New York City, Mid-December 2002 (Four Days Later/Monday Fandom Time)
For once, Kennedy wasn't packing like she might be gone for months on end; it was just the basics-- a couple of changes of clothes, her toothbrush, phone charger-- stuff she needed for a last-minute overnight trip.
One she was running a couple of hours late for, but she'd had to call Jañe to pick up Bailey, and things could wait until she got there. That was just how the world worked. Maybe it was just an exercise, and she wouldn't be doing more than facing off against a minor demon under controlled circumstances, but it promised to be fun. Some fighting, time with her Watcher, a chance to burn restless energy minus the pressure of world-ending consequences-- no bad here. Well, maybe--
She frowned as she headed toward the door, and smothered a yawn; she really hadn't been getting the most restful sleep the past few weeks but hell if she could remember her dreams. Constance had been all on edge lately, too, even if she denied it whenever Kennedy asked. Something going down at work? Which was weird; there hadn't been much news from the Hellmouth since the thing with that bunch of frat boys getting their hearts ripped out. Kennedy was honestly worried; she decided she'd shake the details out of her when she got to Constance's place in Queens.
She could have called a cab, or had one of Dad's drivers pick her up, but since she'd been living on her own Kennedy had gotten into the habit of getting around the city the way most people did; she enjoyed the physical activity, and for a girl with an interest in keeping tabs on the fangy unsavory elements there was a bonus in being familiar with the streets. Besides, the nearest subway station was just a block from her apartment and from there it was a straight shot down the line and under the East River.
On the way down the elevator she mentally reviewed the latest not-so-much-news from the Hellmouth; mostly, since there really hadn't been much to make note of since that whole thing with the frat boys, this meant going over their last few conversations, involving Constance ribbing her (in that not so obvious British way) about being a pain in the ass with the constant asking. There had been something kind of off about all those talks, though; Constance didn't usually stumble over her words the way she had been the past few weeks, and where normally she gave as good as she got from the smartass Potential she'd been saddled with for over a decade she seemed to be swinging and missing on some of their more spirited exchanges. Plus training had been a little more... intensive as of late, more in earnest and less with the "purely hypothetical" vibe she'd always complained about. And that was of the good, wasn't it? So why did it inspire inexplicably bad wigged-out-ness?
The phone rang as Kennedy shouldered her way through foot traffic in the intersection and down the stairs into the subway station. "Hey, Constance. You found the books for Wes, right? Yeah, I'm on my way now. God, keep your pants on! Just getting on the train."
"Nearly two hours later than scheduled, I might note," Constance replied, and Kennedy felt perfectly secure in the knowledge that as annoyed as her Watcher might sound and almost definitely was, she wasn't going to harp on it later. Because she expected these things from Kennedy, and because Kennedy had a proven record of making up for lost time whenever it came to training. "If your excuse is something frivolous..."
"Tchah," she scoffed in response, wrapping her fingers tightly around the crossbar of the train car-- always a bitch when she couldn't get an upright, at her lack of height, but the train was crowded at this hour of the afternoon, especially since it was the height of Christmas-shopping season. A few nearby passengers glared at her for carrying on a conversation that had to be partly yelled over the noise, but she ignored them. "Have I ever told you it'd be good for you to lighten up sometimes?"
Constance huffed a laugh, and did it sound a little strained or was that just Kennedy's imagination? "Not, I suspect, that this had a thing to do with the mysterious wine gift basket that came for me last week."
The rumbling of the car got louder, and Kennedy felt her ears start to pop as the tunnel began to descend beneath the East River. "Oh, come on, would I do that? But then," she went on, fully anticipating the next riposte and determined to be as much of a pain in the ass as possible before her cell signal cut out, "I kind of have a track record, huh?"
"Yes, well," Constance began to say, but the next series of banging noises didn't nearly jar Kennedy off her feet; they sure as hell shouldn't have made someone who wasn't even on the train abruptly stop talking if they... hadn't been coming through her phone.
Which they were.
"Oh, god," she heard her Watcher breathe in a tone she'd never heard before-- beyond surprised, beyond unnerved, more like abjectly terrified.
"Constance?" she asked, gripping the crossbar tighter. "What's going on?"
"Don't concern yourself with me," Constance insisted, and there was no way Kennedy was listening to that. Over the phone, the banging got louder, like someone was trying to kick the door down. "Are you safe?"
What a whacked-out question to ask, when the muffled scuffling noises were only getting more frenzied and through the growing static interference Kennedy could hear the rattle of a sound she definitely recognized: the latches of the weapons trunk in Constance's living room. Not good not good not good, and she was starting to freak out to the point that the nearby passengers were looking at her funny and she would have told them all where to shove it if she weren't trying so hard to make out what was happening on the other end of the line.
"I'm fine!" she bit out, a sharp spike of fear pitching her voice up a few notes. "What the hell is going on?"
"No time," Constance shouted-- actually shouted, or at least that was what Kennedy thought she'd said; a loud smash, like splintering wood, obscured the words, followed by the clatter of a chair or something being knocked over. "Don't g-- find--"
A grunt, then the sound of the phone falling to the floor, then a cry of pain.
"Constance!" Kennedy yelled, as if it'd do a damn bit of good.
"Sunnydale," she heard Constance grit out, sounding far away, too damn far, sounding bad, oh god, why was this fucking train moving so goddamn slowly? "Get to--"
The rumbling of the train tripled in tandem with the pressure in Kennedy's ears as the subway tunnel dipped below the riverbed, and the phone signal cut out completely.
[[oh boy, here we go. nfi, nfb, ooc okay. part 1 of 2 for today; stay tuned or something.]]
One she was running a couple of hours late for, but she'd had to call Jañe to pick up Bailey, and things could wait until she got there. That was just how the world worked. Maybe it was just an exercise, and she wouldn't be doing more than facing off against a minor demon under controlled circumstances, but it promised to be fun. Some fighting, time with her Watcher, a chance to burn restless energy minus the pressure of world-ending consequences-- no bad here. Well, maybe--
She frowned as she headed toward the door, and smothered a yawn; she really hadn't been getting the most restful sleep the past few weeks but hell if she could remember her dreams. Constance had been all on edge lately, too, even if she denied it whenever Kennedy asked. Something going down at work? Which was weird; there hadn't been much news from the Hellmouth since the thing with that bunch of frat boys getting their hearts ripped out. Kennedy was honestly worried; she decided she'd shake the details out of her when she got to Constance's place in Queens.
She could have called a cab, or had one of Dad's drivers pick her up, but since she'd been living on her own Kennedy had gotten into the habit of getting around the city the way most people did; she enjoyed the physical activity, and for a girl with an interest in keeping tabs on the fangy unsavory elements there was a bonus in being familiar with the streets. Besides, the nearest subway station was just a block from her apartment and from there it was a straight shot down the line and under the East River.
On the way down the elevator she mentally reviewed the latest not-so-much-news from the Hellmouth; mostly, since there really hadn't been much to make note of since that whole thing with the frat boys, this meant going over their last few conversations, involving Constance ribbing her (in that not so obvious British way) about being a pain in the ass with the constant asking. There had been something kind of off about all those talks, though; Constance didn't usually stumble over her words the way she had been the past few weeks, and where normally she gave as good as she got from the smartass Potential she'd been saddled with for over a decade she seemed to be swinging and missing on some of their more spirited exchanges. Plus training had been a little more... intensive as of late, more in earnest and less with the "purely hypothetical" vibe she'd always complained about. And that was of the good, wasn't it? So why did it inspire inexplicably bad wigged-out-ness?
The phone rang as Kennedy shouldered her way through foot traffic in the intersection and down the stairs into the subway station. "Hey, Constance. You found the books for Wes, right? Yeah, I'm on my way now. God, keep your pants on! Just getting on the train."
"Nearly two hours later than scheduled, I might note," Constance replied, and Kennedy felt perfectly secure in the knowledge that as annoyed as her Watcher might sound and almost definitely was, she wasn't going to harp on it later. Because she expected these things from Kennedy, and because Kennedy had a proven record of making up for lost time whenever it came to training. "If your excuse is something frivolous..."
"Tchah," she scoffed in response, wrapping her fingers tightly around the crossbar of the train car-- always a bitch when she couldn't get an upright, at her lack of height, but the train was crowded at this hour of the afternoon, especially since it was the height of Christmas-shopping season. A few nearby passengers glared at her for carrying on a conversation that had to be partly yelled over the noise, but she ignored them. "Have I ever told you it'd be good for you to lighten up sometimes?"
Constance huffed a laugh, and did it sound a little strained or was that just Kennedy's imagination? "Not, I suspect, that this had a thing to do with the mysterious wine gift basket that came for me last week."
The rumbling of the car got louder, and Kennedy felt her ears start to pop as the tunnel began to descend beneath the East River. "Oh, come on, would I do that? But then," she went on, fully anticipating the next riposte and determined to be as much of a pain in the ass as possible before her cell signal cut out, "I kind of have a track record, huh?"
"Yes, well," Constance began to say, but the next series of banging noises didn't nearly jar Kennedy off her feet; they sure as hell shouldn't have made someone who wasn't even on the train abruptly stop talking if they... hadn't been coming through her phone.
Which they were.
"Oh, god," she heard her Watcher breathe in a tone she'd never heard before-- beyond surprised, beyond unnerved, more like abjectly terrified.
"Constance?" she asked, gripping the crossbar tighter. "What's going on?"
"Don't concern yourself with me," Constance insisted, and there was no way Kennedy was listening to that. Over the phone, the banging got louder, like someone was trying to kick the door down. "Are you safe?"
What a whacked-out question to ask, when the muffled scuffling noises were only getting more frenzied and through the growing static interference Kennedy could hear the rattle of a sound she definitely recognized: the latches of the weapons trunk in Constance's living room. Not good not good not good, and she was starting to freak out to the point that the nearby passengers were looking at her funny and she would have told them all where to shove it if she weren't trying so hard to make out what was happening on the other end of the line.
"I'm fine!" she bit out, a sharp spike of fear pitching her voice up a few notes. "What the hell is going on?"
"No time," Constance shouted-- actually shouted, or at least that was what Kennedy thought she'd said; a loud smash, like splintering wood, obscured the words, followed by the clatter of a chair or something being knocked over. "Don't g-- find--"
A grunt, then the sound of the phone falling to the floor, then a cry of pain.
"Constance!" Kennedy yelled, as if it'd do a damn bit of good.
"Sunnydale," she heard Constance grit out, sounding far away, too damn far, sounding bad, oh god, why was this fucking train moving so goddamn slowly? "Get to--"
The rumbling of the train tripled in tandem with the pressure in Kennedy's ears as the subway tunnel dipped below the riverbed, and the phone signal cut out completely.
[[oh boy, here we go. nfi, nfb, ooc okay. part 1 of 2 for today; stay tuned or something.]]