Chapter Four: The Good, The Bad, And The Bronze
Summary: Oz and the White Hats party at the Bronze before the assault on the Master/ Buffy analyzes her past and confronts demons that cannot be staked…
"I think we should all go to the Bronze tonight," Craig was saying to Oz during math class. Oz leaned in and whispered back,
"We're about to fight the Master and you want to do the hokey pokey?" he asked incredulously. Then, "Count me in."
Craig smiled and pretended to be taking notes when the teacher looked in his general direction. Then, he turned to the fellow White Hat again.
"I have an idea for a few more White Hat potentials."
"Yeah? Who?"
"See that girl over there? With the light brown hair?"
Oz strained to see above the heavy set boy in front of him. He managed to catch a side view of Amy.
"Why her?"
"She's a Witch."
"How do you know?"
"I saw her the other night, practicing some pyrokenetics on a vampire. She's bold and has the means to back it up."
"Told Giles about her?"
"Yep. He wants to meet her after school during training."
"Cool. Who else?" Oz swallowed his words and faked a yawn as the instructor set eyes on him and Craig.
"Would you two like to share your conversation?" Mrs. Johnson asked, folding her arms. Craig shifted uncomfortably.
"We're just looking for recruits to join the White Hats. You can never have too many hormonally driven rebels fighting against vampires."
Mrs. Johnson lifted a thin eyebrow and sighed. She turned back to the black board and continued her lesson.
Craig dropped a paper on Oz's desk, instructing him to look three seats over to his left. The brown haired boy did and beheld the vapid splendor that was Harmony. He had to stifle a laugh, as she was filing her nails and shaking her slim leg impatiently. Oz turned to Craig.
"You *cannot* be serious!" he whispered.
"Look, Oz, she has resources and money. That, and motivation. Cordelia was killed by Willow and Xander, remember?"
"Yeah." the brown haired boy said softly. He looked back to Harmony and tried to imagine her handling a stake or even a simple weapon like a cross bow. He almost fell out of his chair; the thought almost too hilarious to contain.
"Fine, but I'm not asking her."
"We'll have Larry do it." Craig responded.
"Why Larry?"
"He's a jock."
"But uh, he's not playing for Harmony's team, if you know what I mean."
"She doesn't know that." Craig smiled fiendishly. Oz agreed but thought to himself,
The world *is* doomed if we need Harmony on our side…
***
Oz waded through the throng of teens dancing to the pulsating rhythms of a local band, Digital Disturbance. Dark techno thrummed in the club, setting Oz's bones to rattle. He walked gingerly, holding four cups in his hands. He came beneath the stairwell where his friends were chatting convivially on plus couches. He gave one drink to Craig, another to Erika, one to Larry, and the last for him.
"Where's Porter?" Craig asked.
"He said he'd be here a little later." Oz replied. Craig craned his neck to see past the brown haired boy. "Well the sun is setting so he better get here quick."
"I know why he's not here yet…" Erika said with a smirk.
"Yeah, me too." Larry said, sharing in the secret smile.
"Well?" Craig and Oz asked simultaneously.
"God, men are so oblivious." Erika rolled her eyes. "Oz, haven't you realized how Porter gets all flippy when you're in the same room?"
"I just thought he had a nervous disorder or A.D.D." Oz shrugged. He sat down beside Larry.
"You have much to learn of our ways Osborne." the football player said, slapping Oz on the shoulders.
"Could someone please translate this Morse code?" Craig said with a hint of annoyance.
"Porter has a crush on Oz!" Erika slapped Craig on the arm. "Isn't it crystal obvious?"
"Wh-what?" Oz's brown eyes widened in disbelief. His mouth went dry and his hands felt clammy in contrast.
"Yep, I knew Porter was a fag when I first saw him." Larry said. At times like these, the friends remembered how much Larry retained the vulgarity accumulated from years of playing contact sports.
"It's cool, I guess. I wasn't expecting it." Oz looked down into his drink. "I think I need liquor." he got up and away from his friends. For some reason, his cheeks blossomed with embarrassment. Porter? Liking him?
The thought alone did not bring disgust, nor anger. And that is what made Oz worry…
And then he bumped into Porter.
***
The shadows were creeping, as though on amputated limbs, striving to reach the Slayer and consume her. Buffy was no stranger to their cold embraces, to their false securities. She sat huddled between a dumpster and a chain link fence. She was in some alleyway in the poorer part of Sunnydale.
A lamp shed its pale copper light onto a photograph Buffy held in her small hands. A white gleam obscured the faded façade of Joyce Summers, made it hard for her to see her mother's arms locked around a younger, happier Buffy Summers. A vagabond tear slid down the Slayer's cheeks.
She wiped it hurriedly away, as though it were molten fire. She didn't like to think about her past. But now, when the shadows loomed nigh, it was hard not to…
Born in Los Angeles, Buffy Summers was carefree, having lived a life gilded in silk and designer fashions. She was part of the 'in-crowd' and had an occult following. But then, Merrick came into her life and with his mere presence, changed who Buffy was and molded who she would become.
When Merrick died at the hands of an ancient vampire Buffy lost her only confidant and a dear friend. The emotional loss was so great that she forewent the policy of secrecy and told her parents the entire sordid tale…
They shut her into a mental institution as soon as Buffy finished telling the story. Without her Watcher, without the support of her family, Buffy snapped. She escaped the institution and wandered the streets of L.A. for months. Then, she felt a powerful urge to migrate to a small town called Sunnydale. She was pulled there by some unknown force and was plunged into more blood shed, into a war for survival.
Buffy was not a happy Slayer.
The blond teen stood up and tucked the photograph into her pocket.
All she had now was the gift of death. She didn't do it for humanity, but for herself. Every vampire had to pay, had to feel the pain she felt tenfold. Vampires had changed her life and Buffy would end theirs.
"I think we should all go to the Bronze tonight," Craig was saying to Oz during math class. Oz leaned in and whispered back,
"We're about to fight the Master and you want to do the hokey pokey?" he asked incredulously. Then, "Count me in."
Craig smiled and pretended to be taking notes when the teacher looked in his general direction. Then, he turned to the fellow White Hat again.
"I have an idea for a few more White Hat potentials."
"Yeah? Who?"
"See that girl over there? With the light brown hair?"
Oz strained to see above the heavy set boy in front of him. He managed to catch a side view of Amy.
"Why her?"
"She's a Witch."
"How do you know?"
"I saw her the other night, practicing some pyrokenetics on a vampire. She's bold and has the means to back it up."
"Told Giles about her?"
"Yep. He wants to meet her after school during training."
"Cool. Who else?" Oz swallowed his words and faked a yawn as the instructor set eyes on him and Craig.
"Would you two like to share your conversation?" Mrs. Johnson asked, folding her arms. Craig shifted uncomfortably.
"We're just looking for recruits to join the White Hats. You can never have too many hormonally driven rebels fighting against vampires."
Mrs. Johnson lifted a thin eyebrow and sighed. She turned back to the black board and continued her lesson.
Craig dropped a paper on Oz's desk, instructing him to look three seats over to his left. The brown haired boy did and beheld the vapid splendor that was Harmony. He had to stifle a laugh, as she was filing her nails and shaking her slim leg impatiently. Oz turned to Craig.
"You *cannot* be serious!" he whispered.
"Look, Oz, she has resources and money. That, and motivation. Cordelia was killed by Willow and Xander, remember?"
"Yeah." the brown haired boy said softly. He looked back to Harmony and tried to imagine her handling a stake or even a simple weapon like a cross bow. He almost fell out of his chair; the thought almost too hilarious to contain.
"Fine, but I'm not asking her."
"We'll have Larry do it." Craig responded.
"Why Larry?"
"He's a jock."
"But uh, he's not playing for Harmony's team, if you know what I mean."
"She doesn't know that." Craig smiled fiendishly. Oz agreed but thought to himself,
The world *is* doomed if we need Harmony on our side…
***
Oz waded through the throng of teens dancing to the pulsating rhythms of a local band, Digital Disturbance. Dark techno thrummed in the club, setting Oz's bones to rattle. He walked gingerly, holding four cups in his hands. He came beneath the stairwell where his friends were chatting convivially on plus couches. He gave one drink to Craig, another to Erika, one to Larry, and the last for him.
"Where's Porter?" Craig asked.
"He said he'd be here a little later." Oz replied. Craig craned his neck to see past the brown haired boy. "Well the sun is setting so he better get here quick."
"I know why he's not here yet…" Erika said with a smirk.
"Yeah, me too." Larry said, sharing in the secret smile.
"Well?" Craig and Oz asked simultaneously.
"God, men are so oblivious." Erika rolled her eyes. "Oz, haven't you realized how Porter gets all flippy when you're in the same room?"
"I just thought he had a nervous disorder or A.D.D." Oz shrugged. He sat down beside Larry.
"You have much to learn of our ways Osborne." the football player said, slapping Oz on the shoulders.
"Could someone please translate this Morse code?" Craig said with a hint of annoyance.
"Porter has a crush on Oz!" Erika slapped Craig on the arm. "Isn't it crystal obvious?"
"Wh-what?" Oz's brown eyes widened in disbelief. His mouth went dry and his hands felt clammy in contrast.
"Yep, I knew Porter was a fag when I first saw him." Larry said. At times like these, the friends remembered how much Larry retained the vulgarity accumulated from years of playing contact sports.
"It's cool, I guess. I wasn't expecting it." Oz looked down into his drink. "I think I need liquor." he got up and away from his friends. For some reason, his cheeks blossomed with embarrassment. Porter? Liking him?
The thought alone did not bring disgust, nor anger. And that is what made Oz worry…
And then he bumped into Porter.
***
The shadows were creeping, as though on amputated limbs, striving to reach the Slayer and consume her. Buffy was no stranger to their cold embraces, to their false securities. She sat huddled between a dumpster and a chain link fence. She was in some alleyway in the poorer part of Sunnydale.
A lamp shed its pale copper light onto a photograph Buffy held in her small hands. A white gleam obscured the faded façade of Joyce Summers, made it hard for her to see her mother's arms locked around a younger, happier Buffy Summers. A vagabond tear slid down the Slayer's cheeks.
She wiped it hurriedly away, as though it were molten fire. She didn't like to think about her past. But now, when the shadows loomed nigh, it was hard not to…
Born in Los Angeles, Buffy Summers was carefree, having lived a life gilded in silk and designer fashions. She was part of the 'in-crowd' and had an occult following. But then, Merrick came into her life and with his mere presence, changed who Buffy was and molded who she would become.
When Merrick died at the hands of an ancient vampire Buffy lost her only confidant and a dear friend. The emotional loss was so great that she forewent the policy of secrecy and told her parents the entire sordid tale…
They shut her into a mental institution as soon as Buffy finished telling the story. Without her Watcher, without the support of her family, Buffy snapped. She escaped the institution and wandered the streets of L.A. for months. Then, she felt a powerful urge to migrate to a small town called Sunnydale. She was pulled there by some unknown force and was plunged into more blood shed, into a war for survival.
Buffy was not a happy Slayer.
The blond teen stood up and tucked the photograph into her pocket.
All she had now was the gift of death. She didn't do it for humanity, but for herself. Every vampire had to pay, had to feel the pain she felt tenfold. Vampires had changed her life and Buffy would end theirs.