deep_red_bells: ([Expressive] Concerned)
Am really worried about Claire. Heard anything yet?
deep_red_bells: ([Slayer] Weapon)

"The last act is bloody, however fine the rest of the play. They throw earth over your head and it is finished forever." - Blaise Pascal


Even though Hank was home and well on the mend and Claire had gone back to the Hamptons, Baileigh lingered for a bit longer in Nevada; the crisis wasn’t over, her extended family needed her, and there was an incubus that needed his ass beat. She knew, despite her protests to the contrary, that she wasn’t going to be able to directly deliver the beating, but it was shockingly easy to slip back into the roll of the captain, to sit in the library with the witches, the Watchers and Spike and formulate a game plan.

“I still don’t see why we can’t head up a direct assault,” she was arguing with Terry when the front doorbell rang. “Yes, I know there are human beings involved, and they’re under Nahuel’s thrall, but my God, they’re still human, we can find some non-lethal ways of getting them out of the way.”

It’s not that simple, Baileigh,,” Terry sighed. “Kill him and you break the thrall. Break the thrall, and there is no telling how it’ll affect whoever he has under his control. Including Amelia. We can’t risk it.

Baileigh winced and shot a quick glance at Spike before tightening her jaw. “He needs to die.”

Ain’t nobody fucking arguing with that, Bee,” Cain grumbled, somewhat calmer now that he knew his daughter wasn‘t fighting for her life, but still plenty murderous. “I also ain’t saying I disagree. For fuck’s sake, Tati--”

“I’m working on it.” The little blonde witch was too tired to inject anymore venom in her tone, but she did manage to glare at Cain from over the top of her book.

“Back off, big bro,” Juliana drawled in warning, a little fed up with the constant snarls tossed in their direction as well. “Magic ain’t easy or simple. You rush a complex spell, you get disaster--will somebody answer the goddamned door?!”

“I’ll get it. God knows we’re not getting anywhere in here.” Petty of her, probably, but they were all on edge, and she was cranky.

She was retired, for Christ’s sake. The Powers needed to give her a break.

The kitchen smelled of some sort of potion and chocolate chip cookies; separately, pleasant scents, but in combination, fairly revolting, and the assault on her hypersensitive nose did nothing to improve her mood as she passed through to answer the door. The person waiting on the other side was a boy, dark haired and young and thoroughly unfamiliar. “Can I help you?” she asked, unable to muster up much of a smile but refraining from open hostility, at least.

“Hi.” He smiled, boyish and charming. “I’m a friend of Hank’s--we went to school together, before she moved--I heard she was home from the hospital, can I come in?”

“No.” She raised an eyebrow as he blinked at her tactlessness--invitations weren’t something they were free with in this house, and she didn’t feel like dancing around it. “Hank was tight with all of three people at that crappy high school, and you are so not one of them, so who the hell are you and what do you--”

“Who is it?”

It was a stupid mistake. She turned her head a fraction of an inch to answer Madison. She never should’ve taken her eyes off of him. If she’d looked away completely, if she’d been even a little less cautious, she never would’ve seen the knife.

Deeply ingrained instinct took over completely, compensating for the extra weight she carried around her middle and her lack of balance--someone was attacking her, and she had to stop them. She moved out of the way of the switchblade’s thrust, and her fingers closed tightly around the wrist of the arm holding the weapon. Her palm smashed against his elbow, and she felt the bone snap. She didn’t hear the knife drop, or the boy cry out, or Madison scream, over the roar in her ears. She jerked his arm and brought her elbow up, smashing his nose. She didn’t hear the crunch or realize that something wasn’t right when he dropped to the floor. She kicked the switchblade away and backed up out of the reach of his arms in case he tried to trip her and stared at Madison as if she’d grown a second head when she rushed forward and dropped to the boy’s side.

“Oh God,” she was shrieking. “Oh God oh God--TERRY? Oh God oh God oh God--”

“Christ, Madison, back up--”

“Baileigh what did you do?”

She blinked without comprehending why Madison was looking at her like that, wide-eyed, panicked and accusing, terrified. It wasn’t until she looked down at the body that it sunk in.

It--he--was human. Very human. Vampires didn’t break like that, and what was sprawled across the linoleum was so very broken. It was very real blood seeping onto the floor, and there was no life in the ruined mess that, until a few seconds before, had been a youthful, handsome face.

The roar went away. Everything went away. Like watching a muted television program, she saw the scene and the color and the faces and the blur of the furniture and walls as Spike pulled her into the living room. I didn’t meant to, she kept thinking, and she couldn’t tell if she was actually speaking. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to.

The volume came back up, too loud. Too many people yelling. She sat on the couch and stared down at the blood spots on her arm and wished she could find the mute button again. Wished she could cover her ears, but her hands were bloody and she didn’t know how to hold them. It was like they weren’t hers anymore.

She jumped when Cain sat down on the couch next to her. “Did I--” Kill him. She couldn’t make herself say it. “I did, didn’t I?”

It’s fine. I called Claire. She…fixed it. He was Nahuel‘s. The trauma broke the thrall, he don‘t remember shit.

“Oh--good.” She swallowed and nodded at the blood stains as though they were the one addressing her. It was fixed. It was all fixed. All neat and tidy and no one would ever know. They’d mop the kitchen floor, wash their hands, wash their clothes. No one would ever know.

You’re going home right fucking now, with Hiro an‘ Claire. Don‘t argue with me.

He said it like he was expecting one, but she didn‘t have a fight left in her. And she realized he was touching her, just a hand on her back that moved up to her shoulder and squeezed. She squirmed away from it and struggled to get to her feet. She didn’t want to be touched. “Okay.”

Bee--

“Oh God, please don’t,” she protested in a whisper, shaking her head desperately. “Please don’t pull that ‘It’s not your fault’ routine, please. I don’t want to hear it. I just want to go home.” She shook her head, almost comically, trying to shake away the thoughts and the words and the noise and kept talking as he tried to speak over her. “I’m gonna go clean up. I’m gonna go get my things. I just want to go home. Tell everyone I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I‘m so sorry.”

Bee?” Claire.

“Hey, hi.” She clasped her hands behind her back, hiding the bright red stains. “I’ll just be a minute.” A breath. “Thank you. For coming. I’ll just be a minute.”

Claire bit her lip, and Baileigh used the moment of hesitation to flee.


[ooc: in relation to this and this. Terry ([profile] if_she_could ), Cain ([personal profile] fear_noevil ), Spike ([profile] follow_my_blood ), Juliana ([profile] love_inchains ), & Claire ([profile] girl_ofsecrets ) are all used with love and permission. Hiro referenced is [profile] powered_otaku , who I hope doesn't mind being referenced. Tatiana and Madison are mine to use and abuse.]
deep_red_bells: ([Appearance] Baby belly)
Should I buy some preemie sized clothing? If she's not gonna make it to term and most average sized infants are too small for 0-3m sized clothing, I probably should, right? Yes, I KNOW, I'm random. Shut up and answer the question, I can hear you mumbling about my shopping habits and rolling your eyes from here.
deep_red_bells: ([Text] Princess Huffypants)
Baileigh had just about decided that staring at the squiggling lines on the EFM readout would make anybody crazy, and she made herself stop obsessing over every little bump and rise and stare at the blank TV screen instead. “This is stupid,” she declared for the fifth or sixth time, ignoring for a moment that it had been her decision to come to the hospital and make sure nothing was wrong. “I fell. It’s not the end of the world. I’m sure when I get fat and try to wear heels, I’ll fall again. The stupid vamp getting in a sucker punch has nothing to do with my uterus. I should‘ve just gone HOME. They won‘t even let me have my phone. I could at least play a game of Stick Wars, that‘d make me feel better. Julian‘d let me play Stick Wars. Stupid hospital. Stupid nurses. Stupid Cain. Stupid, stupid vampires.”

Claire looked up from where she was sitting as Bee declared once again that this whole thing was stupid. She could have pointed out that it was Bee's idea to come to the hospital but she was sure it would just fall on deaf ears once again. "We just needed to make sure the baby was fine, you did fall pretty hard." She replied as she listened to her friend rant. "They're probably worried about your phone interfering with the machines here or whatever." She nodded to the machine that was currently attached to Bee.

“I’ve fallen way harder,” Baileigh pointed out, pouting down at the transducers strapped to her abdomen. They itched, stupid, stupid things, and they kept having to move them because Beanie kept moving and they were losing her heartbeat. Hi, duh. She was moving, wasn‘t that a good sign? “Okay, yes, that was before. Before is before. But she’s fine. I’d know if she wasn’t fine. This is stupid. Julian’s going to flip, Cain flipped, Annie’s gonna flip and they’re all gonna put me on house arrest-- stupid fucking vampires.” She plucked at the soft, worn scrub pants they’d given her to wear. “I’m kinda pissed the last one got away,” she finally admitted, glowering. “The bitch bit you. She needs to die. Any other time she would‘ve.”

Claire almost felt bad for the fact that she had been the one to contact the others; not Julian because he deserved to know but maybe she felt a little bad for calling Cain who then called Annie. She knew they were going to flip out. "It's okay, I'll come keep you company?" She offered with a faint smile as she crossed her ankles, glancing over at the machine to watch the heart beat for a moment before looking back. "It's okay, I'm fine." She motioned at her neck. "See, no bite marks." But she could understand and she did with a little frown. "I'm kind of pissed she got away too. Do you think she saw me heal?" There was something else she wanted to ask.

In which Claire gets bad ideas, and Baileigh is singularly unhelpful in dissuading her from them. )

ooc: anyone else in the verse who's in the state is more than welcome to stop by as well, I just have limited subject room and those were the muses I knew were on their way. :P
deep_red_bells: ([Emote] Annoyed)

Okay, so you and you and anyone else that for whatever reason feels like I need constant monitoring, but MOST ESPECIALLY TO YOU. Read this and make damn sure it sticks in your thick, stupid skull.

I am not and nor have I ever been a junkie or an addict or an alcoholic, and I do not appreciate being treated like one. I have taken care of myself since I was sixteen, practically, and since I was eighteen legally. I am not stupid, and I am not going to do anything to put myself or the unborn at risk. I do not need a mommy-and-fetus sitter. You will cease and desist immediately, or you are fired. I'm not kidding even a little bit. Are we very clear? GOOD.

 

I say again: not kidding even a little bit.


deep_red_bells: ([Text] Comfortably numb)

Cain,

So I'm pregnant.

I mean, I haven't had it confirmed by a physician, but with all the signs and symptoms adding up very quickly and two tests coming up positive, I'm pretty much going ahead and assuming it's a definite. I've already picked up some prenatal vitamins, sworn off the alcohol (which, hi, you have no idea how tempting THAT was), and am weening myself off of the caffeine. That's going to be a slow and difficult process because I RUN on it, but I'm doing it. Yes, I've read a book, try not to act surprised. And if by some weird stroke of luck happenstance I'm not pregnant, it's better to be safe than sorry.

Here's the thing, though. These books are written for normal women. I'm not what you'd call entirely normal. I have no clue what's going on in this freakshow of a body of mine. I have no idea what might happen. Obviously Slayers are physically capable of having kids: Nikki Wood had Robin, and there was at least one other Slayer I've dreamt about that had a child, which I'm trying not to think about, because it didn't end well for her or her kid, but anyway. Maybe there'll be nothing unusual at all. Maybe it'd be perfectly safe to find a good OBGYN in the phone book and book an appointment. And maybe it wouldn't be. So, guess what, you're stuck with me as a patient, because you know the most about our physiology, and you're the only person that I can trust with absolute certainty not to call The Enquirer if some weird Bella Swan thing goes down. I seriously seriously doubt that it will, but I'm not taking any chances.

So. There you go. I've already e-mailed Ethan and asked him to send you a copy of Nikki's Watcher's diary, if he's got it, and to get it from the Council library if he doesn't.

Hope you're well, and all.

--B

deep_red_bells: ([Text] Comfortably numb)
Baileigh leaned on her staff and watched, impassive and not even winded, as Cain sat up from his rather uncomfortable looking ‘turtle on it‘s shell’ position. “Do you not ever get tired of getting your ass kicked by girls? I‘m starting to think you get off on it.”

“Real fucking funny,” Cain grumbled, his usually surly scowl in place…only today, there actually appeared to be some genuine anger behind it.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked, some of the teasing leaving her tone as she offered him her hand up.

He didn’t answer right away, grasped her forearm and let her haul him to his feet in a frigid sort of silence. “Sass e-mailed me today.”

What little was left of her amusement slipped away completely. “…What did she say?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The look on his face said it all.

A few months ago she would’ve balked at the thought, but now it felt perfectly okay to open her hand, let the staff fall to the mat with a dull ‘thunk’ and wrap her arms around him in a tight hug. “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t move for a moment, didn’t even breathe. Then he hugged her back, pressed his face against her hair, but only briefly. “Yeah,” he muttered, cleared his throat and stepped back, glowering as he picked her staff up and handed it back to her. “Yer leaving yer left side open too goddamned much.”

People dealt with emotions in their own way. Baileigh wouldn’t begrudge him of that. She merely nodded a bit, twirled the use-worn staff in her hands and assumed a defensive stance. “Whatever. I can still kick your ass.”

He grunted, glowered at her showboating with a disapproving frown. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

He lunged, and the subject officially dropped.
deep_red_bells: ([Slayer] Will fuck you up)
You can officially go fuck yourself. I'm completely done with you.
deep_red_bells: ([Emote] Whatever)
Callahan, just cave already. I'm going to lose my voice soon and then? I'll have to resort to constantly punching you in the shoulder. So unless you want to hear the NEXT 100 reasons AND be bruised for days, just take the kid, sign the little paper and let her do it already.
deep_red_bells: ([Appearance] Scrutinizing)
We gotta chat, Callahan.
deep_red_bells: (Angry)
Reasons Cain Callahan pisses me off:

--He exists.

The end.
deep_red_bells: (B&W headshot)
1) My bed, which is one of my favoritest things in the world. It's small but it has an awesome pillow and it's perfect for me, not too firm, not too soft. It's also violently purple--well, the sheets and the bedspread are. My whole room is purple, even the walls. I like purple, okay?

2) My high school yearbooks, which probably should count as four things, but I'm lumping them together as one. I have such incredibly mixed feelings about high school. It wasn't that bad for me. I wasn't popular, but I wasn't picked on, either...I even made cheerleader one year (ONE, I'm good at bouncing, leave me alone). But even though it wasn't miserable I still wouldn't go back to it if you freakin' paid me to. Everything is so extreme and so dramatic. I feel sorry for the people who say high school was the best time in their life (cause, really? Really?!).

3) Monty, the stuffed monkey I've had for as long as I can remember. Yes, he's purple too. He's also falling apart, but I can't  bring myself to part with him, I just keep on sewing him back up when he tries to leak innards all over my bed.

4) My hope chest. Still sitting at the foot of my bed with all kinds of pretty things in it that will never, ever get used, including my grandmother's wedding dress. I love it. It's cedar and it's beautiful, my grandfather made it and my grandmother put it together for me and it will stay at the foot my bed for the rest of my life.

5) The first note a boy ever wrote me. I keep it my desk drawer. Another one of those things I look back on with equal parts amusement and mortification. His name was Alex, and he was horribly mean to me for most of elementary school, used to push me in the mud and pull my braid, but he gave me my first kiss in junior high. He died when he was sixteen, in a car crash. I still tear up a little sometimes when I think about him, not because I think we were gonna get married someday, cause we weren't, we were just buddies by then, but still. He was the first boy I ever "loved," and he's gone, and that just makes me sad.

6) A bag of dried rose petals, from the first little vase of roses I got for Valentine's Day.

7) A snowglobe I found during an after-Christmas sale at the mall. It was one of those little shops that rents the space just for Christmas, then disappears immediately after. This snowglobe is one of the prettiest things I've ever seen. It's a castle on a cloud with glitter that swirls around when you shake it, and there's this gorgeous green dragon wound around the outside base. You turn him to wind it up, and he circles around the castle. It plays "Moonlight Sonata" which is the most haunting song I think I've ever heard. I've never been huge into fantasy and dragons or anything, but once I picked it up I couldn't put it down.

8) Programs and mementos from every show I've ever been in, no matter how big or small the part. I also stole the shoes from the commercial I did. They were really cheap shoes, not even my size, but I didn't care. I was on TV for all of 20 seconds, several times a day, for about a year, and I wanted something to remember it by.

9) A VHS tape of that same commercial, ready to whip out and show anyone that doesn't believe me when I tell them YES, I was actually in a commercial.

10) I'm saying this at this moment because he IS here, even if he isn't all the time: my boyfriend! Oh, nothing dirty, unfortunately. He's sacked out next to me, dead asleep, exhausted from whatever the hell it is he and his siblings have been hunting this time.

On that note, it's time for cuddling, bye now!

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deep_red_bells: (Default)
Baileigh Solis

December 2010

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