Disclaimer: *puts hand over heart* I do not own these characters with which I play. They belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy and I'm sure UPN doesn't want me fiddling with them either. I promise not to get them too dirty and return them when I'm done in nearly mint condition.
Ditribution: Maybe. Just drop me an email and reviewing is always nice too.
Reviews: YES, GOD, PLEASE! Ooh, did I shout? Dreadfully sorry. It's just a click. Won't hurt a fly. So, yeah, um, that's that then.
Rating: Nothing too racy yet but it will be NC-17 I'm sure. They all end up that way.
Summary: Pre-quel when Buffy is in L.A. and attending good ole Hemery High with Merrick as her watcher and lots of pink and cheerleader practise and all that. Spike and Dru come to town and so this is basically an A.U. of what if Spike came upon her at this point in her life. And Angel probly doesn't exist or something...maybe he does...we'll see...
A/N: I was going through my computer files and there was this. When did I write this? How long has it been sitting there? Your guess is as good as mine, but I kinda like it. So I hope you review and I promise to continue
"Old Ways"
Buffy jabbed the stake forward, piercing flesh. It landed in the heart but not neatly. The vampire looked down, noticing himself how close he had come to living through the fight. "Fu-." Not close enough. He poofed into gray dust. She frantically waved at the air to clear it as she hop-stepped back. She tripped over a low gravestone and looked up at the midnight sky for a moment, catching her breath.
Merrick filled her view as he leaned over and reached out his hand to her. "You must catch them directly in the heart," he instructed again.
"Yeah, yeah, he poofed didn't he?" Buffy answered as she took Merrick's hand and let him swing her up off the ground. They both turned to walk towards the cemetery exit. Merrick coughed lightly and reached into his pocket, pulling out a pristine white handkerchief. He held it lightly in his suede gloves and covered his mouth, the graying goatee visible around the edges.
"I'm getting too old for this work, Buffy," he began in his matter-of-fact yet softly grave voice. "You are the one girl in all-"
"Merrick, I understand," Buffy broke in, reciting what she had learned by rote. "I'm the chosen one, the one girl in all the world with the strength and skill to kill the vampires."
"The undead scourge," Merrick elaborated, nodding his head.
"A stake to the heart, crosses, fire, slayage. I get it," Buffy finished. "But can't I get, like, every other Friday off? A girl's got to have some fun."
"Buffy, you know your duties. Vampires don't take Friday's off," Merrick replied, a soft laugh hidden beneath his austere voice.
Buffy sighed and sat on a tombstone. "I figured you'd say that," she said dejectedly.
Merrick took pity on the brightly dressed girl sitting sadly in the dark graveyard. "Sloppiness aside tonight, you have been improving quite nicely. How about we call it a night? You can go home and get some sleep."
Buffy brightened, sitting up straight. "Really?"
"Yes, I doubt there are any more vampires in the cemetery anyway," Merrick continued.
"This house is clean," Buffy said dramatically, a sparkle in her eyes.
"House? What house?" Merrick asked with a puzzled look.
"Never mind," Buffy said, turning and beginning to walk away jauntily. "I'll catch ya later."
"Buffy!" Merrick called after her, her back quickly disappearing from sight. "Shouldn't I walk you home?"
"I'm the Slayer, right?" Buffy hollered back. "I think I can handle it."
Merrick sighed. She was a strange girl. But also the most powerful he had ever known. He let her go without a fight and turned to make his own way home through the gravestones.
The empty cemetery beckoned like a siren's call.
"When the cats away, the mice will play," Drusilla drew the words out slowly, accentuating them carefully as she looked up into Spike's blue eyes.
"Yeah, pet. We will play," he answered, scanning the cemetary they were passing through for large crypts.
"You never were a mouse," Dru pouted, reaching up to stroke his jaw. Her eyes glazed over and stared at the sky as she weaved through the stones, her dress floating around her ephemerally. "Then again maybe you were," she said slowly, consideringly, the words stroking across the night. "But not anymore, my Spike. You're my big, mean puppy." Spike walked briskly, his hand clasping hers, leading her forward. "I want to play," she said, waiting for Spike to fulfill her wish like he always did.
"We will, Dru. But first we need a place to set up," he murmured off-handedly, his jaw tightening at the lack of accommodations in the L.A. cemeteries.
Dru looked over her shoulder as she let Spike pull her out onto the sidewalk before the wrought iron gates. A little blonde girl was there, moving confidently through the shadows. She should move more carefully, little one. There were bad things in the dark. Bad things that would draw to her like magnets. "Did you see the little morsel, Spike?" Dru asked.
"What morsel?" Spike asked, slowing his step and sliding his arm around Dru's trim waist.
She swayed into him and her big, dark eyes were wide with a deep hunger sparkling in their depths. "She had such pritty hair," Dru said, her voice sliding over the words wondrously. "She would have called to you," she finished, stating a fact. Her eyes narrowed and she pouted.
Spike stopped and turned her to face him, his nose close to hers. "No one calls to me but you, Dru. You're my dark goddess," he said passionately.
"Ow, Spike, you're hurting me," Dru said, a smile curving her lips.
"Only if you want me to," Spike answered, tightening his grip and pulling her close for a kiss.
Dru slid her hands across Spike's shoulders. She pulled back, looking up at him through her eyelashes. Her voice was like a child finding a friend's secret. "You're so tense. You vibrate. You did see the morsel. You heard her too," she said, an almost smile on her face.
Spike looked in the direction the little blonde had gone. His lips curled wickedly, anticipation, hunger. Dru knew the look and it excited her. It was the look of mayhem to come. It was the look she loved best on Spike's face. "She already calls," Dru singsonged, skipping forward and pulling on Spike's hand.
Spike looked down into her excited face. "Slayers always do," he answered. "But first let's get you something to eat and tucked in for the night."
The glaze had faded back into Dru's eyes. Spike slid his arm back around her waist and headed towards a section of town filled with mostly rotted and empty buildings.
Buffy felt a twinge, a tightness, a barely there little nothing in her stomach. She ignored it and it faded. If only other things in life were so easy. The cemetery was far behind her now and she could go home. Yeah right.