Somewhere in the suburbs of Chicago, Thursday Afternoon
Abigail flipped through the brochure in her hands, filled with gorgeous, smiling people all talking about why they love going to Fandom High.
Somehow, the range of pretty faces didn't knock the look of annoyance off of her face as she glared at her father. "You're kidding me, right?"
Abraham Whistler might not have known much about his daughter, but he knew better than to screw with her. "I don't kid, Abigail. It's a good school. You're going to like it there."
"This doesn't make any sense," Abigail said. "Why are you sending me away? I've only been here for two years. You've taught me a lot, but I know you haven't taught me everything you know. And if you think you have, then that means I'm ready to go out there and fight. Instead, you're telling me to go to some stupid summer school? Explain to me how me learning Arts and Crafts is going to help us get rid of vampires."
"I can't exactly picture you taking Arts and Crafts. But there's other classes there that will help you. Fighting, weapons training...it's all in there," Abraham replied, pointing to the brochure.
"But you can teach me all of that here."
"No, I can't. I know you like to think your old man knows everything in the world, but I don't. And even if I could train you, you're better off taking the time to learn from the teachers at this school."
Abigail sobered a bit, and gave her dad a look of realization. "Something's about to go down, isn't it? Something big?"
"I don't know how big it'll be." Abraham sighed. "But yes, there's something serious starting to brew about."
"So then why are you sending me away?!" Abigail yelled. "I should be with you, helping you!"
"Abigail, I don't want your help!" Abraham replied, letting his voice get as loud as hers. When he realized he'd yelled, he looked momentarily chagrined, and lowered his voice. "What I want is for you to be safe. You're not ready to help me yet."
"But--"
"I know you think you are," he added quickly, putting his hand up to try to stop her before she interrupted him again. "But there's still a lot you need to learn. And you're not even 18 yet. I know you want to help me, and I know you want to start running things on your own, but I can't have that. Not yet."
Abigail crossed her arms over her chest and sighed at the unfairness of it all. "I don't see why not. I could easily run one of the Nightstalker units, if you'd just give me the chance."
Abraham looked at his daughter for a moment before starting to quietly laugh. "Your age isn't the only problem. Before I can put you in any kind of leadership position, you've got to learn how to deal with other people."
"I know how to deal with people," Abigail said petulantly.
"You know how to deal with me, and I don't count, because I don't put up with your crap. You need to learn how to get along with folks your own age, and with adults who won't take your attitude with a grain of salt." He went over and put his hands on Abigail's shoulders, trying to get her to look at him. "Do you think I want to send you away? You're the only family I've got left. If I could think of a way for you to stay here and be safe, then that's the option I'd take. But I can't. And I'm not going to put you at risk for anything."
All of Abigail's fight left her at that argument, and she sagged slightly, looking defeated. "Okay, fine. I'll go to this school - but you have to promise me that you're going to be careful while I'm gone. You're the only family that I've got too."
"You know, that's not entirely true."
"You're the only family that I've got," Abigail repeated, making it clear that she didn't want to argue about that point. "You've got to take care of yourself."
"I will, I promise," Abraham said. "Now, go on and pack. Your bus is leaving first thing in the morning."
"You already got me bus tickets? What would you have done if I'd said I didn't want to go?"
Abraham laughed as he ushered Abigail to her room. "I would have shoved your ass on the bus anyway."
Somehow, the range of pretty faces didn't knock the look of annoyance off of her face as she glared at her father. "You're kidding me, right?"
Abraham Whistler might not have known much about his daughter, but he knew better than to screw with her. "I don't kid, Abigail. It's a good school. You're going to like it there."
"This doesn't make any sense," Abigail said. "Why are you sending me away? I've only been here for two years. You've taught me a lot, but I know you haven't taught me everything you know. And if you think you have, then that means I'm ready to go out there and fight. Instead, you're telling me to go to some stupid summer school? Explain to me how me learning Arts and Crafts is going to help us get rid of vampires."
"I can't exactly picture you taking Arts and Crafts. But there's other classes there that will help you. Fighting, weapons training...it's all in there," Abraham replied, pointing to the brochure.
"But you can teach me all of that here."
"No, I can't. I know you like to think your old man knows everything in the world, but I don't. And even if I could train you, you're better off taking the time to learn from the teachers at this school."
Abigail sobered a bit, and gave her dad a look of realization. "Something's about to go down, isn't it? Something big?"
"I don't know how big it'll be." Abraham sighed. "But yes, there's something serious starting to brew about."
"So then why are you sending me away?!" Abigail yelled. "I should be with you, helping you!"
"Abigail, I don't want your help!" Abraham replied, letting his voice get as loud as hers. When he realized he'd yelled, he looked momentarily chagrined, and lowered his voice. "What I want is for you to be safe. You're not ready to help me yet."
"But--"
"I know you think you are," he added quickly, putting his hand up to try to stop her before she interrupted him again. "But there's still a lot you need to learn. And you're not even 18 yet. I know you want to help me, and I know you want to start running things on your own, but I can't have that. Not yet."
Abigail crossed her arms over her chest and sighed at the unfairness of it all. "I don't see why not. I could easily run one of the Nightstalker units, if you'd just give me the chance."
Abraham looked at his daughter for a moment before starting to quietly laugh. "Your age isn't the only problem. Before I can put you in any kind of leadership position, you've got to learn how to deal with other people."
"I know how to deal with people," Abigail said petulantly.
"You know how to deal with me, and I don't count, because I don't put up with your crap. You need to learn how to get along with folks your own age, and with adults who won't take your attitude with a grain of salt." He went over and put his hands on Abigail's shoulders, trying to get her to look at him. "Do you think I want to send you away? You're the only family I've got left. If I could think of a way for you to stay here and be safe, then that's the option I'd take. But I can't. And I'm not going to put you at risk for anything."
All of Abigail's fight left her at that argument, and she sagged slightly, looking defeated. "Okay, fine. I'll go to this school - but you have to promise me that you're going to be careful while I'm gone. You're the only family that I've got too."
"You know, that's not entirely true."
"You're the only family that I've got," Abigail repeated, making it clear that she didn't want to argue about that point. "You've got to take care of yourself."
"I will, I promise," Abraham said. "Now, go on and pack. Your bus is leaving first thing in the morning."
"You already got me bus tickets? What would you have done if I'd said I didn't want to go?"
Abraham laughed as he ushered Abigail to her room. "I would have shoved your ass on the bus anyway."