Chapter Text
The evening was cool, foggy and grey, dripping with the white light of the moon overhead. Sarah’s dark skin gleamed beneath the moon as the dew settled gently upon her.
The night had been slow with a few curious noises, probably stray cats or kids in the alleys. Nonetheless, she had investigated dutifully and noted in a small, leatherbound book that it had been nothing. She hated keeping the notes, but William insisted upon them.
The Watchers’ journals, he was so fond of saying, were shockingly lacking in recording the thoughts and experiences of the Slayers themselves. He insisted that each of Sarah’s interactions, minor as they may be, must be catalogued and described as quickly as possible. This would help the next generation of watchers to truly understand and account for the experiences of the Slayers with whom they were charged. William always kept an eye on the future like this.
For Sarah, she struggled to write even a single word without imagining the eyes of the next slayer tracing over her every pencil mark, overwhelmed with the knowledge that her life has just changed for good. She didn’t choose this. Neither did Sarah. And yet both of them would die young. Williams “next generation” would know her only through her writings and Sarah would never know them.
William was fond of claiming that this approach could delay the death of the next slayer by “six months to a year, maybe even two!” Sarah didn’t share this hope. Nothing could save a Slayer. Not her and not the next. Yet Sarah knew that she would have found a journal like this comforting. She would’ve felt less alone, less doomed. For this reason, she marked down every stray racoon or loud drunkard she saw in as much detail as possible and, from time to time, she even drew pictures.
Another rustling noise echoed out of an alley and onto dim Cleveland streets. It was followed by a man’s panicked screaming and, Sarah was quite sure, the man’s rapid footsteps as he ran away from whatever had startled him.
She felt her skin perking up with goosebumps, her muscles flex, and the familiar rush of adrenaline flooding her brain. Shaking slightly-from the cold, the excitement, or something else, she wasn’t sure-Sarah took a slender, metal flask from under her shirt, where it had been held in place by a bra strap. She downed a few gulps of a burning, clear liquid which she’d come to enjoy much more since moving North. Here, so far as she could tell, the prohibition laws were only a suggestion.
She replaced the flask to her chest and broke into a brisk jog down the alley. For a moment, she wondered if she’d even be able to find the source of the noise at all. She caught a brake, however, when she noticed a small, glass bottle shattered on the ground. Brown liquor surrounded the bottle.
“Damn drunks.” She mumbled under her breath. Sarah took the notebook and a small pencil from a pocket and began to write.
Another drunkard hollering. Dropped his liquor and ran. Shame. Brown liquor ain’t cheap.
The shattered glass caught the sleepy light of the nearby streetlamp and sent it sparkling onto the ground around it. The moon would set soon and this image would be gone. Sarah decided that she ought to draw the scene as well as she could, the night being uneventful and all but over.
The lead of the pencil had just begun to graze the paper when a loud thud shocked Sarah into snapping it in half entirely.
She tucked the notebook back into her pocket in a rush and turned to face the source of the noise, an indentation in the building before him that had been made flush with the rest of the building by boards nailed across the opening. She hadn’t even registered it in the foggy evening but it was clear that the boards were new, or recently added to the building at the very least, as the nails on each corner were still a shining silver.
Very carefully, Sarah approached and lifted a hand to grab the board which was directly in front of her eyes. As her fingers reached the wood and pinkened as she gripped it, another loud thud came against the wood. Startled, Sarah pulled hard at the board in her hand and ripped it from the wall.
Her startled screams of horror mixed with angry, confused growls from the monster before her. It was an image she would never forget. One which she would draw for many years to come, again and again, always the same.
A wrinkled forehead gave way to two empty sockets, each in the early stages of healing. The mangled face split open in a maw of extended, carnivorous teeth which gleamed in the night. With each loud growl, the teeth opened to reveal a chasm where a tongue had once been. The creature was struggling forward with its arms lifted above its head, but frozen in place as if something was holding it back.
Realizing that the beast was more of a victim than a danger to her, Sarah tore away more boards overhead to reveal that the vampires wrists had been stacked atop one another and a single spike was driven through both of him and into the brick wall behind it, pinning it down and forcing it to wrench aggressively, shredding skin and muscle.
The roaring continued for a time until the beast started to quiet and show signs of exhaustion. Eventually, it fell limp and quiet.
Sarah took what felt like her first breath in an hour and regained her composure. What was she to do?
She could kill the beast easily. The vampire’s chest was exposed and it was no longer even moving, but she’d never seen anything like this before. If she stabbed it now, it would turn to dust and she’d never answer any of her questions. She decided that she needed to hear from William.
Spinning the wooden stake in her hand for a moment longer, Sarah finally slid it back into the pocket of her slacks and set off quickly. The sun would rise soon and William was often difficult to raise from sleep in the early hours of the morning.
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“My heavens.” A small gasp slipped quietly over William’s lips as he approached the beast, still fastened to the wall and unconscious. Sarah remained on guard, worried that the vampire might awaken at any moment. “I trust you noted this in your journal?” William spoke over his shoulder while pensively moving his head about to see the vampire in every light possible.
“I started to. Damn pencil broke.”
“Sarah, you simply must watch your language. I don’t know how they speak in Georgia and I have made my peace with the drawling accent, but I cannot stomach the sound of a lady cursing.”
Sarah rolled her eyes.
“Do you have any idea what the thing is?”
“Oh, it is a vampire, certainly. I know of no other creature that could withstand such abuse.”
“I didn’t get a great look at it. Didn’t look like any vampire I’ve ever seen.”
“Well, I should say not.” William nervously brought his hand to the vampire's chin and turned it from one side to the other. “It seems that the beast is missing nearly all of its soft, facial organs. The eyes are both gone, as is the lobe of each ear. One must wonder about the tongue, though I’m afraid to open its mouth.”
“Tongue is gone too. I noticed that.”
“Well,” said William, stepping away and pulling off his leather gloves. “In that case, he won’t be telling us much even if he does awaken. What a perplexing case.”
“It doesn’t sound like our problem. If someone wants to torture vampires, why should we care?”
“Oh, certainly. Under normal circumstances, I would agree. However, I noticed that the bite marks on its neck are quite fresh and filled with a bit of damp dirt. It would appear that someone has first turned this poor man into a monster and then tortured him in this way. What their goal could possibly be, I can’t imagine.”
“Can I kill it?”
“Oh,” William sounded surprised at Sarah’s blunt question. “I suppose you may. There isn’t much more to be learned.”
Sarah walked forward and, in one fluid motion, took a wooden stake from her breast and plunged it into the chest of the vampire before her. One final, quiet grunt slipped from its lips before it vanished to dust.
“William!” A shout came from somewhere in the night, starting both William and Sarah. Sarah turned quickly, clenched her fist, and began to dart her eyes from side to side, scanning for any paths from which an enemy may appear.
“Oh, bugger.” The dusty British voice seemed to ring familiar with William, who’s ears perked up as he heard it again.
“Nigel?” William questioned.
“Oh, bugger all. I had hoped to see the beast for myself. No bother, I suppose a vampire slayer must slay all vampires.” A skinny, fair skinned man emerged into the alley from the street and Sarah faced him menacingly. “Mrs. Jackson, I presume? It is so nice to see you in person. The Watcher’s Council has spoken very highly of your young career.”
“Do I know you?”
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. William, could you introduce us, please?”
“Sarah, this is Nigel McDoud, chief investigator for the Watcher’s Council in India.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong my old friend. I’ve been moved stateside.”
William rolled his eyes dramatically and Sarah assumed that there must be some history between the two which she didn’t know and didn’t care to learn.
“Why are you here, then? Isn’t one watcher enough?” Sarah could feel her eyes becoming heavy and her patience for the twists and turns of this conversation was wearing thin.
“Ah! A great question!” Nigel reached into his breast pocket and produced a crumpled envelope, which he handed to William. William took a folded letter from the envelope and read it aloud.
“You’ll find him in Cleveland in the alley behind the old fire station. He will be incapacitated and incapable of hurting anyone. I’m so sorry to leave him there for you. I couldn’t bear to end his life-or whatever it is that we lead-myself. I ask that you do not interfere with my work. I will take only as many as I need for my studies.
“His documentation will arrive tomorrow so that you may inform his family if you wish.” William paused and was clearly wrestling with the pronunciation of the final word as he stared, confused at the bottom corner of the letter.
“It’s an old English word.” Nigel said. “It means ‘leech.’”
William lifted his eyes curiously to stare at Nigel.
“And this is all you have? No address, no other name? Just ‘the leach?’”
“Yes. I figured that I should come to the place mentioned in the letter and see what I could find, but it appears that your slayer has already destroyed the evidence.”
“It was a vampire. I slayed it. Is that not what I was meant to do?”
“Of course.” William said quickly. “You did nothing wrong, Sarah. Nigel, the vampire was missing its eyes, its tongue, and a few teeth. I assume this must’ve been what was meant by the letter’s allusion to ‘studies.’ It was also freshly turned.”
“So someone is dissecting vampires while they’re still alive? Fascinating.”
“Is that what you call it?” Sarah thought she might be sick.
“I suppose,” Nigel continued without giving even a glance toward Sarah, “that this ‘leech’ person is trying to learn something about vampires. I wonder what it could be and why he wants to know.”
“We will learn more in the morning. Sarah needs to rest.” William stuffed the letter into his pocket roughly.
“Very well, I shall be at your door with the sunrise. We should be safe then. I suppose that this ‘leech’ is a vampire himself. That would certainly clarify his choice of a name.”
“That word doesn’t only mean leech, at least, that’s not how it was used in old English.”
“No? If not ‘the leech,’ then what does it mean?” Nigel was calling now to William, who was pacing away from the alley along with Sarah as he tossed his answer over his shoulder.
“The doctor.”