Dirty Pretty Things
Dirty pretty things.
That's all she seems interested in – these vile, filthy creatures that crawl throughout the earth. It's not enough that she has to be around these creatures long enough to kill them – no, for Buffy Summers, that was never enough. She always wanted more.
And she's always gotten exactly that – more.
I came to know her when she had just moved to a small town called Sunnydale, situated along the southern coast of California. I remember feeling quite nervous seeing her for the first time – here was this girl, not even yet sixteen years old, who had a sacred birthright to protect the entire world.
And I was to be her Watcher.
Oh yes, I was to be the one who coached her, showed her where her focus was to lie, make her understand exactly who she was – she was The Slayer. One girl in all the world, a Chosen One, born with the strength and skill to hunt vampires and other deadly creatures... to stop the spread of their evil. And that was who Buffy was – she was that one girl. She was the light in a world full of dark, disgusting things.
I say was because, quite simply, that is no longer the case. There are now countless Slayers throughout the world, all of them hopefully fulfilling their duties. Hopefully listening to their Watchers, paying close attention to their words. Hopefully not rolling around in the filth.
In the filth is where I seem to find Buffy most often. Even whilst we were living in the New World, the United States, she was constantly amidst the foulest creatures. Occupational hazard, I suppose. Particularly when one is residing over one of the few active Hellmouths in the world. But it was not simply the workload that sent Buffy sprawling into the muck.
It was her heart as well.
I was less than thrilled when she informed me of her feelings for a vampire named Angel. A vampire cursed with a soul, seeking redemption and solace for more than a century of distributing torture and mayhem to all he met. A vampire who fought for the light, tried his best to eliminate the darkness that had befouled the world. But a vampire no less.
Their history is one to rival the tragedies of Shakespeare – star-crossed lovers, doomed from the start. And once their relationship ended, I thought to make her understand that no vampire could ever be trusted again. No other vampire in the world would be anything near what Angel had been to her. No other vampire would align with The Slayer.
I absolutely hate being wrong.
I am very seldom wrong. As her Watcher, I had every answer, generally tucked away into some centuries old book with ancient languages that I alone seemed to be able to read. She found a demon she had never faced, described it, and in seconds I would have found it amongst all the volumes I had.
Angel out of her life, she seemed to regain focus, keeping her college studies up as well as her Slayer duties. I was proud of her – proud that I was helping her, despite the fact that I had been fired by the Watcher's Council. I was her unofficial mentor, and she was no longer interested in keeping demons or vampires alive.
That is, until Spike came back into the picture.
Another rabid animal dressed in a man's body. Spike, or William the Bloody, is the second worst vampire in recorded history – second only to Angel, or Angelus as he was called during his decades without a soul. He donned the Spike persona due to his penchant for killing victims by shoving a railroad spike through their heads. He had tried multiple times to kill Buffy and her friends. He was a monster, like Angel.
And yet, Buffy spared him.
A government chip had been implanted within Spike's brain, causing agonizing pain whenever he tried to hurt a human being. And in Buffy's mind, as long as he couldn't hurt anyone, he was relatively safe. In my mind, he was a vampire and would never be anything more than that.
But Buffy has always wanted things to go her way – and I could not deny her what she wanted, most of the time. She was the daughter I never had, and would always want. And so I gave her free reign over much of her choices as The Slayer. I would bring up concerns, usually only to have them quashed and shrugged off without a second thought. That's simply how Buffy is.
She began a… relationship… with Spike. It was completely physical. But it was there. Buffy, as always, rolling in the grime, just as dirty as the beasts she killed every night. I was happy that she ended it – I thought that now she would be able to end his existence, which she had not been able to do Angel. But Angel had a soul; Spike did not. Not yet, at least.
He won his human soul through a set of remarkably brutal demon trials. Won his soul so that he could be the man that Buffy would love, and would want. My hopes for her to stop wading in the sludge diminished as she helped Spike; rehabilitated him. Helped him through the insanity he was dealing with as he felt remorse for the first time in more than one hundred years. She became his only friend in the world. The only one who defended him.
Her and her heart, diving back into the darkness.
And now, here in Europe, she is again dating a demon. One called the Immortal. He is, truly, just what his name implies. He predates written word, and is quite powerful. She calls it love, romance, happiness.
I call it sacrilege, disgusting, dangerous. For while he is handsome, and he treats her well, he is still a demon.
He is a demon, no matter what he says or does. No matter how many presents he buys her or how often he tells her he loves her. No matter how happy she is now. He is a demon. He is that which she is sworn to destroy.
Of course, Buffy was always one for the dirty pretty things. Time bombs wrapped in exquisite paper, waiting for the countdown to finish.
And I fear that soon, Buffy will be the one who does not survive the explosion.