Author: Asrai
E-Mail: ikh@haefft.de
Rating: R
Summary: What if Buffy was the screwed up one?
Spoilers: General spoilers for Btvs seasons 1 - 3
Disclaimers: I don't own Btvs nor do I make any money out of this; no copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 03 - The Last One Alive
*Buffy knocked on the door and stepped back into the shadows of the staircase. A moment later the door was opened and Thomas smiled at her. "Hey."
"Hi." She quickly entered the apartment and sat down on his couch. It was huge, as was the rest of his "flat", and everything was clean. It even smelled nice. She lowered her head and played with the hem of her shirt.
"So, what's up today?" she asked flippantly.
Her watcher shut the door and approached her. "You'll like it. today you have your first lesson in martial arts."
Normally Buffy would have squealed in delight; she'd been looking to learning how to fight for weeks. It was the only thing that had made her learn the rules of slaying, the history of vampires, yadayadayada. but now she stayed silent. Thomas raised his eyebrows and sat down next to her.
"What is it?" he asked, but Buffy didn't answer. He touched her arm and she flinched back as if he'd hit her. Now getting a good look at her face, he couldn't suppress a surprised gasp.
"Buffy? Who did this to you?"
The right half of her face was swollen and bruised in an angry red, and across her forehead was a deep cut that had apparently stopped bleeding just recently.
"Buffy?"
She swallowed and whispered hoarsely, "It's not important. can we- can we just start training, please?"
She couldn't, wouldn't tell him; nor about her mother having a new boyfriend who was drunk most of the time, nor about his tantrums and the beatings he gave her; nor about her mother watching passively, high on drugs, giggling all the time. No, she couldn't, wouldn't ever tell him.*
~~~
"Sis'?" Faith asks and her friends take a step forward, as if they want to protect her. Don't worry, I won't hurt her.
"Faith, th-this is Buffy," watcher-guy says, "It appears that she is a slayer."
"A slayer?" the dark-haired guy, probably boyfriend, asks, "Good joke, G- man, we all know that there's only one in every generation, in all the world. I paid attention in Slayer Lore 101. And our Faith here is still alive and kicking as far as I can see- what do you think, Will?"
The red-haired girl mumbles a yes. Will? Pretty strange name for a girl. Okay, I see, Buffy isn't really common either.
"Yes, but Faith died at the hands of the master, albeit just for a few seconds. It was enough for a new slayer to be called."
"Oh."
Guess she's speechless now. But I sense, somehow, that she doesn't quite believe that, and it bugs me. My left hand creeps under my shirt and touches the knife I hide there. The blade is a little warm from the contact with my skin and it reassures me. Save for a stake, a knife is the best weapon you can get. Simple, sharp, quick; deadly. I draw it and it gleams silvery in the light. Beautiful.
"Need a demonstration?" Before anybody can react, I throw the knife in direction of the group. The girl, Will, jumps hastily aside and the weapon makes a hissing sound as it embeds itself an inch next to Faith's face in the wall. Yay me.
"See?"
Slayer's smile is frosty as she crosses her arms. "And what are you doing here now, in Sunnydale?"
Could they stop asking me that? "I was just, you know, traveling around and I thought I'd visit old SunnyD. it's the must-see for every slayer, isn't it?"
She snorts. "Right."
"And," I continue, "I wanted to see you. You're my predecessor, and it's a first that two Chosen Ones meet each other- we're writing history right now."
My stomach growls and reminds me that I haven't eaten anything since yesterday, and I just had a hamburger then. Time to eat real food. hm. perhaps a take out pizza. Or Chinese? Noodles wouldn't be bad. With chicken.
"You in for a round of slaying tonight?" I ask and she slowly nods. She doesn't want to spend the night in a creepy graveyard with an equally creepy girl she doesn't know. Poor girl, I blew her night off.
"Restfield Cemetery, nine o'clock."
Restfield? Where's that?
"No prob. See ya, then."
I smirk one last time at the stunned group, take my knife out of the wall and leave the library, playing with the blade and chewing happily on my bubble gum. Mission accomplished.
~~~
The rest of the day seems to be endless. After a lunch consisting indeed of Chinese take out, the motel room is suddenly too small for me. So I wander aimlessly around in SunnyD, enjoying the good old Californian sun and contemplating what to do with the rest of my life.
I have nobody in the world now; Thomas is- well, he's dead. There, the word's out.
Thomas is dead.
Dead, as in the sense of gone, forever- I made sure of that, and damn hard it was. My watcher, my best friend, my family, the only person on this planet who gave a fuck about me. Everyone else saw my leather pants, my make up and the unfriendly face, went along and forgot about me. My not- existing dad, my mother, if you can call that a mother, my teachers, my so- called friends. Everyone just sees the strong Buffy, the one who's fighting with the teachers at day and with the vampires at night, who sometimes steals her lunch in the supermarket, who almost gets kicked out of school every week.
Yeah, that's me.
And now? There'll be nobody to wipe the blood off my face, to lecture me about the absolute wrongness of stealing, nobody to teach me at least a little schoolish stuff. 'Cause he's gone.
That's major problem number one; number two has another, more mundane name: money. I don't have much anymore- it was hardly enough to pay my combined breakfast/lunch/dinner today. My room's paid for until next Saturday- but what happens then? I need cash, and fast. I don't want to starve and I eat a lot. I need clothes because I forgot most of them and batteries for my discman wouldn't hurt either. Stealing is out of the question now. For once, I want him to be proud of me.
Tomorrow. I'll deal with all this stuff tomorrow. I'll find a job, work my butt off for a month or two, hop on a bus and see the rest of this wonderful country. I don't know why I came to Sunnydale in the first place- it's not as if two slayers are needed here. But I was so panicked then, so lonely and scared, though I don't want to admit that now. I knew that this Faith girl was a slayer; she's my sister in a way, the closest thing to a relative I have. I thought that she would be like me, that slaying was her life- but it's not. I have seen her only twice, but I can tell that she's not like me. She has friends. She has nights off.
How can you have a night off from your calling?
Okay, so there are nights when I don't patrol; sometimes I'm just so tired that I drop into bed and don't wake up until the next day; or my mother would remember me and force me to stay in the apartment; or the time after I cleaned out a nest and was too injured to even stand up. I never skip slaying for a party.
Over my brooding, the day has passed and the night begins. Finally. I'm in some park near the high school- where is that Restfield Cemetery? I rise from the grass and look around for some people to ask. Strangely there are almost none- it's not like it's late or anything, just dark. Perhaps they know, somewhere deep down, that it can be very, very dangerous to sit around in a park on the hellmouth after nightfall, and stay safely behind the thresholds of their houses.
Or they just ignore their instincts, like the man that's approaching me.
"Hey!" I call out and I can see on his face that he heard me, although he ignores me and walks on. Frightened, is he?
"Hey!" I yell again and he stops.
"Yes?"
"Can you tell me the way to Restfield Cemetery?"
His look is a surprised one; he clearly hasn't expected that kind of question. He describes the way to me and like an afterthought, he adds, "But if I were you, I wouldn't go there now. Wait until tomorrow."
Ah. Not so clueless after all.
"Why? Is it dangerous there?"
He hesitates. Come on, you know it is.
"No. No, there's nothing here- just wait until tomorrow."
He turns around and almost runs from me, without another word. I think I scared him. Wasn't my intention, really. Following his description I glance at my watch and see that it's already past nine. Crap. I begin to run, but a block before the graveyard I stop, bind my tousled hair into a messy ponytail and slender down the street. I don't want to wake the suspicion that I care if I'm late or not. So not cool. The question is, did she wait or not?
She did.
Inwardly I breath out in relief, outwardly I grin and call out, "Hey, sis'!"
I can see her rolling her eyes, I swear.
"You're late."
Shrugging, I take out a little silver cross from the pocket on my pants and clasp it around my neck. It's real silver and that's why I don't always wear it. With my record it's a miracle that it's not broken or melted or destroyed otherwise yet.
"Lost track of time. You ready for a little action?"
She snorts. "As I'll ever be."
We enter the dark cemetery together and I can feel her power again, radiating off her in little waves. Somehow it reassures me because I know I have the same power; but it makes me nervous, too, because- because it's not natural that I can sense her. I can do that only with vamps, not even with other demons. Shouldn't it be wrong that a slayer feels similar to a vampire?
"Why do you call me that way?"
"What?"
For a moment I have no idea what she's talking about but then it dawns on me, "Oh. You mean the sis thingy?"
Faith nods and pushes away a strand of hair from her face. I can now see that she wears lipstick and earrings that are too nice for a date with the local vampires. Apparently she's resolved to have her "night off" after all. "Yeah. Is it normal to call strangers that way where you come from?"
My laughter rings through the night. "No. But slayers are sisters, kind of, so."
"Ah." She's quiet for a moment, then, "Was it strange for you? Being called, I mean?"
"Hell, yes. It's irritating if you suddenly break all the doorknobs around you. Expensive, too. But you probably mean the big surprise when I found out that the supernatural doesn't just exist in the X-Files. That happened a few years earlier."
"You knew about vampires before you were a slayer?" She sounds surprised and I'm reminded that the Council only found her when she was called. Right, the frightened girl in the picture.
"Yes. I was trained since I was twelve."
I sound evasive; don't want Faith to dig deeper. I don't want to trade anecdotes about my training. That part of my life sucked and it's over. Really over. But I can see that she's far from satisfied so I quickly as her, "Was it a shock for you? The Chosen One deal?"
"You have no idea."
Faith frowns slightly; the memories don't seem to be pleasant.
"I lived in Boston, with my parents, and one day these British guys knocked on my door and asked David- that's my little brother- if I was home. Well, I didn't take it very well and I refused to do anything. Finally they told my parents about my new job; it was kind of necessary because we had to move to Sunnydale. Hellmouthy activities."
"And now? What's the job for you now?"
She used the wrong word, my sister did. Being the slayer is never, ever a job. Think that and you're as good as dead.
"It's a part of me."
That's better; she's on the right way.
But now I can sense another power, a small one, not far away from here. Smiling, I grab form my stake hidden under my jacket.
"Come on."
Two rows further there's a fresh grave and I don't even glance at the headstone to catch the name of the not-so-dead person that's just left his grave. If you know that you staked Peter Whatever who left a mourning wife behind you might feel a little guilty; it doesn't matter that the beloved husband is a soulless monster now. It's better if they stay nameless.
Faith advances and punches him in the face. He growls and lunges at her, specifically at her neck, but she avoids his fangs in one quick move, turns around, produces a stake out of her glittery bag and rams it into his back. I can see his greedy, not understanding eyes flash yellow for one last time before he turns to dust.
Faith:1, Buffy:0.
"Wow. That was neat."
"Thanks."
We pick up our old course again.
"You parents don't have a problem when you hang out in graveyards?" I can't contain my curiosity. I've read about other slayers and it was rare that their families knew about their nighttime activities. And they never had a working social life. I mean, look at me.
"In the beginning, yes," she answers slowly, "but now- no. They know that somebody has to fight the bad guys and that this somebody is me. It's cool, they never complain when I come home in the middle of the night."
I don't say anything to that, remembering my mother's screams when she'd found me entering the apartment one night, my clothes torn and my face and arms bloody. Sometimes I think I can still smell her breath reeking of cheap alcohol as she yelled at me to pack my stuff and get the hell out of her apartment. That was the last time I saw her.
Supportive, yeah.
Faith stops and points at a grave before us. "That woman died yesterday. Do we want to say hello?"
"Why not?"
Secretly I still hope that we find a crypt that is full of vamps, a nest where I can crash in and lose myself in the fight- feeling nothing but the adrenaline rush and the small kick I get every time when another one of that bastards explodes to dust. Staking fledglings can be fun- well, as much fun there is when it's boring.
"My turn."
I let my stake where it is, giving the vamp at last a little bit of a chance.
And really, a few minutes later the earth beneath the fresh flowers begins to move and a gray, dirty hand appears. I step back and let the vampire fight her way out. Although she's morphed into vamp face and is clearly hungry for blood, she doesn't fling herself at me immediately, like most vampires would do. No, she waits and growls low in her throat, the sound of a half-starved animal. The pull is finally too strong for her and she jumps at me. Or she tries to, because I stop her still in the air with a well- directed kick in the stomach. She falls to the ground and gets up again instantly, punching me in the face before I can avoid her fist.
That hurt, you bitch.
In return I backhand her and she flies through the air and crashes against her own headstone. I just want to take out my stake and get the virtual score between Faith and me even when something looking like a huge black shadow gets between the vampire and me; a second later I hear a soft poof and know that she's dust in the wind.
I suppress a cry of frustration. That vamp was mine. And who's this anyway? The low tingle begins in my belly and I don't think as I attack the person before me because my instincts scream vampire, vampire, vampire and I follow them. It's a man, I see now, completely clad in black; it blends perfectly into the darkness of the night.
He turns around and then I'm over him and he has no choice but to defend himself.
And damn, he's fast. I lose myself like I wanted to and although I can hear Faith yelling something I don't understand her, don't want to understand her, because all that exists now is my opponent and me. Everything around us becomes blurry, the gravestones, the trees, Faith. Only him and me.
I don't know how long we fought, but in the end I win, somehow. I straddle him and have just raised my stake to end his unlife as an unnaturally strong hand grabs my wrist and stops its descend. I want to struggle and open my mouth, but in this moment his eyes capture mine- and everything freezes.
You know that cheesy movies, when there's a dramatic, heartbreaking moment; there's a close-up of the hero's/heroine's face and they often do that in slow motion, to increase the dramaticness or however it's called. I always laugh about that, but now.
Now it's happening to me. For the split of a second I look into the vampire's eyes and the moment stretches into eternity. His eyes appear pitch black in the darkness and they shine so brightly. I can see his emotions and that's weird 'cause the eyes of a vampire are dead, cold, cruel. His are- beautiful.
Time sets in again and I'm pulled back by Faith, lose balance and land ungracefully on my butt.
"Stop it!" she tells me angrily, then, in a concerned, softer tone, "Are you alright?"
I want to nod when I register that her question wasn't directed at me but at the vampire who slowly stands up.
"Yes. Just a little surprised."
She snorts. "A little surprised- you almost killed him!"
That again is for me, although I don't really listen to her; I'm too occupied checking out my former sparring partner. He's relatively tall, with short brown hair and a face. oh yeah. I suppose he was in his mid- twenties when he was turned although I have absolutely no clue how old he is now. Something tells me that he is old; very old.
"Who's 'him'?" I demand crossly, my badass attitude firmly in place.
He reaches out a hand to help me to my feet; I ignore it and stand up myself.
"I'm Angel."
E-Mail: ikh@haefft.de
Rating: R
Summary: What if Buffy was the screwed up one?
Spoilers: General spoilers for Btvs seasons 1 - 3
Disclaimers: I don't own Btvs nor do I make any money out of this; no copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 03 - The Last One Alive
*Buffy knocked on the door and stepped back into the shadows of the staircase. A moment later the door was opened and Thomas smiled at her. "Hey."
"Hi." She quickly entered the apartment and sat down on his couch. It was huge, as was the rest of his "flat", and everything was clean. It even smelled nice. She lowered her head and played with the hem of her shirt.
"So, what's up today?" she asked flippantly.
Her watcher shut the door and approached her. "You'll like it. today you have your first lesson in martial arts."
Normally Buffy would have squealed in delight; she'd been looking to learning how to fight for weeks. It was the only thing that had made her learn the rules of slaying, the history of vampires, yadayadayada. but now she stayed silent. Thomas raised his eyebrows and sat down next to her.
"What is it?" he asked, but Buffy didn't answer. He touched her arm and she flinched back as if he'd hit her. Now getting a good look at her face, he couldn't suppress a surprised gasp.
"Buffy? Who did this to you?"
The right half of her face was swollen and bruised in an angry red, and across her forehead was a deep cut that had apparently stopped bleeding just recently.
"Buffy?"
She swallowed and whispered hoarsely, "It's not important. can we- can we just start training, please?"
She couldn't, wouldn't tell him; nor about her mother having a new boyfriend who was drunk most of the time, nor about his tantrums and the beatings he gave her; nor about her mother watching passively, high on drugs, giggling all the time. No, she couldn't, wouldn't ever tell him.*
~~~
"Sis'?" Faith asks and her friends take a step forward, as if they want to protect her. Don't worry, I won't hurt her.
"Faith, th-this is Buffy," watcher-guy says, "It appears that she is a slayer."
"A slayer?" the dark-haired guy, probably boyfriend, asks, "Good joke, G- man, we all know that there's only one in every generation, in all the world. I paid attention in Slayer Lore 101. And our Faith here is still alive and kicking as far as I can see- what do you think, Will?"
The red-haired girl mumbles a yes. Will? Pretty strange name for a girl. Okay, I see, Buffy isn't really common either.
"Yes, but Faith died at the hands of the master, albeit just for a few seconds. It was enough for a new slayer to be called."
"Oh."
Guess she's speechless now. But I sense, somehow, that she doesn't quite believe that, and it bugs me. My left hand creeps under my shirt and touches the knife I hide there. The blade is a little warm from the contact with my skin and it reassures me. Save for a stake, a knife is the best weapon you can get. Simple, sharp, quick; deadly. I draw it and it gleams silvery in the light. Beautiful.
"Need a demonstration?" Before anybody can react, I throw the knife in direction of the group. The girl, Will, jumps hastily aside and the weapon makes a hissing sound as it embeds itself an inch next to Faith's face in the wall. Yay me.
"See?"
Slayer's smile is frosty as she crosses her arms. "And what are you doing here now, in Sunnydale?"
Could they stop asking me that? "I was just, you know, traveling around and I thought I'd visit old SunnyD. it's the must-see for every slayer, isn't it?"
She snorts. "Right."
"And," I continue, "I wanted to see you. You're my predecessor, and it's a first that two Chosen Ones meet each other- we're writing history right now."
My stomach growls and reminds me that I haven't eaten anything since yesterday, and I just had a hamburger then. Time to eat real food. hm. perhaps a take out pizza. Or Chinese? Noodles wouldn't be bad. With chicken.
"You in for a round of slaying tonight?" I ask and she slowly nods. She doesn't want to spend the night in a creepy graveyard with an equally creepy girl she doesn't know. Poor girl, I blew her night off.
"Restfield Cemetery, nine o'clock."
Restfield? Where's that?
"No prob. See ya, then."
I smirk one last time at the stunned group, take my knife out of the wall and leave the library, playing with the blade and chewing happily on my bubble gum. Mission accomplished.
~~~
The rest of the day seems to be endless. After a lunch consisting indeed of Chinese take out, the motel room is suddenly too small for me. So I wander aimlessly around in SunnyD, enjoying the good old Californian sun and contemplating what to do with the rest of my life.
I have nobody in the world now; Thomas is- well, he's dead. There, the word's out.
Thomas is dead.
Dead, as in the sense of gone, forever- I made sure of that, and damn hard it was. My watcher, my best friend, my family, the only person on this planet who gave a fuck about me. Everyone else saw my leather pants, my make up and the unfriendly face, went along and forgot about me. My not- existing dad, my mother, if you can call that a mother, my teachers, my so- called friends. Everyone just sees the strong Buffy, the one who's fighting with the teachers at day and with the vampires at night, who sometimes steals her lunch in the supermarket, who almost gets kicked out of school every week.
Yeah, that's me.
And now? There'll be nobody to wipe the blood off my face, to lecture me about the absolute wrongness of stealing, nobody to teach me at least a little schoolish stuff. 'Cause he's gone.
That's major problem number one; number two has another, more mundane name: money. I don't have much anymore- it was hardly enough to pay my combined breakfast/lunch/dinner today. My room's paid for until next Saturday- but what happens then? I need cash, and fast. I don't want to starve and I eat a lot. I need clothes because I forgot most of them and batteries for my discman wouldn't hurt either. Stealing is out of the question now. For once, I want him to be proud of me.
Tomorrow. I'll deal with all this stuff tomorrow. I'll find a job, work my butt off for a month or two, hop on a bus and see the rest of this wonderful country. I don't know why I came to Sunnydale in the first place- it's not as if two slayers are needed here. But I was so panicked then, so lonely and scared, though I don't want to admit that now. I knew that this Faith girl was a slayer; she's my sister in a way, the closest thing to a relative I have. I thought that she would be like me, that slaying was her life- but it's not. I have seen her only twice, but I can tell that she's not like me. She has friends. She has nights off.
How can you have a night off from your calling?
Okay, so there are nights when I don't patrol; sometimes I'm just so tired that I drop into bed and don't wake up until the next day; or my mother would remember me and force me to stay in the apartment; or the time after I cleaned out a nest and was too injured to even stand up. I never skip slaying for a party.
Over my brooding, the day has passed and the night begins. Finally. I'm in some park near the high school- where is that Restfield Cemetery? I rise from the grass and look around for some people to ask. Strangely there are almost none- it's not like it's late or anything, just dark. Perhaps they know, somewhere deep down, that it can be very, very dangerous to sit around in a park on the hellmouth after nightfall, and stay safely behind the thresholds of their houses.
Or they just ignore their instincts, like the man that's approaching me.
"Hey!" I call out and I can see on his face that he heard me, although he ignores me and walks on. Frightened, is he?
"Hey!" I yell again and he stops.
"Yes?"
"Can you tell me the way to Restfield Cemetery?"
His look is a surprised one; he clearly hasn't expected that kind of question. He describes the way to me and like an afterthought, he adds, "But if I were you, I wouldn't go there now. Wait until tomorrow."
Ah. Not so clueless after all.
"Why? Is it dangerous there?"
He hesitates. Come on, you know it is.
"No. No, there's nothing here- just wait until tomorrow."
He turns around and almost runs from me, without another word. I think I scared him. Wasn't my intention, really. Following his description I glance at my watch and see that it's already past nine. Crap. I begin to run, but a block before the graveyard I stop, bind my tousled hair into a messy ponytail and slender down the street. I don't want to wake the suspicion that I care if I'm late or not. So not cool. The question is, did she wait or not?
She did.
Inwardly I breath out in relief, outwardly I grin and call out, "Hey, sis'!"
I can see her rolling her eyes, I swear.
"You're late."
Shrugging, I take out a little silver cross from the pocket on my pants and clasp it around my neck. It's real silver and that's why I don't always wear it. With my record it's a miracle that it's not broken or melted or destroyed otherwise yet.
"Lost track of time. You ready for a little action?"
She snorts. "As I'll ever be."
We enter the dark cemetery together and I can feel her power again, radiating off her in little waves. Somehow it reassures me because I know I have the same power; but it makes me nervous, too, because- because it's not natural that I can sense her. I can do that only with vamps, not even with other demons. Shouldn't it be wrong that a slayer feels similar to a vampire?
"Why do you call me that way?"
"What?"
For a moment I have no idea what she's talking about but then it dawns on me, "Oh. You mean the sis thingy?"
Faith nods and pushes away a strand of hair from her face. I can now see that she wears lipstick and earrings that are too nice for a date with the local vampires. Apparently she's resolved to have her "night off" after all. "Yeah. Is it normal to call strangers that way where you come from?"
My laughter rings through the night. "No. But slayers are sisters, kind of, so."
"Ah." She's quiet for a moment, then, "Was it strange for you? Being called, I mean?"
"Hell, yes. It's irritating if you suddenly break all the doorknobs around you. Expensive, too. But you probably mean the big surprise when I found out that the supernatural doesn't just exist in the X-Files. That happened a few years earlier."
"You knew about vampires before you were a slayer?" She sounds surprised and I'm reminded that the Council only found her when she was called. Right, the frightened girl in the picture.
"Yes. I was trained since I was twelve."
I sound evasive; don't want Faith to dig deeper. I don't want to trade anecdotes about my training. That part of my life sucked and it's over. Really over. But I can see that she's far from satisfied so I quickly as her, "Was it a shock for you? The Chosen One deal?"
"You have no idea."
Faith frowns slightly; the memories don't seem to be pleasant.
"I lived in Boston, with my parents, and one day these British guys knocked on my door and asked David- that's my little brother- if I was home. Well, I didn't take it very well and I refused to do anything. Finally they told my parents about my new job; it was kind of necessary because we had to move to Sunnydale. Hellmouthy activities."
"And now? What's the job for you now?"
She used the wrong word, my sister did. Being the slayer is never, ever a job. Think that and you're as good as dead.
"It's a part of me."
That's better; she's on the right way.
But now I can sense another power, a small one, not far away from here. Smiling, I grab form my stake hidden under my jacket.
"Come on."
Two rows further there's a fresh grave and I don't even glance at the headstone to catch the name of the not-so-dead person that's just left his grave. If you know that you staked Peter Whatever who left a mourning wife behind you might feel a little guilty; it doesn't matter that the beloved husband is a soulless monster now. It's better if they stay nameless.
Faith advances and punches him in the face. He growls and lunges at her, specifically at her neck, but she avoids his fangs in one quick move, turns around, produces a stake out of her glittery bag and rams it into his back. I can see his greedy, not understanding eyes flash yellow for one last time before he turns to dust.
Faith:1, Buffy:0.
"Wow. That was neat."
"Thanks."
We pick up our old course again.
"You parents don't have a problem when you hang out in graveyards?" I can't contain my curiosity. I've read about other slayers and it was rare that their families knew about their nighttime activities. And they never had a working social life. I mean, look at me.
"In the beginning, yes," she answers slowly, "but now- no. They know that somebody has to fight the bad guys and that this somebody is me. It's cool, they never complain when I come home in the middle of the night."
I don't say anything to that, remembering my mother's screams when she'd found me entering the apartment one night, my clothes torn and my face and arms bloody. Sometimes I think I can still smell her breath reeking of cheap alcohol as she yelled at me to pack my stuff and get the hell out of her apartment. That was the last time I saw her.
Supportive, yeah.
Faith stops and points at a grave before us. "That woman died yesterday. Do we want to say hello?"
"Why not?"
Secretly I still hope that we find a crypt that is full of vamps, a nest where I can crash in and lose myself in the fight- feeling nothing but the adrenaline rush and the small kick I get every time when another one of that bastards explodes to dust. Staking fledglings can be fun- well, as much fun there is when it's boring.
"My turn."
I let my stake where it is, giving the vamp at last a little bit of a chance.
And really, a few minutes later the earth beneath the fresh flowers begins to move and a gray, dirty hand appears. I step back and let the vampire fight her way out. Although she's morphed into vamp face and is clearly hungry for blood, she doesn't fling herself at me immediately, like most vampires would do. No, she waits and growls low in her throat, the sound of a half-starved animal. The pull is finally too strong for her and she jumps at me. Or she tries to, because I stop her still in the air with a well- directed kick in the stomach. She falls to the ground and gets up again instantly, punching me in the face before I can avoid her fist.
That hurt, you bitch.
In return I backhand her and she flies through the air and crashes against her own headstone. I just want to take out my stake and get the virtual score between Faith and me even when something looking like a huge black shadow gets between the vampire and me; a second later I hear a soft poof and know that she's dust in the wind.
I suppress a cry of frustration. That vamp was mine. And who's this anyway? The low tingle begins in my belly and I don't think as I attack the person before me because my instincts scream vampire, vampire, vampire and I follow them. It's a man, I see now, completely clad in black; it blends perfectly into the darkness of the night.
He turns around and then I'm over him and he has no choice but to defend himself.
And damn, he's fast. I lose myself like I wanted to and although I can hear Faith yelling something I don't understand her, don't want to understand her, because all that exists now is my opponent and me. Everything around us becomes blurry, the gravestones, the trees, Faith. Only him and me.
I don't know how long we fought, but in the end I win, somehow. I straddle him and have just raised my stake to end his unlife as an unnaturally strong hand grabs my wrist and stops its descend. I want to struggle and open my mouth, but in this moment his eyes capture mine- and everything freezes.
You know that cheesy movies, when there's a dramatic, heartbreaking moment; there's a close-up of the hero's/heroine's face and they often do that in slow motion, to increase the dramaticness or however it's called. I always laugh about that, but now.
Now it's happening to me. For the split of a second I look into the vampire's eyes and the moment stretches into eternity. His eyes appear pitch black in the darkness and they shine so brightly. I can see his emotions and that's weird 'cause the eyes of a vampire are dead, cold, cruel. His are- beautiful.
Time sets in again and I'm pulled back by Faith, lose balance and land ungracefully on my butt.
"Stop it!" she tells me angrily, then, in a concerned, softer tone, "Are you alright?"
I want to nod when I register that her question wasn't directed at me but at the vampire who slowly stands up.
"Yes. Just a little surprised."
She snorts. "A little surprised- you almost killed him!"
That again is for me, although I don't really listen to her; I'm too occupied checking out my former sparring partner. He's relatively tall, with short brown hair and a face. oh yeah. I suppose he was in his mid- twenties when he was turned although I have absolutely no clue how old he is now. Something tells me that he is old; very old.
"Who's 'him'?" I demand crossly, my badass attitude firmly in place.
He reaches out a hand to help me to my feet; I ignore it and stand up myself.
"I'm Angel."