CHAPTER 1

Heat beating like a drum, sweat dripping down my forehead, legs just about to give; if you couldn't tell my the description there, I am currently running for my life. To give you a brief summary as to why I' currently being chased by a raging Agaricus bisporus demon, we have to go back a few years. Yea I know, the past 5 years of hell has not just been built up for this one moment with a damn Agaricus bisporus demon, just wait. There will be a point to this.

I was 18, working the late night shift at a diner in a small town in North Carolina. Do I remember the name of the diner? Or even the small town I was in? No. Not even a little. Even before I got this gig slaying vamps and killing demons, I was what you could call a nomad. Never stuck around one place for too long. Just long enough to make some quick cash, find myself a honey and then head out. Money in hand and broken heart left in the dust.

Been like this since I was 15, said adios to whatever foster family I was with and left only with the clothes on my back, $20 in my pocket, cut on my lip and a pack of Spirit Light Blues with only 5 stoogs left. I remember cause that was all to my name and no matter how dumb and worthless something is, if it's all you got, it's all you got.

It was when I was working this rinky dink diner that I met a man named George Werthers. Yea like the caramel. It was late at night and he was one of the few people actually at the diner, the fluorescent lights gleaming off his shiny silver rings, his hands clasped tightly on the counter.

"What can I get ya'?" I asked popping my gum as I took out my pen and paper.

"Are you Violet Dixon?" The strange man asked, taking his hat off to reveal a comb over and age spots that dotted his scalp. His accent thick and formal.

"No." I lied straight through my teeth,"Now do you want decaf or not?"

"My name is George Werthers, and-"

"Like the caramels?"

"Uh-uh yes I suppose so…" George looked down at his empty mug,"I work for The Council in England and I have some very important news for you."

That explains the accent. I waited patiently for him to continue as I began to fill up my own cup of coffee. "Go on." I add 3 packs of sugar, no cream.

"Into each generation a slayer is born."His voice got low, like as if you was about to tell me a deep dark secret." One girl in all the world, the chosen one. The one born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires. To stop the spread of evil. I am here today to tell you, Violet Dixon, that you are the Slayer and I am your Watcher."

I stared at him for a moment. I could see in his eye that he was deadly serious but I just couldn't do it. I couldn't believe him. "Hey you got a place to stay man? Like are you good on cash? Is there anyone looking out for you?"

"Wh-what?"

"Hey midnight snack is on me and when you are done we can find you to a shelter." I said writing down an order of pancakes, bacon and eggs.

"I'll have you know I am not crazy and you are the slayer!" The man stood up from his chair, his voice rising.

Now this was starting to piss me off. I mean this guy I have never seen before in my life comes into my place of work talking about vampires and evil and knowing my name. Who did he think he was? "If I'm the slayer prove it."

He didn't have to. Right at that moment a there came a scream, high pitched and gurgly. Looking over I saw a muscled brown haired man sporting a cut off flannel and blue jeans going to town on the neck of a fat man who seemed to be halfway through his 3rd helping of pancakes.

"Hey what are you doing?!" I yelled, jumping over the counter and grabbing a broom, the closest thing to a weapon I could find. "Get off of him!" I stomped over to him and grabbed the man by the shoulder and pulled him away from the fat man.

It's face was lumpy, as if he had scowled too hard and it stayed that way, it's eyes where a sickish yellow that pierced fear into my veins like nothing had before, and it's teeth. They were sharp and glistening from saliva, his mouth oozing the stench of death.

"Oh man you reek." I scrunched up my face in disgust. As quick as I said it, the thing threw a punch at me, hitting me square in the jaw. "That. Really. Hurt. Dick."

And just by instinct alone, I snapped the broom in half and shoved the broken end into his heart.

Poof!

That was it. So quick and easy almost like it hadn't even happened at all. Looking around the diner it was empty except for the still warm body of Mr. Pancake man, blood and syrup dripping from his mouth. It was almost light out now and Werthers stood, his hands writing feverishly in his notebook.

I looked him up and down. His trench coat nearly touching the ground, dress shoes freshly polished and sweater vest covered in lint fuzz balls. He was kind of a wacky looking guy, felt like only half of him was proper and polished whereas the other was just cooky old guy who was trying too hard to fill a pair of shoes that were just too big for him.

I walked over to him and grabbed his notebook and started to read. "So tell me more about this slayer stuff."

Hey guys tell me what you think! Spike will be in the next one don't worry!