Okay, go with the A/U – ness of this story. Part two of "Puppy". All lines from BTVS episodes belong to their various writers.
And away we go…
Dusk creeps over the city, and I can feel it. I can feel the others waiting for the moment they can go outside and feed. Play. Turn the town into their own personal blood bank.
The scary thing is, I still have that bloodlust in me. I still want to go out with them, revel in the power that the darkness provides. But my cursed soul stops me.
That and the chains around my neck.
Silence penetrates the building. Thankfully I have been thrown some pants and a shirt to wear, and I work at the collar around my neck with my fingernails. I have got to get out of here. They've taken the other children that work with the Watcher. He's alone now, and the other vampires are planning to take advantage of his solitude tonight.
Wait…I hear footsteps. And a heartbeat.
I cringe against the back wall of the cage, and watch warily as she walks into the small room. Long blond hair in a braid swishes against her back as she regards me silently.
She gives me a look of what seems like pity, then turns to go.
Is this her? The slayer I've been waiting for? My gut tells me it is.
"Buffy Summers?" I call after her.
She stops, her back still turned. "How did you know me? Who are you?"
"I…don't know. I came here to meet you. And you never.... I was supposed to help you…"
A bark of a laugh escapes her lips. "You? Help me how? By being bait? And I never what? Who are you really?"
I stand shakily, and she approaches the cage, hands resting on the crossbow held lightly in her hands.
"I'm- a friend."
"Maybe I don't want any friends," she tells me.
"Didn't say I was yours," I retort, and that makes a small smile cross her scarred lips. She's been through a lot. I can feel the distrust and anger coming off her in waves.
"So where's this Master?" she asks. How does she know? Oh yeah, that whole Slayer thing.
"They're at the factory. The harvest begins tonight. We have to stop it."
She cocks an eyebrow at me. "The harvest, huhn? And what do you mean we? You look like you couldn't go ten rounds with a mosquito, much less take on a cadre of vamps."
I press my body against the bars. "Please, just get me out of here. We need to find the Watcher. He needs help."
Her whole face droops at this. "We can't help him where he is now."
Oh God. Too late.
She suddenly lashes out with her foot, cracking the cage door back against the wall. She stands close to me, hands reaching out to rip the collar from my throat. A blinding silvery light flashes in my eyes, and I spin away from her, and the very large cross that's now hanging out of her shirt.
"Oh, give me a break," she says, and levels the crossbow at me.
"Wait! I can help you. I'm different than the rest."
"Oh, yeah?" she snaps, and I stand up straight, letting the light from the ceiling hit me fully. I break the buttons off my shirt, and let it hang open so she can see my chest.
"If you don't believe I'm different, at least believe I want them dead."
She has the grace to look shocked at my wounds, then quickly crosses the distance between us, grips the collar at my neck, and snaps it in two.
As she turns to lead the way out of the cage, her hand grazes my arm accidentally.
Images assault me, images of a Sunnydale bright with promise; laughing children and parents happily shopping; the high school at night, the stadium full of cheering fans; the Watcher and the youths I've seen him with before, only this time she's with them as well; the Bronze packed with teens dancing and drinking coffee.
She's in the crowd at the Bronze, dancing too. Except she's different. Not so angry, hair shorter, no scars on her face.
My view switches suddenly, and I'm now looking at her as if I'm the one dancing with her. Her hand comes up to touch my face, and I feel it.
Overwhelming waves of desire and a crushing sense of love pour through me as she touches me. Our heads lean toward one another, and as our lips meet, the image irises out, and I'm left panting, standing barefoot in a cage, staring at the wrong version of the girl I'm in love with.
Whoa, wait. Love?
"What. The. Hell. Was. That." She's trembling too, I notice, and leaning up against the cage bars as if she can't support her own weight.
"I don't know," I tell her, voice slightly cracking, "but do you believe in me now?"
Her eyes meet mine, and for the first time I notice they are the one part of her that doesn't look downtrodden and tired. They are quite beautiful, in fact.
"Let's go."
So we do.
We sneakily make our way into the courtyard of the apartment where the Watcher, Giles, lives. Or lived, anyway.
"There's gotta be something here that'll tell us what we're up against," Buffy tells me as she breaks the lock on the door.
I am further saddened by the fact I can enter the dwelling with no invitation. Damn damn.
"What exactly are we looking for?" I ask her as we attack the stacks of books on the table, having explained to her on our walk over what I knew of the Harvest, and what the factory was all about.
"When I got here, I had a chance to talk to Giles briefly about the sitch here in Sunnydale. Sounds pretty dire. He was convinced something was wrong. More than just the whole Harvest thing. He kept talking about someone named Cordelia, and some whole 'wish' thing gone wrong," she says as she's digging in the pile of dusty tomes. My head snaps up at her innocent mention of Cordelia.
"Did he say what he thought was happening?"
"Not really. He just kept talking about things being skewed, not right. I didn't really pay attention, I was really just interested in info about the Master. And how to take him down. I'm the Slayer. Killing vampires is my job, not figuring out what's 'skewed' about a town I've never even been to before," she answers, staring at me again, as if daring me to contradict her.
"The thing is," I start slowly, "I've been having the same feelings for some time now. And why would I be drawn here, pulled to a place I had never even heard of before last year? I was supposed to help someone. I was supposed to wait for her here. And she never showed. And the more I think on it, the more it seems wrong. That flash earlier, I've been having visual memories like that now for two days straight. I was heading to talk to Giles, actually, when they caught me. And I haven't been able to contact anyone or speak to anybody about this. Damn it! I knew I was right," I finish, and slam my hand on the desk.
She jumps at the noise, then turns to me.
"Look, I don't know what to tell you. All I care about is catching this Master and stopping the Harvest. And I can't do that if you don't stop distracting me…"
I close the distance between us, and before she can react, I press my lips to hers.
Flash.
I see her in front of me again, this time with wet hair and running makeup. She looks as though she's been crying, and I reach out to soothe her. I lean my forehead against hers, and she sobs once before kissing me.
Ohgodohgodohgodohgod can't we just have this one night? God I love her…
I hear myself say to the crying girl in my arms, "Buffy, maybe we shouldn't…"
And she grabs my face, shushing me. "Don't. Just kiss me."
The vision slowly fades. We're wrapped in each others arms, laying on the couch in the dead Watcher's living room. Kissing desperately, as if it's our last night together.
I open my eyes, and gradually pull away, touching her face lightly with my hand. Her green eyes open now, and she's weeping. For a moment, the younger, less harsh version of the girl in my arms is there. Then the mask crashes down over her, and she disengages herself from my arms.
We stare at each other in silence, as thunder begins to boom outside.
"Who are you?" she says in a small voice.
I hesitate, then answer her.
"Angel."
TBC.
