A man runs through a cemetery. Running scared, looking back repeatedly and frightened.
The footsteps racing at him excelorate and the person giving chase jumps and lands atop the terrified midnight runner.
The runner fell forward, landing on his knees which buckled causing him to smack upon the ground.
Quickly, but unsteadily the man moved his arms forward in an attempt to crawl away on his stomach.
He feels his ankles seized firmly and his entire body slide across the ground backwards
"Face me!" he hears his attacker call out, "so that you might look upon the face of your deliverance."
He tries to crawl away again. He is grabbed by his right arm and is forced over onto his back.
Before his vision can clear the tears and adjust to the moonlight above the attacker's head, he is splashed in the face by water. He rubs his eyes, but the dirt on his skin gets into them. He winces in pain.
"You must be clean for your journey. Now, to ask again would be sin ... look upon me!" thunder rumbles in the distance, "I am your deliverance."
"Don't kill me, I have cash. Take what you wish. Don't harm me!" the man pleas. His eyes start to clear up and the tears on them create a glare in the light. Moon rays appear to shine down and the reflections of which catch a sharp edged butcher knife. "No!"
"Think of this not as death, but deliverance. A crossing into another state of being," he takes hold of the scared man's right arm and uses it to wipe the man's forehead. "As I am becoming, you are transcending in it's honor, so that I might be."
"I'll beg," the runner cries, "I'll beg."
"Witness herein, glory of this act. Rest in peace knowing of the giving you have so selflessly bestowed upon thee. Shine in post-reverence of my forth coming change. Let thy dagger by my transgressor," and holding the man's arm up still, he slowly runs the man through.
The now mortally wounded man clutches the attackers hand in pain. His fingers turn red and his breaths become erratic. His chest spasms.
"Yes, hold tight. Fear not. It shall pass."
With the dagger he paints a symbol on the now lifeless body of the man's head.
"And so your journey takes place. Move..." he stops. His listens again. He hears noises. Slowly he walks bent over through the tombstones to the disturbance. He had dressed in all gray and blended quite nicely.
He watches a young lady in her teenage years, sprawling with an older teenage male. He sits wide eyed and transfixed on the action. The girl finally jabs the man with a long pointed wooden stake through his heart. The man bursts into a haze of dirt; his skeleton disintegrating and vaporizing as well to the ground.
"The Slayer of vamprys..." he comments in a low breath. His pupils dilate and he reaches into a pocket. Out of it he pulls an old, stained rag. He wipes off the blood from both sides of the dagger carefully. Afterward inspecting the blade at angles.
Buffy turns around and fails to see him ducted behind a tombstone. She looks around for something and she has dropped. Her back to him, he approaches unheard. She bends over and he prepares to thrust the dagger into her back when a gurgled monstrous bellow sounds and a monster knocks her over.
He falls back among the shadows of the tombs.
She hits the ground on her side and rolls a couple times.
The demon is off white and has no pupils. At first glance it's body appears wet. She gets up to fight and hears the sound of dead leaves moving on her side. She looks. Leaves are stuck to her arm and will not shake off.
"Ah, dang - and I had just bathed too. Don't you know you shouldn't hit a person who isn't facing you. It's called a fair fight and I don't suppose they have those where you are from," she looks at his face, "or eyes either. Eww."
It takes a swing at her. She lowers her head and gives him a swift uppercut. She draws her right hand back, stretching slime off the monster's body. IT was not wet, but rather oozing with slime as she had found out first hand. Like hot cheese from a lifted slice of pizza, it stretched from his chest to her hand. Slightly warm and looking like Jell-O.
"Yuck! Seriously, proper bodily hygiene, it's something you might want to look into. So I take it this means you don't go puff huh?"
It lets out another gargled roar and a liquid runs from it's mouth. She goes on the defensive with one clear goal - no contact with the big slimy demon. She ducts, jumps and does what she can not to come in contact with it.
"Come on, we don't have to fight. There's already too much violence in the world," she jumps back, "what do you say? Well go our separate ways. I'll go back to slaying and you back to making things really disgusting and hamper worthy. I'd ask you to shake on it, but I'll just take your word for it this time. Deal?"
It sucks up some air and Buffy turns around in anticipation of it throwing up on her. It spits in a stream toward her back a clear liquid. She hears burning like noises and rips the jacket off. She sees the substance eat through it like acid and drops it to the ground.
"Darn, it was leather too. Cheap knockoff leather, but still that cool leather look."
She pulls out a stake and runs him through the chest. She pulls it out. The slimy demon looks down and back at her.
She looks up at him with a cute, innocent smile, "Just checking," It seeps another type of liquid from the wound, "wait a second - but you don't have any..."
It comes at her. She kicks it back and the slime sticks to her shoe soles, causing a lag that sends her to her back when the demon stumbles backwards.
The slime strings thin and breaks and her leg falls down as well.
It inhales again and before it can shoot the liquid acid, she sits up and slashes the mid section of the demon. Slimy strings snap off the stake. Loose ends hang from it and dangle from movement.
The demon staggers back. It looses balance and it's arms flailing about cause the slashed open belly wound to continue to tear until the demon's top half falls to the back. The last slimy skin section catches it and finally rips sending it head first to the ground. It falls on it's face and the lower half falls over on top.
The man behind the tombstone eyes watch, unblinking. He moves away slowly. The shadow from the tombstone covers the moonlight as he eases back.
"Well, I can't leave you here. You know what, you've been very inconveniencing tonight," says Buffy to the dead demon.
She walks around it, trying to deduce how to go about hauling the gak corpse off. She eventually decides it is too much for her to easily haul off and that she needed a cover so as to not be seen by the townsfolk. She looks at her wrist watch.
"Ah..." the glass face is smashed in and the watch has stopped, "It's not like I didn't know this would happen. It's your fault mister slimy. I want monetary compensation," and with that she kicks the demon. she trails her foot back, pulling slime like gum. She gives a little perturbed huff and then realizes she is carrying her beeper this time. She reads the time.
Slowly entering into Giles' room a casting shadow looms, making no sound. The lights are off and a lavender scented candle is lite. The room felt and looked old with a musty airy taste. It also smelt like books despite the candles. The chiming bells of a grandfather clock downstairs sounded four times.
A shadow cast over Giles. He breaths in deep and quickly awakens.
"Buffy, is that you?"
"In the flesh," she replies.
"Please ... please don't mention flesh in a lavender scented room. Is there something wrong, it's," squints his eyes to read his alarm clock, then stops, "what are you doing in my room?" he reaches for his glasses on the bed adjacent night stand. He uses a cloth to wipe away the dust.
"I knocked on your door several times, but no answer. So I decided to come in and wake you. Sorry."
"How did you get in?" he puts his glasses on.
"You left a window open. Downstairs in the den. Which isn't a bright thing to do. There's all kinds of creatures of the darkness out there. Including slimy ones," she sticks her bottom lip out.
"Ah, yes, I burnt my tuna castlerool and had to air out ... why are you here again?"
"I need help moving a demon. I'd do it myself, but there are two halves and a few people are getting up for work."
He looks off to the side and comments, "How I envy them," he looks back at her, "two halves? This wouldn't have anything to do with the aforementioned slimy creature of the darkness?"
"Boy you're awful sharp so early. So, let's go. We need to hurry up before someone finds the body ... bodies..." she pounders the appropriate choice of words. She grabs his right hand, "Come on," in an energetic voice.
He wriggles free, "Buffy please, I am in my undergarments. Just give me a moment to properly cloth myself."
"Don't say undergarments in a lavender filled room," Buffy retorts. She stands there.
"A little privacy if you don't mind," says Giles.
She turns around.
"While the gesture is appreciated, I'm not coming out from this blanket till you are gone from sight."
"Leave the room huh?"
"It would be nice."
"Sorry," she walks out, "you've probably got long old man underwear on," she closes his door.
"Super thermal B long underwear," he comments to himself.
"What?" she calls out from the hall.
They are driving in his old beat up car through the dark streets of Sunnydale
"Sorry I had to wake you. I didn't want to get slimy demon in Xander's care. People will notice that."
"It's quite allright. I've come to accept that I'll never sleep normally ever again," he sighs, "never again ... besides, I do have that plastic trunk lining. You did right in awakening me."
"Where does one buy plastic trunk lining anyway? Watcher's Mail Order Catalog?"
He look at her, "don't ask."
Police lights and a quick sound off of a siren break their conversation.
"What did I do, I ..." he looks at the speedometer, "oh deer. Did you catch the speed marker?"
"Don't look at me, you're supposed to be the driver. I think we better stop ... in the name of love."
"Somehow I knew you were going to do that."
He slowly pulls off to the side and stops. The cop car pulls up behind him and the officer shines a high powered light mounted on his rearview mirror on them.
"If you would be so kind and look in the glove compartment for my registration and please ... try to act normal. Smile, be enchanting and act like we don't kill things everyday. And what ever you do, please don't mention the trunk," Giles worries.
The police officer steps out from his vehicle and approaches their driver side window. He's young, in his early twenties.
"Good evening officer. Is there something wrong?" asks Giles.
The officer looks down at him. He places his left hand on the top of the car. He speaks in a light southern voice.
I pulled you over for speeding. Do you realize you were going 45 in a 35 zone?"
"No, I honestly didn't. I apologize."
"I thank you for the honesty sir. Can I see your license and registration please?"
"My license is in my wallet, one moment if you will," Giles tries to dig his wallet from his pants.
"Can I ask what you two are doing out at this time?"
"We're heading for the ..." he fumbles in thought.
Buffy immediately jumps in, "the cemetery."
"Cemetery?" inquires the officer.
"Yes," he hands the cop his license, "the Hathaway Cemetery."
The officer looks at Buffy suspiciously, "and, ah, who is your passenger?"
"Hi, I'm Buffy Summers," she extends her hand out in front of Giles. He backs up into the seat.
"No, that's okay miss, I don't want to shake your hand. Can I ask why you and miss Summers here are going to a cemetery in the predawn hours?"
Giles lowers his head and in painful recollection he responds, "I'm the Sunnydale High School Librarian. We are going to honor our late friend and colleague Jenny Calander; who died almost a year ago."
"I have school in the morning, of course, so we are going a bit early," Buffy adds.
"That's very descent of you all. Just you two?"
"So far. I called a friend. She might join us," answers Buffy.
"Well folks, everything seems to be in order here. I'm going to let you off the hook this time, but that's because of your circumstances. Be careful and obey the posted limits. Remember, it's 35 for a reason. You two have a good night," he hands Giles his stuff.
"Thank you officer, we appreciate that."
The cop gives a quick half salute wave to acknowledge him and continues back to his cruiser.
Buffy turns around form watching the officer, "he wouldn't shake my hand. I don't like him."
"Yes, well, perhaps that is because he is an authority figure. And why did you tell him where we were really going?"
"He's a police officer. What did you want me to do? Lie?"
"Yes! Something, anything besides that truth," exclaims Giles, "just this once though, you know you should never lie to an authority figure."
He starts the car.
"I understand. Sorry. Boy, I've really had to say a lot of these tonight. I should buy them in bulk."
"Yes," Giles puts it into drive and looks around, "you never shook my hand," and drives off.
The car slowly drives into the cemetery on the automobile access pathway. Giles kills the lights to try to lower any unsought attention.
"There! I came out between McCoullin and Smithson. Right there, stop!" she turns a bit and grabs the door handle. Giles grabs her left arm tightly.
"What?" she asks.
"Shhh ..... look up ahead ... to the left."
She looks out into the night. A police car is parked halfway on the road and the grass. It is completely off. Just then she catches a glimpse of the beam of a flashlight.
"I thought you said it was right here," says Giles.
"I'm sure, one-hundred percent. McCoullin and Smithson. Giles, that light is getting closer."
He starts the car and puts it in reverse. He takes his foot off the brake to keep the brake lights from illuminating them.
"Look!" she points. Giles squints to see. Red and blue lights appear over the horizon.
"There is too many. I think it;s best if we leave. Come back in a few hours, the body..."
"Parts," she say.
"The body parts should still be there."
The footsteps racing at him excelorate and the person giving chase jumps and lands atop the terrified midnight runner.
The runner fell forward, landing on his knees which buckled causing him to smack upon the ground.
Quickly, but unsteadily the man moved his arms forward in an attempt to crawl away on his stomach.
He feels his ankles seized firmly and his entire body slide across the ground backwards
"Face me!" he hears his attacker call out, "so that you might look upon the face of your deliverance."
He tries to crawl away again. He is grabbed by his right arm and is forced over onto his back.
Before his vision can clear the tears and adjust to the moonlight above the attacker's head, he is splashed in the face by water. He rubs his eyes, but the dirt on his skin gets into them. He winces in pain.
"You must be clean for your journey. Now, to ask again would be sin ... look upon me!" thunder rumbles in the distance, "I am your deliverance."
"Don't kill me, I have cash. Take what you wish. Don't harm me!" the man pleas. His eyes start to clear up and the tears on them create a glare in the light. Moon rays appear to shine down and the reflections of which catch a sharp edged butcher knife. "No!"
"Think of this not as death, but deliverance. A crossing into another state of being," he takes hold of the scared man's right arm and uses it to wipe the man's forehead. "As I am becoming, you are transcending in it's honor, so that I might be."
"I'll beg," the runner cries, "I'll beg."
"Witness herein, glory of this act. Rest in peace knowing of the giving you have so selflessly bestowed upon thee. Shine in post-reverence of my forth coming change. Let thy dagger by my transgressor," and holding the man's arm up still, he slowly runs the man through.
The now mortally wounded man clutches the attackers hand in pain. His fingers turn red and his breaths become erratic. His chest spasms.
"Yes, hold tight. Fear not. It shall pass."
With the dagger he paints a symbol on the now lifeless body of the man's head.
"And so your journey takes place. Move..." he stops. His listens again. He hears noises. Slowly he walks bent over through the tombstones to the disturbance. He had dressed in all gray and blended quite nicely.
He watches a young lady in her teenage years, sprawling with an older teenage male. He sits wide eyed and transfixed on the action. The girl finally jabs the man with a long pointed wooden stake through his heart. The man bursts into a haze of dirt; his skeleton disintegrating and vaporizing as well to the ground.
"The Slayer of vamprys..." he comments in a low breath. His pupils dilate and he reaches into a pocket. Out of it he pulls an old, stained rag. He wipes off the blood from both sides of the dagger carefully. Afterward inspecting the blade at angles.
Buffy turns around and fails to see him ducted behind a tombstone. She looks around for something and she has dropped. Her back to him, he approaches unheard. She bends over and he prepares to thrust the dagger into her back when a gurgled monstrous bellow sounds and a monster knocks her over.
He falls back among the shadows of the tombs.
She hits the ground on her side and rolls a couple times.
The demon is off white and has no pupils. At first glance it's body appears wet. She gets up to fight and hears the sound of dead leaves moving on her side. She looks. Leaves are stuck to her arm and will not shake off.
"Ah, dang - and I had just bathed too. Don't you know you shouldn't hit a person who isn't facing you. It's called a fair fight and I don't suppose they have those where you are from," she looks at his face, "or eyes either. Eww."
It takes a swing at her. She lowers her head and gives him a swift uppercut. She draws her right hand back, stretching slime off the monster's body. IT was not wet, but rather oozing with slime as she had found out first hand. Like hot cheese from a lifted slice of pizza, it stretched from his chest to her hand. Slightly warm and looking like Jell-O.
"Yuck! Seriously, proper bodily hygiene, it's something you might want to look into. So I take it this means you don't go puff huh?"
It lets out another gargled roar and a liquid runs from it's mouth. She goes on the defensive with one clear goal - no contact with the big slimy demon. She ducts, jumps and does what she can not to come in contact with it.
"Come on, we don't have to fight. There's already too much violence in the world," she jumps back, "what do you say? Well go our separate ways. I'll go back to slaying and you back to making things really disgusting and hamper worthy. I'd ask you to shake on it, but I'll just take your word for it this time. Deal?"
It sucks up some air and Buffy turns around in anticipation of it throwing up on her. It spits in a stream toward her back a clear liquid. She hears burning like noises and rips the jacket off. She sees the substance eat through it like acid and drops it to the ground.
"Darn, it was leather too. Cheap knockoff leather, but still that cool leather look."
She pulls out a stake and runs him through the chest. She pulls it out. The slimy demon looks down and back at her.
She looks up at him with a cute, innocent smile, "Just checking," It seeps another type of liquid from the wound, "wait a second - but you don't have any..."
It comes at her. She kicks it back and the slime sticks to her shoe soles, causing a lag that sends her to her back when the demon stumbles backwards.
The slime strings thin and breaks and her leg falls down as well.
It inhales again and before it can shoot the liquid acid, she sits up and slashes the mid section of the demon. Slimy strings snap off the stake. Loose ends hang from it and dangle from movement.
The demon staggers back. It looses balance and it's arms flailing about cause the slashed open belly wound to continue to tear until the demon's top half falls to the back. The last slimy skin section catches it and finally rips sending it head first to the ground. It falls on it's face and the lower half falls over on top.
The man behind the tombstone eyes watch, unblinking. He moves away slowly. The shadow from the tombstone covers the moonlight as he eases back.
"Well, I can't leave you here. You know what, you've been very inconveniencing tonight," says Buffy to the dead demon.
She walks around it, trying to deduce how to go about hauling the gak corpse off. She eventually decides it is too much for her to easily haul off and that she needed a cover so as to not be seen by the townsfolk. She looks at her wrist watch.
"Ah..." the glass face is smashed in and the watch has stopped, "It's not like I didn't know this would happen. It's your fault mister slimy. I want monetary compensation," and with that she kicks the demon. she trails her foot back, pulling slime like gum. She gives a little perturbed huff and then realizes she is carrying her beeper this time. She reads the time.
Slowly entering into Giles' room a casting shadow looms, making no sound. The lights are off and a lavender scented candle is lite. The room felt and looked old with a musty airy taste. It also smelt like books despite the candles. The chiming bells of a grandfather clock downstairs sounded four times.
A shadow cast over Giles. He breaths in deep and quickly awakens.
"Buffy, is that you?"
"In the flesh," she replies.
"Please ... please don't mention flesh in a lavender scented room. Is there something wrong, it's," squints his eyes to read his alarm clock, then stops, "what are you doing in my room?" he reaches for his glasses on the bed adjacent night stand. He uses a cloth to wipe away the dust.
"I knocked on your door several times, but no answer. So I decided to come in and wake you. Sorry."
"How did you get in?" he puts his glasses on.
"You left a window open. Downstairs in the den. Which isn't a bright thing to do. There's all kinds of creatures of the darkness out there. Including slimy ones," she sticks her bottom lip out.
"Ah, yes, I burnt my tuna castlerool and had to air out ... why are you here again?"
"I need help moving a demon. I'd do it myself, but there are two halves and a few people are getting up for work."
He looks off to the side and comments, "How I envy them," he looks back at her, "two halves? This wouldn't have anything to do with the aforementioned slimy creature of the darkness?"
"Boy you're awful sharp so early. So, let's go. We need to hurry up before someone finds the body ... bodies..." she pounders the appropriate choice of words. She grabs his right hand, "Come on," in an energetic voice.
He wriggles free, "Buffy please, I am in my undergarments. Just give me a moment to properly cloth myself."
"Don't say undergarments in a lavender filled room," Buffy retorts. She stands there.
"A little privacy if you don't mind," says Giles.
She turns around.
"While the gesture is appreciated, I'm not coming out from this blanket till you are gone from sight."
"Leave the room huh?"
"It would be nice."
"Sorry," she walks out, "you've probably got long old man underwear on," she closes his door.
"Super thermal B long underwear," he comments to himself.
"What?" she calls out from the hall.
They are driving in his old beat up car through the dark streets of Sunnydale
"Sorry I had to wake you. I didn't want to get slimy demon in Xander's care. People will notice that."
"It's quite allright. I've come to accept that I'll never sleep normally ever again," he sighs, "never again ... besides, I do have that plastic trunk lining. You did right in awakening me."
"Where does one buy plastic trunk lining anyway? Watcher's Mail Order Catalog?"
He look at her, "don't ask."
Police lights and a quick sound off of a siren break their conversation.
"What did I do, I ..." he looks at the speedometer, "oh deer. Did you catch the speed marker?"
"Don't look at me, you're supposed to be the driver. I think we better stop ... in the name of love."
"Somehow I knew you were going to do that."
He slowly pulls off to the side and stops. The cop car pulls up behind him and the officer shines a high powered light mounted on his rearview mirror on them.
"If you would be so kind and look in the glove compartment for my registration and please ... try to act normal. Smile, be enchanting and act like we don't kill things everyday. And what ever you do, please don't mention the trunk," Giles worries.
The police officer steps out from his vehicle and approaches their driver side window. He's young, in his early twenties.
"Good evening officer. Is there something wrong?" asks Giles.
The officer looks down at him. He places his left hand on the top of the car. He speaks in a light southern voice.
I pulled you over for speeding. Do you realize you were going 45 in a 35 zone?"
"No, I honestly didn't. I apologize."
"I thank you for the honesty sir. Can I see your license and registration please?"
"My license is in my wallet, one moment if you will," Giles tries to dig his wallet from his pants.
"Can I ask what you two are doing out at this time?"
"We're heading for the ..." he fumbles in thought.
Buffy immediately jumps in, "the cemetery."
"Cemetery?" inquires the officer.
"Yes," he hands the cop his license, "the Hathaway Cemetery."
The officer looks at Buffy suspiciously, "and, ah, who is your passenger?"
"Hi, I'm Buffy Summers," she extends her hand out in front of Giles. He backs up into the seat.
"No, that's okay miss, I don't want to shake your hand. Can I ask why you and miss Summers here are going to a cemetery in the predawn hours?"
Giles lowers his head and in painful recollection he responds, "I'm the Sunnydale High School Librarian. We are going to honor our late friend and colleague Jenny Calander; who died almost a year ago."
"I have school in the morning, of course, so we are going a bit early," Buffy adds.
"That's very descent of you all. Just you two?"
"So far. I called a friend. She might join us," answers Buffy.
"Well folks, everything seems to be in order here. I'm going to let you off the hook this time, but that's because of your circumstances. Be careful and obey the posted limits. Remember, it's 35 for a reason. You two have a good night," he hands Giles his stuff.
"Thank you officer, we appreciate that."
The cop gives a quick half salute wave to acknowledge him and continues back to his cruiser.
Buffy turns around form watching the officer, "he wouldn't shake my hand. I don't like him."
"Yes, well, perhaps that is because he is an authority figure. And why did you tell him where we were really going?"
"He's a police officer. What did you want me to do? Lie?"
"Yes! Something, anything besides that truth," exclaims Giles, "just this once though, you know you should never lie to an authority figure."
He starts the car.
"I understand. Sorry. Boy, I've really had to say a lot of these tonight. I should buy them in bulk."
"Yes," Giles puts it into drive and looks around, "you never shook my hand," and drives off.
The car slowly drives into the cemetery on the automobile access pathway. Giles kills the lights to try to lower any unsought attention.
"There! I came out between McCoullin and Smithson. Right there, stop!" she turns a bit and grabs the door handle. Giles grabs her left arm tightly.
"What?" she asks.
"Shhh ..... look up ahead ... to the left."
She looks out into the night. A police car is parked halfway on the road and the grass. It is completely off. Just then she catches a glimpse of the beam of a flashlight.
"I thought you said it was right here," says Giles.
"I'm sure, one-hundred percent. McCoullin and Smithson. Giles, that light is getting closer."
He starts the car and puts it in reverse. He takes his foot off the brake to keep the brake lights from illuminating them.
"Look!" she points. Giles squints to see. Red and blue lights appear over the horizon.
"There is too many. I think it;s best if we leave. Come back in a few hours, the body..."
"Parts," she say.
"The body parts should still be there."