Love is fleeting. It comes within a moment's notice, and leaves the same way. But for the one second it's there, everything is pure. An epiphany occurs, all is understood - bathed in the light of love. But that, too, only lasts a few moments. That's why the decision should be made to grab hold of that love; keep it with you for as long as you can. Yet, what if that love already belongs to another? What if the love I feel isn't returned by the one it's intended for? What if the circumstances had been different; what if Buffy hadn't died that night, so long ago? Maybe he wouldn't expend his energy, and love, trying to find her; he'd come to me. Angel…just love me.
"Papa, don't worry," called a young girl as she climbed onto a motorcycle. "Your motorcycle'll be fine!"
"Carrie, just be careful. Dark things flutter around during the night. Get the milk and eggs so we can make cookies and get home; no unnecessary driving," answered Carrie's father.
"Oh papa," said Carrie, adjusting her helmet. She pulled the kickstand up with her foot and started the engine. She pushed off the side of the curb and began to drive off into the dismal hours of darkness.
"I'm serious!" yelled her father, knowing she couldn't hear him anyway.
Carrie took a left at the first stop sign and continued down the street, glancing from time to time in the shadows her headlights couldn't illuminate. She and her father had planned on making cookies and watching movies that night, just the two of them.
A quick startle in the shadows near by made Carrie shake, along with the motorcycle. She regained her balance and continued down the street, glancing back, but seeing nothing except darkness.
The bright lights of the store were in sight as Carrie came down the street. She pulled into the parking lot, with only 3 cars there. She quickly went inside and hunted down the items she needed and paid for them. Her motorcycle was lying on its side on the ground when she returned. She tried hard to heft it up, but it was too heavy for her.
"Dammit," she said, standing back up and sighing. She picked up her groceries and headed back for the store to call her father. She picked the phone up and dialed her father's number after inserting thirty-five cents. "Dad?" she asked, getting an answer after the second ring. "Some jerk knocked the motorcycle over, could you bring the car down or something. Thanks."
After hanging up the phone she thanked the man at the register and went back outside to wait for her father. When she reached the motorcycle she gasped. H-E-L-L-O was scratched into the side of it, and the kickstand was lying on the ground not too far away. Carrie quickly picked herself up and turned to head back into the store, deciding it was better to wait there.
"Excuse me," peeped a small voice. Carrie turned around to look at this young, blonde woman who had entered the scene.
"Y-yes? Did you need something?" asked Carrie, only being polite. She wanted to get inside desperately, something just felt wrong. This girl didn't feel right either; there was an air about her that radiated something darker than the night itself.
"Hi, my name's Buffy," said Buffy, offering her hand to a shake. She was clad in tightly fitted jean shorts, showing her long, bare legs. She had socks and white sneakers on her feet. Her shirt was a light blue color and decorated with an assortment of designs, including a little angel in the top right corner – hovering over her heart. Her hair hung down from the back of her head, and even though there was a breeze that night, remained controlled. Carrie looked her over and then quickly shook her hand, nodding.
"Mine's Carrie," she said. She looked at her own outfit. An assortment of items meant for the stay-at-home-night-life. She had donned a pair of red sweats and big, white sneakers. Her hair had been fastened into a ponytail and a few wisps of it whipped at her face.
"Carrie, huh? That's a pretty name," said Buffy, taking a step closer to Carrie. Each motion she made was closely watched by Carrie. She saw Buffy take that step, and she watched her smile. She even saw Buffy's face twist and deform. She saw the monster this petite, blonde girl really was, underneath it all.
Yet, she didn't see Buffy quickly whip around behind her and wrap an arm around her neck. Carrie's eyes grew big as Buffy gazed at her neck. She began to shudder with fear. Buffy opened her mouth and bit down into Carrie's neck. She drank, trying to draw life from this living creature. Becoming more envious and angry when she couldn't receive any. Blood was life; it's what Buffy wanted, but drinking Carrie didn't help. She began to become furious, trying to suck out every last drop of Carrie's blood she could. Anything to make her alive again.
An arrow flew by Carrie's shoulder and embedded itself deeply into Buffy's arm. Buffy released her grip on Carrie and let her crash to the ground, breaking her eggs and splattering the milk. Blood continued to seep out of the wound in her neck, and Carrie's eyes remained wide and open.
Buffy whirled around and eyed another young female. This one was dressed in stretched, blue jeans. She wore a white shirt with decorated flower petals adorning the sleeves. The collar of the shirt was a long-v, showing the littlest bit of cleavage. Her shoes were obviously made for running, and were a black color. Her hair was a light red color and pulled back into a ponytail like Carrie's, but the wind that had picked up didn't affect it. She held a crossbow in her hands, already reloaded, and a bag of other weapons and goodies lay on the ground next to her feet.
"Back off," said the woman. She began to walk over to Carrie, holding the crossbow pointing at Buffy's heart. Buffy growled at the woman, but the woman showed no signs of noticing. She checked for the girl's pulse, but couldn't find it. She was dead.
Distress showed on the lady's face and Buffy realized what had happened. She grinned at the delightful thought of killing Carrie.
"Her name was Carrie. Pretty name. Kind of like yours, Willow," said Buffy, reconstructing her face to mold it into the beautiful mask she wore to disguise herself as a human.
"Buffy?" Willow said, her eyes watering up. Her chest shook with pain. She tried to gasp for air, but none would enter her lungs. She crumpled onto the ground and held her hand over her heart. She took her gaze off of Buffy and looked at the ground, confused about everything.
Buffy took the opportunity to kill another victim. She ran up and kicked Willow in the face, blowing her backwards. Willow's head hit the motorcycle and her eyes turned solid black, then white, until they closed and went unconscious. Buffy grinned and walked toward Willow. She bent down and picked up her head, leaning in close. She smelled familiar smells of Tara and Dawn on her neck. She remembered family members and loved ones, grinning while she planned their deaths. She morphed her face again and let out a scream as a cross was slammed into her back.
She turned around to face a young man with dark hair. He also wore jeans, though his weren't as tight. His shirt was red, and his shoes a gray color. He held an intricately decorated cross in front of him.
"Get away from her," said Xander. Buffy struggled with what she should do. She decided to let emotions help her gain the upper hand, knowing Willow would tell the rest of the Scooby Gang about her. She turned and walked away, reverting to her human face when Xander could no longer see. He could, however, see the red mark of a cross on her back.