The Prophet
by Rainne
Part Nine
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Life passed uneventfully for us over the next month. I concentrated on Mercedes, mostly: getting her settled, making sure she had all the things she needed to be a normal, happy kid. I knew she'd not made the best impression on people her first day at school, but she'd been anxious to start and I hadn't had the time to get her a new wardrobe, so she'd gone in the ragged things she'd been wearing on the road.
Willow and I were slowly building our relationship, finding the place where we'd left off as a teenage couple in their first real love relationship and trying to make it mesh with the place where we both were now: grown women with both good and bad experiences in the love field behind us, new and different interests, and of course that whole inconvenient vampire thing.
Mercedes was totally cool with the idea of her "big sister" being a lesbian; she liked Willow a lot and Willow liked her, too, which really took a load off my shoulders. It usually helps when your family likes your girlfriend.
But Willow wasn't in love with me. And I knew this. She loved me, true enough, and loved me enough to be in a relationship with me, but she wasn't in love with me and believe me, there's a difference. We had a wonderful rapport, almost always knowing what each other was thinking and feeling... quite possibly, we had the ideal relationship. But there was that one thing missing. I knew it going in, though... Willow had asked me to look into her eyes, and I had seen everything there that I needed to know. She did love me. She always would. But I saw the future in her eyes, as I always do when I look, and I had seen the end as well. And I had seen that I myself would be the catalyst of the end.
But that was a long time off. I liked to focus on today, and the happiness that we felt together. So when a teenage boy came into my back yard one day looking for me with a message, I knew I had to do something about that British gentleman who considered himself Head Vampire In Town.
The boy, wearing too much leather and not enough brains, strolled into my back yard one sunny Tuesday afternoon about two months after my return to Sunnydale. I was sunbathing, enjoying as I always do the irony of not becoming a big pile of dust as I basked in the ultraviolet radiation. I heard him come around the side of the house and freeze in his tracks when he saw me there. I grinned inwardly. I knew I was hot, but I did love to have my ego stroked. Teenage boys are good for that, especially when you're bronzing yourself in a white string bikini. I waited for him to calm himself and come closer, but he didn't - he simply remained frozen in his tracks. I opened one eye and glanced over at him. "Did you want something, Scooter, or are you going to just stand there and drool all day?"
He managed to close his mouth and move somewhat closer to me. "Uh, my n-n-n-name's n-n-n-not S-S-S-S-Scooter," he stuttered.
I opened both eyes and pinned him with a cold stare. "You stutter all the time or just now on account of losing all muscle control?" I asked him.
"A-A-A-All the t-t-t-time," he managed. "S-S-S-S-Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. Slow down and think about what you're going to say before you say it. You won't stutter as much. Now, what can I help you with?"
"Oh." He took a deep breath before speaking and seemed to be trying to remember something word-for-word. "I-I-I-I have a m-m-m-m-m-message f-f-for you. F-F-F-F-From Sp-p-p-pike."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please, the suspense is turning me into a big pile of dust."
He glanced at me quizzically. "L-L-L-L-Lady, I d-d-d-don't know n-n-n-n-nothin', o-o-okay? I-I-I-I g-g-g-got a g-g-g-guy o-o-o-offers m-me t-t-t-ten b-b-b-bucks to c-c-c-c-c-arry a m-m-m-message, I j-j-j-j-just d-d-d-do m-m-m-my j-j-j-job, o-o-okay?"
I laughed. "Okay, Scooter, do your job, then, son. What's the message?"
"H-h-he s-s-s-says -"
"Hold it." He stopped and looked at me quizzically. "Come here." He stepped closer to me and I took hold of his chin. "Now just relax. Look at me." I couldn't stand it any more. I hated to do this to some innocent kid, but then, if he was hanging around with Spike, how innocent could he be? And with my first glance into his eyes, I knew I was right. He knew exactly what Spike was, he thought he knew what I was. He knew nothing about the Slayer or her friends, a fact for which Spike needed to be profoundly grateful. If he'd compromised them in any way, I'd have had to kill him instead of humiliate him. But this boy, whose name, incidentally, was Jonah, knew nothing of that. He wanted Spike to make him a vampire. He didn't know about Spike's chip, he didn't know that there was no way Spike could turn him. He knew nothing. But he did have his message. Through his eyes I could see and hear Spike dictating that message.
"Tell her, Jonah," Spike said. "Tell her to come out of hiding. She can't stay in the sunlight forever. Neither can her sister. Neither can Willow."
I released Jonah from my grip with a disgusted sound. "Jonah. Honestly, boy, what do you want hanging around with Spike for?"
He gaped at me. "I-I-I-I w-w-w-want to b-b-b-be a v-v-v-vampire."
I laughed. "He can't make you a vampire, boy, don't you know that? He's got a chip in his head, makes him incapable. He can't do any harm to anyone that's human." I shook my head. "Go back to school, kid, get an education. Make something out of your life other than a short and miserable undeath. Because I'll tell you something, kid - there's a Vampire Slayer in this town. And a damn good one. You get turned in Sunnydale, you can expect your days to be numbered in the single digits. Go make something out of yourself."
And as I had known he would, he turned and fled. But I was comfortable in the knowledge that he would take my words to heart, he would confront Spike about the chip and the Slayer, and discover that what I'd said was true. And he would take my advice. I had, however briefly, held in my hands the life of the boy who would one day save the life of the President of the United States. I thought that was pretty cool.
But now I had other fish to fry. William the Bloody thought he could threaten my lover and my sister and get away with it? I didn't think so.
---
I knew Spike's crypt. Willow had pointed it out to me once on a daytime stroll past the cemetery. I kicked the door in and stepped back into the sunlight. "Spike! You coward! Come on out here!"
He stepped forward into the dimly lit area just outside the sunlight which poured in through the door. "Who's the coward, then?" He asked, staring at me as I stood in the light.
I smiled. "Who's the coward? Threatening innocents? Threatening children? I'm a coward? I think not, Spike old buddy. You know, I was content to let you alone. I wasn't going to mess with you at all. You wanted to be the big man on campus? I was going to let you." I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the glass bottle I'd carefully prepared before I left the house. "But you pushed it, Spike. You wanted to fight. And when I wouldn't bring the fight to you, you threatened my sister and my lover. Not smart, Spike. Weren't you in the room when I told the story about the man in Vegas? I thought you knew, Spike. I may not be an evil vampire, I may have an upper-planar entity inside me instead of a demon, but Spike..." I pulled a cigarette lighter out of my other pocket and lit the rag hanging out if the bottle's mouth. "Oh, Spike. You poor, misguided fool. Just because I don't have a personal demon doesn't mean I'm not one crazy-assed homicidal bitch. And, my dear, you just wrote yourself onto my shit list."
With a perfect throw, I tossed my Molotov cocktail into the open door of Spike's crypt. It exploded directly in front of him, showering him with flames which rapidly began to spread inside the crypt. I stepped forward and pulled the metal door shut to keep those flames from spreading, then I turned and walked downtown. It was just now noon. Perhaps I might find Willow at the Magic Box.
---
He made it out of his burning house through the basement into the sewers and from there into the water pipes. He found a place where one of the mains was dripping and let the cooling water fall onto his burns. He could feel his skin healing, knew the evidence of the burns would be gone before the sun went down, but the fear they had generated still remained. He had underestimated the daywalker. And he could not afford to do so again. She'd said she was content to leave him alone until he sent his challenge. Perhaps he'd be wise to call a truce with this one.