(Hello, FanFiction world! It's been a while since I've been here, hasn't it? What's brought me back? Repo! The Genetic Opera, oddly enough. After falling in love with it I remember that Anthony Stewart Head was also a part of one of my 'childhood' loves: Buffy the Vampire Slayer. So of course, like a consumer whore, I get back into watching BtVS and here I am, writing a fanfic. Good little anecdote, right?
So this story is mostly for me and my whims, but I thought I'd share it and get some feed back and... just be active on here again. I mean, it's been well over a year since my last upload. If anyone has any requests for one shots or something from me, since I've been so inactive and I feel bad about it, feel free to post them in the reviews. ^^
As always, reviews are loved. Unless you're a jackass. Then I don't want to hear it. Yeah, that's right. You heard me.
On to the story! I really hope you like it. So far, I've really gotten a kick out of writing it.)
Chapter One: Graveyard Shift
The graveyard was as the graveyard usually was: dark and creepy. The silver moon made the area glow, a strange ethereal luminescence that radiated from nothing and everything, seeping through the darkness and playing among the mist. That inexplicable fog was a staple in its own right, coiling around headstones and moving listlessly of apparently its own volition, with not even the slightest of breezes to help it crawl along the ground in its creepy, inexorable way. The headstones and trees of the cemetery cast long shadows stretching across the already dark ground, though the tips of each blade of grass were already whitened by the first frosts of early morning.
The two patrollers moved quietly, though neither put much thought into it. It was an almost natural gait now, as effortless as the steps that moved them through their duties by day. Cautious, light footed, but firm. One came to a stop, an exasperated sigh puncturing the silence, his irritation finally too much for him to contain. He ran a hand through his light brown hair, his hand finding it's way to his ear, where he picked off his glasses and held them in front of him, his other hand producing a tissue from his pocket which he used to clean the prescription lenses.
"I must confess," he said, his voice soft and intoned with an English accent, his words coming out thoughtfully and with some effort, "I am quite disappointed in you, now that you've told me everything. Or what I can only hope is everything, anyway."
"Oh, that's everything," she returned, shaking her head and brushed a stray wisp of blonde hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear, "but it's not like you can blame us, Ripper. You're our role model. It's not like you've never been irresponsible."
"You're well aware that those were different times, and under different circumstances. My recklessness was part of my character, and not something I'm particularly proud of. I'd much rather not bring it up, thank you, because it won't distract me from the point at hand. You are much more responsible than I ever was, and you know it."
"Ah," the pretty young woman said, eyeing her older companion critically. Her eyes flashed with something close to annoyance, though beneath that there was nothing but affection and mockery, "so we're only allowed to talk about my mistakes-"
"Yes," he interrupted, cutting off her snide remark before she could make it. She looked at him in surprise and he stared back at her challengingly, doing his very best not to crack a smile. This was serious, after all. She was in trouble, "because your mistakes are much more timely, and of much greater import, don't you think? Besides, dodging the subject with such juvenile tactics as 'well, you did it first' is a bit unbecoming of my Slayer. I would like to believe you've been taught better than that."
"You mean you'd like to think you've trained me better than that. You want me to act like your slayer. Whenever I do something a real person might do, you get all twitchy and British."
"Unfortunately for your argument., I do know you are all too human, and that I am all too British," he shook his head ruefully, breathing in through his teeth to keep from huffing at her. A growl alerted him to danger nearby, and the subject was, at least for the moment, dropped. A snarling vampire emerged from the shadows behind Buffy, its once human face mutated grotesquely by its bestial desire for blood.
Rupert Giles pulled a stake from a pocket within his overcoat, tossing to his Slayer without hesitating, or even alerting her of its coming. She had turned to face the vampire, and though she did not see the sharpened piece of wood making its way to her she lifted her hand and snatched it out of the air, bringing it around with great momentum and driving it into the vampire's chest without missing a single beat. With a grunt and a stunned widening of the eyes the vampire turned to dust, Slayer and Watcher resuming their patrol and conversation as if the encounter hadn't even happened.
"The fact remains," Giles said, his voice nothing more than a sigh of exasperation, "even a 'real person' would not have acted so, for lack of a more delicate word, stupidly."
Buffy Summers eyed her Watcher sharply, the game losing its fun. She was a great many things, but 'good with being called stupid' was not among her more finely tuned personality traits. Glaring at Giles, she considered how she wanted to respond to his taunting. Punching him in the face probably wasn't the most rational reaction, though she imagined it would make her feel pretty good. Kicking him in the shin, or just below the belt, were also less than reasonable. Time was passing and she was missing her opportunity to be curt, shaking her head to snap herself out of thinking about it and into action.
"So's your face!"
Giles blinked at her, expression falling. He tilted his head to one side and she stared back at him, her resolve wavering the longer they stared. A choked snort broke the silence, Giles pursing his lips as his eyes brightened with the laughter he was trying so hard to suppress. Shaking his head, he held up his hand and tried to restore some order. Buffy was grinning at him, sensing her victory was near. He couldn't stay angry at her for too long.
"There's that petulance again," he said, referring to her school yard insult, "Buffy, you understand why I'm so disappointed in you, don't you? To play with those kinds of magicks, after all that's happened. What you know about me, and all that Ethan's showed you. To tell me you were curious, despite, or what's worse because of all that? And for Xander and Willow to have no qualms about it, or at least not enough to stop you three from doing it… I feel I've been preaching to empty pews all this time. I can't believe that you lot were really that impressionable. You're all adults. You chose to, and that is what truly renders me speechless."
Buffy looked up to catch his eye, seeing the depth of his disappointed and wincing a bit. She had to change the tone, which she tried with another stab at comedy. It had almost worked just now, after all, "that theoretical kind of speechless where you still use a lot of words?"
Giles stared at her. After a beat, "you're not a child."
"I'm not acting like a child."
"Yes you are. A stupid one."
"You keep calling me stupid! I'm not some little kid you can just bully with your insults and your disappointment, Giles. I'm not stupid. I'm the Slayer, and I'm powerful. So are my friends. We handled it, and no one got hurt. At least we didn't kill anyo-" She tried to stop herself but the words were already out of her mouth, without any way of being recalled. Giles swallowed hard, as if he had just been punched in the gut, and he took a heavy step back, nodding at her.
"Yes, I suppose you only truly screw up if it results in a dead body. Anything less than that is perfectly acceptable behavior. Good show: I seem to have forgotten that clause. Forgive me for my trespass, I had no right to judge you when I am so clearly the wrong-doer in this situation. Considering how much a part of all that I was, despite not being there," he looked hurt, his words acidic and incomprehensibly sad. He frowned, his eyebrows moving together as he tried his best to remain dignified, "that was cruel, Buffy. You know what I meant, and you had no right- no, it's senseless. This is senseless. I won't justify you with an apology, though I shamefully feel compelled to. I will not be made to feel bad for your foolhardy mistakes."
Buffy swung her fist at him then and he ducked, seeing the attack coming with just enough time to spare. Her fist sailed just above his head, connecting with shattering force to another vampire's jaw. The pointy toothed dead man did not fall, a sturdy creature of the night, but he was no match for the duo. From his crouch Giles kicked the legs out from under the vampire, making him fall forward toward the Watcher and Slayer. Buffy had the stake from before in her hand, tossing it to Giles and allowing him to burying into the vampire's heart with relative ease. The force of his fall against the momentum Giles created by standing was more than enough to make dust of the enemy.
Getting to his feet, Giles patted down his coat and loosened the clinging vampire bits from his clothes. Buffy watched him, kicking at the grass remorsefully. Too proud to come out with an apology, she heaved a sigh and moved next to him, once again resuming their patrol. Duty came before personal conflict. They both knew it, but it was becoming harder and harder for them.
"We seem to be bickering quite a bit," Giles said, a bit winded. Buffy nodded, surprised but glad that he offered a peace treaty by breaking the silence first.
"It's okay."
"That wasn't an apology," he remanded, "but yes, I suppose it's only natural. With all the time we spend together. I do worry about you terribly, you know."
"That 'daddy Giles' thing is probably a big part of it, too," Buffy said with a sagacious nod. Giles, not wanting to take all the blame, opened his mouth to counter the statement. The Slayer let out a happy yelp and waved, running forward. Giles watched her as she moved toward another duo of young people, her partners in crime. Discomfited, wondering if he should just drop the matter entirely, he followed her and approached the trio, nodding his hello to the second half of their team. Xander Harris and Willow Rosenberg seemed as content as ever, oblivious to the dark air the seemed to be smothering Giles and Buffy.
"You two look upset. Are you upset? You haven't been fighting again, have you? I hate it when you fight. It doesn't feel… right." Willow looked at the two of them forlornly, offering a thin smile in hope that it might dissolve all their troubles. Giles placated her by smiling back.
"Family squabble?" Xander chimed, looking down at Willow with a knowing grin. He shrugged, slowly shaking his head from side to side sadly. Such a same, to see the family being pulled apart, "daddy always fights with his favorite. Makes me glad I'm a disappointment. Not worth the effort."
Giles said nothing, looking toward the sky for some help. There was no stopping them now.
"Wait, does that make me a disappointment?" Willow asked, feigning misery. Turning to Giles desperately, she looked at him with what had to be the best impression of a wounded puppy and human being was capable of, "Daddy! Xander is being mean again! He called me a disapp-"
"Shut up, am not!" He moved to Giles as well, bumping Willow with his shoulder petulantly, "Dad, you need to get yourself busy and make me a brother. These sisters are killing me. All drama and hormones! I need a brother, dad! You're too old to be my friend. You don't count."
"There's always Spike," Buffy said, glad to escape the previous conversation with some old fashioned playing, "maybe Daddy will adopt him for you. He likes having kids around to mold after himself and be annoyed with, after all. The more the merrier!"
"If you lot were my children I'd take you each over my knee for all the grief you give me. A shame there are rules about that sort of thing in his bloody country." Giles said, giving up and looking at them each for a long, contemplative and vaguely threatening moment.
"Now, would we be taking turns, or is this a group knee-going-over?" Xander asked, snapping back and holding up his hands, "because I've gotta say, either way it's going to be awkward for me. I'm just not that comfortable with the abusive father thing. Way to ruin the game, Giles."
"Who's our mommy?" Willow asked suddenly. The trio exchanged puzzled looks.
"It might be Joyce," Xander said carefully, making sure to watch for any signs of 'going too far' from Buffy's face. Willow nodded emphatically, gasping like it was the perfect fit, and only logical conclusion.
"It might be," Buffy breathed with some hesitation, "they did have sex a couple of times."
Willow and Xander looked startled, not knowing if the game was still on or if they had just been witness to something terrifying. They looked at Giles, desperate for a confirmation or denial, but he had already turned his back to them. He was silently walking back across the foggy graveyard, shaking his head and swinging his arms listlessly in defeat. Mortified, Willow could only blink. Xander grinned, a modicum respect for the old British dog flickering in his eyes, then turned back to the remaining members of their little gang.
"So, what now? More patrolling? I think Giles just called it a night."
"Let him go if he wants to. He's been whiny tonight, anyway. Being a big jerk by making me feel guilty with his whole 'right about everything' routine. I hate that," Buffy sighed, admitting it to them instead of the man that needed to hear it, "no, we should keep at it. I don't think he needs any more reasons to be mad at us. Besides, we're out here anyway. Just another night of partying for us, huh?"
Xander hooked his arms around Buffy and Willow's necks, slouching between them and looking from side to side, smiling broadly at his two favorite ladies, "well I know I wouldn't want to be any where else."
"Like asleep in bed? Not even there?" Willow asked, yawning and walking in step with Buffy, to keep from dropping Xander, "because, as much as I love you guys… I'm still pretty wiped. From, you know. Oh. Was that why he was so… not happy? You told him about the spell? I don't like mad Giles very much. Maybe I should go catch up to him and apologize… he's going to think it was my fault, and-"
"No, Willow, it's fine. I told him how everything happened. If anything he blames me more than you guys. I'm the big boss lady, after all. Just give him tonight, and we'll see if he's not so mad at us tomorrow."
The red headed witch nodded slowly, not looking particularly convinced that this was the best plan. She looked back over her shoulder, struggling to see over Xander's arm, to where Giles had disappeared. She shuffled along almost unwillingly, her idea still in her head. She trusted Buffy's judgment, though, and if the big boss lady said Giles needed a night to himself, Willow wasn't going to argue. Sighing, feeling more guilty than she thought possible, or fair in a cosmic sort of way, she looked back to the road ahead of her.
Just in time to see something distinctly not-vampire leap into their path. The three came to a uniform halt, Xander releasing them as Buffy took a challenging and protective step forward, fists up and ready. Willow shirked back on instinct, drawing a breath and steeling herself. Xander followed Buffy's lead, standing like a sentinel in front of Willow, while the Slayer stood in front of him.
Willow sincerely hoped the demon didn't get through the first line of defense.
"What is that thing?" she called unhelpfully, at the exact moment that the demon decided to lunge at Buffy. Occupied, the Slayer didn't answer right away, catching the demon mid attack and grappling with it. It moved like some sort of animal, crouching and using its powerful back legs to lunge, while swinging its heavy arms. They were equipped with thick wrists and cruel looking articulated claws, which, despite its lumbering, it seemed to be able to deftly move. It tried to slash at Buffy, who had to keep her body and legs as far back as possible to save herself from being ripped open, keeping it at a distance by placing her hands firmly on its shoulders. It was smaller than a human, its reach just short of the flesh it wanted so much to rend.
"A weapon, anyone?" Buffy called, grunting as the demon heaved itself out of her grip. It swung and she caught the claw with her hand, letting out a cry as the nails tore into her skin effortlessly, blood dripping quickly. "Some time within the realm of now, please!"
Xander pulled a knife from his belt, the hilt getting stuck on a loop in his pants, and he tossed the blade to Buffy. She caught it and jammed it into the demon's chest. It let out a terrible screech, shoving her back and fleeing as quickly as its legs could take it.
"Geez, Roadrunner would be envious!" Xander whistled, hurrying with Willow over to help the Slayer back to her feet. He looked at her hand, the wound not appearing too bad, despite the blood, "are you okay?"
"Yeah," she was distracted, staring after the demon, though it was long gone by now. Shaking her head, she turned her concerned expression toward the others, "I've never seen that guy before. And it was strong."
"I know that face. That's 'research' face." Willow nodded.
"You mean 'get no sleep because we're staring at books we don't understand' face," Xander sighed, accepting the inevitable with a whine.
"Come on," Buffy said, favoring her hand by holding it against her chest. She began to move back the way they had come, taking note of where they had wandered for when they would return. And they would. She was not the kind of Slayer to leave a demon unhunted.
She was too good at her job for that.