It might be vague for awhile on how Buffy was turned, okay?
And soul? Buffy don't need no stinkin' soul. This fic isn't gonna be like Oops, not so much with humor unless it Buffy thinkin' that's it's funny when roadkill happens and babies get devoured. Now on to the fic. Enjoy.
00 Back in Sunnyhell 000
Buffy stalks around town. She wanted something creative for a kill tonight. It wasn't that she found the random kill boring, but she wanted something that she could put effort into and feel proud of for. A sense of accomplishment is what she was wanting.
The blonde walks down the streets of SunnyDayle, making no effort to hide herself. She would have smelt one of those she knew, or heard them, long before they caught sight of her. But those who did see her made sure to do a double take of the stunning and elegant little blonde woman making her way down the streets. Stopping occasionally to look in store windows. Her curly blonde locks bouncing with her step and shimmering in the light. Her eyes, so expressive yet seemingly frozen in their beauty. Those icy greenish blues shockingly cold and vibrant, seeming to glimmer with a light of their own. Her thick black lashes only amplifying their vibrancy by contrast.
Her clothes of choice were a magnificent rich black duster custom tailored, and still almost brushing the ground, black tight fitting hip huggers, a button-up crotch, the top two buttons left undone. Her shirt a quarter sleeves white button up, not wanting to do the vampire cliche and wear all black. It was pinstriped with a light blue, the buttons undone to the middle of her breasts. The bottom buttons undone as well, showing her navel and nice amount pale skin above and below it.
Buffy was engrossed in watching a young boy with dark hair and rather striking green eyes, when her ears caught wind of Xander's voice. He was talking to that girlfriend of his, Anya. She swiftly positioned herself in a crowd of people, waiting for him to pass.
He did soon, talking animatedly to the former demon. The Xander-smitten blonde still had the face of a young woman, close to Buffy's own age, but the vampire knew better. She watched closely as Anya's eyes would dart from side to side, obviously on alert from any threat to her mortal life.
Buffy wondered briefly what it would feel like to take the life of one so old. To drink all of the ancient woman's life as she breathed her last mortal breath. Though thinking it over, she could probably learn a great deal from Anya. They could share stories of castration over a beer sometime.
She began following the couple, making sure to keep herself hidden from Anya's searching eyes. She would duck behind random people, taking advantage of her slight build to hide easier.
She followed them to the college, obviously on a trip to meet Willow. Buffy had pondered draining her redheaded friend. Though at the moment she had other plans on her mind, that and she would rather make them suffer first. She had learned that from Angelus, the art of breaking someone, slowly.
She was plenty close enough to hear what Xander was saying to Anya, the lanky brunette was spouting something about hating his parents.
She caught his wish, and saw Anya's eyes widen, hurriedly clamping a hand over Xander's mouth and looking from side to side.
"Xander!" the blonde snaps slapping his arm, looking rather peeved, "you can't go making wishes like that. You never know who may be listening."
Buffy grinned ear to ear from behind the bushes where she hid. She does believe she's up to the challenge of Xander's wish. Silently agreeing with Anya as she replays the boys words in her head.
"Sometimes I just wish they'd up and die!"
Yeah boy, your gonna be wishing soon you never said that.
000
She stands on Xander's porch step, and knocks lightly on the door. She can hear the TV on inside and huffs impatiently when no one answers. She knocks again harder this time, schooling her features to perfect innocence as she hears someone come to the door. It was Xander's father, dressed in a wife beater and sweat pants. His face covered in a five o'clock shadow gone terribly wrong. She could see the tiredness in his eyes, as well as the lust lighting there as he gazed too long at her chest. Not that what he was gazing at was incredibly large, but rather well shaped and very close to showing with most of her shirt buttons undone.
"Can I help you?" he asks her, the curiosity obvious in his voice. She has obtained his interest. She smiles sweetly at him, "Why yes actually, by the way, I'm Buffy. May I speak with Xander?" she's polite, a hint of flirtation in her voice as she smiles up at him. Her eyes still taking in his appearance. The dark circles under his eyes, his dark blonde hair thinning.
"Actually Xander's not home right now, but your welcome to come in and wait."
Buffy smiles, "Don't mind if I do,"
She walks in to find the wife must be asleep upstairs, she can hear the snoring. She looks at the old tan carpet, the old junk TV with a bent rabbit ears antenna. A dark blue sofa and couch, the coffee table has at least four empty bear bottles on it. She's not surprised though, she could smell the alcohol on his breath.
She smiles sweetly again as he motions for her to take a seat on the couch, Xander's dad reclaiming his seat on the sofa in front of the TV.
"Would you like beer?" he asks her, a pleasant smile on his lips.
"That'd be nice,"
He hands he an unopened one from a cooler she hadn't noticed next to his chair. She grins to herself at the totally lazy American thing to do.
They engage in a polite conversation, each of them putting a slightly flirtatious spin on it. She feels his lust filled stare as she pulls the duster off her shoulders, moving them sensually and making sure to pull her shirt down on one side. Her shoulder showing seemingly by accident as she looks up shyly and slowly pulls the shirt up to its proper place.
They continue the chat as the beer they consume finally begins to take more of an effect on Xander's dear old Dad. Their conversation begins slacking from the football game, which Buffy actually knows a bit about, having been a cheerleader with the quarterback boy toy. Football had been all he ever talked about, and she had learned enough to keep conversation going in the spaces between which they'd make-out.
She moved her position on the couch to a typical guy slouch. Beer between her legs that were now spread wide, one hand resting on the back of the couch, the other innocently drawing circles on her inner thigh near the beer bottle.
She watches as he glances over, his eyes instantly drawn to her crotch.
"So Mr. Harris, why don't you come sit over here. It's lonely on this big couch all by myself, and we won't have to talk so loud to be heard over the television."
He grins and stands up, stumbling as he makes his way around the coffee table and plops down next to her. Sitting in the grasp of the arm she had on the back of the couch. She lets it slip down, her hand on his shoulder, index finger drawing more circles there.
She grips her beer and chugs it, knowing his eyes are watching her throat as she swallows the now almost warm liquid. She feels his hand rest on her thigh, slowly moving it up, as she makes no protests. She finishes her beer and looks up at him through her eyelashes. She looks him in the eyes as he moves his hand up her thigh, now stroking oh so close to where he really wants it.
She smiles up at him, dropping the empty beer bottle on the floor she grasps his hand with her own. Then she moves it to her crotch, still looking him in the eye. She presses his hand hard against her, making friction as she begins moving her hips. He moves his fingers, caressing her through her jeans. Buffy lets her head fall back and closes her eyes, laughing inside at the insane humor at what she's doing with Xander's dad.
Damn, I should have set up a video camera. Sent Xander the tape along with Daddy's hand.
Her eyes open as the friction starts to effect her body, making her blood lust rise. She moves to sit on his lap, grinding into his hard-on, making him even harder. She attacks his mouth, crushing their lips together. He parts his lips and she sucks his tongue into her mouth, then massages it with her own.
Buffy pulls away, her eyes dilated so far that there's only a sliver of a blue ring around her pupil. She kisses her way down his jaw and to his neck. Biting and sucking and getting wet as the man beneath her moans. He tastes like beer and sweat, as she licks the strong tangy flavor of his skin. She grinds harder and faster. Almost wanting him inside as the intense desire for his blood to gush into her mouth as they both come builds in her. If the old man can last that long, she thinks.
She begins biting and sucking the flesh of his neck, as he mumbles dirty little phrases in her ears. The disturbingly strong arousal at what she is doing making her moan as well, her panties soaked as his hands travel up her shirt.
She feels him tensing up, realizing he's going to come she slips into game face and bites into his throat. Then he's yelling, and it's her name on his lips. Her name as the heated blood coats her throat as she swallows hungrily, pleasure making her body hum as she presses against his chest. The world seems to consist of nothing but his heartbeat as she moves to its rhythm. She swoons as it vibrates in her own chest, her connection to him strengthening as she begins to feel his pleasure. A sweet rapture over taking them, she moans between swallows, wishing this feeling would never end.
But his heart begins to slow, his breath no longer coming in fast huffs. His eyes slipping close as his body relaxes and he seems to slip into an almost sleep like state. Buffy makes the draining pleasurable for both of them. Wanting to be as high on it as she could be. There was only the blood and that rhythmic heart beating. The blood gushing from his veins to fill her mouth, the hot liquid warming her skin.
She feels his heart slowing more, the climax of his death in her embrace making her tingle all over. She breathes in the sex and the blood and the coming death and whimpers, his heartbeat already filling her head so there is nothing else. Then it happens, his heart stopping, her hands digging into his shoulders as she pulls him closer and bites into his throat harder.
The last thumping and her eyes have rolled back and she slumps against him, her body warm and tingling as slides off him and lies on the couch with her legs across his lap. She slips into an almost hallucinatory state as the alcohol in his blood and the high she's on stones all of her senses. She dreams she's swimming in a fathomless river of blood. Sticking to her body as she dives and drinks and laughs and breathes it in. Tasting it smelling it seeing it feeling it as the blood coats her entire being. She's floating on it now, and it's hot and sweet and tangy as she colors the world with it.
Then she's coming back to herself, and she's not floating on a river of hot steaming blood. She's lying on a couch with a dead body. The cold worthless corpse, pale and bloodless, begging for her to make it into art.
Buffy gets up stumbling, and wondering how long she was just lying there. Basking in the after warmth of fresh hot blood swimming in her veins. She walks into the kitchen, looking for a knife. A big butcher knife, one she can use to cut and slice and chop. She finds something better, seems Mr. Harris was the type who likes to carve meat with a big electric knife. More like a mini chainsaw.
She grins, walking back into the living room. Standing over him and grinning like a maniac. She finds the switch to turn it on then pauses, a snore from the upstairs bedroom making its way to her ears.
She looks up smiling, then turns to walk up the stairs.
She enters the bedroom and flips the light on. Taking in the sleeping figure under the sheets.
Buffy flips the switch on the mini chainsaw, grinning madly as the woman jumps up in bed and lets out a scream upon seeing her.
The vampire runs and jumps on the bed, straddling her, then begins hacking at the screaming woman. She's not screaming for long, as Buffy laughs insanely as she hacks Xander's mother to pieces. Jumping up and down on the bed as she finishes, sawing on a body part every now and then. She looks like a little girl bouncing on Mommy's bed, only she's covered in blood and giggling hysterically with an electric saw still in her hand. It's blade coated in the sticky red substance.
The beds covered in blood and almost unrecognizable body parts as Buffy jumps away, swinging the saw around as she twirls in circles, blood flying from the dripping blade. The walls are covered with long streaks of blood spray.
Buffy finally falls onto the bed, relishing in another kill. A sense of satisfaction settles over her. But she's not quite done yet. After basking in an after death glow, she gets up to finish her work.
When all is said and done, there's bloody mayhem and body parts spread all over the living room, and Buffy stands red-handed in the middle of it, grinning her approval at the masterpiece.
This would hurt Xander, because a part of him wanted it. He would always feel the guilt for wishing they were dead. Because now they were, and he would blame himself. He'd always feel that guilt, well, he'd feel it until Buffy killed him.
0000000000
Ehem, I just want to say yucky and I can't believe I wrote the Buffy and Xander's daddy thing. That's just so wrong, which was the whole point, so. Anyway, I hope that answers your question Maximum, glad you asked cos' I don't think i would have thought about it or written this, thank you. Next chapter should be going back to Buffy lying in wait for Faith. Review please, 'smiles'.