Title: A Girl of Distinction

Author: Siryn

Rating: PG

Feedback: Sure – siryn99@hotmail.com

Archive: When The Clock Strikes, anywhere – please ask.

Summary: A girl playing the waiting game finally gets picked. Notes: Thanks to Daera and Schunard for all of their help.

20 May 2003, 2:20am – Florence, Italy

The candlelight flickered as a soft breeze blew through the open windows. Pressing herself as close to the wall as she could, Talia crept towards the door. If she could make to the chapel across the street, she might live.

Groping in the dim light she found the doorknob and turned it slowly. Her vision wavered slightly, but she could see stairs leading down. She slipped though the door and closed it, wedging one of her stakes underneath the frame to block the door. It wouldn’t hold for long, any head start she could get was better than none. Wrapping her hand around the bleeding gash in her side, she grasped the banister and headed for the door. Before she reached the last step, she heard glass breaking above her.

“Merda,” she swore softly. She had hoped the taser had stunned this one enough to keep him down longer than his predecessors. The door had three locks and as she fumbled with them, she heard something heavy slamming against the door. The last lock opened and sucking in a deep breath, she ran across the Via San Gallo and up the front stairs of the San Giovannina as if the Devil himself were behind her.

*******

When she woke up, she wasn’t on the steps, but downstairs in her room. The familiar scent of incense comforted her and she almost fell back asleep.

“No, no little one,” a deep voice said from the doorway. Talia struggled to sit up as he entered the room, holding a cup and saucer in his hand. Setting the tea down, he sat next to her, checking the scrape on her face. “Cara, did I not tell you that it’s not polite to throw yourself through windows? Doors are much easier on your face,” he said with a chuckle. “Here, drink this. It will help a bit.”

She took the cup and tested it with her tongue. “Too hot. You always make it too hot,” she said with a tiny scowl. He didn’t answer, just looked at her with the serene face of a priest.

“I expect you want to know what happened,” she asked with a sigh. “I was in Piazza del Universite, near the Accademia, on my way back here. It seemed quiet, nothing out of the ordinary. I was on my way back when he came at me. Same as the last two, eyes seared shut, the carvings, the monk habit and the curved knife. I went for the dagger, but he knocked out of my hand. It was almost as if he knew what I was going to do. He caught me, but I twisted and he only got my side. I went limp and when he leaned back down to finish me off, I shot him in the neck with the taser. I ran, and when I realized that he was coming again, I jumped through the window of Signora Calona’s flat. I was barely able to get here before him. That’s all I remember.” The tears were dripping down her face and without hesitation he gathered her in his arms.

“Talia, why are you crying? You have been in worse fights than this,” he said, “We will survive this, as we have all the others, I promise.” He handed her a handkerchief from one of his pockets and she wiped her face. “Now go back to sleep, we will discuss this in morning when we have more information.” He kissed on the forehead and she was asleep again before he shut the door.

********

Moving silently through the halls of the monastery, he unlocked the door to his study. The lights glinted off the impressive array of weapons lining the wall. Collapsing in his leather chair, Father Antonio Bellucci breathed a sigh of relief. The Bringers had almost gotten her this time.

He had been studying Theology at Oxford when the Watcher’s Counsel had approached him. For years he had been the Counsel’s liaison to the Church and expert on exorcism, but not an active Watcher. Until Talia. Her parents had been killed in a car accident when she was thirteen and to avoid her being made a ward of the state, the Counsel had drawn up paperwork making him her next of kin, an estranged uncle. For some time he thought that she might become the Slayer, only to have Buffy, Kendra, and Faith chosen instead. In spite of that, they worked hard, turning the unused rooms in the monastery as training rooms. The vampire population in Florence had been small since the flood in 1966, but with the rise of tourism, they had come back slowly. It had provided them with some opportunities for field training and though she was proficient with many weapons, they did not hunt on a regular basis. He worried that she was too isolated sometimes, shunning social activities for her training. Even during the day, she was quiet, preferring to spend her time at museums and other churches, sketching in her notebook.

He picked up a letter on his desk, folding and unfolding it. It was from an old friend, Rupert Giles. He had explained the situation with the First and had urged him to send Talia to Sunnydale and join the fight. He knew that he should send her, that the Slayer could protect her better than he could, but his heart wouldn’t let him. He had grown to love her like a daughter and if the world was going to end, he didn’t want her to spend it on a Hellmouth half a world away. He knew about the Bringers and the damage they were causing to the known Potentials, so they did what they always did, prepared for battle. The tasers were military quality and had come from a supplier high in the Italian government. He drilled her in hand-to-hand combat and knife work. But all their hard work had been for nothing. The Bringers were far faster and stronger than they had anticipated. She had been lucky the first time, stunning him barely long enough to slit his throat. The second fought ruthlessly and she got four broken ribs and a slice of her forearm before she was able to escape, kicking him over the bridge into the Arno. This one had been close, too close. He could not cross onto the consecrated grounds of the church, keeping her safe for one more night. After getting her inside and tended to, he scrubbed the steps where she had bled, knowing it would be a siren song to any vampire in the area, church or not. She had looked so young, dark hair spilling over the pale blue sheets, lips drained of color. For a moment he saw her at thirteen again, crying herself to sleep and calling for her mother.

Rereading Giles’ letter, he chastised himself for being selfish. Perhaps she would be better off in Sunnydale, joining the battle. The thought of her dying broke his heart, but he knew it was the right choice. Later this afternoon, he would make the arrangements and send her to meet her destiny.

*****

It was mid-afternoon when she finally woke. She winced as she stretched the wound on her side still tender. The dizziness passed after a second and she stood, her stomach deciding where her first stop would be. Pulling on her robe, she made her way to the small kitchen.

The sun was shining through the window as she made her espresso. The bitterness matched her mood and despite the many hours of sleep she still felt exhausted. Nibbling on a pastry, she found herself suddenly not hungry. It was guilt gnawing at her stomach.

She had lied to him. No matter how she tried to rationalize it, there it was. The only person she really cared about in the whole world and she had deliberately deceived him. Again.

She had not been just sketching last night. A rumor had been circulating that something had been killing people, mostly young female tourists. She knew how to read between the lines of news stories and wasn’t without her own sources. There was a vampire stalking the city. Every night for a month she had been tracking him. Father Bellucci would have forbidden her to do it, so she had told him she was working late at the art school every night. Last night she had finally seen him.

He was sitting in an open air café near the Duomo, looking completely nonplussed by the chatter of the tourists swirling around him. In fact, he seemed to revel in the teeming mass of humanity on display. A group of girls about her age came stumbling out of a bar a few doors down and she watched him gaze at them, almost seeing his eyes turn gold with hunger. In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

Cursing herself she made to follow the women, hoping to keep them alive long enough to get back to wherever they were staying. She was too far behind them when he grabbed the first one. The girl had been trailing behind her friends and didn’t notice the arm shoot out from the alleyway and drag her into the dark. Running as hard as she could, she made to the alley just as he sunk his teeth into her neck. The girl’s eyes were on her in a silent plea for help, but she froze. He was looking at her too. She was frozen and suddenly felt a voice at the back of her mind, a soft whisper filled with pleasure and pain. Unconsciously, she stepped forward, but the slap of the girl’s body hitting the wet cobblestone snapped her back to reality. Tensing the spring-loaded stakes on her wrists, she waited for him to speak first.

“Do you have something to say, little one?” he asked, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a linen handkerchief. “Or shall I just kill you and get it over with?” He smirked at her and stepped casually over his kill.

With the flick of her wrist the first stake imbedded into his right shoulder. “I’m not the one whose going to die, you are,” she replied defiantly. Taking advantage of his distraction, she fired another stake, this one lodging firmly in his stomach. He lunged for her and she ducked, reaching into her jacket for another stake. Anticipating her move, he grabbed for her wrist, twisting it painfully. She kicked out blindly, catching him behind the knees. They rolled together, each trying to get the upper hand. Working one hand free, she went for the bottle of holy water in her pocket. Before he knew what she was doing, she smashed it over the open wound on his stomach. Screaming out, he sprang away from her. She stood up, poised to stake him fast, before he could recover. What she didn’t expect was the Bringer tackling her from behind. There was no way she could fight them both and before she could think, the Bringer’s hand was around her throat, pressing her against the wall.

“Seems you have many enemies, little one,” the vampire mocked. Hissing through his teeth he pulled the stake out of his torso, and she heard it clatter against the ground. “I wonder if you will taste as luscious as you look.” He advanced on them, but stopped short when the Bringer pulled the blade from his robes. He made a guttural sound and shook his head. Her vision was starting to blur, but she saw the vampire back away, still clutching his stomach. When her eyes could focus again, he was gone. The weak moonlight glinted off the curved knife and everything seemed to be in slow motion. She felt the knife in her side, slicing clear through her leather jacket. Her foot connected with her attacker’s stomach and he loosened his hold on her throat. With her less injured hand she Talia grasped for the taser on her belt. He was going for the second pass when she fired the electricity into the side of his head. He dropped her and she slid to the ground, gasping for air. There was blood everywhere and there was no telling how long he would stay down. Pulling her shirt tightly around her stomach, she started to run. Home wasn’t far, but the combination of blood loss and fatigue was taking its toll on her. It wasn’t until she could hear him closing in on her that she realized she’d taken a wrong turn and was one block too far over. Desperately searching for a sign, she saw Signora Calona’s open window. She scrambled up the fire escape and jumped through. In the narrow view down the street, she saw her pursuer hot on her trail. It took everything she had not to collapse on the floor right there but she knew she couldn’t. The next thing she clearly remembered was waking up to soft sheets and the smell of home.

Father Bellucci sat down across from her at the table and shook her out of her reverie. “Nothing but pastry? You must eat and build up your strength,” he chastised gently. “Here, eat this,” he said handing her an apple from the bowl on the table. “I think maybe you should stay home today, yes? Your work can wait a day.”

She took a bite, her teeth snapping through the skin. The sound made her remember that poor girl in alley. Had someone found her by now? She knew if they had, the morning papers would have the photos splashed across the front page.

“Did you get the newspaper this morning?” she asked as evenly as she could manage.

He was watching her very carefully, as if to measure out exactly what he wanted to say. He had only looked that way once before that she could remember. This was not good, she thought, not good at all. They both spoke at once.

“I’ve been tracking a vampire….”

“I’m sending you to Sunnydale…”

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Talia finally found her voice and broke the silence.

“You’re sending me to Sunnydale? Why? I thought we both decided it was best for me to stay here, not go on some foolish suicide mission,” she said forcefully. Grabbing her cup, she dumped it loudly in the sink. He was in motion too, snatching her arm and forcing him to face him.

“Don’t talk to me about suicide missions, little girl. Tracking a vampire? That’s what you’ve been doing all these late nights? I trusted you, Talia. You lied to me,” he said, his voice tinged with anger. Letting go of her arm, he stepped back, looking at her as if she was a stranger.

“I had to. You still treat me like a child, acting like I can’t make my own decisions. Did you bother to ask if I wanted to go to California? No, you decided for me, without my consent,” she railed at him, almost wincing at how childish she sounded.

He straightened his spine and looked her in the eyes. “I am your Watcher, Talia. You will follow my orders. The Bringers will keep coming; they will not stop until you are dead. If you go there, you may have a chance to survive this. This discussion is over. You are not to leave the monastery without me for any reason. Go to your room and rest, you need your strength back before you can travel.” With that he left, robes swinging behind him.

She slumped back down at the table, her head in her hands. He had never spoken to her like that before, like she was nothing but a duty to him. She was partly to blame, but that didn’t stop the resentment from washing over her. He couldn’t force her to go. She would be long gone before that.

*******

8:01pm

Her bags were lined up inside her door. Everything else, she could live without. One of the bags had nothing but weapons, stakes, several bottles of Holy Water, two fully charged tasers and her ivory handled knife. There was no way she could leave that behind. Pulling it back out, she ran her fingers over the carvings, thinking about the day she got it.

It was her eighteenth birthday. She had graduated and had been accepted as a part-time student at the University. Things were going smoothly and she hardly ever thought about having been passed over as the Chosen one anymore. For a couple of years, she had been angry that somehow the Powers That Be had thought she wasn’t good enough to fight their battles. But becoming an adult seemed to change her outlook.

Father Bellucci had taken her to dinner, to celebrate. He had been so good to her, treating her like a daughter. Only a priest would have had the patience to deal with her all these years. She said as much to him and he agreed wholeheartedly. When they got back to the church, he steered her to his office. There was a box on his mahogany desk, wrapped in red paper.

“I thought I told you I didn’t want any gifts,” she scolded as they sat down. He shushed her and handed her the box.

“Open it.” Peeling away the paper, she found a beautiful wooden box. Flipping open the latch, she gasped when she saw what was inside. The knife shined against the velvet lining. It was perfectly arrow shaped with an ivory handle. The handle itself was a piece of art, with an intricate pattern of knots carved on one side and a coat of arms stamped on the back. With a start, she recognized the symbol with the six circles and crown.

“This sign of the House of Medici. Where did you get this?”

He chuckled at her astonishment. “Maybe you didn’t read those history books as closely as I thought. That dagger belonged to Theresa de’ Medici, Lorenzo’s youngest daughter. She was a Slayer. One of the first in Italy and the only one in Florence, I think. She used it to behead a vampire who was terrorizing the less fortunate citizens of our fair city. She was killed by a particularly brutal vampire, the Master of the Order of Aurelius when she was seventeen,” he finished. She was twirling it in her hand, testing the balance. It seemed to have been made for her.

“An old friend of mine came across it buried in the vaults of the Uffizi when they were doing an inventory for a new display. He knew who it belonged to and thought I might want it, to give it to the Counsel or something. But I thought it would serve a better use here rather than sitting under a display case in London,” he said. His next words were cut off as she hugged him. Neither was prone to physical displays of affection and he was shocked to see she was crying.

“Talia,” he began. She smiled at him.

“Thank you. I don’t know how to tell you how much this means to me. I’ll treasure it always,” she said, wiping her eyes. Shaking her head, she stood up, shoving the memory away. She moved toward the door but suddenly the room felt sweltering and she couldn’t breathe. Everything was glowing bright white and she felt a pulse of energy fill her. For a moment she felt the light cocoon her and an ancient magic pull against her. It was over as fast as it had started and she blacked out, the knife clattering to the floor next to her.

*****

Suddenly she was standing on the lip of a vast cavern. There were other girls there and tall blond man in a leather coat. The tension was thick in the air and without warning things started swarming the group. They looked like vampires, but none that she had ever seen before. One girl, who looked to be the leader was holding a weapon she had never seen before, it had the head of an axe on one end and a stake on the other. They were woefully outmatched and she saw the lead girl fall, stabbed through the stomach. With a lurch the scene changed and she was outside, watching the town fall into a dark pit, the ground shaking beneath her feet.

With a start, she sat up. She was still lying on the floor, but she could feel something different. All her senses seemed to be sharper and the bruises on her wrist were fading. In a few seconds they were gone completely. Lifting her shirt, she tore the bandage from her side. She gaped in awe as she watched the skin knit itself back together, leaving nothing but a livid red scar. Snatching her knife, she ran from the room. Skidding to a stop, she opened the study door with out knocking.

“Talia, what is it?” he asked, looking alarmed. Without hesitation she turned and threw the knife at the target on the back wall. It landed dead center with a resounding thunk.

“I, I think I’m the Slayer,” she answered slowly. He stood up and guided her to a chair. She sank down in it, the enormity of the responsibility washing over her.

“I want you to think very carefully. What happened?” he questioned.

“I was in my room and it filled with light and it was like something clicked into place inside. But I must have had a dream, because then I was somewhere else, a cave or something and it felt evil, almost as if it was alive. There were other girls there and they were fighting these huge vampires. Then I was outside and I saw an entire city fall into this giant crater.” She watched him process the information. He yanked her knife from the target and handed it back to her.

“Again, and close your eyes this time,” he said, leaning back against the desk. She did as he asked, taking a deep breath before she threw the knife blind. She heard it hit the target and she saw it embedded deep in the target. He was smiling wistfully at her.

“You have been Chosen, Talia. You are the Slayer.”

*******

One Month Later

Talia woke up slowly, the late afternoon sun streaming though the window of the hotel. They had arrived in London earlier that morning and she had been exhausted. The past weeks had taken a toll on her.

After they had discovered Talia’s newfound power, they had identified the demon in the dream as an ancient race of vampires that were the minions of The First. Not long after, they watched a news report about a town in California that had mysteriously collapsed. Putting the pieces together was easy enough. Or so they thought. They had just come back from her first night of real patrolling when they got the message from Giles. She wasn’t the Slayer; she was of many slayers all over the world. Not only did they have a witch powerful enough to do that, they had closed a Hellmouth. It was mind boggling, to say the least. And tomorrow, she was going to meet them.

She was restless to explore the city. The farthest she had been from home was a field trip to Pisa when she was 15 and she wanted to take in what she could. Knowing Father Bellucci would sleep for a while longer, she showered and dressed. She wrote him a short note and slipped it under the adjoining door. Two stakes in her pocket and her knife sheathed under her shirt and she was off.

*******

Four hours later, she collapsed onto a bench, completely exhausted. She walk all over the city, extremely pleased that she only had to ask for direction once. She was more grateful than ever for the English lessons that had been forced on her for so long. Speaking in her native tongue she wouldn’t have made it.

She took the flat, lacquered box out of her bag. She had missed the store at first, but when she lost her way and doubled back, she went inside. The fountain pen was black with a gold inlay with a gold nub. He would love it, and she spent almost all of her money on it. It was a peace offering of sorts. Looking at her watch, she knew it was time to head back. Even with her new powers, being caught alone at night in an unfamiliar city wasn’t the best idea. She headed back, retracing her steps. It was a beautiful city in it’s own way, but nothing would ever be as lovely as her own home.

As she came around a corner she felt a shiver run up her spine. There was someone following her. She sped up and so did the footfalls behind her. She didn’t see anyone, but the feeling was still there. Her heart was pounding and she felt adrenaline rush through her. This was what Father Bellucci had told her about, the way to sense a vampire. Before she could decide what to do, something slammed into her, sending her tumbling toward the ground. Twisting her body, she landed on her back, facing the vampire. He was in game face, eyes yellow and fangs gleaming. For a second she panicked, almost forgetting that now she was able to fight him. Instinct kicked in and her fist shot out, sending him flying back off of her.

“That’s quite a punch,” he snarled, “I’m always up for a bit of fun before the killing starts.” He charged her again, but she blocked him and landed a kick to the small of his back. The vampire recovered fast and before she knew it she was fighting full force, punching and kicking, her enhanced strength and speed keeping her one step ahead of him. She saw an opening and plunged the stake into his chest. He exploded into a cloud of dust, taking her stake with him.

“That happened to me the first few times too. The trick is to pull the stake back faster, then it won’t go poof,” a voice said from behind her. Talia whirled around to see a small blonde girl standing there. “Your form is pretty good, but you leave your left side open too much. I wouldn’t carry a bag either, tends to get caught in things. You want to keep all your weapons close to your body, so you can get them in a pinch,” the smiling girl said as she walked toward her, high heeled boots clicking on the pavement. “I’m Buffy Summers, nice to meet you.”

Talia was speechless. This was THE Buffy Summers, longest living slayer and the girl who came back to life twice. Her mind couldn’t reconcile this tiny girl with all those things. Buffy cocked her head, looking at her strangely.

“Oh no, not another one that doesn’t speak English. I knew I should have brought Willow to translate,” she said, rolling her eyes, “Ummm, habla English-o?”

“Si, I mean yes. I’m Talia Matolo. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Buffy sighed with relief. “Thank God, I had no idea how I was going to explain all this to you in Charades. I know we weren’t supposed to meet until tomorrow, but I was out patrolling and I saw you. Thought I might see what you could do. I was totally going to jump in if you needed me but you did pretty good.”

“Thanks” Talia said.

Buffy smiled. “No problem. It’s late and you should get back. If your Watcher’s anything mine, he’s probably pacing and staring at the door waiting for you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that she left, twirling a thin stake in her right hand. Talia stood there, just staring after her. And in that moment she knew she’d found her purpose. Her calling. Her destiny.

THE END