Rêves…

By midmorning the next day, Rupert Giles was knocking on Andrea’s motel room door. She recognized him from having met the man briefly a couple of times in London a few years before. She wasn’t very pleased to see him here now, but she grudgingly let him in. After a long discussion, sometimes a bit heated, and to which Manon listened without a word, Andrea accepted the former Watcher’s offer to use his – no, Buffy Summers’ – training room. Her instructions had been to keep contacts to the barest minimum between her charge and the turned Slayer, her Sire and the ex-Watcher. But the reality of the situation necessitated some compromises.

Manon was a Slayer that had gone unidentified by the Council, and therefore untrained, up to the moment she was called. That was just the way it went. Some girls trained for years, ready and eager for their potential mission, and were never called. Others had to adjust in a few days. To Andrea’s satisfaction and pride, Manon had embraced her calling, even though she hadn’t been thrilled to leave her country and family. She was supposedly in the US on a paid scholarship to attend a prestigious private school for a year and perfect her already excellent English. The reality, of course, was a little different. Her sacred duty was to prevent the end of the world, by temporarily allying her forces to those of the very creatures it was her task to destroy.

The encounter of the previous night had not been unexpected, but it had happened sooner than Andrea had imagined, taking her a little by surprise. She had been out with Manon, as much for training as to get a sense of what this cursed town was like. She appreciated the girl, even if she wasn’t supposed to get too attached to her, and her enthusiasm at fighting demons was quite pleasing. Yet it was painfully obvious that her fighting technique was still sorely lacking. That was why she had accepted the offer to use the training room of the rogue Slayer, even if that meant risking meeting the two vampires again.

Buffy Summers was dangerous. Not that she was really a threat to Manon’s life; Andrea was sure there was little risk of that, whatever her father had said. No, she was a menace to Manon’s relations with the Council and her Watcher. It wouldn’t do to have yet another Slayer decide she didn’t need the help of the Council of Watchers.

William the Bloody was another matter, just as dangerous but in a different way. He had killed four Slayers. One of them he’d turned. Another one he’d killed only a few days before. Andrea was somewhat perplexed by that, for two reasons. The first was that, according to all the reports she had been able to access, the vampire hadn’t killed one single human in years, not since Buffy, even though his technological leash had been suppressed. Why had he started again, and why Faith? The second surprise was that it appeared that Buffy Summers, although presumably souled and a fighter for the good side, had done nothing to prevent him from killing her fellow Slayer or to punish him for doing so once he had.

Quentin Travers even said they had killed her together, but Andrea had trouble believing it, despite her awareness of the difficult relations between the two Slayers. She had spent countless hours studying all the reports existing about Buffy. The first few years were from Giles’ hand and quite detailed; after that, the reports grew fewer and less precise. But, to the best knowledge of all observers, Buffy Summers had never, ever killed a human being, even after being turned. Why start now? It didn’t make any sense. And if there was one thing Andrea didn’t like, it was confusion.

She would have liked a lot more having a badly turned Slayer to fight. The goal would have been clear, then. Dust her, and the vampire who had turned her. But no, life wasn’t that simple. What she had was a rogue Slayer, who happened to be a souled vampire and who patrolled with her murderous Sire, who had come to the help of a younger Slayer but had not prevented the death of the previous one, who had rejected the Council long ago but still had a close relation with her former Watcher, himself a rogue element. Definitely not the kind of influence she wanted to expose Manon to. This was why she was thoroughly annoyed when, after an hour or so of training, the blonde Slayer, her Sire and Rupert Giles showed up in the shop’s backroom.

The now familiar tingles warned Manon of a close vampiric presence and she instantly stopped punching the bag held by Andrea. She pointed a long finger to the door and her Watcher turned toward the intruders, frowning. Even though she tried to appear detached, Manon felt like a bundle of nerves. Since Andrea had come to her with her incredible news, she had drilled into the new Slayer the idea that vampires were dangerous, evil, and needed to be dusted. Except now there were these two that she couldn’t stake because they were needed, but that she couldn’t trust, because they were vamps. At least, Andrea said she couldn’t trust them. And Manon agreed about the man, she had known before Andrea ever mentioned him that he was deadly, even if she didn’t know who he was then. But the woman… Buffy… Weird name. Crazy Americans. Buffy, she knew she could trust, knew she had to trust, even if she was a vamp, even if her Watcher had told her to stay away from her. She knew it, because she had dreamt it.

Manon was on a prairie, a familiar place, a few minutes from her hometown in the South of France. The grass was tall, with wild flowers of every imaginable color. On her left, in the distance, there was a forest, a small one. In front of her, like construction cubes lying on the grass, a few buildings. One of them was a stable, full of horses, she knew. Another one was a kind of youth hostel. The smallest was the owner’s house. She had been here a few times, a guest of the owner’s son, Axel. No romantic feelings there, at least not from her, just a nice friendship. But why would she be dreaming of this? Because she was aware it was a dream, she knew she was in that so uncomfortable bed, in a Californian motel, not in the beautiful countryside of her homeland. She could hear someone walking behind her and she turned, expecting a familiar face, finding instead someone she had met just a couple of hours before. Buffy was looking at her, an image of serenity. She had on a long summer dress instead of the black attire she had been wearing when she had jumped into her fight earlier. And if Manon had needed one more proof that it was a dream, there it was. The vampire was standing in the sun, and not burning.

“It’s a nice place,” the blonde commented with a smile.

“It’s my dream,” Manon replied mildly. “Why are you here?”

“It’s not just your dream. It’s a Slayer dream. Comes with the package of super strength, accelerated healing and sacred duty.”

As she talked, the woman was walking, picking up flowers as she went. Manon caught up with her, watching her curiously. She seemed very different from the fighter Manon had been warned against and had briefly met. That Buffy, leather-clad and deadly, Manon had been afraid of. A little, not much, she was the Slayer after all, she could deal with vampires. But this Buffy was different. In the light of the sun, she didn’t look so lethal anymore. Just a normal girl. Just like Manon felt.

“Andrea said Slayer dreams are supposed to tell me something,” she said slowly. “So what does this mean?”

Buffy stopped walking and turned toward her. Gone was the light summer dress. She was now back in her slaying uniform. The flowers in her hand had been replaced by a stake.

“I’m the same,” she said. “The woman, the Slayer, the vampire. All the same person. You’re a Slayer too. We’re the same.”

She took a step toward Manon, the hand that held the stake extended to the girl, palm up. Manon looked at the offered piece of wood suspiciously. Under her very eyes, it transformed into the bunch of flowers from earlier. But when she reached for it, it changed again, and it was a stake she grabbed. It felt comfortable in her hand, not awkward anymore as the weapon had seemed for the past week. She glanced up at Buffy, who was smiling warmly.

“I can show you,” she said softly. “If you trust me, I can make you the Slayer you need to be.”

Again, she extended her hand toward Manon, empty this time. A clear certitude imposed itself on the youngest Slayer. If she took that hand, she would learn more than her Watcher would ever be able to teach her. But could she do it? Could she trust the blonde vampire?

Buffy hadn’t moved an inch, but again she had changed, back to the summer dress, yet oddly covered with the black duster. Tentatively, Manon reached out to the proffered hand.

Buffy and her Watcher came closer to where Andrea and Manon stood. The other man – Spike, Manon thought Andrea had called him – remained by the door, arms crossed, a very weird grin on his face.

“The deal was that you would let us train without interfering!” Andrea said angrily.

The man had the grace to look a little embarrassed as he replied. “I lied.”

“We don’t have time for these games,” Buffy interrupted, her voice very serious. “We have only a few weeks. We still don’t know what we will fight, but it’s bound to be big if two Slayers are needed. So we can’t have one of them at only half her skill.”

At that point, the blonde’s eyes left Andrea and settled on Manon. And they were full of something the young girl wouldn’t have expected. They were pleading. And so was her voice when she said:

“If you trust me, I can make you the Slayer you need to be.”

For a second, Buffy’s cream tank top and gray sweat pants were replaced by a long dress and black duster. Manon blinked, and the illusion was gone. She reached out to Andrea, touching her arm to catch her attention.

“Ce qu’elle dit,” she said in French, reverting to her first language at the shock of hearing Buffy’s words, “j’en ai rêvé cette nuit.”

“Quel genre de rêve?“ Andrea asked, frowning a little.

“Prophétique, je crois. Je pense que je dois lui faire confiance.“

For a long moment, Andrea studied her young charge’s earnest face, obviously thinking intently about what she had just said. Then, slowly, she nodded. Turning back to the vampire and old man, the Watcher announced:

“We accept. But no more lies between us, is that clear?”

The man nodded his assent, but the blonde looked puzzled.

“OK, what did I miss?” she asked. “Why the change of heart? I thought it would take a lot longer than that.”

The ex-Watcher glanced at Manon before returning his gaze to the blonde.

“Manon had a dream, probably a Slayer dream, which told her to trust you.”

Of all things, the girl started pouting as she heard the explanation.

“Why does everyone understand French except me? I took two years of French in high school; you’d think at least I could understand what she says!”

Manon couldn’t help laughing softly as her elder, the supposedly lethal Slayer turned vampire, suddenly looked like a sulking teenager.

“You teach me how to fight,” she proposed, offering her hand to the blonde, “I teach you French.”

From his spot against the wall, Spike observed the two odd couples. Two Watchers, two Slayers, trying to figure out whether they could trust each other. If that was really what the White Hats were like, it was a wonder they always won.

After some more discussion, Watcher-girl accepted Giles request for help in translating the damn prophecy. He didn’t really need her, all he needed was time, but as they had plotted their little act it had seemed better to get the woman out of the way. Easier that way to have the girl’s full attention. The two fellow British left the room to go back to the Magic Box, the woman turning back a few times, obviously not very comfortable at leaving her girl alone with vampires.

Spike approached the two Slayers then, ready to take part in the training session. However, before he could even say a word, the red-haired, brown-eyed girl was taking a step back, her body tensing as if readying for attack.

“I trust you,” she told Buffy, “but not him. I won’t train with him.”

Buffy glanced at Spike, and he returned her puzzled look. No, he had done nothing to scare the girl. Not yet, at least.

“Why not?” Buffy asked. “It would be faster if we both teach you.”

“No. He’s a killer. I saw it.”

Both Buffy and Spike stiffened at the girl’s words.

“And what did you see, gamine?” Spike said coldly.

“Vous,” she replied just as coldly. “J’ai rêvé de vous. Vous avez tué une femme. Vous l’avez noyée. Je l’ai vu dans mes rêves.”

“OK, this is becoming so annoying,” Buffy commented with a frown. “Translation please?”

“She dreamt of me killing Faith,” Spike replied, his throat suddenly dry.

His Slayer’s eyes widened as her gaze traveled between the girl and him. If they told her Faith wasn’t dead, she wouldn’t believe them. Why should she? Or she would tell her Watcher, and that just wouldn’t do.

“You girls have fun,” Spike said blankly. “I’ll just sit over there and watch.”

With that, he left them standing in the middle of the room and settled himself on the worn couch. Just when he thought he had managed to put the brunette out of his mind, the new girl had to bring it all back with a few words.

“So,” he heard the kid ask Buffy, a bit surprised. “He really did it? What I saw in my dream was true?”

“You don’t know the whole story,” Buffy replied with a sigh. “If I told you now, you wouldn’t believe me. Maybe when you get to know us better you will. Just trust me, and trust that Spike won’t do a thing to hurt you.”

With that, they started their training. Spike just watched as his Slayer showed different moves to the younger girl. He itched to give his comments and opinion, but managed to keep his mouth shut. It was rapidly apparent that Manon was a quick study. They just had to hope it would be enough.