Authors note:: Right, before any of you say anything in your beautiful reviews, the beginning of this chap has nothing to do wid it I no, but I felt like being creative and will b used to identify "Somethin" later on so bare with it people!! Anyways I know its been a long time, had a few probs and wrote this chap bout a month ago but I just cant seem to b happy with it… so im leaving it as it is and you'll have to deal with this bad chap and hopefully the next one will b better!!!!!

Here goes…

Chap 4

Thud, thud, thud, thud.

Their graceful bodies move fluidly as each leg takes another stride, their long flowing tails pan out behind them as with each step taken their pace quickens.

Black.

So black is his coat as the moon shines down on it, casting an eerie reflection in the shine of the fur.

Such a beautiful creature.

Ears pricked he stops as he hears the little one, cry out like a child in the darkness.

Danger.

He hardly seems to slow his pace as he whirls around and gallops head on for the other side of the woodland.

But there is no hope.

He smells it in the air before he reaches the young colt.  Fire burns in his eyes as he rampages onwards, his solid hooves compacting the ground, thundering onwards like a vicious thunderstorm.

The beast is curled over the young one as the stallion approaches, his nostrils flared in anger.

He brings his hooves up high and slams down hard on the ground before the beast as a warning of what is to come.

Again he rises and brings down his hooves upon the beasts back and it cries out in pain, bone cracking under the pressure, blood seeping from the wounds that appear.

******
Slowly he runs his hands through his hair and removes his glasses, rubbing his eyes to clear away the sleep that threatens to fall.

The glasses are placed back on as he continues to read the newspaper article.

FARMER DEVESTATED BY LATEST KILLINGS.

In the early hours of Sunday morning Mr Harries of Liege Manor Farm, Sunnydale found the most horrific sight in decades.  On the open plains of his farm he found a massacre of his prize-winning horses.  Up to 30 horses were killed and many are to be linked with the wild dog attacks even though experts think it may be something larger.  Only one horse survived the attack, Cruz, the famous black stallion that has won countless showing events.  The horses were said to be gruesomely killed and lain out in a line across the paddock, drained completely of blood and slashed horrifically.

Giles looks up from the paper and sighs heavily.  He knows it has nothing to do with wild dogs.  It's got to be the new beastie, a beastie that by the sounds of it would be a handful even for the slayer.

Shit.

He rises slowly from his chair and stretches.  Time he called in with the gang, check they haven't found anything on patrol last night.

******
Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Ouch.
 
The room sways and I grasp my stomach as it threatens to spill the contents of last night's dinner and drink fest all over the bedroom floor.

Yuck.

Its been 3 months now since I've left Sunnydale and 1 since that first night with Spike and still the wound is raw as if it had happened yesterday.  All I can do is try to numb it with the alcohol.

I see Spike more often now.  Every now and then we bump into each other while on our individual bar crawls where we will both moan and complain about our lives and how terrible it is. 

But I still won't tell him the truth of why I ran.

He probably knows.  Deep down he must have known that either Angel or me was going to die.  With a fight like that, hell even I knew one of us was going to go.

Yet he shocks me every time I see him as he attentively avoids the subject of Angel and Sunnydale especially about the gang and my mom.

Everyday I think about what I've left behind.  My friends, my family, my town, my demons, my hellmouth – my angel.  That's what spurs me onto the next drink, just enough to intoxicate me out of my mind so I no longer have to suffer with the thoughts of home and where my lover died.

A single tear streams down my face and I shake my head pitifully.  I am supposed to be the slayer.  THE FUCKING SLAYER!  One in every generation shit.  I'm supposed to be strong; I'm supposed to be able to deal.

But no slayer training could ever prepare me for this.

******

"Hum de hum de dum de dum de hum!" Xander hums to himself as he makes his way back from Willows house to his own.

"HELP!!" Xander stops dead in his tracks as he hears clearly a woman's voice screaming for help.

"Ok, chill, It's ok.  Just think what the Buffster would do right about now." Xander anxiously leaps from one foot to the other as he decides whether he should approach or not.

"Damn my curious and loveable self." He mutters as he strides on towards the screaming.

Entering the cemetery at midnight was not the smartest thing in the world that Xander Harries could have done right now.

Slowly and cautiously he makes his way across the cemetery avoiding the graves and hiding behind the odd tree and bush that are scattered about the ancient grounds until finally he reaches a clearing surrounded by bushes.

Quickly he hides behind the closest one.

"Please let it be a mugger, please god let it not be a demon.  Please don't let it see me and please please please let it not kill anyone right in front of me." Xander whispers to himself as he starts to rise slightly to see beyond the dense bush.

"Oh shit." He mutters as the woman lets out one last scream, her blood staining the land.

Xander leaps to his feet and starts running for Willows.
******

"GILES!" Xander came bursting through the small door and into the living room.

"GILES!" Willow soon followed holding a wooden stake in her hand.

"What the - ?" Giles came running out of the kitchen, his glasses outstretched in front of him.  "What the heavens is wrong?" Instant worry creases his brow.

"We – We" Willow starts but is too out of breath to continue and ends up dropping down onto the sofa.

"Xander?" Giles turns to the scared looking teenager with a matter of urgency.

"Beast." He mutters quietly "We know what it is."

Giles takes a seat on the couch and rests his elbows on his knees.  "A Quoniom?" He asks with a sigh, revealing the demon that they lately thought the killings might have belonged to.

"Nope, much worse." Willow sighs heavily and continues to try to steady her breathing.

"Well come on tell me!" Giles starts to get angry.

"Its Angel."

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