"Aaggghh! Last one!" I growled, willing myself to go back to my original form. It was getting easier, but it still wasn't easy. I stumbled around, knocking over tables, slowly shrinking. My knees buckled under me, bringing me to my knees. I gazed at my hands. The hair was almost gone. I could feel the relief on my skin as my body returned to normal size. And there I laid, no cloths, a whimpering little teenager on the floor.
"Wow, I feel like a million bucks," I groaned looking at myself, "A naked million bucks." I looked around, making sure there were no vampires left. Seeing that there weren't I just laid there,
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry for the disturbance but I'm going to have to ask you all to, please, go home. The police will be here shortly. For the trouble you will all be given an annual pass to get in for free, for the rest of the year." I looked up and saw a shirtless Asian man at the mic on stage, obviously the owner.
The remaining people in the club, started coming out of their hiding places and starting towards the door in a quick manner.
"Well, there's my queue," I muttered as I tried to stand, but my knees were weak and I just collapsed back onto the ground, "Damn, why can't I ever run away when the gettin's good?"
"Hey buddy, you alright?" I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see the same guy that was up on stage, ushering people out.
"I hate vampires," I managed to say, trying to lift myself up.
He just smiled, "That's a good sign to me, here, lets get you up in a chair," He said hoisting me up to a chair. "That was quite a fight you put up there, man."
"Well, a man's gotta work with what he's got, luckily I have a little more than most people."
"Yeah, I'd say. Stay here, I'm gonna go help the other people, " and then he walked away, I just sat my head down on the table and passed out.
I felt a strong pair of hands carrying me.
I opened my eyes and saw a darkly dressed man carrying me across the club.
"Kansas!" I whispered, wriggling my way out of the man's arms, "I have to go," I offered and ran towards the door. Surprisingly the man followed. I didn't have time to think, I had to act. I was determined not to end this like the last one.
When I got to the door, I swung it opened, and there she was, in the arms of a young gothic boy, crying.
"Um…"He seemed unsure, "She told me to take her here, to a man named Mister Johnson…"
It was one o'clock in the morning. The dark hero had just sat the girl down, and the owner of the club was off getting the girl a drink.
"Are you OK, Kansas?" The watcher was asking. He was obviously a watcher. He wasn't quite as obvious as most. Doesn't wear tweed to a nightclub. Keeps his facial hair a little rough, he doesn't look professional at all, except for his face, it was a little bit too British. With the eyeglasses he was wearing, it was a dead giveaway. He wasn't a bad looking guy at all. Tall, about five-foot, ten inches, fairly large build for an Englishman. Not a bad sense of modern style either. He was wearing a slightly tattered pair of blue jeans, a white shirt, under a black button-up, and a leather jacket.
The girl just looked up into his eyes. She trusted him. Being alive for hundreds of years, and feeding off human emotion makes you pretty good at reading them. He was like a father to her, just as a watcher should be, at least in my opinion.
I glanced over to the young werewolf. He was coming around. I could already hear his breathing speed up, and his heart start it's traditional wake-up acceleration. I glanced over at our young hero. He, unlike the watcher, was an odd sight to see. Spiked, jet black hair, heavily gelled. Very pale face, slight makeup, with black eyeliner. Long trench coat, black pants, black shirt. His fingernails were painted black, a genuine Goth.
"Alright little lady, here you are, one water, on the rocks, " the bartender smiled, setting down the glass on the table.
The noise obviously stirred the sleeping teen, he moved his head, looking up slowly, moving his eyes from person to person. "Um, where'd everyone go?"
"They went home, kid," I offered, "want something to drink? Our kind friend here is serving drinks, " I looked up to the owner, who offered a smile back, and then he looked to the kid.
"Yeah buddy, I got all kinds of soda back there, 's on the house man, whatever you want?" The owner was being awful nice for someone who just lost a lot of money tonight in a vampire attack.
"Yeah, can you get me a coke, " He said, rubbing the back of his neck, "and a couple of aspirin, if you've got 'em."
"I got it," I glanced over to see the young gothic hero hop up. That's an odd one. He seems really chipper for someone who dresses like a Goth, but who am I to judge. Looking at myself, the only thing not black on my body is my white catholic collar-insert.
"Thanks," The owner and the kid said and the same time. They looked at one another, and shrugged and the owner took a seat.
I glanced over once again to the watcher and his slayer. They were talking, way too quietly for everyone else to hear, but I could hear just fine. They weren't talking about anything important. They watcher was apologizing, and slayer was telling him it wasn't his fault.
"There ya go, coke and aspirin, " he sat the glass and a bottle of aspirin on the table in front of the kid, "Drink up there, kid." The gothic kid sat down, sipping on a beer, he wasn't old enough to be drinking, but I don't care.
"Thanks man," he said, lifting his glass, taking a drink, and almost gagging. He looked around to see if anyone noticed. I could smell the Rum from here, but if the kid wanted to drink it, who was I to stop him. No one else seemed to notice. "Hey what's your name man, " he finally ended up saying, "As a matter of fact, what's everyone's name? Why don't we get to know each other."
"I'm Ganon man, " the gothic boy said, first, leaning back in his chair, taking a swig of his beer and nodding his head, "Ganon Valentine, please to meet ya." He toasted toward the kid, and took another drink.
"Well, my name's Scot, Scot..uh.." he seemed kinda unsure of himself, "Smith! Yeah, that's my name." He smiled unsurely.
"Jung's the name, I own this place," Said the owner, "but, uh, you probably already knew that…"
The slayer raised her head, seeming to cheer up a little, "My name's Kansas, " she said with a deep southern accent, smiling brightly.
The watcher turned his chair around to face the rest of the table, "And, I'm Dr. Sid Johnson."
Scot turned his attention towards me, "A-and, what's your name Sir?"
I looked at him, staring coldly. But I managed a slight half smile, "They call me Duncun."
I could see Sid's eyes widen a little at the sound of this. It seems the Watcher has been doing his homework. It wasn't very hard to have heard about me if you have the unlimited occult library of the watcher council, or ex-watcher council as it was. Thankfully he found this an inappropriate place as I did to discuss my inhuman nature.
"Well D-Duncun, it's nice to meet you, " Scot muttered, half hoping that I didn't attack him.
So it went; meaningless conversion, for the next couple of hours, until everyone was tired. Jung said everyone could stay there for the night. I, courteously, declined. Everyone else decided to stay. I walked out of that place, and into the night. It would be dawn soon, and I needed to get home.