Chapter Seven

Following Jeremy's admission that he hadn't understood a word Clay or I said, it was necessary for us to go through the entire exposition scene again, only this time in detail. At one point, Elena got up to get a flip chart and some paper so we could all compare notes…

The only upside to this whole debacle was that I finally got to do the Slayer speech! Stupid Buffy always gets to do it and I never have, which is probably why I couldn't remember anything past "…one Girl with the strength and speed to stop the vampires…" and had to make it up as I went along.

I didn't make any overly drastic changes, I mean sure, the world has now gained a couple of supernatural creatures who think that a Slayers main strengths are a mean backhand and the stamina to always be first at an All-You-Can-Eat buffet but I say its all in the name of subterfuge and my sisters will thank me for it some day.

After much muttering and in Clay's case death threats, I was allowed to call Giles to give him an update on my situation. When I finished shouting at him to damn well check his records before sending me out to do legwork, I was ordered to hand the phone over to Jeremy so I went to sulk.

Apparently, the Pack doesn't entirely trust me not to leave the property and sell my story to the News of the World, so I've been grounded.

This is so unfair, I'm deemed untrustworthy, but Jeremy feels fine blabbing the story of his life down the phone at Giles, whom he has never even met before!

It's the goddamned accent I tell you, for all Jeremy knows Giles is a Ornithologist with a penchant for women's shoes made from werewolf leather, but all he has to do is be all British and the Pack fall over their feet…paws…whatever, to give him information. I really need to get myself an accent.

Maybe Scottish? I could pull off Scottish.

All I need to do is give myself a dodgy sounding surname, something like McGoogal maybe, perfect my Connery-esk lisp and I'm sorted.

Urgh…I think I'm channeling Andrew.

I'm just so bored!

I haven't had a decent workout in days, thanks to Giles and the ever more cowardly demon population of the United States of America. I'd go pick another fight with Clay so I can burn off some of this excess energy but I've been strictly forbidden from antagonizing the carnivores. Apparently it's for both our goods. That and Giles says it's bad manners to assault someone after they've offered you crackers.

I went to whine at Elena to take me for a walk, who just sighed in my general direction, muttered something about never ever getting a puppy and told me to hold on a couple of hours longer.

This I can deal with, it's not quite sundown yet, and everyone knows all the cool evil things don't come out 'til gone ten. I think that maybe it's some kind of demonic faux pas or something, like wearing white shoes after Labor Day.


I'm in a foul mood.

Sure, I was eventually allowed to go on patrol, but I had to make one concession- yup, that's right, Faith got a babysitter.

Apparently, the reason why I had to wait to go out is that I've been getting on the nerves of everybody in the house so they forked me off on the first unwary to walk through the door.

Earlier this evening, two more werewolves (just how many of the little fuckers are there anyway?) arrived at Stonehaven and after much manly backslapping they drew straws about who got to take me out. None of them were overly keen; I'd be insulted if I wasn't so damn happy about getting out to play. I guess it could be worse though, out of the new guys Nick really does seem the better choice than Antonio, and not just 'cos he's young and kinda sexy looking.

Damn hormones, I'm so wound up at this point even Jaime is starting to look good to me. Note to self: Get a proper work out pronto and never ever mention the former to Willow!

As soon as the loser, or in my mind incredible winner was announced, I pounced on the - somewhat reluctant –Nick and dragged him out to what I shall jokingly refer to as the town centre. At least I hope it's a joke, I shudder to think these hicks might actually consider this to be civilization.

Nick seems to be a bit uncomfortable in my presence which is odd because at first he was big with the charm and the flashy toothy grins. My guess it's got something to do with the fact that Clay and Elena dragged him off for a little 'chat' earlier, actually now that I think of it he did look a little bit green when he came back.

I wonder what they said to him?

Anyhow, when I explained to Nick that the point of this little outing was for me to get a couple of slays in so I wouldn't get trigger happy around his little doggy friends, he seemed to be genuinely puzzled. Apparently Stonehavens occupants are adamant that there are no vampires in their immediate vicinity because a) they know some vamps who belong to their creature-feature council and b) no demons would be stupid enough to trespass on their territory.

Obviously it was Clay who came up with the latter.

I've been musing on this little monster rally of theirs and I have to admit, I'm honestly confused. When we were all talking during our earlier sharetime, the wolves seemed a bit taken aback by my job description.

It seems that they're not only shocked by the fact that I am effectively supernatural pest control, but at the sheer volume of work I go through per night. To my answer at Jeremy's question of roughly how many vamps I've staked in my life, he went completely white and muttered something at Elena about Cassandra having a lot of explaining to do. When I asked him, he told me that he'd been under the impression that there are less than a hundred vamps in the world today.

Eventually, I managed to stop laughing.


So here I am, in the inevitable place I always seem to end up in, a seedy, dingy little bar. This one is slightly worse than most of its predecessors because it has - shudder - a theme.

Yup, I'm in a cowboy bar, and to my eternal shame and nausea every second person in here is sporting a hat, some boots with spurs or both.

The bar tender is wearing a shirt with fringes! Oh the things I put up with for the safety of mankind.

Thankfully I spotted a couple of vamps almost the second we got here, so hopefully I'll be able to make my escape before the ritual square-dancing commences.

Wincing with pain at the deluded bartender's ensemble, I managed to order both myself and Nick some beer with out letting loose with fashion advice a la Cordelia Chase. Honestly, the girl's never been on my Top Five Favourite People of All Time list, but right now I am so feeling her pain!

Nick'd been very quiet this whole time and when I pointed out the vamps playing poker in the corner he raised his goddamned eyebrow at me.

That is it! I am so taking 'Facial Expressions 101: How to Make the Undead Quiver' when I get back to the Council.

And it's all thanks to this bunch of stupid furry cunty-arsed bastards who insist on continuously demonstrating their goddamned superiority in muscle control!

Anyhow, getting back to the subject at hand, Nick point blank refuses to accept that those are in fact vampires. According to him, he's met a vamp before who was nothing like those guys in the corner and even though they smell a bit weird maybe I've been out in the heat too long because everyone knows that my earlier speech about sunlight and crosses was just a collection of old stereo types.

And then he called me an Anne Rice fan girl.

I have to admit that at this point my vision became clouded with red and I must have blacked out because when I came too, Nick was on the floor clutching his balls and whimpering.

Somehow, the bottle of beer in my hand seemed to have been crushed, so I reckon I've got the perfect excuse for ignoring the pitiful noises coming from my knee level while I busy myself carefully extracting shards of glass from my hand.

And no, I don't feel guilty in the slightest! What exactly was the bastard expecting, calling me….that!

Unfortunately, werewolf balls seem somewhat more resilient than I gave them credit for, because Nicks managed to get back up on his feet. Next time I'll put a little more Slayer strength behind the knee to the groin. Nevertheless, he's still a little red in the face, and I can't help smirking victoriously at the painfully careful way in which he is propping himself up against the bar. Ha! 1-0 to the Slayer I'd say.

"That," he says taking a long, laborious breath "was uncalled for."

"Not in the slightest." I snarl back at him. "I happen to think you had it coming."

Thankfully he stays quiet.

At least Wolfboy has the sense to know when to keep his mouth shut, and I'm a little alarmed 'cos right now I'm feeling the inexplicable urge to simultaneously jump him and stab him with the remains of my beer bottle.

As I was saying, stupid hormones. I wonder whether you can have them removed? Must remember to ask Willow about that.

Now that Nick's wheezing is no longer intruding on my senses, I shift my attention back to the vamps in the corner. There are only two of them, barely enough to work up a sweat and it seems pointless and a trifle rash to take them on here. Oh, and innocent people might get hurt in the process, although ridding the world of a handful of hat-wearing line-dancing weirdos is sounding pretty attractive right about now.

Rolling my eyes at the universe for picking on me I outline the plan to Nick.

"Right, now listen up. We're gonna sit here and not squabble while we wait for the teeth to make their move. Then, we're gonna get up nice and quiet and follow to wherever it is they're going. When we get there, you're going to stand back like a good little boy while I clear up the mess and then we can skip back home hand in hand and report to your master. How's about that?"

I smile my brightest, fakest smile at him, which only grows a little brighter when his face darkens. Apparently someone doesn't like being patronized, who would have known?

"Why do you want to follow them? Wouldn't it be easier to take them in an alleyway out back?"

Aw, that's so cute, his forehead wrinkles when he's doing heavy thinking. And is it me or is all this talk of 'taking' things in alleys a turn on? Nononono, bad thoughts, bad thoughts! Stupid men with their pretty faces. Maybe I should knee him again just for good measure? Oh hang on, he asked me a question, didn't he.

"Err, following, right. We should do that because…because there could have victims! Stashed away all lonely and helpless. Or maybe some more of their toothy friends for me to beat up, I'm really not picky, either one will do."

Good one, that actually made sense. Yup, he's nodding, it seems he agrees. And apparently so do the vamps, because they've chosen this very moment to abandon their cards and make their way out.

Subtly, well more subtle than Nick anyway, who just slams down his bottle and stomps towards the exit, I head off to follow the vamps. It's just occurred to me that as a werewolf, Nick should be able to follow the vamps by scent. Maybe I ought to let him lead?

Just to be on the safe side of course, it has in no way got anything to do with an urge on my part to walk behind him so I can stare at his ass. Honestly!


AN:

Yup, evil, I know ;)

The quote from the Slayer speech was probably wrong, but then again, this is Faith we're talking about so I think it's entirely in character for her muck it up. Or so I keep telling myself. Also, as you may have noticed, I don't have beta, I correct my mistakes as best as I can but…shrugs.

If you find any glaringly obvious mistakes do let me know so I can correct them.