(Based off of an idea I had late at night where I had imagined America as the Vampire Slayer. Eventually, it bothered me enough I decided to go through with it. Arthur sort of reminded me of Giles. Reviews would be appreciated and are wanted. I don't own Hetalia or Buffy the Vampire Slayer or an of the characters from either series)
The Boy Vampire Slayer
Arthur Kirkland was a young (Only twenty-two, young for his job of choice), professional British man. He also happened to be a Watcher who dabbled in magic. He would one day have the noble and grave duty of teaching and protecting a Slayer. He both was excited for and terrified for the arrival of that day.
Today was that day.
The blond-haired, green-eyed man sat in his study, pretending to reading over some files he didn't honestly care about, sipping his still-hot tea and glancing at his clock every few minutes. The head of the Watchers Council, Quentin Travers, was supposed to arrive at 5:30. It was 5:26 right now. The clocks hands were moving agonizingly slow, teasing him for the impending visit.
It wasn't just that (though he would never admit it) he was scared of Travers a little bit; he was worried about the subject of the impromptu meeting. What did he want? Had Arthur messed something up? Was he going to get fired? Would he be found on the side of the road somewhere, or hung-over and amnesiac in a ditch?
That wouldn't happen, would it? He thought it over for a moment. It would. Probably will. And just then the door of his small apartment opened and in walked an old, bitter and wrinkled man who just happened to be the same man who had a strong hold on Arthur's life and career.
" sir! Hello sir. Um, here have a seat!" Arthur, who was nervous and frantic at this point, pulled out an old wooden chair from his dining room/living room table. Quentin sat down and looked at the young Brit in front of him expectantly. Arthur's eyes widened and he ran to the kitchen to start a pot of tea. By the time it was all ready, Travers seemed to look almost bored. Arthur sat down and the two sat at the table, each one waiting for the other to break the awkward silence that had fallen over the apartment.
"I am here for a reason Kirkland. Would you like to know what that reason is?" Travers looked over at him, his eyebrows raised in question. His voice was almost mocking, like he was taunting Arthur, like he knew of the fear that was in his mind.
"Yes I would sir. What are you here for?" The younger man's voice was strained, as he was struggling to contain both anxiety and annoyance. Quentin knew that the bushy eye browed man was aware of how much control the old man had over his life but he didn't constantly have to rub in the superiority. Bloody jackass with an ego the size of the moon.
"We have found the new Slayer."
That was enough to blank Arthur's mind of all the petty things he had been thinking at the moment. And the clock on his wall only seemed to move slower after the sudden revelation.
The last Slayer, a young Japanese girl named Endo Akemi, had been slaughtered in an ambush from a vampire nest last month. Three of the council had lost their own lives, her Watcher included, when there was an operation set up to eliminate the gang. It had been a pyrrhic victory.
"And? Who is she? Where?" Then, another question came to mind. "Who will be her Watcher?"
Quentin took a minute before answering. "You will. But there is a more important factor at play. This Slayer, and it is without a doubt the Slayer, is a male."
"Hah?" The young man had a dumbfounded look on his face, his eyes narrowed, brow scrunched together and jaw hanging open. "That's not possible right?"
"Look at the world we deal with Mr. Kirkland. Is anything really impossible?"
"Good point. Who is he? When do I meet him? And where is he?" He sped up as he inquired more and more and he got more excited and it was showing in his tone and body language.
"Here's the file. You leave on Tuesday, " the Council director stated. That was only five days! How could he possibly be fully prepared for this in five days? And with that the Head of the Watchers Council made his way to the door of the apartment but paused before he exited. "Next time Arthur, I take my tea with cinnamon, not sugar." And then the door was closed and the room only holding a disgusted Englishman.
"Cinnamon? I hate cinnamon!"
"Alfred F. Jones. Eighteen years of age. Ocean Heights, New York. Lives with his younger half-brother in a small co-ed apartment complex run by their school. Ocean Heights High School and Dormitories." Arthur reviewed the file for the tenth time. He would have to move to a small town on a cliff in the middle of nowhere. He was going to be acting as the school librarian. He didn't want to have to deal with bloody high school kids all day. And he only had two more days before he had to leave.
He would miss his well-furnished apartment here in Westminster. His apartment in Ocean heights was small and gray and dingy looking if the pictures were to be taken as the truth.
On top of losing his perfectly comfortable home, he had a burden to bring along with him. His little brother, Peter. He had been told that he could no longer keep Peter in the private school the Watchers Council (unbeknownst to the actual school) had partial control over. Arthur had to take him to America too.
It's not that he hates the kid. It's just that the twelve year olds presence is a constant reminder of his mother's death and their father's subsequent disappearance.
That had been the first time he had heard of vampires. Seventeen and newly orphaned, he was saved by a young redheaded girl with a thick Cockney accent. She had been the Slayer before the last. They really didn't lie about the death rate among their lineage. Two dead in five years. Blimey. The idea of it scared him, made him wonder if this was such a great opportunity.
She had taken him to the Watchers Council and the rest is, as they say, history.
Arthur groaned and hit his head against the table, managing to spill tea on parts of the report. "Dammit!"
The apartment in Ocean Heights was bigger for one thing. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, a balcony, a kitchen and a fourth room that had been dedicated already as a library. And it had two floors. Peter had already decided he would explore it and had run off to go "exploring", as he put it.
"Make sure you get to bed early tonight! You have school tomorrow! Actually, You should start getting everything ready for that now!" Arthur heard a faint "Yeah, sure" from somewhere on the second floor and just shook his head and actually managed to quash his annoyance at his little siblings only barely acknowledging his rather good advice.
"I meet Alfred tomorrow. Wonder what he's like," Arthur murmured to himself. He had though a lot about the boy who was his Slayer. The files had nothing on his personality. All they had said about his personal life was that both he and his brother were adopted and that and that their adoptive mother was nowhere to be found. She had only disappeared a year ago and now the kids lived at their high school.
"I would've hated living at my high school. Full of self centered and self-righteous dicks." The gentlemanly pretense he held with strangers was lost when he was at home or with friends and Peter already knew quite a few colorful words and phrases at his young age.
That night he made simple grilled cheese sandwiches and "French Fries", as they were called here in America. He preferred calling them chips but the market employee had taken him to crisps when he had clearly asked for chips. He saw Peter stare at the burned fries with a confused and disdained look. He looked at the sandwich the same way. Arthur muttered to himself, "They tasted great to me you picky little brat.
Arthur stayed up far too late into the night, nervousness wracking his entire being. He could screw this up in so many ways. He himself could be screwed up in so many ways. He had heard horror stories of Watchers who had fallen apart after their Slayers death. And dear God did the Slayers have a high as hell death rate. What if he really started to care for this kid only to lose him? What if he messes up and the kid is destroyed, literally or otherwise? What if Peter somehow gets involved in all this? What if Arthur were to die? Peter would be alone.
Dammit man, stop this! You haven't even met the boy yet. Just wait for things to progress. Honestly, I should stop being so cynical.
He put away the scotch he had pulled out earlier (he only had two glasses, honest!) and headed up to his room. It was an gorgeous yet unfamiliar room, the floors and walls shiny and new. The bed and its sheets were crisp and clean, newly bought and never slept in before. The apartment didn't have random noises all around and the door hinges didn't squeak and the floorboards didn't creak and it was off-putting.
Arthur lied down on the admittedly very comfortable bed and shifter to pull the thin blanket over himself. It was September and it was still too hot for a comforter. Even his regular sleepwear was to hot and he had to settle for a ragged and tea-stained gray band shirt and his boxers.
It took a while but he eventually drifted off into sleep. A very light sleep that is. He kept waking up at random intervals before giving up at even trying at about 4:30. He got ready for work by taking a thirty-minute shower (he would definitely take advantage of this places impressive water pressure) and then going down to the kitchen to drink copious (probably unhealthy) amounts of tea.
He had expected a very laidback, filthy and small school with shitty sports programs, teachers who just didn't give a damn and bratty, idiotic students. For the most part he had been pleasantly proven wrong.
There were excellent sports teams (apparently), alert and helpful staff, and the library was magnificent. It was in the lowest floor of the school where the gym used to be. It had a gorgeous mahogany floor, rows upon rows of a-little-larger-than-seven-feet bookcases. He had taken a quick inventory and was happily surprised to find the well-known classics, the little-known deserve-to-be-classics. They ranged from every genre of fiction to science to history and biographies and textbooks and too many to name. It was giving Arthur chills.
He had met many students and they had ranged from polite and intelligent to flighty and childish to soft spoken and, from the conversation between some other students he had overheard, absolutely crazy.
He had yet met to meet Alfred though. He had asked the principal to send Alfred down to the library at some point during the day but there was now only a hour and a half left of the day and the new Slayer hadn't been sent down yet.
Alfred wasn't the only new person he was supposed to meet today. The order hadn't been specific so all he knew was he was going to meet an "ally" of the Watchers Council. Apparently he would recognize said ally by his flashy and outdated clothing. He annoyed Arthur already. Most people did after a while.
Finally, ten minutes after the final bell had rang and the students had all headed to their lockers and buses, Alfred came to the library and its librarian who had been waiting for him for hours.
"Alfred F. Jones right?" Arthur asked as the walked up to his desk long after all the other students have shuffled off. He had wheat blonde hair, with one curl that was bothering Arthur in its standing up from the rest of his hair and bright, sky blue eyes. He had a (American) football player's build and was taller than Arthur (though only by a little bit!).
"That's me! You're Mr. Kirkland? The principal said you were British but I was not prepared for your accent bro! It's totally weird! And your eyebrows! What, you paint 'em on?"
The blank look vanished off of Arthur's face supernaturally fast. The loud teenager wandered amongst the aisles of books, old and new and gaped at the amount of pages on some of them. Arthur was fuming from the insolent boys insensitive words and the pencil in his grip was in serious danger of snapping in half.
How dare this little git? My eyebrows aren't that big and even if they are it's not like I could control that and how dare he I will smack his head so hard it does a full circle on his shoulders and I cannot believe this how do people raise their kids here? Is he like this on purpose I-?
"So, dude, what did you ask me here for anyway?"
Arthur looked up at Alfred, his green eyes wide and he ran a hand through his hair. "Come to my office and take a seat, please. It's quite a long story."
"So I fight vampires and shit?" Arthur groaned at the boys dumbing of his detailed and informational explanation of his destiny and job as the newest Slayer.
"Yes, all you do is fight vampires and shit. No sense of responsibility or anything. You can just do whatever the hell you want." Arthur reverted to his normal state of sarcasm and annoyance with other people. It worked especially well with his accent. Unfortunately, it didn't work on the little git (as he was very tempted to rename the boy) in front of him.
"Really? So I don't have to do it?" His eyes were shocked and there was the faint sound of a pencil somewhere in the small room snapping in half.
"Of course you have to do it, it's your destiny! You bloody idiot!" The smaller man (Arthur, despite him being older than Alfred) regretted the words when he saw what looked like shame briefly flicker in Alfred's eyes.
"Sorry."
"No, I should apologize. You're only a kid, I should've held my temper better," Arthur tried to reassure him, though he didn't really believe his words.
"Bro, this is so totally cool! I gotta tell all my friends! We can be a really cool band of heroes! With me as the lead, of course!" The teenager had perked up again, flawlessly going from upset to loud and overconfident, like a young child who scraped his knee at the park. Whether that's good or bad, Arthur thought, I've no idea.
And he was mad again. "You can't tell people!" Arthur shouted, now over his earlier hurting of his Slayers feelings. Oh bloody hell, he realized, I have to watch him. He's my responsibility. Shit.
"Um, dude, you okay?" The English man must've spaced off for longer than he thought, because Alfred was right in front of him, waving his hand from side to side and snapping his fingers right in front of his nose. Arthur actually growled and swatted the teen's hand away. "Why can't I tell anyone? They could totally be my back up and help me kick some vampire ass!"
"Your like a stereotype made human. I suppose you play baseball, obsess over American football and drink your body weight in soda?" The blonde librarian had meant to be insulting but the look of "well, yeah" on the high-schooler's face made him realize his failure. Did prove the stereotype thing though.
Then he remembered he had been asked a question. "Well, I…. don't actually know. I mean, the last Slayer told people. I just…. Oh fine, just make sure the idiots you're bound to tell aren't annoying and can keep a secret!"
"Awesome bro!" Alfred didn't seem affected by Arthur's quick swing between moods or his sarcasm. He put off most people right away. Even my little brother….
"So, you like my sidekick or something?" The Brit was pulled out of his thoughts by the Americans voice. When he processed what he had been called he felt his annoyance rise.
"I am not, nor will I ever be, your sidekick!" He said the term like it was a blasphemous, evil word he had a personal grudge against.
"But every hero needs a sidekick!"
"I am your Watcher, in charge of well, watching you. Now, I'll see you here tomorrow, same time. We'll pick up my…" he trailed off, a realization hitting him like a table corner to the hip. I have nowhere to put Peter. I can't bring Alfred home to train if Peter's there. Well, I could but I don't want him involved in this.
"Um, Alfred," the Watcher began, his voice catching and his eyes fixed pointedly on the ground and his old, tattered shoes, "Do you know anyone, of the utmost responsibility and someone you would trust with your child and your life, who could watch my younger brother tomorrow while we train?" He shifted his emerald-green eyes to Alfred's sky blue ones. He hadn't notice the shade of them before. They were, he thought with an internal smile, rather, well, beautiful. He shook his head, horrified at the intrusive (and totally not true!) thought.
"Actually," the American stated, "I do. They're a real sweet couple, you can meet 'em tomorrow."
"I'll see you tomorrow then. Wear loose clothes. Don't be an annoying git."
"Totally Artie, see ya!"
"Do. Not. Call. Me. Artie!"
The Slayer just burst into laughter and ran out of the library. Arthur could hear his chuckles echoing down the school hallway.
It was then that he got a text message on the cell that the Watchers Council had forced upon him.
I am the ally. Meet me in three days, midnight at your little library.
Arthur thought for a few seconds before saying to no one in particular, "Little?"