Author's Note: Oooooooook, first shot at a Buffy Fic, and if I suck, I apologize ahead of time. I figured I'd give it a crack, because I have a couple of cool ideas in mind. And if FF.net has screwed this up so its near-unreadable, I'm really sorry. Hope you like, please R&R. Catch everyone later.
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any trademarked characters or ideas therein. The only thing I own is the ideas, characters, and actions added outside the produced and copy-writed storyline. Thanks.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sometimes irony ran so thick it could be chewed. It was dark, even for Sunnydale. Alleys seemed to emanate their own darkness, and revel in it. Creatures of the night clung to shadows darker than pitch, eyeing the bravest of passers-by with only fleeting interest. Sheep weren't sport. It had seemed that lately all the hellspawn had been turned on each other. Every demon, demi, vampire, and whatever other baddie was around felt a tickle on their neck and an itch in their hands or claws. Tonight was no different. Fights broke out here and there; a few in the cemeteries, a few in the alleys, one even outside of the Bronze. It was another night of waiting. Waiting for something to happen.
Only a few of the local filth knew something was different. Two streets down from the Bronze, well into the darkness of the early morning, one...figure walked. Swaggered. It was watched by dozens of eyes, greeted with dozens of snarls, but it made no reply. None, that is, until a pack of the local vampire veterans stepped out to block the way, not twenty yards from the street.
"Little late for a walk, friend," The voice came from one of the gang, the largest, who stepped forward. These weren't rookies, that much was obvious. The shift in the leader was subtle, but enough to signal the other four. They all vamped in unison.
"I walk when I like, friend. And I like now." The figure was male. He took a step into an errant shaft of moonlight creeping through the alley and revealed himself. The gang only had a split second to see his features. A clean-shaven head and face, reflective eyes of some dark color, and a smirk that looked perfectly at home on his face. One of the vampires in the back groaned as the stranger slipped into a vampire guise. One of them had seen a smirk like that before.
"This is our territory, rookie, and I haven't seen you around before." The leader wasn't shaken. They'd seen dozens like this. This wanna-be tough guy in his black leather duster...Wait, a black leather duster?
"Step aside, uni-brow." The duster-wearing vampman sounded strong, confident, and unbelievably dangerous. His hands slowly came out of his jacket pockets.
"A little attitude from this one, eh boys?" The leader took two strides, and his confidence rolled over his lackeys. They laughed at what they expected to be a quick show.
They stopped laughing when the stranger kicked the leader through the brick wall to their left.
For a moment, nothing happened, then rage itself manifested in the alley. The four lackeys charged in, all fists and fangs, and the stranger-vamp dove happily into the fray. He tore, bit, stomped, punched, and kicked his way through them with almost casual ease. When the dust had settled, three of the original gang had broken necks, one wasn't even recognizable, and the leader was still decidedly unconscious.
The stranger shook his head and slipped out of his vamped-up state, peering at them with his freakishly pale green eyes. He shrugged and fished into one of his pockets until he found his cigarettes and a lighter. After a moment of unnecessary flashiness with his Zippo, a cig had found its way comfortably into the corner of his lips, and he was walking again.
--High above him, three stories to be exact, two figures stood in near-open-mouthed astonishment. The Slayer and the local Big Bad, Buffy and Spike, leaned over the railing, quiet as wraiths in the night.
"That's a fella who could prove to be very dangerous." Spike found himself lighting up a cig as well, pointing with it towards the figure now rounding the corner. "Been a while since I've seen that kind of thing, love."
Buffy nodded numbly. "Who was that? He's got to be new in town."
"Scared, Slayer?" He grinned and took a drag from his cigarette.
"No, Spike, I'm not scared." She really wasn't, but she'd never give him the satisfaction of letting him know that the stranger reminded him of her, strikingly.
"Right, of course your not. Now, if we're done with the show, I need sleep, and the cemetery is a hike from here."
"Go on, and be careful, Spike." Buffy glanced at him as he retreated.
"No worries, Buff," He tapped his temple, indicating that there was no longer a chip in his head. "I'll be just fine. Wake me tomorrow if you need anything."
She nodded and smiled, and he smirked back before slinging on his trenchcoat and stalking off into the darkness like an oversized cat. Buffy was glad they had cleared the air, if only somewhat. Neither of them really spoke about feelings, especially with an active demon uprising and everything heading to hell on a rocketsled. For the moment, they were content with just being able to watch each others' back.
Buffy sat back and rubbed her eyes, then stared down at the carnage below. She shook her head. Not even the slayer potentials were ready to even see something like that. She was glad she had sent them off with Giles. Secretly, of course, and with much stealthish spell cover from Willow. They had protested, of course, but eventually gone. For some reason, Buffy didn't have that gut feeling she usually got when her internal super-senses told her "things are about to culminate". Now she was even gladder she did. She needed to get some answers, and she was sure Spike would already be asking around the next day. She shrugged inwardly. Not much she could do at the present. The new bald baddie was gone and patroling time was almost over. Tomorrow she would undoubtedly face many teens deserving detention.
As Buffy headed back toward home by way of rooftop and eventually ground, she thought about her remaining Scoobies. Willow was doing really well, studying a lot and mastering all kinds of magic that Buffy couldn't even pronounce, but she was missing Kennedy. She sighed and moved on to Xander. Stoic, comical Xander. He was great, always there, always light hearted. Anya was his counter-balance. She always had something cynical to say, with only the most moderate of intentions. Then there was Andrew, their hostage of sorts. He had become very cooperative and sometimes even funny to be around, but Buffy always gave him the hard edge. He was a murderer. Dawn was still in the mix, too, but behaving slightly differently. She was fifteen, acting to be twenty, and unfortunately for Buffy, Dawn was good at it.
Again the Slayer sighed, finally finding the porch steps to her home. Dawn was growing up really fast, and Buffy hated it. All she wanted was time with her friends and family, especially Dawn, and admittedly, Spike. Consequently, Dawn and Spike had hit it off pretty well, and stayed as close to "buddies" as they could. The only thought that worried Buffy as she ascended the stairs was that hints of Spike's old self were creeping back into the light, or dark. He was more brazen, more confident, and more dangerous. Buffy found all of those attractive, but disconcerting. It was hard, sometimes, always going on assumptions. She dropped herself unceremoniously to her bed and tried not to think before she slipped off to sleep.
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any trademarked characters or ideas therein. The only thing I own is the ideas, characters, and actions added outside the produced and copy-writed storyline. Thanks.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sometimes irony ran so thick it could be chewed. It was dark, even for Sunnydale. Alleys seemed to emanate their own darkness, and revel in it. Creatures of the night clung to shadows darker than pitch, eyeing the bravest of passers-by with only fleeting interest. Sheep weren't sport. It had seemed that lately all the hellspawn had been turned on each other. Every demon, demi, vampire, and whatever other baddie was around felt a tickle on their neck and an itch in their hands or claws. Tonight was no different. Fights broke out here and there; a few in the cemeteries, a few in the alleys, one even outside of the Bronze. It was another night of waiting. Waiting for something to happen.
Only a few of the local filth knew something was different. Two streets down from the Bronze, well into the darkness of the early morning, one...figure walked. Swaggered. It was watched by dozens of eyes, greeted with dozens of snarls, but it made no reply. None, that is, until a pack of the local vampire veterans stepped out to block the way, not twenty yards from the street.
"Little late for a walk, friend," The voice came from one of the gang, the largest, who stepped forward. These weren't rookies, that much was obvious. The shift in the leader was subtle, but enough to signal the other four. They all vamped in unison.
"I walk when I like, friend. And I like now." The figure was male. He took a step into an errant shaft of moonlight creeping through the alley and revealed himself. The gang only had a split second to see his features. A clean-shaven head and face, reflective eyes of some dark color, and a smirk that looked perfectly at home on his face. One of the vampires in the back groaned as the stranger slipped into a vampire guise. One of them had seen a smirk like that before.
"This is our territory, rookie, and I haven't seen you around before." The leader wasn't shaken. They'd seen dozens like this. This wanna-be tough guy in his black leather duster...Wait, a black leather duster?
"Step aside, uni-brow." The duster-wearing vampman sounded strong, confident, and unbelievably dangerous. His hands slowly came out of his jacket pockets.
"A little attitude from this one, eh boys?" The leader took two strides, and his confidence rolled over his lackeys. They laughed at what they expected to be a quick show.
They stopped laughing when the stranger kicked the leader through the brick wall to their left.
For a moment, nothing happened, then rage itself manifested in the alley. The four lackeys charged in, all fists and fangs, and the stranger-vamp dove happily into the fray. He tore, bit, stomped, punched, and kicked his way through them with almost casual ease. When the dust had settled, three of the original gang had broken necks, one wasn't even recognizable, and the leader was still decidedly unconscious.
The stranger shook his head and slipped out of his vamped-up state, peering at them with his freakishly pale green eyes. He shrugged and fished into one of his pockets until he found his cigarettes and a lighter. After a moment of unnecessary flashiness with his Zippo, a cig had found its way comfortably into the corner of his lips, and he was walking again.
--High above him, three stories to be exact, two figures stood in near-open-mouthed astonishment. The Slayer and the local Big Bad, Buffy and Spike, leaned over the railing, quiet as wraiths in the night.
"That's a fella who could prove to be very dangerous." Spike found himself lighting up a cig as well, pointing with it towards the figure now rounding the corner. "Been a while since I've seen that kind of thing, love."
Buffy nodded numbly. "Who was that? He's got to be new in town."
"Scared, Slayer?" He grinned and took a drag from his cigarette.
"No, Spike, I'm not scared." She really wasn't, but she'd never give him the satisfaction of letting him know that the stranger reminded him of her, strikingly.
"Right, of course your not. Now, if we're done with the show, I need sleep, and the cemetery is a hike from here."
"Go on, and be careful, Spike." Buffy glanced at him as he retreated.
"No worries, Buff," He tapped his temple, indicating that there was no longer a chip in his head. "I'll be just fine. Wake me tomorrow if you need anything."
She nodded and smiled, and he smirked back before slinging on his trenchcoat and stalking off into the darkness like an oversized cat. Buffy was glad they had cleared the air, if only somewhat. Neither of them really spoke about feelings, especially with an active demon uprising and everything heading to hell on a rocketsled. For the moment, they were content with just being able to watch each others' back.
Buffy sat back and rubbed her eyes, then stared down at the carnage below. She shook her head. Not even the slayer potentials were ready to even see something like that. She was glad she had sent them off with Giles. Secretly, of course, and with much stealthish spell cover from Willow. They had protested, of course, but eventually gone. For some reason, Buffy didn't have that gut feeling she usually got when her internal super-senses told her "things are about to culminate". Now she was even gladder she did. She needed to get some answers, and she was sure Spike would already be asking around the next day. She shrugged inwardly. Not much she could do at the present. The new bald baddie was gone and patroling time was almost over. Tomorrow she would undoubtedly face many teens deserving detention.
As Buffy headed back toward home by way of rooftop and eventually ground, she thought about her remaining Scoobies. Willow was doing really well, studying a lot and mastering all kinds of magic that Buffy couldn't even pronounce, but she was missing Kennedy. She sighed and moved on to Xander. Stoic, comical Xander. He was great, always there, always light hearted. Anya was his counter-balance. She always had something cynical to say, with only the most moderate of intentions. Then there was Andrew, their hostage of sorts. He had become very cooperative and sometimes even funny to be around, but Buffy always gave him the hard edge. He was a murderer. Dawn was still in the mix, too, but behaving slightly differently. She was fifteen, acting to be twenty, and unfortunately for Buffy, Dawn was good at it.
Again the Slayer sighed, finally finding the porch steps to her home. Dawn was growing up really fast, and Buffy hated it. All she wanted was time with her friends and family, especially Dawn, and admittedly, Spike. Consequently, Dawn and Spike had hit it off pretty well, and stayed as close to "buddies" as they could. The only thought that worried Buffy as she ascended the stairs was that hints of Spike's old self were creeping back into the light, or dark. He was more brazen, more confident, and more dangerous. Buffy found all of those attractive, but disconcerting. It was hard, sometimes, always going on assumptions. She dropped herself unceremoniously to her bed and tried not to think before she slipped off to sleep.