The sun hung dangerously low on the Southern California horizon. An all-too-familiar buoy bell tolled in the distance as the evening fog neared the shore, creating an eerie feeling that gave Buffy Summers a warm and fuzzy. Dockworkers and boatswains were winding up last-minute tasks before setting off into the sunset for home. The delicate orange glow deceivingly gave Sunnydale the aura of the perfect little Californian coastal town – complete with tourist attractions and beautiful people. Looks are definitely deceiving, Buffy thought as she delivered an uppercut to the jaw of one of the vampires she had come upon in a back alley. Many locals knew, but never let out, that the only people – things, rather – truly attracted to their hometown weren't exactly what you'd call "beautiful." In fact, most of them were perhaps the furthest from b-e-a-utiful.
As burly men slammed down tall garage doors behind the last frontloaders and work trucks piled into one of the many corrugated steel warehouses in Docktown, the piers and surrounding areas quickly emptied. Actually, most of Sunnydale cleared when the sun went down. The city, at night, was not as perfect as it seemed when the deceptive sunlight played off the streets.
The first settlers in the area deemed it "Boca del Infierno" – quite fittingly, the "Mouth of Hell." All things creepy, crawly, and bump-in-the-night-like gathered at this hub of evil, where the barrier between this dimension and the next was thinnest and most vulnerable. For years, demons, vampires, and hell-gods alike set up shop in Sunnydale, apparently attracted to the nearly insignificant town like iron shavings to a magnet. The dark energy that enveloped the city surged with an electricity more menacing than anything else known in the world. Sunnydale was quite possibly Hell on Earth.
Quite a few of the residents knew what lurked in the shadows at night, and many made sure not to invite strangers in and to keep their deadbolts securely set. Most were in a rut of denial the size of Texas. The numerous attacks that left their innocent neighbors drained of blood and dying in the street were written off with more "logical" explanations. So, it was logical that Sunnydale, which was much smaller than Los Angeles, had a higher rate of gang-related violence. Even more realistic was the fact that all the "gang members" were supposedly on drugs, which explained their distinct facial malformations and their innate thirst for blood.
"Gotta love this town," Buffy said to herself as she pummeled the egotistical demon that wasn't really putting up a fight. More like, he was dodging her every move. This vampire would have been special if she had never come against one who didn't work alone. This particular one donned a tattoo on his left forearm of a flaming crucifix, a common brand on all his buddies that now crowded around, making little attempt to stop her from crushing their brother's head like a melon. This vampire would even have been really special if Buffy hadn't stopped a premature apocalypse – by a secret brethren of demons and their vampire minions – before.
Been there, hated that, Buffy thought. Guess it's just part of the job description. Learning that she was the Slayer – the Chosen One – had been one of the most horrifying and most extraordinary things that had ever happened in her short life. Looking back on that sunny afternoon sitting out front of Hemery High School in L.A. – meeting her first watcher, Merrick – Buffy trembled slightly. Only slightly, so, you know, the vampires didn't see her shiver. She also remembered the scripted verse that her most current Watcher, Rupert Giles, had so passionately delivered the first time they met:
As long as there have been vampires, there has been the Slayer. One girl in all the world, to find them where they gather and to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers… yada, yada, yada.
Since that first meeting, a lot had happened.
Giles, for one, was no longer her Watcher. Technically. He had quit the Council after he interfered with an ancient test of the Slayer in which, he, as her Watcher, subjected her to poison so she would be powerless. The Council had finally decided that Giles had become too soft – that he had developed intensely intimate feelings for the Slayer – so they cut him loose without much of a fuss. And he did love Buffy. And she loved Giles back. He was like a father to her, since her all-but-present daddy had neglected now to even send birthday cards or make the occasional phone call. Which she hated, now that she had to take care of Dawn by herself.
And that was another thing. Dawn. Buffy, who had been an only child for her whole life, came home one day to discover that she had a little sister - one that she grew up with for almost sixteen years. Buffy, Xander, Willow and the rest of the gang had memories of Dawn tagging along for years now – but Buffy still had a funny feeling about her. Granted, every thing about Dawn seemed normal – except for the fact that she was a supernaturally-created being concocted by a brethren of monks sworn to protect her most sacred existence. She was "The Key." Glory the Hell-God terrorized Sunnydale for almost a year looking for this "key," thinking it was some sort of artifact, or an ancient relic. Funny. Things could never really be that easy. No, this particular order of monks sworn to protect this particular "key" chose this particular Slayer to be its ultimate bodyguard. They had magically transplanted Dawn into Buffy's life and wove stories and memories into everyone's minds. Dawn had been Buffy's sister for as long as she could remember. They had fought. They had had ice cream and movie nights with their mom when their father was out of town. Dawn had divulged her secret crushes on hundreds of boys – including Xander – to her big sis. But in all actuality, Dawn had only existed as Dawn for a little under two years. Wow, Buffy pondered. It's already been two years.
Snapping back into reality, Buffy dodged a right punch that Mr. Ego threw with all his weight. Buffy countered with a hard kick to his skull, knocking him flat on the planks of the dock. She unsheathed her stake from the inside of her jacket sleeve and brought her arm back to prepare for the thrust. One of the spectator vampires finally stepped in and grabbed the Slayer's hand and twisted her arm behind her back with bone-crushing force. Buffy head-butted the vamp behind her, while kicking her feet up on Mr. Ego's shoulders, tumbling both to the ground. In one swift move, Buffy extracted another stake from the inside of her boot, and with one in each hand, shoved the sharp sticks into each vampire's heart. She quickly took the other three down, each being weaker than the last. Piece of bloody cake, Buffy thought. She dusted herself off and scanned the docks for anymore action.
"Super," Buffy said aloud. "Now I have to stop the world from ending. Again."
She dashed down the pier toward the tall warehouses that flanked the shore. Trying to remember the building number that she bullied out of one of the demon weasels at Willie's, she felt the presence of danger in her gut. Which was weird, because she had never really honed the skill of physically feeling a vampire's being there. Guess you live and learn, Buffy considered.