The O.C.

Act Four: Home

Shafts of subdued moonlight from above pierced through the enormous tree hanging above her, making the sidewalk a dark pathway riddled with spots. Buffy stared downward, watching the light speckles dance across her shoes and ascend up her legs and body as she paced. She'd fled the scene once Spike and Angel seemed prepared to nibble each other's heads off. She already had enough of stuff like this to be dealt with when it came to the whole home situation; her parents had been consistently bickering the past few weeks, and the air in the Cooper house had turned tense. The girl couldn't help but believe that it was her fault, that she had possibly been the whole cause of this, that her confidential slayerhood was driving everyone mad. Even her little sister, Dawn, was always up her butt about being away from home all the time, and picked fights with Julie more often. Which was highly unusual; where Buffy had been Daddy's girl, Dawn was wholeheartedly her mother's child. But, she didn't really know what went up with her little sis, since her presence was rare, and usually less than memorable, filled with tons of whininess. It was almost as if she didn't even exist.

Though she had no one there to flaunt it to, she sighed, zipping open the clutch tucked firmly in her deodoranted armpits. The twin stakes cradled in there were no surprise, along with a fifty-dollar bill, a compact, and lip-gloss, but something foreign was amongst her belongings. It was a clear bottle, just wide enough to fit in without a struggle, filled with some unknown alcoholic beverage she'd snatched from the Kendall's liquor cabinet. It had been there for only a few minutes, but stole every inch of her thoughts, the glass waiting impatiently to make contact with her lips and sear her throat with its alcohol. And she wanted it, too.

She fingered it gingerly, but withdrew her contact when she sensed a pulse of movement from behind her. "H-Harmony," she jumped a little. "You—big with the scary these days? Shouldn't you be back at the party?"

"Well, I was a fabulously scary vampire for Halloween last year," she replied shrilly.

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "Harm, you were a Playboy squirrel. Brown string bikini and fluffy tail giving off any memory vibes?"

"Right," she said, adding a hiss of, "Still doesn't mean I can't be scary."

"You've been in some form of a squirrel costume for Halloween since you were two," Buffy chuckled nervously. "You're not scary."

"Well—shut up Buffy," she defended lamely. "What's in the bag?"

"Um—Tinkerbell."

"Really? Let me see!"

"Learn the art of sarcasm," Buffy suggested.

"But—" Harmony slid a finger across the light pink silk. "I wanna see."

"Okay, Harmony," Buffy said slowly, retreating away the clutch. "Now you're being scary."

"You know what, Coop?" Harmony bellowed. "You're the scary one. The whole sophomore year, you've been rejecting us… this whole summer. We're supposed to be having the time of our lives here, and all you've been doing is sitting around avoiding us!"

"And what about you, huh? Going all pale and creepy?"

"Shut up!" with that, Buffy saw something all too familiar, yet it was something that came as a complete, totally unpleasant surprise. A crest of skin furrowed over her friend's eyebrows, concealing them and making her look horrifying. Her eyes were dominated by an iris the color of a tiger's, and her teeth not too dissimilar to a tiger's fangs, either.

"No way," Buffy denied, whispering. Oh no…

She'd seen a situation comparable to this about a month ago. The party host was an upperclassman, dark, curly hair, dreamy hazel eyes, and a hot bod to boot, and recently turned into a vampire. So recently, in fact, that no one had noticed his change. So, when the patrons of a bash he hosted arrived at his house, they suspected nothing suspicious. She'd staked him, but not before he and his little pack of vamps had sired and/or ate at least four people. Harmony was probably mimicking his act, and it wasn't a bad plan. It was an easy way to show your position in the power hierarchy as a vamp, and she wanted to climb to the top as fast as she could.

Bet she didn't count on her friend being the Slayer.

But, who knew how many were already dead? One thought raced across her mind, her only concern at the moment. Angel… and Spike, Cordy, and Xander… I've gotta get them out of here before…

BOOM.

And with that, her world faded into darkness.

"Hah!" Harmony Kendall cried, pointing a finger at the feeble, unconscious Slayer lying on the asphalt. "Take that, pretty, stupid Buffy Cooper! That's what you get for messing with the… the Harmonica!" she jeered, sticking out her tongue and planting her hands on her hips as her game face faded away. "Now, what was in that bag?" she said to herself, bending over and snatching the expensive clutch and forcing it open. "A stake?" she giggled. "Buffy's the Slayer? This could get interesting… Buffy the vampire Slayer… has a nice ring to it… but Harmony the vampire sounds much, much better." She mused, and realized something. Dammit! Where were her minions? The plan wasn't going to work out without them! Why didn't she bring backup?

Harm gave a quick glance and double take at before leaving Buffy unattended. She grabbed the slim girl by the shoulders, dragging her behind a garbage can that didn't really serve well as fortress to hide her body. Her legs still stuck out. Stupid Slayer legs. Oh well.

With that, she took off through the front door into the heart of the party, with people already sprawled out across the floor, passed out after one too many shots, and a distinct odor of marijuana wafting through the air. Of course, now that she was among the undead, it didn't matter; any non-supernatural substance wouldn't even touch her body. Her eyes flickered around the room, prying for the little troupe of minions. Stupid, naïve (what did that word mean, anyway?—she wasn't sure, but she was pretty certain it was somewhere along the lines of stupid or something) vampire boys. Oh—there they were. Gathered in a small group in the kitchen playing… Spider-Man Monopoly?

"Ahem!" Harmony cleared her throat. When she received no attention, she said, "What kind of losers play Monopoly? I mean, the money's not even real. And—you gu-uys… I need you now. Please? Aren't you guys even hungry?" she held no conviction for the vampires to indulge in. "I've got a Slayer…"

"Yeah right," one scoffed.

"Oh, really? It's Buffy Cooper. I knocked her out." She boasted. "We've got control, and even a yummy Slayer for dessert." This finally convinced the vampires after a bit of reluctance. Harmony glanced around, the occupants of the room either vampiric or too stoned to realize what was going to happen. So they were good to go. Ridges laced their predatory yellow eyes, and their canines dangled savagely out of their mouths. "Okay guys, we need to, um, block everything off. Our… uh… um… prey can't escape," Harmony's brows furrowed even more. "I can't believe you people! I know how to choreograph stuff! I was a ballerina!"

From the opposite side of the counter, a dark-haired boy cautiously lifted his head.

"Well, if you're a ballerina, then I know kur-ra-tae," Xander Harris threatened with mild sarcasm, clenching his fists for all to see. "You wanna take me on, huh? Huh, huh, huh? You wanna go? I've seen Blade—I know what I'm doing."

"Harris, stop embarrassing yourself, you loser," Harmony laughed. "You're just little vamp chow… um, pathetic human!"

"Hey—guy! Your little trip to the bathroom taking a bit long?" Cordelia mocked, cut off by her eyes falling on the vampires, game faces and all. "Oh. My. God."

"Hi Cordy," Xander said. "Uh—little problem on my hands…"

Cordelia tried to make her legs move, but the command was lost somewhere between her brain and her thighs.

Angel and Spike bumped into her from behind. "Hey, watch it, Tan Glow," said Spike, his eyes, too, falling on the vampires. "Bloody hell."

Harmony seized Xander's neck before he could strike a punch. "If you move, geek boy's throat goes into his spine."

"Good thing they're not moving."

A blur of motion kicked Harmony into a section of cabinets, tearing the wood into splinters. Once the dust had cleared a bit, the vampire saw her attacker. The Slayer. "Spike, Cordy; get the others out of here!" Buffy commanded forcefully, and the pair obeyed with internal questioning, but did so anyway. "You… all of you, get out of here!"

Xander, still ruefully rubbing his neck on the tile floor, said, "No, not until we get some kind of, oh, you know, explanation."

"There isn't time!" she yelled hoarsely, tossing one of the minions with almost a playful gesture. The vampire wouldn't go down without a fight, though. She kicked the Slayer in the gut, launching herself out of a window to leave the Slayer on the ground bleeding and quickly falling into unconsciousness once more. The last minion that hadn't fled or gotten injured made his move on Buffy, grabbing the discarded stake. Suddenly, Angel sprinted and launched himself at the creature, and without realizing it, had his game face on. Angel groped for a pointed piece of cabinetry as they both hit the floor, and staked the vampire effortlessly.

"You—Angel—you're—a…" Angel saw something die in Buffy's intense green eyes. He couldn't remember not loving her eyes. They said everything her mouth didn't. They were the forecast of her mood. And now—it was predicting hate, disappointment, and utter despair. And he hated not gazing into them, even if they were radiating pessimism, but fate didn't seem to care, and Buffy's eyes shuddered and closed. She'd fainted. His game face fell, and he wanted, more than anything, to explain. She—she thought he was a vampire. Well, he was… but only more like a half-vampire.

"Angel."

And then there was Xander.

"Xander—I'm not what you think—I'm not one of them. I'm not gonna hurt you… I'm not gonna hurt anybody… I swear to God," Angel's eyes pleaded this, with more sincerity than ever. "Just—I'm so sorry you had to find out like this. I hope you don't think—"

"You kidding? You're like Blade, right? Part bad guy, mostly good guy?"

"Right."

"Then there's nothing to fear. But… I officially dub thee Dead Boy."

"Oh, come on."

"Dead Boy you are. Like Hellboy. Only not as cool."

Angel's eyes darted to Buffy. "Xander, you go home… I've got something to take care of."

She was so fragile. So thin.

He carried the girl in his arms like he would a porcelain doll; with great delicacy and care. Her heart fluttered gently, like the beating of a butterfly's wings, against his chest, creating a rhythm he couldn't get out of his mind. For the warrior of her people, she sure was vulnerable. Or so it seemed.

He marched along the circular sidewalk; sauntering past the mailbox marked 'Cooper', and to the mat marked with the same name. At this stop, he pampered himself to one last glance at that perfect face. Angel set the girl down gently on the doormat, and placed a kiss on her forehead. A little color filtered in his cheeks as he ambled home.

And lying there, a smile spread across Buffy Cooper's lips.

Author's Note: So there you have it. That's the Buffy interpretation of the pilot of The O.C. I'm going with gidgetgirl's idea on this; one season shall have its own fic… so there.

What's Next: The arrival of Willow as Lindsay, much, much more on the parental front… and other stuff. Fwah.