Chapter 4: Civic Duty

A/N: A big thanks to my betas, Jason, leathon, murg, SariLane, and satsuma!
A/N2: Story classification changed. It now officially contains violence.

Buffy escaped from Fangtasia as fast as she could. For one of the few times in her life, being short actually came in handy. She could weave in and out of the bar crowd without drawing too much attention to herself. And if someone got a little jostled in her rush, she disappeared amid the other patrons before they could even turn around.

Once she got outside, she ran for half a dozen blocks. After she was certain that no one had followed her, she ducked into a dark alley and leaned against the brick wall.

"What the hell was that?" she said aloud, trying to process what had just happened.

Did she really just manage to assault the local vamp authority while simultaneously giving a major hint about her Slayer status? All because of a question?

And what are you going to do the next time a vamp has the name Dawn, or red hair, or a British accent? Ask for a tissue and a time out? Or maybe just go on a rampage and take out an entire bar? she harshly berated herself.

For all her years as the Slayer, she was really giving it a poor showing.

"Stupid vampire with his blackmail and identity crisis questions," she grumbled. "Couldn't he have just tried to kill me instead?"

She needed to figure out what to do next. After her oh so subtle visit to Fangtasia, her time in Shreveport could be cut short.

Going back to her motel wasn't an option, seeing as vamps could enter without an invite. If Mr. You-Owe-Me was looking for her, the last place she wanted to be was in her small, enclosed room.

No, she would spend the rest of the night patrolling. It wasn't as if she was going to get any sleep anyway, and she was wound too tightly to do anything else. This was the perfect outlet. Who needed self-pity when you could just punch something? Besides, she needed to see what the real nightlife here was like.

To Buffy's complete disappointment, there wasn't a vampire to be found – hybrid or otherwise – after searching all night. Now it was almost daybreak.

With the other vampires' strong presence in town, she thought that her kind of vamps might lay low. But they had to feed sometime, didn't they? Maybe it was just a slow night. Or maybe they had something bigger to preoccupy themselves. But they had to be there.

Hybrid vamps were still the most likely explanation behind the potentials' disappearance. It was their uprising at the Hellmouth that was ruined by Buffy and the others, after all. But why? Was it strictly for revenge? Then why didn't they come after her? It wasn't as if she went to any great lengths to hide or protect herself after Sunnydale collapsed.

This really bothered her, and she wanted answers. She wasn't going to get them tonight, though. It was frustrating; she had never had a problem finding vamps before.

How sad is it that vamps are the one constant in my life and even they're letting me down? she thought with a scowl.

With a sigh, she started to head back to her motel room. All in all, the night was disappointingly anticlimactic.

Then she felt it; her senses tingled. There was a vampire nearby.

She hadn't realized she actually missed slaying until she felt the rush of excitement in Fangtasia earlier. Now she practically skipped down the street in anticipation.

She slowed down as she neared a small park. The vamp was definitely in there somewhere. Moving swiftly through a thick stand of trees, she pulled out a stake, ready for some action. She could hear sounds of fighting as she drew closer. Good, she wasn't too late.

She burst out of the trees, quickly assessing the situation as she ran toward the struggle. There were three people, or rather one female vamp and two male humans. Somehow, the guys had managed to subdue the vamp and had her pinned the ground, although one of her arms was free and doing plenty of damage. Buffy watched as the vamp threw one of the guys across the clearing. He landed with a thud in front of a shiny black pickup truck that was partially hidden by the trees. The vampire then snaked her free hand around the other guy's throat and began to squeeze.

Buffy sprang into action. She raced over and broke the vamp's grip on the guy before pushing him out of harm's way. That was when she saw what was restraining the vampire; several nails were embedded in her wrist, pinning her to a sheet of plywood that lay underneath her. With a quick glance, Buffy saw that the vamp's ankles were held down in the same fashion.

Wow, Buffy thought. Points for quick thinking. And ew.

Then she noticed the vamp's game face, or lack thereof. This wasn't a hybrid vamp. This was one that was illegal to stake. Still, the vamp had tried to kill these people. She raised her stake, ready to plunge down.

"Wait!" one of the guys shouted.

This surprised Buffy so much that she actually listened, her hand frozen mid-stake. The vampire struggled underneath her, but Buffy held her firmly in place as she turned to the visibly battered guys with a questioning look.

"Wait for what?" she asked in confusion.

Instead of answering, they both rushed toward her, the taller one grabbing a black duffle bag from the bed of the truck on his way. As they approached, she noticed that they were young, maybe just a little older than her. They were also big, obviously clocking some serious time at the gym.

The taller of the two – whom she now thought of as Muscles #1 – knelt by her side and quickly emptied out the contents of the bag, dumping a syringe, several lengths of rubber tubing, and five or six empty blood bags onto the ground.

"Wow, you Red Cross workers are really dedicated," she said slowly, unsure of what to make of it.

"Why don't you just move along, darlin'? We can take it from here," Muscles #1 said, an insincere smile plastered on his face. He had a nice Southern drawl; it was too bad he was such a mean-looking bastard. "This here ain't none of your business."

Buffy frowned. She opened her mouth to object and to remind them that they would both be dinner right now if she hadn't come along when she suddenly found herself at the wrong end of a fist. The vamp had taken advantage of the fact that Buffy was distracted and dislodged her from her position with a blow to the head.

Buffy quickly rolled to her feet, ready to pounce, but the two guys had already moved into her spot. She saw Muscles #2 pick up a nail gun that must have been dropped in the struggle and quickly pump several nails into the vampire's free hand, completely pinning her down. The sound of sizzling skin and the accompanying scream of agony were almost obscene in the serene pre-dawn hours.

This wasn't right.

The smell of burning flesh permeated the air. Buffy peered down at the vampire's wrist, studying the nails closely. They were much shinier than the gray nails that she had seen Xander often use, and they were obviously having an unusual effect on the vamp.

Silver, maybe. Different vamps, different weaknesses, she noted. Wait, who walks around with silver nails?

She could rationalize away why someone would have a nail gun and plywood in their truck. Maybe they were construction workers. But silver nails? And now that she had a moment to think about it, how did they get the vamp onto the plywood in the first place?

This definitely wasn't right. What the hell was going on?

"Uh, why are you taking her blood? Is this your idea of poetic justice or something?" she asked skeptically.

"Yeah, yeah, that's right," the shorter one – Muscles #2 – said hastily. "And this ain't something a pretty little thing like you should be watching."

Buffy frowned but said nothing; she was too busy studying them as they began to draw the vampire's blood. They were too well-prepared and moving with practiced efficiency. They knew what they were doing; what's more, they had probably done this before.

The picture suddenly became clear. The vampire hadn't tried to kill them. If she had truly made the first move, they'd already be dead. These two creeps just wanted her blood for some reason. And, judging by the number of blood bags they had, they were ready to drain the vampire dry for it. Buffy began to feel nauseous.

"But why are you bagging it then?" she pressed further.

The two men exchanged glances. She was asking too many questions. Before they could decide what to do, the vampire decided to speak up.

"Because, you idiot, vampire's blood fetches a high price on the black market," she said, a little more irritably than someone in her position should be, at least in Buffy's opinion. "Now either shut up and let me die in silence or do me a favor and stake me now."

"Shut up, bitch!" Muscles #2 roared, shooting a silver nail into the vampire's gut out of spite.

Both men grinned as the vampire screamed in pain. The scent of burning flesh filled the air once again. Buffy felt her anger rise as she digested the vamp's words and the men's smiles.

Vampire blood on the black market? How the hell did she not know about this? The whole First problem really had given her tunnel vision. Then she vaguely remembered Willow mentioning rumors about the power vampires' blood gave to humans, supposedly like a drug. They hadn't believed it at the time, chalking it up to humans trying to Anne Rice the vampires, romanticizing and idolizing them.

She did feel different after she drank Dracula's blood. She'd thought it was because she was the Slayer or maybe because he was Dracula. But now…

Now was not the time to dwell on that. She needed to figure out what she was going to do and fast, though deep in her heart she knew the answer. These two slimeballs wanted the vamp's blood to sell, and in the meantime they were getting off on torturing her.

This was wrong. This whole situation was wrong on so many levels.

The two men didn't like the way she reacted to the vampire's words, and so after another significant look, they began to advance toward her menacingly.

She just glared at Muscles #1 and #2, pissed at what they were doing and at the situation in general. "I can't let you do this," she said frankly as she tucked away her stake.

"Excuse me?" Muscles #2 asked, not quite able to believe his ears.

Buffy scowled at him. "You're going to make me say this out loud, aren't you? I. Am. Saving. The. Vampire," she ground out. Oh, the irony.

Three sets of eyes went wide with disbelief. Then Muscles #1 started laughing.

"And who the hell are you to stop us, darlin'?" he asked with a nasty grin. He pulled out a knife and waved it around in a threatening gesture.

Muscles #2 quickly followed in suit. Apparently they had either forgotten or were in some serious denial that she was the one to hold the vampire down without any silver.

Buffy held back a snort of amusement. Knives? Please. I am so gonna enjoy kicking Dumb and Dumber's asses.

"I'm-" She stopped short. She was about to say that she was the Slayer but realized that the title would have absolutely no significance to them.

"I'm, uh, a concerned citizen?" she finished lamely.

"I bet she's a fang-banger," Muscles #2 scowled. Apparently he had a low opinion of them.

Buffy snorted in amusement. "Just because I don't want you to bleed a vampire to death for money, I'm automatically screwing them? Do I sense inadequacy issues here?" she said in a mocking tone.

Muscles #2 didn't like this. He lunged for her, knife slashing toward her chest. She kicked the knife out of his hand and followed up with a right hook, using only a quarter of her Slayer strength. The poor guy must've had a glass jaw or something, because he crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. No wonder he was so touchy.

Muscles #1 was pissed. He was a better fighter, too, showing off some boxing skills. He threw a few solid jabs and uppercuts, which she dodged or blocked. He even tried to block her kick, 'try' being the operative word. He was just a human, after all.

Buffy wanted information from him, though, so she didn't knock him out like she had his friend. She let him recover and waited until he lunged again with the knife. She easily sidestepped his attempt, grabbing his arm and twisting it painfully behind his back.

"Ow!" he yelped. "Get off me, bitch!"

"What? No more 'darlin'?" she grinned before twisting his arm a little harder.

He muttered a string of expletives as he futilely tried to break her iron grip.

"So tell me. How did two losers like you ever manage to snag a vamp without becoming her late-night snack?" she asked in a conversational tone.

When he didn't respond, she twisted again. She could practically hear his bones straining under the pressure.

"Alright, alright!" he yelled. "I pretended to be a fang-banger, and I picked her up at a bar and took her here. When she was… distracted, we jumped her."

"Why her?" Buffy asked in a quiet voice, masking the rage boiling beneath the surface.

He gave a small laugh, misunderstanding her calmness. "Because she's a Mainstreamer. Less chance of revenge. Ow!" he howled in pain as she twisted his arm again. "Why'd you go and do that? I answered your question!"

"Because you're an asshole," she replied evenly.

She had heard everything she needed. While she had never heard the word 'Mainstreamer' before, she could guess what it meant. It just further reaffirmed her belief that she was doing the right thing, which was good because this was new territory for her.

She was tempted to break Muscles #1's arm but settled for sweeping his feet from under him and delivering a roundhouse to his head as he struggled to stand, rendering him unconscious. She stared at him for a moment in disgust before giving him one more kick in the ribs. No sainthood for Buffy today.

As her anger subsided, Buffy remembered the reason why she had beat the crap out those two lowlifes in the first place. She hurried over to the vampire and knelt by her side, closely examining the wounds. Buffy winced sympathetically; the silver nails were deeply embedded into the vamp's flesh, but they had to come out.

"I'm sorry. There's no easy way to do this," she said apologetically, right before she ripped the vampire's hand from the plywood in one smooth motion.

The vampire's entire body shuddered with pain and a small groan escaped past her tightly drawn mouth. Buffy quietly moved to her other side and looked on in askance. At the vampire's nod, she wrenched the other hand free and then her legs.

The instant she was free, the vampire rolled away from Buffy and slowly got to her feet. The nail in her gut wasn't long enough to break through to the plywood, but it was buried deep inside, making any kind of movement extremely painful. Buffy was going to let the vamp take care of that one herself, though. Helping hands went only so far.

The vampire glared at Buffy, obviously wary of this tiny girl who had held her down and then soundly thrashed two large men without so much as breaking a sweat. Then she made a movement toward the men.

Buffy raised her eyebrow and blocked her way, drawing out her stake again. "The sun will be up soon," she said casually. "You probably should go somewhere safe and get that last nail out."

The vampire studied her for a moment before turning away and leaving without saying a word.

"You're welcome!" Buffy huffed as she watched the vampire's retreating figure. Then she looked down at the two unconscious men at her feet, trying to make sense of this night.

She was in bizarro world, plain and simple. Maybe she didn't know who she was, but the rest of the world didn't know, either. And as this little encounter proved, she would have to redefine herself, for better or for worse. Standing still just wasn't an option. She bet the Slayer's Handbook didn't have any guidance for this.

All the remaining self-pity she had been feeling that night evaporated with the absurdity of the situation. The laughter bubbled out of her before she could stop it. It overflowed until she was sitting on the grass with tears running down her face and her sides ached. She had to laugh. It was either that, or cry.

Once she had finally controlled her laughter, she stood to leave. She needed to get some sleep before she started her search again. The sun was almost up, so she just left the men there in the park, hogtied in the bed of their truck with all the incriminating evidence and a note detailing their escapades next to them. Before she left, however, she broke the bag of blood, watching the dark red liquid seep into the grass. For good measure, she broke their little nail gun into pieces.

By the time she got back to her room, she felt considerably lighter than she had at the start of the night. She was going to find Vi, get to the bottom of this, and then get really drunk, though maybe not in that order.