Author's Notes: Here's chapter seven. After reading this chapter, it's safe to say that this will become an ongoing story. There's a lot of really interesting ideas and plots that still need to be added in later chapters, so it's very possible this story might be longer than anticipated. I'm glad that the story is being enjoyed so far. There'll be another update soon. There's not much action here, but this chapter sets up the big events that might occur in later chapters. Enjoy!
She felt numb. Everything she saw in front of her eyes resembled only glimpses of darkness. What was happening to her? She lost most of her mobility and the ability to shift her fingers, or her legs. It was as if she was paralyzed, immobile somehow. She was. She also felt as if all of her strength was draining from her body, leaving her weak and frail. She struggled to move her arm, noticing that it was heavily pressed by a somewhat cold body up against the building wall.
Despite her weakness, she managed to press her fingers against her neck, feeling a trail of wetness and sensitivity there; most importantly, she felt two puncture wounds, each stained with drying drops of her own spilled blood. "Angel!" Buffy whimpered with a harsh shriek, attempting to shove the person away from her, believing that it was a demon or another vampire looking to start a fight. She breathed heavily, feeling the last ounce of her Slayer power leaving her as her head lolled to the side, eyes threatening to close. She fell onto the ground with a thump.
"Angel, where are you?" She whispered, anger remotely laced in her voice before she succumbed to unconsciousness. She hadn't realized nor have known that Angel was by her side throughout the entire ordeal, watching her struggle with a smile of evil contempt that flitted his face.
Many hours had passed uneventfully, and the Slayer opened her eyes to see the sky twinkling with a massive amount of stars, the air cold and still. She knew immediately that she was still outside Willy's Bar, but had sensed that she was now alone. Angel himself was no where to be found. She didn't know whether to be thankful, or to feel irritated at the discovery.
"Ugh. Major migraine coming my way," she muttered, agitated as she picked herself up off from the ground, hands dusting off any remaining traces of vampire kill. Almost immediately she placed her hand on her still exposed neck, checking for any signs of the vampire that had bitten her.
She found nothing. The skin was translucent and warm, no single trace of a scar. She tried to remember the events of the last hour, but her mind was completely blank and distorted. She remembered nothing. Except for the numbness she felt between her legs.
She pondered for a second as to whether or not she was dreaming, but took a short glance towards her legs, finding that her black pants were put on in a hurried display, the zipper opened. She felt something wet dripping down her leg and knew instinctively as to what the liquid source was.
What the hell just happened? Did I just have sex? We are so in trouble if I did. And there wasn't even any birth control! Gah. Can't even remember who bit me. Could be my imagination going crazy, yadda yadda. Was Angel the one who bit me? Could he be a………? she frantically thought, her chest heaving. Then a new panic unfolded in her stomach.
There was no question in the fact that she had no remembrance nor a single slant of memory as to who she had performed the intimate act with. Her night was turning into a complete disaster, and it was not even midnight. "Just great, Buffy. Just great. You fall for someone you barely don't even know and you had to had sex with a stranger without remembering who it was."
She had no time to dwell on the many questions that were forming in folds, nor the guilt that she suddenly felt as a sudden noise interrupted her thoughts. It was coming directly from the heavyset red crimson door that connected to Willy's. Someone was leaving the bar, heading toward the direction of the bewildered Slayer. "I didn't think he had it in 'im. Very gutsy of him, don't ya think Floyd?" a discreet, husky male voice spoke from the corner of the alley. He wasn't alone.
"I don't know what the hell he sees in her. Not exactly our type, ya know. Not like we want to have a queen to rule over us vamps. The King is bad enough as he is telling us what to do and how much we should kill and drink blood. Why the hell does he need her anyway? I don't git it."
Buffy's eyebrows rose to this bit of information, curiosity mixing in with weariness as she kept silent, quietly running to hide herself in the farthest corner from the approaching vampires. They walked under the light of the full moon; both extremely tall, pudgy vampire bikers dressed in a faux leather ensemble. Both of them radiated menace.
"Do we even know who this tramp could be? His new future wife? Didn't he had about five wives before he came here or somethin'?" The other biker vampire snorted the idea with disgust, popping a Marlboro cigarette into his thin-lipped mouth.
"Yeah, that's bout right, I think. Word in the shadows says that the King wants to git this wife and knock her up. Somethin' bout having a heir in case one of us decide to stake him with somethin' made of wood, heh. At least that's what Curtis says, but most vamps I talked to informed me that he wants a male heir in case if all the vamps and demons on the Hellmouth die out should that apocalypse be comin'. Been rumors spreading about for weeks now that another one was heading our way soon. Something about a birth triggering it. Vamps' been callin' it the End of Vampires. Some book mentioned that it could be the end for us, and sadly, the Slayer's part of this prophecy, but it's in a long lost medieval Latin code, so not even Walton could figure it out what it could mean. I mean seriously, the End of all Vampires? Shouldn't it'd be the other way around Floyd?" the vampire shook his head in mere disapproval, taking a swig of what seemed to be whiskey covered in a brown bag.
Warning signals alerted off in the Slayer's mind. A deep shiver coursed through her body, but still, she didn't dare to move an inch. For weeks now, the dreams she had had been warning her of something big about to transpire soon, that involved a vampire that she still yet couldn't identify, and a prophecy, even before she and her mother had moved to Sunnydale. "Freaky," she mumbled. She shook her head, pacing herself to keep still.
The cigarette vamp gave out a short bark that resembled both a laugh and a tinge of despair before his stern eye caught something glinting in the far left corner. A rat. "I reckon you have no idea who this new Queen might be?" the vampire called Floyd questioned, inhaling another puff of smoke. His fellow vampire friend turned towards him, eyes focusing, fangs glistening.
"Rumors been goin' about that our lovely King is going after the Slayer to be his lovey dovey. Messed up, ain't it? But can't say I don't support it. All that power the Slayer has, why let it go to waste? If it happens, maybe it could stop this apocalypse, she's part of it after all, but you know how these rumors are. Most of them are lies, so why even bother tryin' to figure it out?" Whiskey vampire shrugged, but couldn't shake the worry shown in his cold eyes.
"Maybe I can fix that," a voice said from behind. Buffy leap over discarded cardboard boxes, standing confidentially in front of the biker vampires, a steely, determined gaze flitting her eyes. She smiled. She was ready to pummel the bloodsuckers into dusted submission. It woudld at least, take off the stress of tonight.
Hours later.....
"What a waste of a good jacket. Mom is so gonna kill me when she sees it covered with those big, blotchy stains," Buffy sighed. She was now standing in front of her porch, legs still struggling to stand on their own, feverishly searching for her keys, relieved that the biker vamps had been dusted into oblivion. She snatched the jingling pair from her jacket pocket, inserting them into the lock when she felt a hand brushing against her shoulder.
