Chapter Text
No one prepared Zoey for how boring monster fighting could be.
It had been over three hours since going out on patrol, and most of the night had consisted of making loops around downtown and the graveyard. They'd seen more rowdy college students causing trouble than anything supernatural (though there seemed to be something otherworldly about how much frat boys could chug upside down. Zoey shudders and tries not to think about it too hard because she wants to try and enjoy the idea of going to college.) Most nights on patrol were quiet which was…great! Of course it was great. It was a good thing demons weren't crawling around Sunnydale killing people and causing mayhem. That was categorically a good thing, Zoey knew.
But it was also soooooo boring.
She twirled a throwing knife around a finger and tossed it toward a nearby tree where it landed with a dull thunk. Mira popped a bubble between her teeth as she laid on a bench looking up at the sky. Her hair hung toward the ground, swinging gently as she bobbed her head to a song she was humming under her breath. Rumi was pacing, as usual, going through sword forms almost automatically.
Zoey sighed and stood up to pull the throwing knife out of the tree. The trunk was littered with small slits and Zoey winced, feeling a little badly for having turned it into swiss cheese. "Rumiiiiii," she whined. "Why didn't you tell us how boring this would be?"
"I did." Rumi replied without losing focus on her forms. "Repeatedly."
"Yeah, Zo," Mira said, "Sorry to burst your bubble but she did say patrol was like, 90% observing like a million times. To which you responded - and I quote - "That's fine, it'll be like a fun team bonding experience.""
Zoey pouts. "Well yeah," she mumbles, "When you put it like that…"
Mira laughs. "You put it like that."
"Well!" Zoey throws up her arms in frustration, "I didn't think it would be this boring."
"Trust me, if every night were this slow, I'd be thrilled."
Mira snorts. "Please. Rumi, you wouldn't know what to do with yourself for ten seconds if you weren't the Slayer."
Huh. That….was actually a really interesting point. "What would you be doing if you weren't the Slayer?" Zoey asks.
Rumi halts mid-form. Her brow furrows for a moment, as if the idea of choice had never occurred to her before. Then she clears her throat and her features smooth out. "I would have become a Watcher."
"Wow, really?" Zoey lights up at the idea - books and research and thousands of years of knowledge at your fingertips - but the flat, almost empty look in Rumi's eyes dims the excitement.
Rumi nods absently. "I was basically born into it."
She said it so casually, like it was no big deal.
Except, it was an extremely big deal. Rumi hardly shared anything about her past. She had walls thicker than LA traffic. It had been killing them.
Her and Mira locked eyes immediately. Be cool, was the unspoken understanding. "Oh yeah?" she asked in what she hoped was a casual, completely lighthearted, not-at-all desperate tone while she held her breath.
Rumi hummed. "My mother was a Slayer."
Zoey almost stabbed herself.
She froze in disbelief. Looked at Mira. Saw the exact same expression. Because…
"What?"
Rumi looked as if she hadn't realized she'd dropped a bombshell the size of a tanker trunk in their laps like it was nothing. She almost looked…surprised. As if not realizing they hadn't already known.
Okay sure, nighttime fun team bonding was to be expected, but this had gotten way deeper than Zoey could have ever imagined. Not that she wasn't appreciative! Rumi had crazy high walls, and to be given a glimpse of what was on the other side felt like a gift of near unparalleled proportions.
"She died. Celine raised me." Rumi has stopped practicing now, sword falling to her side lifelessly as she stares down at an apparently particularly interesting rock by her foot.
"Wait, really?" Mira says. "We knew you guys were close and you're like, her ward, or whatever, but figured that was just a Watcher's Council quirk or something."
Rumi shook her head and barked a dark laugh. "We're actually frowned upon. They wanted me to have a different Watcher when it was discovered I was a Potential. They thought such a personal attachment was…unprofessional."
There was a long stretch of silence before Mira spoke. "That's fucked up."
Rumi hummed again noncommittally. Distantly. Zoey hated how resigned and weary it sounded.
And okay, just because she had never known about demons and monsters until this year doesn't mean she can't hate them with a renewed fiery passion because after walking around the dark for three hours and finally - finally getting into a real conversation with Rumi, who was for-real-opening up - a demon picks now - now! - of all moments to decide to attack.
There's almost no warning when something that looks like an unholy cross between a spider and shi-tzu suddenly drops out of the treetops. The sound that comes out of Mira is something for the history books and Zoey is only a little upset that she wasn't able to get it on camera because she would love to replay that a million times.
The creature skitters in a truly creepy and astonishingly fast way toward them and Mira recovers to ready her weapon, jumping off the bench in a flourish of hair and staff. And Rumi? Well. Whatever vulnerability had been creeping up toward the surface is squashed down immediately as the Slayer snaps to attention.
Zoey can practically hear Rumi growl as her eyes narrow in focus. And really that's what does it - seeing something so soft and delicate be squashed under the heel of duty. The worst part is, Zoey's pretty sure Rumi doesn't even notice. Or mind. And that's pretty darn sad.
Zoey knows a lot about turtles. Some would say that Rumi is like one: is soft inside but with a hard, impenetrable shell and tentative to stick their heads out. But people tend to forget that turtles never actually come out of their shells . It's literally impossible, shells are part of their spine. Sure, they're great domes of defense but really what Zoey thinks is that Rumi is a lobster.
Lobsters' shells don't grow. What happens is as the lobster gets bigger, they have to molt their shells in order to grow a new exoskeleton. While the new shell grows, they're extremely vulnerable. That vulnerability only happens when the creature is literally forced to.
The problem is, Rumi will never shed her shell. She can't afford to - her life has literally depended on it. The past few months in Sunnydale have been good for her, Zoey knows, but have also come with a risk that she knows Celine - and Rumi herself - is hesitant about. But now, with her and Mira, Zoey hopes Rumi will feel safe enough to finally leave her shell behind. Only then can she grow into the beautiful, strong lobster she's meant to be.
…Okay fine, she may have taken the metaphor too far, but can you blame her? It's Rumi. They might have only known each other for a relatively short amount of time but it feels bigger than that. It felt like they were always meant to find each other. Call her corny, but it feels like fate. Which is something she’s more akin to believing in now given that she knows the supernatural exists. So why not choose to believe in something good about it?
And now, this rare lobster-growing opportunity that had been presented on a golden platter had been ruined and Zoey is so pissed that she throws a blade as hard as she can toward the biggest eye in the middle of the spider-thing. To her shock, it goes in far too smoothly for Zoey's stomach to not turn as it sinks in like a knife into soft butter.
The creature screeches, a loud, piercing cry, and all three of them wince at the awful sound. Hands over the ears don't help block out much sound and Zoey almost stabs herself again, nearly forgetting that a second throwing knife was in her other hand.
In true spider fashion, its legs shrivel up underneath the body as the monster dies. Silence blissfully returns and they drop their hands away from their ears. Mira walks a few steps toward where the fuzzy creature dropped and nudges it with the base of her staff. It wiggles, oddly jelly-like, but doesn't move. Mira turns back, looking at her stunned. Zoey shrieks and jumps, triumphant.
Holy shit.
"Holy shit," Mira breathes, an awed grin pulling on her cheek.
"Holy shit!" Zoey yells because holy shit, she just killed a demon.
She'd never felt so….capable. And strong. Her body practically hummed with excitement. It was heady and addicting and wow, is this what it felt like for Rumi? How could she not relish being a Slayer if this feeling becomes practically second nature. If Zoey could live like this forever, she would.
Proof of the months of training laid out right in front of her, dead on the ground, and the thrill and satisfaction of discovering that all that work had sunk in enough to start to become instinct was….wow.
She defended herself. She defended them. She was useful.
"Well done, Zoey," Rumi gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and Zoey was already riding high in the moment, but the proud smile on Rumi's face sent her straight to the stratosphere. Warmth curls in her gut and all Zoey wants to do is see that look again.
Zoey, it turned out, was kind of great at parkour.
Gymnastics classes from elementary school combined with street fluidity and balance from skateboarding honed by a literal superhero and a superhero trainer? Recipe for success, if you'd ask her.
It was really astounding what could happen in a year, Zoey would reflect. Mira was practically lethal with quarterstaffs as her graceful dancing and athleticism was channeled into distance combat. Staffs seemingly floated across her body in blurry arches as she spun. Zoey, Rumi, and Celine would throw tennis balls and raw eggs trying to hit Mira, who would improve so much in a matter of months that they stopped wasting money buying eggs because she'd knock every one of them down and it got really gross to try and clean up.
Alleyways were Zoey's playgrounds along with actual playgrounds, of course. They were perfect obstacle courses for speedrunning. They'd time her running along rooftops in the downtown business area - after dark, of course, in the dead middle of the night to avoid suspicion- leaping across ledges and down fire escapes, flipping off dumpsters to the ground, all while aiming at pre-placed targets on the way down.
She went from hitting almost nothing to all of them with almost effortless ease within a year.
Celine mused she would have to come up with new training methods as the girls grew into competent fighters in their own right.
And Rumi?
She was there for every stumble, every fall, every bruise, every miss. Ready with open arms to catch them, ice packs and bandages, words of gentle and patient instruction or reassurance, comfort, and snacks.
They became fluent in unspoken Rumi expressions: the way her face would fold with worry, brighten with elation, crumple with empathy, bounce with anticipation, breathe with patience, explode with joy, and beam with pride.
Honestly, if the work wasn't satisfying and challenging enough on its own, Zoey would have done it for Rumi alone. To earn that smile. To make her proud. And she knows Mira felt the same.
Being The Slayer seemed like a pretty shit gig, superpowers aside, so she and Mira took the challenge as a point of pride to take even an ounce of the weight that lay on Rumi's slim (but strong. Holy shit, was she strong) shoulders, and replaced it with something lighter. Whether it was fighting monsters or battling for control of the remote during actual team bonding sleepovers, the three of them created their own brand of normalcy amidst danger and literal chaos of evil.
It was weird.
But it was their weird.
And they wouldn't have it any other way.