Chapter Text
In the dim, dusky light of the library, Clarke glared at Bellamy, who glared right back at her. This was not how she wanted to start her junior year of high school and her third year as the Slayer.
“Clarke,” Kane prodded gently. “We’ll figure this out.”
She scoffed, Bellamy snorted, and Octavia just huffed at the both of them. Jasper and Monty exchanged a look over the pile of ancient texts between them, ducking their heads back down into research when Clarke noticed them either smirking at each other or checking Octavia out (that was mostly Jasper, though).
“It’s the Chosen One, Kane,” she argued, folding her arms even tighter over her chest. “One, not two.”
“It’s not like I asked to get called next,” Octavia grumbled, twirling a stake between her thin fingers.
“So there are two slayers now. Big deal,” Bellamy added, brow pinched and jaw tight. “It’ll be safer for the both of you, looking out for each other–”
“Or we’ll just get in each other’s way.”
“You are making this much more difficult than it needs to be.”
“Spoken like someone who’s never actually fought the forces of evil before. Everything is difficult when you’re the Slayer. As her Watcher, you should know that. And this is a big fucking deal–nothing good comes from messing with prophecy, and the prophecy says one girl in all the world. Not one girl plus an extra because it’ll make her brother worry less. If you think this doesn’t mean big shit is coming our way, you’re going to get her and yourself, probably all of us, killed.”
Bellamy scoffed again, throwing his hands up in the air with exasperation. Kane shot Clarke a reprimanding glance, but the lines around his eyes softened when she avoided direct eye contact. Her Watcher knew exactly what she was thinking. It was a big deal, because she had died, because she had let vampire king Dante Wallace get the best of her, even if no one except herself thought it was her fault. And, apparently, her momentary dip into the afterlife was enough to call up the next Slayer, even if Finn had brought her back via some mouth-to-mouth.
Clarke shivered, the memories of waking to immense pain in her chest and coughing up dirty sewer water still too potent. Another type of pain shot through her when she remembered that was the last time she had seen Finn, who had disappeared into the night without a second look back, living up to the cliché of his denizen-of-the-night kind. A vampire in love with a Slayer. She recalled Kane’s words from a while ago, and the wonder in them, but the only wondering she did now was whether Finn had really loved her at all to have left like he had.
“Can we figure out the rest of this Chosen Two crap tomorrow?” Octavia blurted, hopping down from the table. “It’s only my third day here and I already have a quiz to study for.”
“Get used to it,” Clarke sighed, managing to flick a small smile in the girl’s direction. It really wasn’t her fault she had gotten called.
Bellamy rolled his eyes. “We’ll get used to that, and you get used to having another Slayer on your team.”
His patronizing tone wiped the smile right off of her face, and she dug her fingernails into her palm to keep from snapping back at him, for Octavia’s sake. It really, really wasn’t her fault that her brother-slash-Watcher was ridiculously obnoxious.
She should ignore him, at least that’s what Monty’s subtle shake of his head was saying. When Bellamy continued to glower at her though, as if she was offending him with her mere presence, she couldn’t hold back. With a razor sharp grin, she sauntered over to him, tipping her chin up to meet his mulish gaze. In an overly saccharine and dangerous tone, she asked, “Why do I get this feeling that you’re about to mess up my entire life?”
“Why do I get this feeling that your life is already kind of messed up?”
“You really don’t know what it means to be the Slayer, do you?”
“Considering I’m a Watcher, I think I have a pretty good idea.”
Clarke laughed, a bit too much bitterness in the sound, stepping away as she saw a flash of sympathy in his dark eyes. “You have no idea what being the Slayer means.”
Turning on her heel, she ignored the apologetic grimace on Octavia’s face and Kane reaching out to grab her arm, striding out of the library as if the Hellmouth itself was opening at the base of her heels. By the time she hit the hallway, she was sprinting, slamming through double door after double door. She kept running, running from the pity on her friends’ faces, from the naive excitement in Octavia’s eyes, from the intensity of Bellamy’s love for his sister until she skidded into the empty parking lot, lit only by a few dim, flickering lampposts.
Only a few heaving breaths later, and footsteps sounded behind her.
“I’m fine, Kane,” she said wearily.
“Clarke.”
She whipped around, gaze narrowing at Bellamy and his determined expression.
“What do you want?” She grit out.
“This isn’t easy for me, either, you know.”
“Oh, yes, please, tell me how difficult this is for you. Do you have any idea what Octavia is in for?”
“I’ve read and reread the Watcher diaries so many times that I have them memorized,” he said heatedly, face flushing. “I’ve read everything I can get my hands on, actually, even flew to Headquarters to read some of the more obscure texts. I’ve researched on the internet, been training her since she was twelve when I fought the Council to be assigned as her Watcher. Hell, I’ve been protecting her since the day she was born. She is–my responsibility, and she knows hers, trust me. Neither of us are walking into this blind, Clarke.”
“You have no idea–”
“Damn it, we’re not idiots! We know how hard this life is–”
“You don’t!” She screamed, her calm finally shattering. “You don’t know how much this life takes from you, how it changes you. You won’t even recognize Octavia in a year. If she’s even still alive!”
“Give my sister some credit,” he growled.
“It doesn’t matter, Bellamy,” she pleaded. “It doesn’t matter how well she is trained or how much you know. There is always someone faster, someone stronger, someone smarter. You fight and you kill and you try and try, but it just, you just–”
She choked on the words, a pain in her chest, the taste of stale water in her mouth. Air seemed to only come out of her lungs, not in, as panic and shame washed over her. Octavia had no idea what she was getting into, what it cost you to be the Slayer, and Bellamy had no idea what it was to love a Slayer. His sister was going to break his heart, and neither of them knew it yet. All because Clarke hadn’t been strong enough, because she hadn’t carried the burden of the Slayer mantle the way she should have, and now others were dragged into the darkness with her.
She had not been able to bear it, so now someone else had to, and it took her breath away.
Strong hands wrapped around her shoulders, steadying her. “Shh, Clarke, it’s okay. It’s okay. Breathe. Just breathe.”
“You’re going to lose her,” Clarke choked out. “And it’s my fault.”
His arms came around her at the same time she collapsed against his warm chest, letting the tears fall.
“It is not your fault,” he said loudly, vehemently, as if proclaiming it to a crowd instead of the empty lot. “It is not your fault. And I might–lose her. But I also might not. Don’t let them win, Clarke. You’re the Slayer. You always win.”
Clarke fisted her hands in his shirt, desperately wanting to believe him.
“We’re on your side now,” Bellamy said softly. “So we’ll always win.”
They were empty words–they both knew that–but also earnest, so they filled her up anyways, a warm, centering weight.
As they stood in the parking lot together, her face pressed against his chest and his arms around her shoulders, she considered that maybe having help around wouldn’t be so bad after all.