If there's a hellmouth in Cleveland and the world isn't destroyed or overrun with vampires, then the people on that hellmouth must be doing a decent job. They don't have a Slayer, but there are obviously some people over there doing something, even if Giles did describe it as second-rate.
This will not have canon characters in it, this will mainly be my own characters and stories with details taken from the Buffy/Angelverse. It may make a few references to what happens in Sunnydale, because it happens at the same time as this does, but that's about it. Let me know if you're interested and I'll post the next chapter.
"We're going to get it," Roy Everett promised, his voice insistent. "We're going to get it, and once we get the gig and we actually play, and they actually listen, we might even get to play at Johnny's!"
Eliza Scott gave him a get real look. "And how will we do that without a pianist or vocalist? Mel left, and she hasn't said a word all summer. Her mum said she left with her father for Washington, and she didn't say goodbye to the people she'd been friends with for four years? We're not talking kindergarten to grade three here, we're talking the important years, grade five to nine. And now we might be going to grade ten without her, which I'm sure will be absolutely fabulous for our band, right? Forget about playing Johnny B. Goode's for a while, Roy."
She stood up, leaving the throne on her drum kit empty and throwing herself into one of his ridiculous beanbag chairs. "Sorry, that wasn't really about you, it's just... she could've left us a note, or wrote a letter, or gave us a call, or told us in person at the end of the school year instead of leaving us waiting for her for two hours at a Starbucks. Why couldn't she just have said something?"
"She might be so busy she can't," Roy suggested. "It's been a few years since she's seen her dad, remember. Maybe they don't get along as well as they used to and she's been forbidden to use the phone or something equally stupid."
Eliza played with a hole in the beanbag chair, her dark hair long enough to obscure her face in spite of the short bob, leaving him unable to see her expression. "Well, she'd better be back for school next week."
The alley was deserted, and the pain behind her eyes was building to the point where she could barely see straight. Mel Clarke put her back against the wall so she would have something to keep her from falling to the ground in pain, and clutched her head as she tried not to scream.
A scene played itself out in her mind of a girl about her age, fighting vampires a few blocks away. She didn't have a stake, but she fought like she was born to and and wore a cross around her neck. Her nose was dripping blood down her face.
Mel gasped in a few breaths of cool evening air, then stooped to pick up some conveniently placed pieces of wood and broke into a run, ignoring the pain in her head. The vision had let her know where to go, and she ran until she heard the sounds of a fight.
Five vampires, demonic faces showing, were taking turns beating up the girl, who was getting tired and injured. Mel stabbed one through the back, piercing the heart and making the vampire crumble to dust.
The girl looked up, surprised, as Mel tossed her a stake. They made short work of the other four, leaving them standing in the alley, staring at each other.
She was an intimidating sight, standing there with blood dripping off her chin and blond-brown hair sticking to the blood, which she brushed off impatiently, her other hand holding the stake Mel had thrown her. For a moment, it looked like she was getting ready to attack again. Instead, she tilted her head and said, "Thanks. Are your eyes, um supposed to be like that?"
"Not usually," Mel admitted. "Part-human. You going to kill me too?"
She stared at Mel, at her milky eyes that turned back to grey when she blinked, at her pale skin and dark hair, at her casual stance. Apparently liking what she saw, she shook her head. "Nah. I'm Tamera, Tamera Bains. If you call me Tamara I'll have to kill you with your own stake. What's your name?"
"Emmalyn Clarke," she replied, her mouth twitching into a smile. "Mel to most people."
"I'll remember that," Tamera said simply, before walking down the alley, leaving her standing on her own in vampire dust.