Vicki sat in her office, sighing as she scratched her head and clicked through the list of unpaid invoices on the computer in front of her. "You'd think that clients would be so grateful for my services that they'd actually pay their bills in full." she muttered to Coreen.
"Well.. at least you manage to get them to pay half upfront." Coreen replied as she dusted a nearby bookshelf.
"Yeah.. but if it wasn't for the inheritance my Mom left me we'd have been kicked out of this office long before now, and you'd still be working at that diner." Vicki replied as she threw some papers to the other side of her desk.
She looked at her assistant, who had surprisingly matured quite a lot over the past year. Coreen had changed her appearance, abandoning the gothic attire for a more demure look. She was dressed in a calf-length, straight, black skirt, and a white collared shirt. Her hair was still long and dark, but it was neatly pinned at the top of her head.
Coreen shrugged and tugged at an amethyst crystal pendent that hung around her neck, "You could take on just a few special cases to help with the finances."
Vicki smiled, knowing that Coreen's unique personality and love of all things occult hadn't disappeared despite the change in dress. "We talked about this Coreen. I told Mike that when I came back to work there would be no more supernatural problem solving, no more demon hunting. I promised him."
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean there aren't demon's out there to hunt Vicki. I can name one in particular."
"I know, I know. I haven't forgotten about Astaroth." Vicki rubbed at the ever prominent tattoos on her wrists - the marks that made it practically impossible to forget about the demon.
"Sure seems like you have." Coreen muttered, slightly disgruntled, wiping down a book before sliding it back on the shelf.
"Actually, I was kinda hoping he'd forgotten about me." Vicki mumbled quietly.
"Well...... at least it's been all quiet on the evil front." Coreen suggested optimistically.
Vicki shook her head. "That's exactly what worries me. Maybe this is the calm before the storm. I just have this feeling that he's planning something.... something terrible."
"Never know... maybe Henry took care of it?"
Vicki glared at Coreen and snapped. "Henry is a coward who cares about no one but himself. I'm sure he's busy chomping down on a gorgeous blonde in a club in Vancouver somewhere."
"You don't know that for sure Vicki."
"Well he's not here is he? ThatI do know for sure." Vicki said bitterly, torn between a desperate need to see Henry again, and an overwhelming desire to despise him for leaving.
Screw him! He made his choice. Why the hell should I care about someone who doesn't give a damn about me?
***
Henry Fitzroy entered the crowded night club, scanning the venue for his next meal. As he glanced over the dance floor he realised how grateful he was for the generational change that had occurred over the last fifty years - especially for the introduction of women's liberation and the evolution of disco. It used to require so much effort to get physically close to the ordinary woman.
He could clearly remember his life in the late nineteen-fifties. While he'd often feed on the local prostitutes he'd also frequent the nearby diners and old-fashioned ice-cream shops. He'd make pleasantries with young women, pretending to sip chocolate shakes and eat french-fries while discussing Buddy Holly's latest hit record. Henry enjoyed the blood of the innocent women of the time, but they were the most difficult to lure into the back of his '56 Cadillac convertible. I think you're swell, he'd sheepishly tell them, then with a little added hypnotic charm they'd swoon and fall into his arms. He'd take what he needed, then drive them back home, sometimes with their innocence intact, sometimes not - but they were none the wiser that they'd ever met Henry Fitzroy.
Nowadays however, it seemed most women were far from innocent. As Henry squeezed through the night club dance floor women sought him out - their hands audaciously reaching out to graze his chest and grab his backside. Most were under the influence of drugs or alcohol, and it required little effort on his part to usher them into a darkened corner of the night club and gently nip at their necks. Their tainted blood was inferior, but once in his bed these women were far more brazen and vocal about their own sexual desires. Henry all too willing to meet those needs – he was an unselfish and attentive lover who always made sure to reciprocate.
If only Vicki had given me the chance to show her exactly how attentive I can be.
Henry chastised himself. Why did he have to think of her now? Try as he might it seemed that he couldn't remove her from his thoughts. He had turned his back on her that night nearly a year ago, threatening to leave, yet here he was, still in Toronto. He had intended to go to Vancouver, he'd made the plans, and yet each night he found himself waiting for her – hoping she'd come running back into his arms spouting her true love for him.
Each night he waited and yet she never came, and as each morning approached he'd convince himself to give her more time. Eventually, as time passed Henry continued on his life, but remained forever curious as to what Vicki was doing with hers. Was she OK? Was she with Mike? He feared knowing the truth about her relationship choices, but found he was more concerned about her well-being. He wanted to know she was alive and well above all else.
Henry had discreetly tracked her down, finding himself filled with dread as he traced her scent to a nearby hospital. She was asleep, lying in bed next to an older female patient. He felt overwhelmed with guilt and a sense of despair for the women he loved as he realised that it was her mother lying close to death beside her. Late each evening he would enter the room, stroking Vicki's hair softly as she slept beside her mother. She'd often stir and shift in her sleep, but she remained unaware of his presence. Henry had felt it inappropriate to make himself known, not wanting to create additional stress in an already heart-wrenching situation.
As Vicki's Mom's death drew ever closer Henry had returned to the hospital room again. He was filled with selfish heartache upon finding Detective Celluci snoozing in an armchair next to the bed. Vicki was in his lap, asleep with her head against his shoulder.
Vicki wasn't alone. She didn't need him – clearly she had decided to spend that one lifetime with Mike after all. Henry quietly crept out of the hospital that night, vowing to never intrude in her life again. Even though it pained him greatly he forced himself to accept her choice and tried yet again to move on with his life without her.
Henry's existence returned to normal. His life was quiet and uneventful just as it had been prior to meeting Vicki. He'd scan the clubs and bars at night looking for a feed before working on artwork for his new series of graphic novels.
At tonight's club of choice Henry made his way through the gyrating crowd and ascended a stair case that led up to a balcony overlooking the entire expanse of the club. He took a seat and tried to tune out the terrible noise known as the current generation's choice of music. He perused the bevy of women sprawled around the club, ignoring the men that were trying their best to impress them.
A particular woman caught his eye, she was of average height with long, dark-blonde hair - mid to late twenties in age he guessed. She wore blue denim jeans and a tight black sweater. Strutting confidently into the club she scanned the faces in the crowd as if looking for someone in particular.
She reminds me of Vicki.
Henry smiled as he continued to watch her with fascination. The woman slinked through the dance floor before trying to stand discreetly at the bar. Again she looked around the room, but not yet up the balcony where Henry sat in the shadows. One by one courageous men would approach her. She'd look them up and down then speak to them, they'd shake their heads and she'd flippantly brush them off. Henry presumed she was waiting for a blind date to make his presence known.
After only ten minutes the woman appeared to grow impatient, shuffling her way back to the exit with a displeased expression.
Henry's got up and started to follow, curious to see if she met 'Mr Right' outside. He'd happily ease the damsel's distress when and if the opportunity presented itself.
Out on the brightly lit street her caught wind of her as she turned the corner at the end of the block. He shadowed her path, trailing her to an alleyway. Cautiously he entered the lane only to find it empty. As he turned to check behind him he was blind-sided - slammed against a brick wall with unnatural force, a wooden stake pressed to his chest. The blonde woman had him pinned.
Henry fangs descended, his eyes darkened as he growled at her, his fingers wrapped defensively around her neck "Who are you?"
She pressed the stake in harder, almost breaking the skin on his chest with its tip, forcing him to loosen his grip. "What, the hell are you?"
"Wait!" A voice echoed down the alley. A pale, slender, red haired, woman raced towards them "Wait Buffy! He's the one we're looking for!"
The blonde woman's face loomed in closer to his, scrutinizing his appearance. "He sure as hell doesn't look like any vamp I've ever seen."
The redhead puffed to catch her breath as she reached them. staring at Henry inquisitively. "It's definitely him Buffy, but he's not evil, let him go."
"Christ. Another vampire with a soul? You've got to be kidding me." Buffy stepped back and lowered her weapon.
Henry hissed at the women, "I'll kindly ask you again, who are you?"
"Relax Romeo. We're here to clean up the goddamn mess you and your girlfriend made."
Hope that even though you know what show I am crossing over with now that you'll still keep reading!