Her heart beat started to slow as the excitement began to fade away. Her hands were itching to get her hands on something just to feel that rush again but her time in Cleveland was nearly done. She knew she would be back one day, her or some unfortunate girl, but for now she would soon be leaving.
At 5 ft 2 Buffy Summers was considered short for her 18 years of age but even though she was physically young mentally she was so much older. She had lived through such hardships and loneliness in the last three years of her life that she had aged considerably in a short time. The once popular cheerleader, whose life had once revolved around boys and fashion, had changed into a bitter loner who saw death and violence daily. The only relationship she had, if you could call it that, was with an old man who she talked to only when she had no choice. Her once designer wardrobe was swapped for dull durable clothes; her vibrant and innocent aura of her girlhood was corrupted to the angry and dangerous atmosphere she released.
Sometime after she had turned 15 an old Englishman had come up to her and changed her entire world. He introduced her to the dangers people ignored in the world, dangers she was forced to save them from. Since then she had lost every single friend she ever had, either from her loss of popularity or death, both her parents had been brutally murdered by the forces of the night so that the only person she had left to trust was the man who had made her life change. That trust didn't last as his loyalty wasn't the girl whose life he had ruined but to the council he worked for. Buffy had finally learnt not to trust anyone when her watcher, the only person she had left in the world, had nearly killed her just for some test on her 18th birthday. All because she was the Slayer.
For the last week or so she had felt like someone had been following her and she was just waiting for them to show themselves. Since she had become the Slayer, Buffy had slowly started losing her emotions till she barely felt anything. The only time she had any feelings was during the fight. She now lived for the fight; for the excitement it stirred in her, for any pain it caused and the satisfaction of a good kill. Any feeling was better than none at all. It was what reminded her that she was still alive. She could still feel whatever it was that was stalking her as she left the factory district of the place she was in, after killing a vampire nest.
Behind her, deep in the shadows, cerulean eyes turned to glowing amber as they gazed at her with lust. Little did she know that the thing that was watching her was going to change her world? The problem was if it was for the better or not.