***************************************

Nikki rose from the bed, stretched. Felt good. Felt great, in fact, as strength sang through her limbs and her head was clearer than it had been in days. She glanced down, at the empty thermos of blood.

She’d experienced her fair share of angst over that particular…development. And Spike – that vampire – had witnessed it. She’d been ill, and vulnerable, but that was still no excuse for her lapse.

No more, though. She was stronger now, and with her health had returned her essential pragmatism. Whatever it took to get well. Whatever it took, and then there’d be a reckoning for whatever (whoever?) had made her this way.

Crouching down, she toyed with her knife and the collection of stakes that had appeared her first night here. She’d expected them to conveniently disappear once she had healed enough to wield them, but they remained in plain sight. Unlike the vampire.

Since that day he’d fed her (since she’d suckled from his fingers like a child, and he’d murmured nonsense in her ear, against her burning skin) she hadn’t seen him. She’d awakened the past three mornings to find blood set out at the foot of the steps, but instinct told her that he didn’t venture any further than that. Time, Nikki decided, to seek him out.

She climbed the stairway for the first time, noting the warped, misshapen wood and wobbly banister. This house had been cared for, once, but now it sagged with a sort of reluctant decay. Above her, she could the muted rumblings of activity – the shrill noise of a television set, the occasional female shout or eruption of laughter. The gang’s all here, Nikki thought wryly. She gave the basement door a gentle kick and it swung open.

The sunlight hurt her eyes. But she wasn’t going up in flames, so she wasn’t going to complain. Not a vampire, she reminded herself sternly. I am not a vampire. I’m just…confused. Damn it.

She took a last hopeful look around the messy kitchen, wondering if maybe something would strike her fancy. She liked strawberries, she remembered, and potatoes au gratin and chocolate ice cream…nausea rose in her stomach and she forced it down.

Where to prowl around first? To her left was the back door of the home, and outside she could hear girls. Lots of girls. Yelling, fighting, whining, giggling. Cheerleading practice? Meeting of the local chapter of the Andy Gibb fanclub? I’ll pass, thanks.

The rest of the house sprawled to her right. Tinny, synthesized pop music burst in short spurts from the living room.

All the things she said, all the things she said, running through my head…Nikki edged cautiously to the doorway and surveyed the scene.

The vampire sat on the couch, comfy as you please, next to the brown-haired boy of whom she had a vague, ambivalent recollection from the night she arrived. Their eyes were riveted to the television screen before them.

For long moments there was no conversation. Then Spike asked, “What are we watching?”

“Russians,” the boy answered, his gaze never leaving the TV set. “Lesbians. Hotties.” He paused. “I think they sing, too.”

The vampire heaved a sigh. “Brilliant.”

“That’s one word for it.” They subsided into silence again.

I'm in serious shit, I feel totally lost
If I'm asking for help it's only because
Being with you has opened my eyes
Could I ever believe such a perfect surprise?

Okay, so she’d expected to find the vampire to be engaged in slightly more sinister activities. Draining the lifeblood of beautiful young virgins, or plotting world domination, or campaigning against the ERA. Not ogling girl-on-girl action accompanied by really, really crappy music.

Nikki debated for a moment, then stepped around the corner. Spike noticed her first – no surprise there; he’d always had his on her, hadn’t he? Good for him. She’d be the last thing he ever saw.

He jumped up from the couch. “You…”

She nodded drily. “Me.”

The boy rose as well. “It’s Nikki, right? I’m Xander.” He extended a hand, and she smiled engagingly as she shook it. Watch me play nice with the kiddies, vampire.

“Hi, Xander.” She made a point of looking around. “Is, um…Buffy at home? Because I’d like to thank her. For allowing me to stay here. I know that she took a chance, and I appreciate it.”

I can try to pretend, I can try to forget
But it's driving me mad, going out of my head

Xander grinned rather appealingly. “Not a problem. The more potential Slayers, the merrier, I always say. Under my breath, while cursing.”

Potential, indeed. She could knock the rest of these bright-eyed kids on their potential asses, assuming the vampire didn’t dispose of them first. Were they in league with him? Or just phenomenally stupid? The little girls, at least, were too young to know any better. Probably charmed by his whole tortured-rebel façade. Heaven grant me patience…

“You look great,” Xander was saying. “I mean, like, incredibly great…” He trailed off after a frigid glare from Spike. “Health-wise, that is. Not that you don’t look great, um, other-wise. You’re great-looking in general, and will you please interrupt me before I embarrass us both more than I have already?”

She laughed – a little shy, a little sweet. “Thank you. That’s nice to hear. Anyway…”

“Buffy’s not here,” the vampire said shortly. “Out with Willow, getting supplies. Guess you’ll have to save the warm fuzzies for another time.”

“Don’t pay any attention to Spike. He’s our resident psychotic stalker, so his social skills are a little off. ‘Course, with all the quality time you two have spent together you’ve probably figured that out.”

Nikki bit her lip to keep from shouting. They knew what he was capable of? And they tolerated his presence? More than, judging by the current Slayer’s affection toward him. Oh, Nikki had not missed that even while she floated in and out of consciousness.

She turned that hesitant smile up to Xander once more. “I’m just glad to be up and about. You have a lovely home.”

He rose to the bait, as she figured he would. “Oh, no. No! Buffy and I aren't -- the house is hers. Just hers. Well, and Dawn's, I guess. We’re all kind of camped out here, until the next apocalypse passes through. You know how it is.”

I’m beginning to get an idea. “Should I go outside? It sounds like…”

Xander brightened. “Let me go introduce you around. The girls are really curious about you. You’ll have to come up with a good story.”

“Hi. My name is Nikki Lowell Wood. I was the Slayer twenty-five years ago, but then our buddy Spike here – say hello, Spike! – killed me on a subway. I woke up to find myself in 2003, barely able to stand up straight and on the verge of death – again – until poor Spike accidentally left his dinner lying around. Now I drink blood like it’s dollar margarita night at the Soul Grill. Can’t stomach real food, but at least I’m once more strong enough to spend the rest of my unnatural life happily torturing certain idiot blond vampires. I have a son who's older than I am. After I find him and make sure he's okay I'm going to rip this entire Godforsaken town apart 'til somebody or something turns me back to normal. I’m also a Sagittarius and enjoy long walks on the beach and Cary Grant movies.”

She stuck her hands in the pockets of her pants. “Oh, I’m just an ordinary girl.”

Part 7: Invisible Ink

| HOME | WHAT'S NEW | ABOUT | FANFICTION | BLOG | LINKS | VERBIS | NOMINATIONS |