It was freezing, pavements were icy and the kind of wind that cut through dusters and set up home inside your bones was whistling everywhere but still it was home.
Step inside a pub and look around, warm, very warm. The scent of fresh blood and alcohol mingling in the air, stomach growling. Get a table by flashing fangs at occupant, watch as he practically falls over in his hurry to get out. Shrug duster off and slide into seat, hanging duster over the back and order a beer.
Loud noise coming from behind, turn around and watch the group at the table behind him. Six of them - three lasses and three blokes - six black leather coats hanging off chairs. All talking. Strain ears and grin, they're talking about mistakes in movies and shows. Han Solo's hands in the fight scene against Jabba the Hut - untied, tied, untied, tied, Princess Leia's bikini when Jabba the Hut pulls the chain - boobs fall out - that bit removed in the new version of the tapes.
Lean back, reach for beer and take a swallow finishing it halfway. One of the blokes walks past heading for the bar. Blink and rub eyes, he's got what look like cats eyes. Look at beer accusingly - there must be something in it. Watch carefully as he goes past yes definitely cats eyes. Wonder if there is a slayer around, could point what looks like a demon out to her.
Finish beer and look around for a meal, lasses in the group behind going "Eww" 'cause the bloke with cat's eyes is turning one around. Ah he's wearing contacts.
Stay there for a while until the bell rings. Pub empties leaving only him and the group behind. They leave and he follows. Walk around the corner, they're still outside coats blowing in the wind. Two sets of couples, one set of singles. Watch as the one single lass gets into a car and the rest head home.
Grin to self, they look right hard. Stroll into the middle of the town and find a bloke who's so pissed he can't even scream. Feed off him and then walk around for a bit. It's bloody great to be home.