Across town the current Slayer jerked awake from a short nap. Her sleep had been plagued by nightmares involving Spike, Drusilla, Angel and an unknown woman whose face had been in shadows. There was grave danger, quite possibly another prophecy, and she really should talk to Giles.
Ten minutes later Buffy was headed towards the Bronze. Giles could wait. She needed to make sure that Angel was okay. They had agreed to meet there at 9:00 for a capuchino before she began her nightly rounds and she was running late.
The Bronze was jumping as it always was on a Friday night and Buffy pushed her way through the crowd, looking for Angel. When she spotted him, she stiffened in anger. He wasn't alone and the thing he was with sent her extra senses into an uproar.
Buffy palmed the small stake she wore up her sleeve and held it inconspicuously down at her side as she approached the table where the two were deep in conversation. To Buffy's further disgust the female was very beautiful and Angel was hanging on every word. At least he didn't appear to be staring blatantly at the large breasts that threatened to burst free from the black spandex dress the witch wore.
The woman looked up first when Buffy stopped at their table and Buffy glared at her.
"Buffy." Angel was startled by her presence.
Buffy chose to be catty. "You did say 9:00, didn't you? I'm only a few minutes late, but I see you couldn't wait and found some company." She snarled the last word and grew even angrier at the woman's tinkling laugh.
"Buffy? People here actually name their children such things?"
Buffy hated her even more and decided to stake the she- demon before the night was out.
Angel tried to pacify his angry girlfriend. "Lily's an old...friend." The hesitation before friend doomed him.
Buffy snapped, "I thought you didn't hang with your old friends anymore."
Lily looked in amusement at the woman who was so obviously jealous and so very young. If looks could kill....Well, in some cases they actually could; best to think of something else and try to defuse this situation. "Angelus and I have not seen each other for a long time and we are not friends. Now, if you will excuse me, I came here to relax and have found that to be impossible."
Lily rose gracefully and before Buffy could stop her, she disappeared into the crowd.
"Who the Hell is she?!" Buffy snapped at Angel.
"Calm down."
"No," she answered stubbornly. "I could sense she was a vampire from across the room. I hate it when they come in here."
"Sit down, Buffy."
The tone of Angel's voice forced Buffy to sit gingerly on the seat just vacated by the female vampire. It would probably give her some terrible disease.
Angel lowered his voice as she sat silently and glared. "It's true, I don't normally have anything to do with other vampires, but Lily's different."
Buffy raised the stake she held up to the table and began to twirl it between her fingers. "Oh? She's different? Pray tell, how? Does she have a gypsy curse too? Did they curse her with great, huge breasts?"
Angel started to laugh at the icy sarcasm in her voice. "Don't you dare laugh at me," Buffy warned. "I mean it!"
"I'm sorry. You're so obviously jealous." Buffy tried to protest but he cut her off. "There's no reason. I love you," he said softly.
Buffy melted just a little and dropped the stake. "Then who is she?"
"She tried to kill me a little over two hundred years ago."
"Were you annoying and secretive with her, too?" The biting sarcasm was back.
Angel grinned. "I love it when your on your high horse." He reached across the table and took Buffy's hands in his own. Buffy melted at his touch. "Lily is not your typical vampire. I believe she has a soul."
"Gypsy curse?" Buffy asked flippantly.
"No. I don't think she ever lost her soul." Buffy was startled by the sadness in his voice. "It took me nearly one hundred and fifty years to find any evidence that made any sense to back up all the wild rumors surrounding her. She kills vampires. As far as I know, she always has." Angel finished gently, "She was a Slayer."
*****
Outside the Bronze, Lily stood under a street lamp watching the cars pass by. Although she enjoyed most modern comforts, she still preferred the old horse and carriage--much more dignified.
A drunk man staggered by her and her nose twitched at his smell, reminescent of the gutters. That smell hadn't changed in all her long life. London had smelled that way when she had walked its streets under the bright sun--on the rare day that the sun had shown brightly. It had been shining on the last day of her mortal life and she had reveled in it, managing for a brief moment to ignore the death surrounding her in the summer of 1666.
*****
Buffy sat stunned by Angel's revelation. A Slayer? That vampire had been a Slayer? She shook her head in disbelief.
"I know this is hard to believe, but all the evidence points to it."
Buffy began to tremble and her lip quivered. "I never wanted to think about the possibility. I...I always thought they would just kill...me." Her voice cracked and she pulled her hands away from Angel's to cover her tearing eyes. She hated thinking about things like this.
"Buffy, you need to believe and Giles needs to know. If Lily can be persuaded to help us, things may get better."
"Is this what happens to Slayers who get turned? They keep their souls?" Angel could hear the tears in her voice and it tore at his heart.
"I think so. Come on, let's get out of here and go talk to Giles."
Reluctantly, Buffy rose, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her flannel shirt like a child. She reached desperately for Angel's hand and gripped it tightly, letting him lead her out the door. They walked in silence to the High School and slipped in the side door to the Library.
Giles sat at one of the main tables drinking his ever present cup of Earl Grey and munching on something disgusting called a digestive biscuit which he was always trying to get Buffy to eat. He looked up at their entrance then glanced at his watch.
"You're here early. To be honest, I didn't expect you at all. Did you run into trouble?"
Buffy slumped into the chair across from him, folding her arms tightly across her chest and Angel sat down next to her, placing his hands lightly on the table. Since Buffy was apparently not going to answer her Watcher, Angel took the initiative.
"Have you ever heard of a Slayer named Lily St. James?" Giles was startled by Angel's question and rubbed his nose thoughtfully.
"Yes," he answered, "She was English. I remember reading about her when I was young. I haven't read about her in, oh, fifteen years. Seventeenth century. Her Watcher was John Byron, a nephew of the first Lord Byron." At Buffy's baffled look, Giles sighed and continued. "An ancestor of Lord Byron the poet." He shook his head in disgust at the disgraceful state of education in this country. "Try paying attention in English class!"
"What does this have to do with anything?" Buffy retorted.
"Well, nothing. I like Byron's poetry; it's how I remember the name of the Watcher. You know, there have been quite a few over the centuries; I can't be expected to remember them all." Giles was growing more exasperated by the second until Angel spoke again.
"Do you have a copy of his journal?"
Giles nodded. "I'll go find it." He got up and walked into his office, returning a few minutes later with a thick red book. Once he was seated again, he opened it gingerly. It was an old copy and the pages were beginning to crumble. Giles murmured to himself. "Oh, dear, I need to copy this before it deteriorates any further."
"Can you give us a capsulated version of her history?" Angel asked.
"Well, let's see what I can remember.....Lily St. James was born a few years before the beginning of the Civil War..."
"I thought you said she was English and wasn't the Civil War only a hundred years ago?" Buffy interrupted.
Sighing, Giles continued. "The *English* Civil War began in 1642. Miss St. James was born around then to a well-off family in the south of England. I believe her father was a large land-owner, but as a Roman Catholic, had no expectations outside of his small sphere of influence. She was found by the Watchers when she was fourteen or fifteen and turned over to John Byron. At that time, a young woman of impeccable birth could not just go off with some man, so they married. It was very common until the last century or so."
"Did she have a choice?" Buffy was stunned, thinking about what her life might have been like if it had been a hundred years earlier.
"The marriage came part and parcel with her duties as a Slayer. If she had been a serving girl or someone of low birth, they probably would not have married. It was a very different time, Buffy." Giles took a sip of his tea before continuing. "Anyway, she was activated as Slayer two years later and fought for several years. They lived in London, at that time a very popular place for vampires. When the Restoration came, the vampires became very fashionable in the decadent Court of King Charles II, so the Byrons went to Court as well. I actually have a picture of her somewhere."
Giles leafed quickly but gingerly through the book and pulled out a loose photograph obviously taken around the turn of the century. He handed it to Buffy. It was a photo of a portrait. The woman in old fashioned clothes and ringlets was definitely Lily. Angel felt a sense of accomplishment as he looked at the undeniable proof to support his long held beliefs.
"She was pretty," Buffy said faintly.
Giles took back the photograph. "Hm, yes, most Slayers are." He flipped carefully to the back of the journal. "Their ending was rather mysterious. Let me read you the last few entries in John Byron's journal."
"'At Lily's insistence we have returned to London. The height of foolishness. The plague has returned for the second consecutive summer and the government, King and Court have fled to the country. Lily allowed us to join them for two weeks, but then was determined to return to her responsibilities. True, the vampires are running rampant through the nearly deserted streets of London--they seem to thrive on the plague, being welcomed in the guise of plague doctors and taking weakened victims in their own beds--but Lily is not immune to the plague...and neither am I.'"
Giles turned the page. "The next entry reads, 'we have been in London for one week. The heat is oppressive. The naturally rank smell of London in summer is mixed with the smell of the dead--truly nauseating. I awoke feeling ill and sent Lily out for some herbs to settle my stomach. An hour has passed and she has yet to return. As it is broad daylight, she is probably only having trouble finding the necessary herbs. It is a shame that nothing can help me. During my morning ablutions, I discovered the yellow pustules under my arms and at my groin. I sent Lily away to keep this from her as long as possible and, pray God, to protect her. I have the plague.'"
"Four days later," Giles continued. "'This may be my last entry. My fever has dropped enough to allow me to hold a pen, but my thoughts wander. Lily...she is my life...so precious...a black pearl amongst sparkling jewels...rarer than....Lily, she has tended me day and night. I fear she will contract the plague. It is my worst fear--replaces my fear that she will be taken by the demons she fights. I do not want her to die this way...so undignified. Our house was marked today, but I forced her to slip out. I do not want her here. She left fully armed and so beautiful in her fury. I believe she finally has accepted that I will not recover. Hopefully, she will send several vampires to Hell tonight, working out her anger at the world. She must continue. It is her duty. I only wish that we could have lived a normal life. She so wanted to bear my children. To have a daughter with Lily's features, her passion, her charm, it would have been the completion of my life. Please Lily, continue. Be careful. Do not go recklessly into the night....Lily?'"
Giles set the book down. "It ends there. From other sources I remember that John Byron was killed by a vampire, presumably that night. On a baffling note, his body was found drained of blood in a church not far from their home. It was a stone church and most of it withstood the Great Fire of London which began three days before his body was found."
"The Great Fire of London decimated the vampire population," Angel chimed in. It is rumored that nearly three hundred vampires died in those days, including some very old ones."
"Rather convenient," said Buffy suspiciously.
Giles looked at Angel. "Why did you ask me about Lily St. James?"
"Because she's here in Sunnydale."
*****
Still standing under the streetlight, Lily watched Angelus and his little human friend leave the club and begin walking quickly down the street away from her position. Every instinct in Lily told her to return to her motel room, pack her things and get the Hell out of this town, but instead she found herself following the two.
Lily was a little puzzled when they slipped inside Sunnydale High School, but continued to follow them to the doors of the Library. A quick glance through the window in the door showed them sitting with an older man at a table covered in books. Her sharp ears picked up the conversation and she flinched as the older man mentioned John. John....the only man she had ever loved.
*****
Lily had been crying for hours. That morning the door of their house had been marked with the symbol of the plague forcing her to accept the reality of John's illness. He was deep in the later stages of the plague, ravished with fever, delusional and in such obvious pain. She had bathed him continuously until her muscles screamed from fatigue, the tears streaming unending down her cheeks. Finally, John had begun to calm and had told her to go out and do her duty. She did not want to leave him, had protested his decision, but ten years of obeying his every request found her changing into a black gown and loading a bag with stakes and crosses.
As she wiped the tears from her eyes, Lily glanced in the mirror in her dressing room. Calm swept over her and she knew John would not survive the night. There was nothing she could do for him, no way to ease his suffering any more than she already had. If he wanted her to fight, she would do as he asked. A proud man, she knew he did not want her to see him die.
So, Lily went, slipping out the kitchen door into the garden and over the wall to the mews, on her way to Covent Garden, a gathering spot for vampires.
Five hours later, as dawn approached, Lily sat tiredly on the steps of the Temple Church on Fleet Street. She had killed eleven vampires and had chased the last one for several blocks before dispatching him on the steps of this ancient church. As the sun rose, Lily momentarily let all her cares and worries disappear and simply existed in the exquisite knowledge of God's power. No matter what Hell she suffered, no matter that the love of her life was most likely dead, the sun continued to rise every dawn....and it was magnificent.
Lily rose, basking in the hint of warmth coming from the sun, and stretched her sore muscles. One moment of pure joy--it was all she needed to find the strength to return home.
*****
Lily came out of her revery at Angel's statement announcing her presence in Sunnydale and suddenly the connection hit her. This must be the Slayer and her Watcher. The whole evening must have rattled her more than she had realized--she should have sensed the Slayer as soon as she saw her.
The Slayer's name was BUFFY?
Shaking her head in amused disbelief--and not even allowing the thought that this was a stupid move to stick in her mind--Lily pushed open the door to the Library and stepped inside.
"What do you mean, she's here in Sunnydale!?" cried the older man in alarm.
Buffy made a startled sound and Giles turned his head to see what she was staring at.
"Um, yes?" he said, trying to be librarianly, then realized it was nearly 10:00 at night.
"Lily." Angel rose to his feet and gestured for her to join them. "I'm glad you changed your mind."
Lily smiled at the disgusted snort that came from the little Slayer and walked over to the table. The other man, the Watcher, had risen to his feet as well and had removed his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose, as if stunned by the sight of her. Lily happened to glance down and, seeing the photograph of herself, picked it up. It was by a student of Lely, not as good as the original Angelus had destroyed two hundred years before, but good enough to hang in some museum according to the caption.
"I recall when this was painted. It was for my twenty-first birthday, a gift from my beloved husband. Several of the students of Peter Lely attended the sitting. This was probably the best of their attempts at painting me."
Giles grasped eagerly onto something that made some sense. "What happened to the original?"
A quirky, sad smile crossed Lily's lips and she glanced at Angelus, who suddenly looked very guilty. "Your friend here put his fist through it."
"I was rather destructive in those days," Angel replied apologetically.
Giles finally was able to ask an intelligent, pertinent question. "Are you really Lily St. James? And, if so, how?"
The answer came from the young Slayer. "She's a vampire," Buffy replied in a cold voice.
Giles paled and stepped back, startled. "They made you a vampire? No one knew what had happened to you, but the next Slayer was activated so you were presumed dead."
"Close enough. I won't hurt you, so you might as well sit down and relax."
Giles sat down heavily. He did not like being this close to a vampire--Angel he had reluctantly gotten used to. Lily sat down gracefully at the head of the table and Angel returned to his seat next to the Slayer who glowered at Lily and crossed her arms defensively across her chest.
Lily took up the story where Giles had left off, her voice betraying the sadness she felt as the memories flooded back.
"I returned to our home that early morning, believing I would find John dead. I did...but he had been killed by a vampire. I can only guess that in his delusion, John invited the monster in. To me, this was worse than him dying from the plague. For a vampire to take advantage of a dying man....For me not to have been there to protect him. Well, I raged and I cried and I planned my revenge. I wasn't thinking straight. I didn't think about the fact that John had been writing in his Watcher Journal." She shook her head in self-disgust.
"The vampires came for me at dusk as I left the house. There were at least twenty and I couldn't fight them all. I remember thinking that at least I would join my husband in Heaven and then everything went black."
"When I awoke it was the next night and I had been thrown back into my house, out of the sun's light. They wanted me to suffer as a vampire; maybe they knew that I would. When I discovered what they had done to me, when I felt the hunger come over me for the first time, I went mad."
"I don't remember everything that followed. I knew that I couldn't bear to have John's body destroyed, so I took it and his journal to a stone church. It didn't hurt to enter the church as I believed that it would....I also remember thinking that I needed to destroy as many vampires as I could. The next and last thing I remember for a while was setting several fires."
Giles interrupted, "YOU started the Great Fire of London?"
"Apparently." Lily smiled. "I did decimate the vampire population of London....The next thing I remember clearly was an evening in autumn. I woke at dusk on my estate in Berkshire. I was sane again. Somehow I had found my way home. I knew that I had killed to survive--I remembered the taste of blood--but I don't know who I killed. Since that night, I have not killed an innocent human. In fact, I tend to take only what I need, even from the most evil mortals."
"You don't kill?" Giles asked skeptically.
"I don't need to. Vampires don't need that much blood to survive--a cup or so every couple of days. The hunger is always there, but I can control it."
Buffy was intrigued by Lily even though she obviously wanted her gone, if not a pile of dust somewhere. "Angel thinks you still have your soul."
"So do I. Except for the first few months when I reveled in the destruction of the vampires with callous disregard for the humans who died, I have never felt evil. I don't believe there is a demon inside me."
"You'd know if there was," Angel said ruthfully, "and with a soul and a demon in the same body it can be quite a struggle."
Lily shook her head. "There's no struggle inside me. But, don't get me wrong, I do believe that the rest of the vampires in the world are demons and I continue to do what I was trained to do."
Giles was surprised. "You slay vampires?"
"I'm a Slayer."
Everything was quiet for a moment, then Angel spoke up. "I met Lily in Paris in 1788. I was lucky to survive our encounter. After she tried to kill me, I started asking around about her. She wasn't well known and she didn't stay in one place for very long, but there were legends of a dark goddess, a vampire who killed her own kind. As far as I know, very few vampires made the connection before it was too late. It was a good place to start and I finally put two and two together and came up with Lily St. James, former Slayer."
"You were research boy?" Buffy teased. Angel twitched uncomfortably.
"It took me one hundred and fifty years. I actually spent very little time on the project until recent years."
"Yes, you were having such fun brutalizing your way across Europe." Lily's comment, dripping with sarcasm, amused Buffy who suddenly found herself liking the woman--well, just a teeny bit.
"Hey, are all Slayers born witty, 'cause, that's something I might have said."
The two Slayers grinned at each other; Giles sighed wearily, realizing that he now had two headaches to deal with; and Angel decided that silently taking the torment was the better part of valor.
End Chapter 2