Chapter 2
The night was unseasonably cool. The cemetery sent a chill down her spine, she hadn't intended to but she found herself wandering toward the grave that haunted her the most, the grave of her mother. It was old and looked abandoned now, it seemed nobody had put flowers upon her grave in many years. Her mother had died such a long time ago now, but it seemed like yesterday she was scolding Buffy about fighting with her sister. Buffy wished she had spent more time with her mother and less with her various array of boyfriends. They had turned out to be a whole lot of no hopers, when the going got tough they got going. Not even Spike, who loved her more than she loved him, was willing to stick around when things got really bad. Riley had left before he even knew what trouble was, and now Buffy Summers was alone in the world with no family to speak of, a distant sister in Kentucky last she heard, a father who had basically dropped off the face of the earth until two years ago when she heard he had had a heart attack in a motel room with a hooker down in Mexico. He would probably never get out of bed again; Buffy sent a check to the nursing home when she could and sometimes a card at Christmas if she could find the time.
This is what it had come to, her not caring about herself or anyone else, she had long given up on her appearance, with that scar underneath her eye like any amount of concealer could hide that. Her clothes were for slaying only, she wore khaki fatigues and a black tank top, steel capped boots and topped off with a woollen black hat, to cover her hair that had become dull and lifeless over the years. She was a sight for sore eyes, as Cordelia had painfully pointed out a few months ago when Angel and her had been passing through LA.
Sitting by the gravestone comforted her, knowing that she was close to her mother physically helped her emotionally as well. But suddenly she jumped up and used the grave as cover somebody was nearby. Scanning every direction up and down, she saw nothing until it was too late; he was on top of her. A vampire. Her stake was wedged into her pants and with one swift motion she plunged it straight through his heart. Covered in ash she quickly brushed herself off only to find that it wasn't only ash, she was covered from head to toe in prickles and leaves. Sighing Buffy realised she couldn't meet Xander dressed like this, all covered in dirt and leaves.
Buffy scanned the graveyard for vampires because for a few minutes she would be at her weakest. Remembering that there used to be a tap by the fence, she went over to it and almost in an instant she removed her boots and sweatpants, washing down her legs with the cold water was soothing, she used her sweat pants as a towel and opened her backpack to remove a spare pair of pants. Buffy hated this but it wasn't as if she hadn't done it before, she replaced her pants and socks with clean ones. Put her boots back on and rescanned the cemetery, still nothing she took off her khaki jacket and black tank top washed her arms and chest as well as she could, she considered changing her bra but decided it would take too long. She replaced the tank with a thin woollen top that a friend of hers had made for her. Now all she needed was a mirror.
Back on the main street she passed the cinema and the coffee shop, the cheese stand where Xander had worked, and almost at the end of the street was a dingy old bar named 'Willie's Place', it was decent enough but if you wanted to go somewhere where nobody knew your name or even asked for it this was the place. Buffy and her friends had often come in here underage no less, but not to drink to beat up Willie for information. It was a local demon hangout and Willie often had his ear to the ground.
It was early and Buffy sat at a booth furthest from the door, waiting for Xander proved tiresome. She had glanced in a mirror above the bar but had been depressed by what she saw and didn't bother looking again. She took off her hat and smoothed her fingers through her hair because her last brush had been used to throw at Angel when he confessed to her that he had cheated on her. Her spare shoes had gone that way as well. But she didn't regret it for one second; leaving Angel alone in that motel room he could have his precious Marisa for company.
"Hey Stranger," a male voice interrupted her thoughts, at first she though it was Xander but it was just the bar tender.
"I'll have a Vodka on the rocks to start with, but when my friend gets here he'll want something as well," she told the bartender who looked like a pyrgolath demon, probably a half-breed. It was just then that a familiar figure walked through the door.
The night was unseasonably cool. The cemetery sent a chill down her spine, she hadn't intended to but she found herself wandering toward the grave that haunted her the most, the grave of her mother. It was old and looked abandoned now, it seemed nobody had put flowers upon her grave in many years. Her mother had died such a long time ago now, but it seemed like yesterday she was scolding Buffy about fighting with her sister. Buffy wished she had spent more time with her mother and less with her various array of boyfriends. They had turned out to be a whole lot of no hopers, when the going got tough they got going. Not even Spike, who loved her more than she loved him, was willing to stick around when things got really bad. Riley had left before he even knew what trouble was, and now Buffy Summers was alone in the world with no family to speak of, a distant sister in Kentucky last she heard, a father who had basically dropped off the face of the earth until two years ago when she heard he had had a heart attack in a motel room with a hooker down in Mexico. He would probably never get out of bed again; Buffy sent a check to the nursing home when she could and sometimes a card at Christmas if she could find the time.
This is what it had come to, her not caring about herself or anyone else, she had long given up on her appearance, with that scar underneath her eye like any amount of concealer could hide that. Her clothes were for slaying only, she wore khaki fatigues and a black tank top, steel capped boots and topped off with a woollen black hat, to cover her hair that had become dull and lifeless over the years. She was a sight for sore eyes, as Cordelia had painfully pointed out a few months ago when Angel and her had been passing through LA.
Sitting by the gravestone comforted her, knowing that she was close to her mother physically helped her emotionally as well. But suddenly she jumped up and used the grave as cover somebody was nearby. Scanning every direction up and down, she saw nothing until it was too late; he was on top of her. A vampire. Her stake was wedged into her pants and with one swift motion she plunged it straight through his heart. Covered in ash she quickly brushed herself off only to find that it wasn't only ash, she was covered from head to toe in prickles and leaves. Sighing Buffy realised she couldn't meet Xander dressed like this, all covered in dirt and leaves.
Buffy scanned the graveyard for vampires because for a few minutes she would be at her weakest. Remembering that there used to be a tap by the fence, she went over to it and almost in an instant she removed her boots and sweatpants, washing down her legs with the cold water was soothing, she used her sweat pants as a towel and opened her backpack to remove a spare pair of pants. Buffy hated this but it wasn't as if she hadn't done it before, she replaced her pants and socks with clean ones. Put her boots back on and rescanned the cemetery, still nothing she took off her khaki jacket and black tank top washed her arms and chest as well as she could, she considered changing her bra but decided it would take too long. She replaced the tank with a thin woollen top that a friend of hers had made for her. Now all she needed was a mirror.
Back on the main street she passed the cinema and the coffee shop, the cheese stand where Xander had worked, and almost at the end of the street was a dingy old bar named 'Willie's Place', it was decent enough but if you wanted to go somewhere where nobody knew your name or even asked for it this was the place. Buffy and her friends had often come in here underage no less, but not to drink to beat up Willie for information. It was a local demon hangout and Willie often had his ear to the ground.
It was early and Buffy sat at a booth furthest from the door, waiting for Xander proved tiresome. She had glanced in a mirror above the bar but had been depressed by what she saw and didn't bother looking again. She took off her hat and smoothed her fingers through her hair because her last brush had been used to throw at Angel when he confessed to her that he had cheated on her. Her spare shoes had gone that way as well. But she didn't regret it for one second; leaving Angel alone in that motel room he could have his precious Marisa for company.
"Hey Stranger," a male voice interrupted her thoughts, at first she though it was Xander but it was just the bar tender.
"I'll have a Vodka on the rocks to start with, but when my friend gets here he'll want something as well," she told the bartender who looked like a pyrgolath demon, probably a half-breed. It was just then that a familiar figure walked through the door.