked like he wasn't even paying attention to what anyone was saying due to his staring off into the distance.

Adam knew all there was about slayers, he had gotten an ear-full about the workings and the known history(several versions of them) burned into his mind when he was home-schooled by his family. He would have never thought that those teachings would be of any use at any given time, truthfully he never thought that a Slayer would find their way to Washington but there it was. He knew what he had seen, it was a human being killing vampires as if they were flies, only one person could possess such power over the supernatural. Adam carefully sat back down in his seat, looking a couple shades paler than he did when he first came into the room.

He finally lifted his head to look at someone when Blaine spoke the word. 'Slayer'. He stared at him, carefully considering his words before actually bothering to speak up himself. "You are the smartest person in the room, Blaine, truly. We should be a bit more careful." There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice but Adam didn't allow it to set in before he continued. "I think I know what we are facing. Don't ask me how, I'm not going to tell you. They come only once in a generation and that they are those that stand in between us and all those demons and vampires that would harm us. In essence, they are half-demon but only in essence, it's hard to truly describe what they are." There was a certain amount of effort being projected on Adam's face, he was trying to remember everything he could from his family's teachings.

"So they do basically what you bunch like to do on your Friday nights except they do it better and they're packing a whole lot more. If one of them has come to town... Well we may have a whole bunch of competition in the playing-superhero field." Adam rubbed his chin as he stood up and began pacing around. "These beings are stronger, faster and more capable than anything we have ever faced and they are called-..." Adam stopped as he heard his phone's notification. He took it out and looked at the screen and his eyes widened. "Hold on, this is important, got to take this." He began typing up a flurry on his phone. It was a big sale being made and he had to capitalize on it.

As everyone around him talked, and talked, and talked a bit more, Danny adopted his I'm-listening-yep-totally-face that had gotten him through most of his education, and sat up straight with a yawn. He turned in his seat, looking for his bag which was on the floor behind him, just maddeningly out of reach.

He gave a small sigh of annoyance and wiggled his fingers in an irritated fashion; and with a quick jolt, the bag's strap popped upwards as if a tiny elf underneath had thrown it upwards straight into his demanding hand. He hefted the bag into the tabletop in front of him and unzipped it, pulling out a delicious, juicy can of cola from the depths.

Casey was right. Caffeine. Caffeine was the true weapon of gods and men. Fear it. Adore it. drink a bunch of it.

As he popped the top and chugged most of it in one, Adam started to talk; and slowly, a little of what the man-with-the-van was saying started to filter through the sludgy exhaustion and to register in Danny's brain. It sounded bonkers. That was cool.

"So like. What you're saying is. Into every generation one of them is born, one rando in all the world, all chosen and... Stuff. They alone have the strength and skill to fight vamps, demons and the general forces of suckness. And she-" he waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the entire macroverse, "was the thingie?"

He grinned, settling back into his seat, fingertips drumming slightly against the fragile shell of the canned drink in his hand. "That's so dumb. I mean, it's super cool, but it's so... Isn't it so 90's? Like Vertigo-comics brooding superhero 90's?"

He paused briefly, tilting his head to the side, staring thoughtfully into nothingness. "It's also quite a bit like Sailor Moon."

It seemed that this Slayer had been weighing heavily on the minds of the others since their encounter last night. To Dana Griese, it was a boring rehash of details half of them couldn't understand or had been too banged up to properly note, mixed with scraps of arcane lore that could be interpreted in a dozen different ways, none of which were immediately helpful. This Slayer was like receiving one puzzle piece and being asked to use it to track down another 249. Until it became an immediate threat, who gave a crap?

Besides, there had been bloodstains on her clothes last night. Bloodstains.

She had been so furious that she'd plunged a shin guntō right through the top of the dryer she and Victoria had gotten on the cheap from a few college students hocking their apartment furnishings at the end of last summer. She had no idea when they would run into undergrads with good dryers again, and she was constantly chided by Victoria for losing her temper at the appliance...but she hated when bloodstains wouldn't come out.

Kisama...

Damn Slayer. Or whatever the depraved creature who got her rocks off on saving them last night had been. One thing was certain, though.

Dana's head jolted up at the mention of Sailor Moon, and she couldn't hold back a scoff.

"Sailor Moon? Hmmph."

The American nerd was a far less pathetic genus than the otaku of her homeland. But sometimes it was still jarring.

"Maybe. Devil Hunter Yohko. With more eyeliner. Who cares."

Something out there that could kill vampires wasn't the most special thing in the world; lots of people could kill vampires, and they hadn't all been girls on the cusp of applying for college. Yet nonetheless...the prowess on display last night had been damn cool.

"I want to...box," the Japanese hunter slowly sounded out, "...this Slayer. Someday, when no vampires...I hope we can street fight her."

If she was one of those that refused to raise a fist against humans, Dana would probably bawl. If this girl was a fixture in the sleepy town that the young Japanese fixer had found herself in, there were many areas where her prodigal skills would need testing. The grand arena of the shopping mall, the hyperkinetic action movie go-times of laser tag...her closet would certainly need inspecting...

But mostly the street fighting.

"I hope I can street fight her."

Dana sighed wistfully and crossed her legs from atop the table where she perched, the buffer separating Victoria from the rest of the group - just as her role demanded.

Casey had already made up his mind that this new girl was a clear white hat. She saved their collective asses and killed vampires, and if she was one of the bad guys she probably wouldn’t have done either. What she was or where her power came from seemed less important than the issue of twenty to thirty vampires setting a trap to kill them. It seemed like it made sense to try and find this new warrior and add her to their team.

“Are we even sure we can trust the librarian? I mean I can’t be the only one who finds him super fucking suspicious.” Casey thought about what Adam had said. Of course, he already knew the answers to the questions the rest of them had, and of course he was sharing the smallest bits of information. Adam stopped in mid-sentence to check his phone.

“Adam, do you think that maybe this discussion on how we all were almost killed by a huge group of vampires working as a group might be a bit more important that business deals. You can’t make deals if you get ganked.” He said teasing Adam who was totally absorbed with his phone. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a large group of them working together. Maybe we finally pissed off some big daddy vamp who can get the rest organized. I know we’re pretty small time but that trap had to be for us. I think the safest thing we could do would be to track down this Chosen One and join forces.”

“And, dude, the 90’s chosen one thing sounds totally awesome, there’s a reason why it’s a classic, though I hope she’s not a brooding superhero, it was bad enough to sit through the last few DC movies I don’t think I could live one.” Casey replied to Danny after a slight chuckle at his rehash of Adam’s explanation. He raised an eyebrow at Dana who was already talking about wanting to fight the slayer.

“Aw, Dana, I think we should put you in charge of the welcoming committee.” He teased, though from Dana an ‘I want to street fight you’ was probably a major complement.

He moved, slowly, cautiously, around her. Her eyes stayed on him. It wasn't what he was expecting; her eyes. It seemed more like what most called a "hologram", that is, a trick of light and perception. Tilt it one way, and the appearance was one way. Tilt it just a little this way, and the image was another way. That way, and yet again, the image changed again. So it was with the eyes of Emelia Vance. From the initial angle he saw the eyes of a teenage girl at her first day in a new high school. It was must have been petrifing. As Ash could attest, kids could be mean, but teenagers could truly be dark. Though he couldn't personally testify to it, he knew from several sources that being a girl and a teenager added whole new levels of evil and danger.

The expectations. The competition. The savagery.

At that angle, Emelia Vance looked almost scared. Like a new kid just hoping she didn't do the wrong thing, say the wrong thing, wear the wrong thing. Just wanting to fit in. But as he began to move around her, the angle of the image of Emelia Vance shifted. The look in those eyes changed. Suddenly the very appearance of the girl before him seemed to change. She was no longer the nervous teen girl, she was resplendent in fearlessness. She didn't look as if she particularly cared that he, or anyone else, thought she might be doing the wrong thing, saying the wrong thing, wearing the wrong thing. Independent, willful, strong. The kind of sensation you simply did not ever perceive from an adolescent.

By the time he made his way, carefully, to the other side of Emelia Vance and moved closer to the study room door the appearance was yet different again. Not scared, not fearless. To him in that moment of space and time the only sense he read from the teenager before him now was...danger. The closer he got to her physically, the more profound the sense became, like a bad moon rising in the back of his mind. This girl is dangerous. She could hurt him. She could hurt all of them. And there was precious little any of them could do stop her. Around her, one must be delicate, as if approaching a cornered predator. When his hand touched the handle of the study room door, he saw something that actually surprised him.

He saw her body tense.

His voice lowered, softening and growing a bit sweet, like melted honey. "A new school, a new town...that has to be very overwhelming. Consider the view from the otherside, hmm? Washington is just big enough to not know everyone by name and face, but small enough to realize a new face in the crowd. New faces are welcome, new faces that arrive to town and help those locals out of bad jams..."

Careful, Ashton. He heard his father's voice. The more he hinted, the more those teenage girl's eyes seemed to sharpen. Was he making a point she could see? Was he just weirding her out? Was he standing on proverbial rotten ice? "Such new faces can only be a good thing, Ms. Vance."

"Emy. Ms. Vance was my mother."

It was so sudden a correction, he felt his eyes narrow in curiosity. His face must have reflected the sentiment. Hearing her tone, hearing her name, made him feel like he wasn't on quite the knife's edge. Normalized her, humanized her. He was only human, afterall. So was she, he wanted to tell her, even if that would taking a step too far right now. And a misstep right now was as dangerous as Emelia Vance was to a vampire in the dark of night. "Emy, I promise in this library you're in no danger."

The handle turned, the door clicked open, and he pushed at it's hinges: Watcher and Slayer standing in the doorway. How much of the room's chat she caught he couldn't say, but all he caught was Dana the welcome committee. It seemed a poor choice, to him, personally. He never even noticed the sudden silence, he wasn't looking inside the room. Emelia Vance was looking inside the room, but he was looking at her. Her eyes darted to each face in the room, her breath quickened mirroring a quickening of pulse, of anxiety. As calm as she could her eyes slid back to his, and her voice reached out a tone that was quiet even to the man standing inches from her. "Sorry. Not the room I was looking for. New girl mistake."

She turned on her heel as sharp and quick as a dancer, and was gone. Ash Pierce lingered, physically in place, and mentally too. For a few impossibly long beats the raw feeling of failure stung...but there was more to do with the moment. More that needed saying, and doing. Comfortable as a librarian in a library, he stepped into the room, and closed the door behind him. A tiny smile crossed his lips as he slid out the chair at the head of the study room table, and sat gently, crossing one leg over the other, resting his weight in the back of the chair, leaning his upper body just to the left, his left hand coming to his chin as he sat in thought.

In silence for a few new impossibly quiet beats.

Finally his left hand removed his glasses, and his blue eyes flashed to each face in the room. That small smile greeting each face. "Well, you all had quite the night, didn't you?" He let the question hang only a moment before pressing on, speaking before any could properly respond. "I have been assisting this group in the past year. Small enough to escape serious notice or suspicious, but enough to have actually helped...after last night, I fear that game is done. Should any of us play at this any longer, one of you, maybe all of you," said like an academic summarizing field measurements it could not be unnoticed, "will die. That girl," his left hand pointed the arm of his glasses at the door, "did what I could not last night and saved all of you. We very sadly cannot yet assume that she will keep doing it. So I must level with all of you...and you must all level with me. Failure to do so on your parts, and I will not blame myself for your deaths. Because make no mistake, something in the supernatural calculus of Washington, Ohio, has changed for the worse."

A tiny, quick, sigh and the glasses were placed on the table before him. "I am Ash Pierce, a member of an ancient order dedicated to studying the supernatural and assisting girls like the one that saved you last night." His right hand rose and his open palm, turned up, waved just-so towards him a few times. Come on, now, the act said, bring your questions. "Let's have it out before one of those idiot Vice Principles decides they need to irritate me."

The room fell silent as the door opened and none other than the subjects of their discussion walked in the room. He could feel the tension in the room, she looked totally freaked which, considering she was probably more powerful than the lot of them put together, was strange. She said something to Pierce before making a quick exit. Sure, the encounter last night hadn’t made him think she’d be the friendliest person around but had been expecting some sort of interaction or acknowledgement. Then again thinking more about it she probably didn’t want a gang of sidekicks that needed saving, or maybe she wasn’t looking to start the school year off by hanging around the school weirdos. He didn’t take it personally though he would’ve liked the opportunity to thank her for saving their lives. The high school wasn’t very big and he figured he’d get the chance for a chat later, someone saves your ass the least you can do is offer some thanks.

His attention quickly turned to Pierce, who finally decided to explain what he’d been up too. The ‘librarian’ claimed to be a part of an ancient secret society who studied the supernatural and that he’d been assisting them in secret for the past year.

“Some help you’ve been, I mean lurking around a bunch teens, knowing what we were up too while at the same time keeping everything about yourself on the down low. I mean why not just tell us? You clearly knew we were on the same side. You get your jollies playing ‘I know something you don’t know’?” Casey asked first, annoyed that Pierce hadn’t been honest with them.

“As for the likelihood of our deaths should we continue to fight, I made peace with that about a year ago, it’s way too late for me to go back to living a normal life, knowing these things are out there hurting people. As for ‘that girl,’ the slayer or whatever, I’m sure she’s got more important things to do than worry about my ass, and I’m more than willing to help if I can. I’d rather die doing what’s right than try and live with doing nothing.” Casey said his piece and chugged a bit of coffee. This fight against vampires and the like was too personal to him to ever consider giving it up.

"Beware that, when fighting monsters, you yourself do not become a monster. For when you gaze long into the abyss, it gazes also into you."

Victoria had gone tense from the moment Emy could be seen in the doorway, the sort of tension that took root in your whole body. Heart rate spiked, eyes narrowed, muscles were taut under her skin and her stance shifted to that of a certain feline grace; she held herself with an ease that belied the coiled steel under her skin. The chill had returned to her bones, and her eyes remained on the Slayer until she departed. Then the hazel orbs made their way to their 'librarian', remaining quiet until after Blaine had said his piece.

"You're a well-read man, Mr. Pierce, so I expect you know what that means. We weren't rescued last night. We weren't saved. That would imply that her primary, or at least secondary, goal was that we were okay. Our safety was an accident." The dark-haired girl looked troubled, or at least as close to it as she ever did. A mix of emotions flickered behind her eyes, the faintest changes to her expression giving hints as to her thoughts. "You weren't there. Her goal was to kill vampires, keeping them from killing us was an accident. I doubt she even noticed we were there, not once she really got going. I think we happened to be the bait that lured them out, more than anything."

"I have seen greater mercy from a vampire, they at least kill their food after they're done playing." A pause, and she crossed her arms resolutely. She fixed the Watcher with a hard, cautious stare. "I don't assume that she'll save us again. I'm not sure I want her to."

"What about you, Mr. Pierce? Is that the sort of behavior we should expect from your order?" She gestured with a hand towards the gang gathered in the room, before tucking it under her arm again. "I can't speak for anyone else here, but I find it a little hard to trust someone like that."

"Say what you will about us, but I've never had to be scared of my friends."

Adam waved off the teasing of all those who responded to his sudden change in attitude but just as he hit the Send button to solidify his super secret deal. The door to the study room came open and he lifted his head to see the very same girl whose actions had lead him to be amazed and just a bit turned on the night before. He stared at her but before he could utter a word, she left the room in a hurry which was understandable. The room was rather awkward to be in considering she saved their asses and they didn't even have the chance to invite her for some pizza for her efforts. Regardless, Adam just shrugged it off and turned his head to Ash Pierce for answers, he inspected the man curiously rather than suspiciously. He had always gotten some odd looks from him and heard even weirder things about him but ultimately, it was all rather normal for Washington.

Adam shrugged his arms and turned his head to Casey, listening to him give his piece. He gave him a very subtle thumbs up for his little passionate saying on the matter, finding Casey's enthusiasm to be refreshing. It was a bit like looking at the opposite of himself and for that, he enjoyed Casey's company.

He wasn't too surprised by Blaine's and Victoria's queries to the librarian, who to Adam was quite obviously a Watcher but he wasn't going to let anyone know exactly how much he knows on the whole matter that Pierce was hopefully going to bring before them. After all, he was worried for his friends more than he was for himself. They were more into the whole hunting gig than Adam was, he was just the friendly neighborhood merchant. At least that's what he tried to be.

"So I think I heard about what you guys are... They call you 'lookers', right?" He was playing it smooth as ice... Or something like that. "You got to have something serious happening in this town if you're bringing in a Slayer here. I assume you did pull the strings to get her here, I mean... You say it yourself, things are changing. Too convenient for her to have just shown up here when she did." Or was it cool as butter? Either way, Adam was giving his A game when it came to downplaying what he knows(Or perhaps it was more accurately his B- game.).

He scratched his forehead, thinking he said his piece but then he remembered. "Also, you reckon this means I'll get more business my way?" Adam had his priorities.

The Librarian only smiled at Adam; a small, knowing, sort of smile. The kind of smile that faded quicker than fog under a morning sun, or in this case, under the passions of the teenagers before him. Of Blaine's device, he nodded, quietly. Thoughtfully. "Yes, I am aware, and confess to being the reason some of the books that have ended up in the Magic Cauldron have ended up there. I do live in one of the flats above the shopping center it is located in, I see who comes and goes. It's a very choice spot for people watching, my new home. My kudos on such a nifty tool; you may have to let me study it and compare it to the tools of my Order."

There was no smile accompanying the fun fact; mostly from the weight of what followed. "I help in ways you may not realize, Casey, but have decided since last night that, frankly, I need to do more. Concerning last night specifically...I was not in that room when you were there, but I was in the area. I was outside, as a matter of fact, watching the vampire 'spotters' outside the building. I had been following them all night, curious as to vampires with advanced recording equipment. I did not go in because my orders are to assist the Slayer, not die trying to save all of you. While I cannot speak for said Slayer, I am all but sure, Victoria, that she was in fact following your group. Either by natural sense or supernatural sense, I think she knew the vampires were up to something, and once she realized what that something was she went into full action mode. My theory seems supported by the fact that she used to same sense to track all of you down just now; she's just too embarrassed, or too shy, or too unsure to come in and greet all of you. 'Awkward', as your generation is so fond of saying."

The arms of his glasses were folded, neatly, and carefully placed in his shirt pocket as his eyes strayed toward the ceiling, his mind entering the realm of theory and careful thought. "My reasons for this are, for starters, she has been in town for just over a week. Yet she has killed no vampires up to last night. It's impossible to say whether she went out knowing she'd end up in a rescue, but that fact coupled with the fact that she went into that building sprinting and leaping; rather reminded me of a firefighter leaping into a burning building. I grant you her methods are militant, yet on the spectrum of Slayers she's actually rather moderate, terrifying as that thought may be for you."

His eyes snapped back, specifically back to Adam. "No, is the short answer, I have no control or power over the Slayer. That does not mean I believe her relocating here to be an accident, but there are greater forces at work here than my order and vampires, I firmly believe. She has an important role to play here, as I now believe after last night do all of you. As for what I know..."

Ash Pierce sighed, gently, and leaned forward in his chair. To the edge of his seat, hands clasping together noiselessly in front of him, elbows resting on his thighs. "The relationship of Slayer and Watcher has been, historically, mentor and guide to mentee and guided. One of my order found her in the Washington D.C. area; he broke protocol and never reported it. We had little idea she even existed until his death, upon which, as far as we can tell, associates of his released information and reports he'd been collecting since discovering her to us after not hearing from him for forty-eight hours. She was hunted by vampires wanting a Slayer scalp 'trophy' before she even really knew what she was."

His grey-blue eyes flickered to Victoria, circling back to an earlier point: "That savage, militant, style of hers? Her father is a special operator within the U.S. Army, we believe he or one of his coworkers has provided her training without realizing just who, and what, they were training. Eventually the man from my order won her confidence and began to teach and to train her properly, but it was short lived: another rather well known vampire with a reputation of killing those who kill vampires, one who had killed Slayers in the past, found her. The man from my order was killed, and we do not yet know how exactly she survived, let alone defeated, this infamous vampire. Shortly after she moved here when her father took retirement orders to command the nearby Army training base. Far as our government contacts can tell us, he traded in a career to give his daughter a home after his wife, her mother, died of cancer in D.C."

"Now," the Librarian hesitated, briefly, "what you faced last night. As bad as the infamous vampire Slayer killer this girl survived in D.C. was, the vampire we believe has come to this town is much, much, more dangerous. In life he was a hunter/survivalist in the mountains of West Virginia who became a commander of a guerrilla force for the Rebellion in the Civil War. He is no stranger to blood and death, no stranger to survival and strategy. After the war we know he became a crusading outlaw in the South, and was embraced by a vampire. Though he lost his soul, he remained the cunning killer and hunter in his afterlife. He is large, he has a commanding presence, and unlike many vampires he enlists humans into whatever scheme or plan he has. Young vampires like the ones he used to set the trap from last night will flock to him. He will outfox you, out think you, and if none of that works he simply try to crush your spirit and rip your beating heart from your chest--if any of this scares you, it should. And if it doesn't, you're insane, suicidal, or both."

Leaned in as he already was, his eyes made sure to ping each set of eyes in the room. Every one of them. "This. Creature. Is. Dangerous. One of the most dangerous vampires my order has ever come across. We know him only as 'Crowe', we do not know where he is exactly, though likely he is underground, maybe inside the town limits, maybe just outside. So I come to all of you because I feel like I must; because you need my help, and because WE need her help. If Crowe is here, he is up to something. And it's something big."

A deep breath, a slow melt back into his seat, a look at the clock hanging on the wall, and then: "Questions?"

For a moment - a little more than a moment, really - Danny was incredibly tempted to just raise his hand and say "How do I get out of this chickenshit outfit?" But, he didn't.

It really wasn't the right time for that kind of thing. A shame: Normally he loved that kind of thing.

His usual, irreverent attitude was missing as he ran the fingertips of his right hand musingly over the tabletop in front of him, eyes fixed upon the repetitive motion; his tone low as he slowly spoke. "So how long have you known about this Crowe guy, anyway? Just found out about him this morning?" His eyes flickered upwards to meet the librarian's gaze. "I mean, he's really dangerous, right? So dangerous that we'd be suicidal or insane not to be terrified of him, right? So... you couldn't possibly have known all about him before, and known what we were up to before, without giving us a fair warning about him. Right?"

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and he leaned forward just a fraction - though the tone of his voice lifted a little, seeming almost friendly. Conversational. "'Cause, a cynical sort might think that you're only dropping this factoid on us right now to make us so paranoid and frightened that we'll go out of our way to be all buddy-buddy with Slayerette there and bring her into the fight, whether she likes it or not. A cynical sort might say, you've made it pretty clear that she really might not. And, a cynical sort might say that if anything terrible had happened to any of these fine people last night - it would kinda have been your fault."

The slow and methodical choice of words, the watchful eyes, the guarded and yet strangely fearless body-language - this wasn't the way that students should be speaking to faculty staff. Perhaps it was closer to the way that deals are brokered in remote lofty towers across the world. Perhaps it had more in common with the way that one carnivorous beast greets another, determining if they were truly a threat. Once the masks were off, why continue the masquerade?

"And I guess what I'm saying is - I'm feeling pretty cynical right now."

Ash Pierce did not smile, nor did he blink--let alone flinch. "I learned about him during my training to become a member of my Order. Our whisperers informed me he is likely in Washington a few days ago. No offense meant, but I assessed your group to be, frankly, not enough of a threat to warrant his notice. I'm still not sure you are; he very well could have been using all of you to get to her. That might explain the afore mentioned spotters; it might not. Just as possible he meant that trap for each of you, separate from the Slayer. For your sakes I genuinely hope not."

The man's back slid back into the back of the chair, as his eyes addressed Danny for a moment in silence. Then he shrugged, in answer, his face cold. "As some of you have indicated, you would be fighting this fight with or without me. Your fates are yours to own. I believe my culpability absolved by breaking with my Order's traditions and engaging all of you this morning. I have said my peace, what each of you does with it is your choice. Go back out, or don't. Seek out the Slayer, or don't. Believe her a monster, or don't. Take heed from my warning, or don't."

The tension, and silence, shattered at the sound of the electronic bell sounding from the school's general PA speaker in the room; First Period was over. Ash Pierce stood, tucked in his chair, and smiled casually. "On to your second periods, then." He turned on his leather loafered heel, and walked out, leaving the door open in his wake as the library outside the room stirred with motion and activity.