An ominous chill crept up Buffy's spine. Every creature of the night was out to get her, but she thought that her friends were the one thing that she could count on. Yet here she was, betrayed, and flustered as she tried to make some sort of plan. An escape. After all, the setting of the sun outside of this warehouse she was trapped in meant that Spike and his vampire minions would arrive in no time, and they'd bring their appetites with them. Buffy rushed up the metal staircase of the warehouse and threw herself against the locked entrance, to no avail.
"You just don't give up, do you?" smirked Ford, as he slowly followed her.
"No, I don't," Buffy said bitterly. Her outrage with her old friend would have to wait. For now, she had to concentrate on saving these innocent idiots.
"That's a good quality in a person. Too many people just lay back and take it, but us-"
"Us?" Buffy exclaimed, spinning around and narrowing her eyes at Ford, "We have something in common now?"
"More than you think."
"Yeah, well, let me explain something to you. You're what we call the bad guy."
Ford smirked, almost proudly. "I guess I am."
Buffy looked down past the railings at the people gathered around at the pit of warehouse, buzzing with excitement for the coming danger.
"These people aren't gonna get changed, are they?" asked Buffy, already knowing the answer, "The rest of them, they're just fodder."
"Technically, yes, but I'm in. I will become immortal."
"Well, I've got a newsflash for you, brain trust. That's not how it works. You die and a demon sets up shop in your old house. It walks and it talks and it remembers your life, but it's not you."
"It's better than nothing," Ford said sullenly.
"And your life is nothing?"
Ford smirked humorlessly.
"Ford, these people don't deserve to die!" Buffy exclaimed at him.
"Neither do I!" Ford said, a wavering in his voice as he looked vulnerable for the first time, "But apparently no one took that into consideration because I'm still dying."
Buffy raised her eyebrows, speechless.
"I look good, don't I?" Ford said bitterly, "Well, guess what. I've got as much as six months left, and by then, what they bury won't even look like me. I'll be bald and shriveled and I'll smell bad... No, I'm not going out that way."
Reluctant tears welled in Buffy's eyes, but she breathed in and wouldn't let them fall. She turned away, her chest heavy with guilt and remorse.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Summers, did I ruin your anger riff? Does the nest of tumors liquifying my brain kind of spoil the fun?"
Buffy looked back at him after blinking tears out of her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, "I had no idea. But what you're doing is still very wrong."
"Okay, well you try vomiting for two hours straight because the pain in your head is so intense, and then we'll discuss the concept of right and wrong. These people are sheep. They want to be vampires because they're lonely. Miserable. Bored. I don't have a choice!"
"You have a choice. You don't have a good choice, but you have a choice! You're opting for mass murder here, and nothing you say is going to make that okay."
"You think I need to justify myself to you?"
"I think this is all part of your little fantasy drama! Isn't this exactly how you imagined it? You tell me how you've suffered and I feel sorry for you. Well, I do feel sorry for you, and if those vampires come in here and start feeding, I'll kill you myself."
"You know what, Summers?" said Ford, his voice almost inaudible, "I really did miss you."
Buffy's heart dropped at the sound of cars and motorcycles coming to a screeching halt outside of the warehouse.
"Ford," she said, beginning to panic, "Help me stop this. Please."
Ford only looked away, guilty. Buffy sighed and pushed passed him, rushing down the stairs.
"Listen to me!" she called out to the gathering, "This is not the mothership, people. This is ugly death come to play-"
Ford rushed down to her and hit her across the head. Caught off guard, Buffy lost her footing and stumbled down the rest of the stairs and hit the concrete floor with a thud. She got back up, only for an ominous sound at the solid metal entrance door to grab and hold everyone's attention. Looking haunted, Chanterelle walked up the staircase and hovered near the door. She gasped as it suddenly opened, and a grinning vampire walked in with his ghostly twisted face, grinning ear to ear and sporting a black leather duster. Buffy frowned and peered up at the vampire from down at the pit. Spike. He loomed forward, flanked by his minions, and growled.
"Take them all. Save the slayer for me," he ordered, and his minions immediately began to rush down the stairs and over the railings, wasting no time in attacking and feeding. Spike lunged and bit Chanterelle's lily white neck.
Buffy's chest heaved, flustered by the commotion. Her attention was grabbed by the ghostly figure of Drusilla, looking just like she did in Mr. Schue's old photograph. She looked gaunt and lost in her long white nightgown. Buffy bit her lip and made a decision, grasping for the stake hidden in the lining of her jacket. The way Drusilla kept popping up must have meant that she was someone important.
Buffy hopped onto one of the tables with goblets of wine served on it and threw herself at the railings, pulling herself up onto the balcony and slipping behind Drusilla, holding the stake up to her fragile-looking chest.
"Hey, Spike!" she called out to him as he buried his face into Chanterelle's neck.
He looked up, his yellow eyes furious as he saw Drusilla threatened.
"Everybody stop!" he said immediately, his voice booming throughout the warehouse, followed by silence.
Whoa, thought Buffy, I guess she's way more important than I thought.
"Good idea," said Buffy, "Now you let everyone out or your girlfriend fits in an ashtray."
"Let them go," Spike growled reluctantly, and his minions were subdued.
Wow, thought Buffy, trying to hide her surprise that her plan worked, He must really love this chick. The victims rushed away, squeezing through each other from the staircase, and rushing outside. The Skanks helped Chanterelle escape, carrying her away, bloody and whimpering.
"Down the stairs," said Buffy, still holding a sharp stake up to Drusilla's chest.
She and Drusilla walked forward as Spike walked down the metal stairs, and Buffy threw the woman down to him and made a quick escape out the door, closing the entrance behind her to lock the others inside
Buffy walked out, almost unable to share a sigh of relief. Her whole body was charged with wild fear and a rush of emotions as the other victims limped away, crying, or brittley quiet. She did feel somewhat of a familiar relief as two figures approached the scene, one with bone-straight black hair and a worried frown, and one with a mess of blond waves and guilty eyes.
"Tina, Sam," Buffy breathed, "You guys are just in time."
"Are there vampires?" asked Tina, as Mike approached behind her, no doubt having driven them here in his father's car.
"They're contained," Buffy sighed, "They'll get out eventually, though. We should probably go. We can come back when they're gone."
"Come back for what?" asked Mike.
Buffy looked back at the warehouse solemnly, knowing exactly who didn't survive.
"For the body," she replied.
xxx
Just a short few days later, Will's health was restored, after a long week of laying in bed with a strange flu and short moments of lucidity. However, he hadn't spent his last night resting. He spent it in the Lima cemetery, and not to do the job he'd signed up for, but for support, as Buffy laid a bouquet on the grave of the friend she'd lost.
He strode down the halls of McKinley High, towards his office, his heart still heavy with the heartbreak of his slayer. He walked into his office, only to find a woman already there, with blond hair resting on her shoulders and tucked into a tight black sweater-dress. She looked up from an iPhone in her hands and smiled widely.
"You must be-"
"Will Schuester," he nodded, "Buffy's watcher."
"Well," the woman got up and offered her hand for Will to shake, "I'm Holly Holliday."
"I know who you are," said Will, keeping his hands firmly at his sides, "I want to know who in their right mind running the watcher's council elected you to watch my slayer in my absence."
"Excuse me?" she said, caught off guard.
"Buffy had to bury a friend, because of your negligence," said Will, "As her watcher, you are supposed to help her avoid this kind of danger and be there with help when it happens. Where were you?"
Holly stammered and looked away. "I-I, it was a very... unfortunate situation-"
"Unfortunate?" Will raised an eyebrow, "This never should have happened."
"I'm sorry," Holly sighed, "But she needed a break. You work her into the ground. She needed time to be a normal teenager."
"She's not a normal teenager, Ms. Holliday. She saves lives."
"I know. It's just a lot of pressure for a seventeen year old girl."
"You think I don't know that?" asked Will, running his fingers through his hair, feeling just a little hypocritical, "But Holly, we can't let things like this happen. Do you understand?"
"Of course," Holly nodded, "The truth is, I knew I wasn't the best choice to watch the slayer while you were gone. I need so much more training..."
Will sighed. "At least you know that now. And you have the experience."
"Still," Holly sighed, "I'll be surprised if the council ever lets me watch another slayer. Some watchers go their whole lives being completely qualified and not getting to watch a single slayer. I'll be their last choice."
Will shrugged. "It's not like there's any such thing as a perfect watcher. We all make mistakes. I was completely lost when I first started watching Buffy."
Holly smiled at Will and folded her arms. "Well, now you seem to know what you're doing. You care about her a lot."
"I do," Will nodded in agreement, "I don't want to make a mistake that turns out to be fatal."
xxx
Quinn shivered outside of Lima's bus station. She'd skipped a day of school to be here, waiting on the metal outdoor benches and feeling the cold seeping through her clothes. She was conflicted; throwing arguments back and over in her own head, wondering and wondering if this was a huge mistake. If Jesse could help. If Jesse could change. So many times she considered backing out, just to avoid seeing his face. It was hard enough when he dated Rachel Berry last year. She bumped into him the odd time before she rushed away and was forced to think about him taking advantage of her like she knew he would. Still, the one thing keeping her here was too precious to give up.
"Lucy?"
Quinn looked up, wide-eyed, to see Jesse approaching her with a big grin and the sun at his back, pulling a suitcase along with him.
"You're here early," she said as she stood to greet him.
"No," Jesse shook his head, "You must have lost track of time. You looked so deep in thought, I almost didn't want to disturb you. What's on your mind, Lucy?"
"People call me Quinn now," she said, with a stony expression.
"I know," he nodded, "It's some sort of testament to the new you, right? Quinn Fabray, cheerleader. Quinn Fabray, baby mama. Not Lucy Caboosey anymore."
"Just... tell me what you want."
Jesse frowned mockingly. "I want to help you... Quinn. Isn't that what you called me for? Help?"
"Help from you never comes without a price. What is it?"
"You don't beat around the bush," Jesse laughed, "I always forgot how direct you were. We used to make quite the duo. My charm, your bluntness."
Quinn bristled. "Yeah, we were a regular Starsky and Hutch."
"Listen, it's early. Let's grab breakfast - on me - we can catch up and then tomorrow we can talk all about our arrangement."
Quinn sighed and looked around at the bus station with frustration. "I knew this would happen. You're going to drag this out for as long as you can. You love the suspense. The drama."
"You know me so well," Jesse sighed, "But people change, Quinn. I'm not the same kid I used to be. I have priorities now."
Quinn folded her arms suspiciously. "I don't trust you."
"I know. I don't blame you," Jesse smirked, "But I can help you. In fact, I want to help you."
"Why?"
"Why? Because I care about you, Lucy Q."
Quinn flinched. Only Santana called her that. When Jesse did, it sounded vaguely threatening.
"Is it Rachel?"
"Excuse me?" Jesse blinked.
"I know you used to date Rachel. If you want her back, I can't help you with that-"
"I don't want to restart my relationship with Rachel Berry," Jesse smirked and shook his head of dark curls, "I don't want anything from you, Quinn."
"But-"
"But, don't worry about it. It has nothing to do with you. All I want is what you want. We're going to get you you're baby back."
xxx
That night, Santana leaned over the worn wooden bar-top of Willy's Demon Bar as Willy finished wiping a foggy glass clean.
"'Ey, Lopez," he nodded to her, "You sure you ain't done for tonight?"
Santana looked up from a heated up mug of blood and whiskey and arched her eyebrow at Willy and his slicked back dark hair.
"I'm the creature of the night," she shook her head, "My curfew isn't until sunset."
"Sure, but technically you're underaged."
"Shut up, Willy," Santana groaned.
Her head felt a little foggy, but she hated the feeling that Willy was right. Not about drinking underage. If bullets don't do the trick, then neither will alcohol poisoning or liver disease. But about the fact that she shouldn't be here. That she should have something better to do. Truth was, there was nothing. Quinn was always off doing some sort of Nancy Drew sleuthing and trying to find her Puckerman lovechild, and Brittany... It was way too painful to see Brittany. She even found it hard to keep a friendship with the slayer because her lame friends were always around. Even when Santana tried to hang out with Sofia, it felt awkward, especially since she found out that Sofia was her mother. There was so much unspoken between them and Santana didn't want to have to go through the inevitable conversations that would ensue.
"I think I'll turn in, Willy," Santana sighed, pushing her mug away.
"Going on the hunt?" asked Willy.
"Nah," Santana shook her head, "Maybe I'll see a movie."
"I don't think theatres are open this time of night."
Santana groaned and hopped off of the bar stools. "So I'll watch re-runs of Beauty and the Geek at home, Willy. Jeez."
Santana headed out of the bar into downtown's darkness. The streetlamps in the distance made the street seem even stranger, with lurid colors jumping out of seedy corner stores. Santana headed down the alley, making her way farther into the darkness. She liked to stick to dark shortcuts instead of sidewalks these days. However, as she made her way home, she felt that eerie instinct that someone was watching her. Not one to waste anytime, Santana whipped around and shot a high kick at whatever was behind her. A man fell to the ground at the force of her kick, and as she loomed forward to see his face under the pale glow of a faraway streetlamp, she noticed how handsome he was. To her surprise, he started to chuckle as he lifted his head, his dark hair cropped.
"Is there a problem?" he grinned.
"I don't know, is there?" Santana shrugged in her faux fur vest.
"I know what you're thinking," he said, "But don't worry. I don't bite."
Santana backed up and narrowed her eyes as the handsome stranger stood up. "So spit it out, Seacrest. What do you want?"
"Same thing you do," he said, rubbing his neck.
"Okay," Santana sighed impatiently, "What do I want?"
"To kill them. The kill them all," he smirked cryptically.
Santana rolled her eyes. "I'm so over this hype of the undead. I get it. This is a Hellmouth. Evil is among us. Just let a girl wallow and have a little drunken pity sex and not have to worry about those that go bump in the night."
The man looked taken aback. "I don't think that's an option anymore. We're standing on the mouth of Hell, and we'd be fools to think that it was really closed for good."
Santana narrowed her eyes at him. "Again, what do you want from me?"
"You know the slayer."
"Maybe I do, maybe I don't."
"I wasn't asking a question," he smirked. "The slayer's going to need all the help she can get. I'll stay in touch."
Santana raised an eyebrow as he began to walk away. "Wait! Who are you?"
"Let's just say, I'm a friend."
Santana rolled her eyes. "Trust me, the slayer doesn't need another friend. The slayer is rolling in friends."
"I didn't say I was hers."
xxx
Finn woke up the next morning, wondering how specks of glitter had gotten on the back of his neck. It'd been a few months since his mom and Kurt's dad decided to move in together, and he'd been bunking in Kurt's room while Burt turned the attic into a bedroom. In all honesty, Finn had felt pretty awkward about sharing a room with a gay dude, but the real problem turned out to be that there was glitter everywhere.
He stumbled downstairs, groggily, in a seemingly clean outfit he'd picked off of the floor at the end of his bed. Like any other day, he was met downstairs by the friendly faces of his new family, but today especially, they seemed to be wearing uncontrollable, excited smiles.
"Morning," Finn said, slightly confused as he kissed his mom on the top of her head.
"Good morning, sweetie," she said, ecstatic, "Sit down, sit down, I made pancakes."
"Funny shapes?" asked Finn as he took a seat next to Burt at the kitchen table.
"Uh, no. Chocolate chips," smiled Carole, doling pancakes onto Finn's plate.
"Kurt, hurry up!" Burt called.
Kurt sighed reluctantly as he joined them in the kitchen. "You have to give me time to do my hair or what's the point of even going to school?"
"Just wear a hat," Burt smirked, "Come on, sit down."
"What's going on?" asked Finn as Burt pushed Kurt onto a chair.
"Come on, tell 'em!" Burt smiled at Carole.
"No, come on, you tell them! Please," Carole smiled.
"Okay," shrugged Burt, "So you know how I drive Carole to work every Tuesday? Well, instead, I drove her to your school and I brought her to that hallway where she saved my life, very romantic of me, I might add-"
"He proposed!" Carole screamed in excitement, "He proposed!"
"Hey, you stole the punchline!" Burt smiled, and leaned over to kiss her.
"Wow, just yesterday?" Finn raised an eyebrow.
Kurt squeeled and grabbed Carole's hand to get a good look at the ring. "Oh, Dad," he smiled proudly, waving his hand in front of his face.
"We wanted the two of you to be the first to know," smiled Carole, "I'm so excited. And nervous."
"Oh my God, don't be! This is just what I needed. I will take care of it from here. I have a trunk full of wedding magazines hidden under my bed. I'm thinking of a russett and cognac theme. Those are colors, Finn. Fall wedding colors!"
"Don't get too extravagant, Kurt," said Burt, "We're going to use whatever savings we have on the honeymoon. That's right, we're going to Waikiki! To that hotel where they put all the guest stars in Lost."
"Finn, you haven't said anything," said Carole.
Finn opened his mouth and closed it again like a guppy, feeling a little lost in all the excitement. "Uh... I guess I'm just kinda stunned..." he said, and looked into his chocolate chip pancakes.
"Come on, Finn, it's gonna be great," said Burt, "And I'm gonna get your room done real soon."
"Come on, honey, be happy for me," smiled Carole.
"I am, Mom."
"Okay, listen, Kurt, Mr. Wedding Planner, I want you to take care of one thing. I don't care about the food or the booze, but I'll be needing one heck of a band. I've been eating right, I've been exercising and I want to boogie with Carole at this thing, okay?"
"Already taken care of, Dad," Kurt smiled widely, "The New Directions will be your band! They're cheap, they're available... Long story short, you're having a glee wedding!"
xxx
Quinn felt a little lost in her old neighborhood. She knew this area like the back of her hand, and yet with everything that happened last year, she felt like a complete outsider. She truly didn't belong here anymore. Not far from her own house, she walked up to a large colonial with an old fashioned mailbox in the yard that had 'St. James' written in black, loopy writing. At the porch, she rang the doorbell and didn't have to wait long for Jesse to let her in.
"I'm so glad you came," he smiled and spoke as if he were an eager housewife throwing a dinner party, "Follow me to the kitchen."
Jesse's house was a little more airy and light than her own old residence across the street. He led her into the kitchen, all decked in teal, and gestured for her to sit with him at the breakfast nook.
"So," said Quinn, taking a seat and glancing at the coffee with cream he had set in front of her, "Can you help me?"
"Really, Quinn, small talk won't kill you," Jesse shook his head and took a sip of his coffee, "We used to be so comfortable with each other. What happened?"
Quinn sighed and sat back. "I don't want to go through that, Jesse. It doesn't matter. You know what I want to talk about."
Jesse frowned seriously. "I want to help you. Really, I do, but I can't move on if we don't clear the air. I don't want to be speaking to some quick-lipped, rigid hostile."
Quinn sighed and leaned forward, taking a sip of the frothy coffee. The last thing she expected Jesse St. James to want from her was bonding time. As long as the demands were so low, she thought it was a good idea to supply them.
"I think you're confused about what I want from you," said Quinn.
"How so?"
"I don't want my baby back," Quinn shook her head, "I just want to see her. I want to know she's okay."
"Maybe for now that's what you want, but it's not going to stop. You can't curb your desires. She's your child and you have a need to care for her. That won't end. I'm sure."
"What would you know about mothers? Your own mother's rarely around."
Jesse nodded. "And that's fine if you want Beth to turn out like me."
Quinn sighed as she thought about this. "She won't."
"What makes you so sure? You told me about the pangs. A baby doing magic? Who's ever heard of it? That can't end well. What if she's like you? An infant, setting things on fire."
Quinn remained silent for a moment. "Do you really think she'd be better off with me?"
"Maybe," said Jesse, "You're headstrong. You could make it work."
"But Shelby Corcoran... you knew her, right? She was your teacher."
"Yes. Ms. Corcoran was fond of me," he said, his jaw clenching.
"So, do you know where she is?"
Jesse frowned. "Yes."
"Where?"
"Cleveland. That's not important right now."
"Not important?" Quinn raised an eyebrow, "That's the only information I need!"
"Please. You really think you're going to go drive to Cleveland and happen to find Shelby's house and then what? Be welcomed with open arms? Kidnap the baby?"
"Of course not."
"No. We need a plan, Quinn," said Jesse, "We have to come up with one together."
"Together? Jesse..."
"What is it?"
"If we're going to work together, we have to be honest. I have to know everything."
"Like what?"
"You know what. What are you getting out of this? Don't tell me you're doing it out of the kindness of your heart, because I know that you don't like me, even if you pretend to."
Jesse sighed. "Of course I like you, Lucy. I just don't respect you."
Quinn pursed her lips. "What do you want?" she asked.
"I want Shelby. I want her to myself, and I want her baby out of the picture."
xxx
"So what do you want to talk about in private?"
Instead of homeroom, Sam had dragged Buffy to an empty classroom and was pacing near the teacher's desk and glancing up at the solar system model every once in awhile. She was hoping he wasn't going to once again apologise for doing recon behind her back. She'd already forgiven him after everything that happened with Ford, and she just wanted them to move on.
"I think I love you," he finally said.
Buffy's mouth dropped open. "...What?"
All of a sudden, he knelt down and removed a small, square white case from his pocket and flipped it open to reveal a small diamond ring.
"Oh my God, are you proposing?!" Buffy knitted her eyebrows together, "We've known each other for six weeks! Stand up, you're freaking me out."
Sam smirked. "I want to marry you... someday. Until then, will you accept this promise ring?"
Buffy blushed. "What are you, six?"
"If you accept, this ring will symbolise my promise to you to be true. Never pressure you to do anything. To listen to your problems, to tell you when you have food in your teeth. Or eye gunk. I promise to make you feel proud when you point down the hall and say that dude's my boyfriend. I promise to do all those things without ever trying to sound like Matthew McConaughey."
Buffy smiled. "Sam... I like the way things are."
Sam shook his head. "I want to be more than friends with benefits, Buffy."
"You are more than that-"
"But not your boyfriend... I really care about you, Buffy. And I want us to be together, for real."
Buffy sighed, and shook her head. "I'm a slayer, Sam. And for a slayer, there are no promises. Not when it comes to the future. I'm sorry."
"Is that a no?"
Buffy stared at him, not having the heart to reject those innocent eyes. "It's a maybe."
The classroom door opened, and Will stuck his head in. "Am I interrupting?" he asked.
"No," Buffy quickly said.
"I was just leaving," Sam said half-heartedly and walked out, shoving his ring back into his pocket.
"So what's up?" Buffy asked Will as Sam closed the door behind him.
"Medical transporting a monthly supply of blood to the hospital," said Will, looking a little distracted.
"Mm. Vampire meals on wheels."
"Hopefully not. We'll meet outside the hospital at eight thirty. I'll bring the weapons."
"I'll bring the party mix."
"Just... don't be late."
"Have I ever let you down?"
Will left the classroom and strode down the hallway, bumping into a familiar redhead.
"Emma," he smiled with surprise, "Good to see you."
"Yeah," Emma smiled shyly, "You'd think we'd get to see each other more, seeing as we work together."
"Right. I've just been so busy."
"Mm. Me too. I haven't even gone to see a movie in... well I don't know how long."
"Yeah, I think the last movie I saw in theatres was MacGruber."
Emma raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well, I've been wanting to see The Artist. It looks so romantic. I love silent films."
"Oh... Oh. Well, I mean, so do I. Want to see it, I mean. We could, you know, we could see it-"
"This weekend?"
Will raised an eyebrow and smiled. "Saturday."
The bell sounded throughout the school, and he and Emma parted ways. With a new skip in his step, Will returned to his office only to find people already in it - two police officers and a woman dressed in a sharp business suit.
"Will Schuester?" she asked.
"...Yes?"
"Detective Winslow," she introduced herself, flashing her badge, "You're gonna have to come with me."
"Why?"
"There was a homicide on campus last night. The victim had no identification, but he was carrying a slip of paper with your name and address on it."
Detective Winslow held up a plastic bag with a slip of paper tucked inside and Will walked forward to look at it.
"...My name?"
Winslow nodded. "We need you to identify a body."