Chapter 85
The Slayerfest
"How can she does this? How are they letting her do this?"
Buffy was angrily tapping the heel of her boot against the linoleum in the front atrium of McKinley High, staring up at one of Mr. Motta's glossy flatscreens with her hands on her hips. Other students passed by on their lunch hour, unfazed.
"I'm guessing she bribed Sugar," Tina said sourly, narrowing her eyes at the screen with almost the same amount of bitterness as her friend, "Since her dad owns them, they can play whatever they want, as long as it's school related."
"How is this school related?!"
The girls stared up at an ad playing on loop on the screen, featuring Morgan posing eagerly in front of a Hawaiian beach, a ski lodge, a park draped in fall foliage, an austere church and a billowing American flag - all appliqued onto green screen. A voiceover was proclaiming that though Morgan appeared to have an 'Oriental spice', she was as wholesome and American as apple pie and morbid obesity. The ad was playing on every screen in the school.
"This is making me sick," Buffy frowned, "Actually, physically ill. When is it going to stop?"
Tina grinned and checked her watch. "Four, three, two…"
On the dot of one o'clock, the ad disappeared and was replaced by a new video. This one was less glossy and professional, playing on a cropped, blurry camera, but the girls had deemed it good enough. It was the audio that was important, anyways. Both girls stood with their arms folded as they watched and waited for their passing classmates to slow down, their eyes drifting to the new video. Though she was a little blurry, it was clearly Morgan, standing with her back stick-straight in front of the rest of her cheerleading squad, pacing back and forth as she sized them up, her regulation Cheerios uniform sleek against her gymnast's figure.
"You think this is hard?" she was asking, sinisterly calm, "You have no idea. It gets a lot harder than throwing a goddamn basket toss. You think being at the bottom of the pyramid is hurting your poor widdle shoulders? Try being at the bottom of the food chain! Try being a glee club loser or a chess club freak. Try being one of those pathetic hermaphrodites in the A/V club. You are lucky to be apart of this squad. All those other idiots at this school may as well jump off a bridge. They're nobodies. You have the chance to be somebodies and you're wasting it because you can't be bothered to remember the words to the goddamn pep rally cheer?!"
Students and teachers alike stood slack-jawed, staring at the video playing before them. Buffy just smiled to herself as she watched, when she felt a small tug on her shirt sleeve. She looked over to see Rachel standing beside her, a white knit cap fitted over her brown waves.
"Did you do this?" she asked, incredulous, her eyebrows buckling together.
Buffy smirked, proud. "Yep."
Rachel eyes widened as she turned to look at the slayer. "Buffy…"
"What?" the slayer asked innocently, "Tina helped."
Buffy and Tina had stole away into a computer lab when most of their classmates were busy eating in the cafeteria or cramming for tests in the courtyard. Buffy had the video on a USB and Tina hacked into the school's video streamer that wirelessly connected to the plethora of screens they now had in their school, where bulletin boards used to be. They'd uploaded the video and set a time for it to start playing on loop. They knew they'd only have a certain amount of time before a faculty member got rid of the video, but they'd have just enough time so that the video could be seen by enough students to spread the word. By the end of the day, everyone at school would know about Adolf Ru - a nickname Buffy was set on coining. She remembered how Morgan had told her, in sophomore year, that she could never be as much of a dictator as Quinn Fabray was in her heyday. But, apparently, the power could go to anyone's head.
"Who took the video?" asked Rachel.
Buffy smiled. "Oh, that was all Kitty. She's a stealthy one, that's for sure."
Rachel grimaced. "Isn't she afraid of getting kicked off the team?"
"Oh, please, after everyone hears about this video, Morgan won't be in a position to kick anyone off of anything."
Rachel looked displeased, pursing her lips in an anxious frown. "Buffy, this isn't exactly how I wanted the anti-bullying initiative to work."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "We took down a dictator, didn't we?"
"I guess so, but you didn't do it very nicely. You beat a bully by being a bully. That's not setting a good example."
Buffy sighed, frustrated. "Rachel, this is a battlefield. There are no rules."
"What the hell?!"
Rachel, Buffy and Tina all spun their heads around to see Morgan Ru tearing her way through the crowd, her face cherry red, her eyes angrily set on Buffy.
"You did this, didn't you?!" she bellowed, pointing a pink-polished finger at the slayer.
Buffy coolly folded her arms. "Prove it."
"Don't test me, you bitch!"
Buffy just smirked. "Calm down now, Adolf Ru. Don't want to give the crowds any more ammunition," she said, knowingly eyeing the group of students that were now watching, some of them even taking out a phone or an iPod, intent on recording what could turn out to be another big blow-out.
Morgan eyed the crowd, getting even more red in the face until there were frustrated tears brimming in her eyes. She balled her fists and stormed off, squealing angrily, probably already planning revenge. Buffy watched as she left, still smiling to herself, while Tina looked conflicted and Rachel furrowed her brow, worried that her friends' lives were turning into an episode of Degrassi.
"I don't like this, Buffy," she said, "I don't like this at all."
Buffy shrugged. "I think it's pretty fun."
xxx
Rachel pressed her back against the classroom door. "We need to talk."
"I got that, on account of how you pulled me out of the lunch line and brought me here," Blaine said sarcastically, holding a plastic lunch tray that carried a lonely cardboard container of tater tots and a quarter barrel of red fruit juice, "I don't think we're allowed to take these trays out of the cafeteria, by the way."
"That's not important," said Rachel, as the boy perched at the edge of one of the desks, "I take it you've seen that video of Morgan?"
"Yeah," Blaine breathed, a look of awe passing over his face, "It was Dance Mom-worthy."
"Well, did you know that Buffy and Tina were the ones who put it up there?" she asked, smoothing down her white skirt.
"No," Blaine widened his eyes, "How did they get that footage?"
"Kitty," Rachel shook her head, "This is bad. I've never seen Buffy so vindictive. And I never would have expected something like this from Tina."
"I'm sure she was just motivated by Mike and Morgan going to homecoming together."
"Of course, but it's still totally wrong. Their moral compasses are completely askew."
"I guess Buffy just really wants to win."
"Well, she's doing it the wrong way. The winner should be the kindest and most deserving candidate."
"Sure, in a perfect world, but that's not really how this kind of thing work. It's purely a popularity contest. Even more so than class president. I guess Buffy thinks that the only way she can ensure she's the most popular candidate is if she sabotages the reputations of her competitors."
"She should know better! She should know that putting other people down is no way to make yourself look better. And we're supposed to be the Bully Whips. Defending our classmates. Not sabotaging them. I promised Rory that glee club was a safe space and everyone in it would look after each other. Buffy is not making herself look like the good guy. We have to get her and Morgan to make up, so they can go back to their natural state of mutual, civil irritation."
Blaine frowned. "What are we supposed to do?"
Rachel uncrossed her arms and smiled. "I'm glad you asked."
xxx
Just as the sun dipped lower in the skyline, a glossy black stretch-limousine with tinted windows had rolled up to the curb. Buffy, who had donned a sparkly blood-orange gown and strappy sandals, courtesy of a Macy's sale, gingerly strolled down her driveway. Despite all of the general bitchery and stomach-gnawing anxiety leading up to this night, she was genuinely excited. Excited by thoughts of dancing to Top 40 singles and corny '80s love songs, of sipping on spiked punch under paper mache disco balls, and forgetting about every guy who ever rejected her (though thankfully, it hadn't been many) with her fabulous friends. For once, she felt like the old Buffy.
She swung open the very last door on the limo and hopped inside, quickly closing it behind her and spinning around, one blond tendril of hair bouncing against her cheek. Her face fell when she saw the limo was almost empty save for one person - Morgan.
"What the hell-"
"Don't even start with me, Debbie Harry," Morgan scowled.
She was fitted in a pale blue dress that boasted a bunch of bright Swarovski crystals, tied with a red ribbon, possibly to reinforce the all-American vibe for voters.
"I thought this limo was courtesy of my date, but I guess he ditched me, too, after your spy-cam stunt, so thanks for that."
"Surprisingly, I don't feel sorry for you. Where is Kitty?"
"Oh, you mean your little double-oh seven traitor?" Morgan asked bitterly, picking up a crisp white note from the seat beside her and handing it to the slayer.
Buffy skimmed the neatly written letter.
Dear Buffy and Morgan,
We won't be riding to the dance with you. We want you to work your problems out together because solidarity is important in a school like ours - more important than who wins homecoming queen. Your friends.
P.S. The limo was not cheap. Work it out.
Buffy grimaced and crumpled the letter in her hands. "Damn it, Rachel."
She tossed the letter to the ground, where it knocked against two plastic packages - one empty.
"They bought us corsages?" asked Buffy, narrowing her hazel eyes at the printed picture of a plastic flower on one of the boxes.
"I took the orchid," Morgan said plainly, staring at the limo's ceiling as she raised her wrist to show off the graceful white petals.
Buffy pursed her lips and took the remaining corsage - a rose that thankfully matched her dress - and pinned it to one of her straps. "Nice of you to check with me on that," she mumbled.
Morgan just rolled her eyes. "Please, you just want it because I have it."
Buffy narrowed her eyes at the other girl as the limo rolled out of the suburbs. "As if."
"That's why you're doing this whole homecoming thing, too. Because you're jealous of me."
"Gag me with a spoon," was Buffy's only reply.
Morgan shrugged and glanced at her corsage. "It goes with my complexion better, anyways."
"Yeah, it does have that sallow tint," said Buffy, staring at her window even though she couldn't see a thing outside of it. It seemed like they'd been tinted inside and outside, oddly enough.
After a long silence - and a few bitchy glares - between the two girls, the limo came to an abrupt stop.
"Finally, we're here," Buffy exhaled, even though she'd expected it to take longer to reach the high school. She was just glad to be able to get away from Morgan.
They listened to the driver's door open and close, half expecting him to open their doors for them, but he never did. Buffy opened her door and got out, her corsage bouncing stiffly on her dress strap. She furrowed her brows at their surroundings - a wooded area at the end of a narrow dirt road, the pine needles on the trees a sickly blue now that everything was bathed in twilight. Morgan followed her out and balked at their surroundings, and also at the driver's door, which was left open, his post abandoned.
"What is this?" she glared around at the place, "I've had enough of your nerd friends' stupid games."
"Morgan," Buffy said calmly, staring straight ahead, "What's massively wrong with this picture?"
Morgan followed Buffy's gaze and saw the TV. A wide flatscreen set up on a stand at the start of an almost abandoned old hiking trail, with a DVD player set up inside. In the middle of the woods. Both girls walked closer to it and saw a post-it note stuck on the DVD player that said 'Press Play'. The girls glanced at each other, suddenly freezing in the chilly night breeze. A squirrel raced up the side of a tree branch.
Buffy leaned forward and pressed the glowing blue play button, and the screen came to life with a familiar image of an older man with dark hair, pale skin and one eyebrow raised, seeming to pull one corner of his mouth into a knowing smirk.
"Is that who I think it is?" asked Buffy, the breath leaving her lungs.
Morgan's mouth fell open at the sight of him. She'd only seen him once, at the fourth of July fireworks display the Cheerios had thrown that summer to get funding for a new confetti canon. Morgan had sweet-talked Sugar into sweet-talking her father into donating and, lo and behold, they had their new canon thanks to Papi Warbucks. She now understood why she'd only seen him at night.
"That's Al Motta," Morgan said with certainty, a chill settling through her veins.
Buffy grimaced at the image of the man on screen, sitting at a stately desk with fountain pens resting in a square pen-cup. She didn't need the ornate silver mirror behind him to make her realize what he was.
"Is he a-?"
"Vampire," Buffy finished Morgan's sentence, staring steadfast at the screen, "For sure."
"Hello, ladies," Mr. Motta smiled sleezily, making their skin shiver, "Welcome to Slayerfest 13. Now, my old man always said that in life, there are the hunters and the hunted. Which category do you think you broads fall into? Looks like you have about thirty seconds starting… now, to run for your lives. Buffy. Kitty. It's been nice knowing ya."
The screen turned black and Buffy immediately whipped her head around, scanning through the ever-increasing darkness to make out a threat while Morgan continued staring at the screen, her mouth wide open.
"What? No- this isn't-... This is a mistake," she stammered, her eyes wild, "I'm not Kitty! I'm not a slayer! I'm a homecoming quee-"
Bullets shattered through the TV screen, leaving a gaping whole of glass and plastic, causing Morgan to scream at the top of her lungs. Buffy jumped back and acted fast, grabbing Morgan by the wrist and dragging her down the hiking trail, where they dodged rogue branches and overgrown patches of weeds, immersing themselves deeper into the dark woods. After a while, Buffy narrowed her eyes through the darkness but didn't feel like she was following a trail so much as wandering around. Buffy tugged at Morgan's arm and led her off the path they'd been trying to follow.
"I have an idea," Morgan said breathlessly as Buffy pulled her along between trees, "We find Sugar's vampire dad, explain to him that I'm not the slayer, and he let's me go - look out!"
Buffy's foot tapped against one spiky tooth of a bear trap and before the metal jaws could clamp down on her, she darted out of the way. She and Morgan tumbled to the forest floor and watched the sharp maw of the trap slam against itself, rustling the dried leaves in its midst. Buffy lifted her head just in time to see a man stand from behind a wall of leaves and branches, raising a rifle in his hand as he peered through the scope.
"Down!" Buffy ordered, grabbing Morgan again and making her roll over, out of the man's line of sight. It was a man hunt and the slayer suspected there would be more hunters where he came from.
She grabbed the nearest, largest rock she could find and tossed it like a frisbee, hitting the man square in the forehead, knocking the rifle from his hands. He fell back, his foot landing right in the center of another bear trap. Buffy ran forward toward the man, who had yelled out in pain at the metal mouth closing around his foot. Morgan trailed after Buffy as the slayer picked up the man's abandoned rifle and aimed it right at him. She had no intention of shooting him - she just wanted him to talk.
"That's gotta smart," she smirked, raising an eyebrow at his wounded foot, "Now, I can let you out of it or I can put a bullet in your head. How many are there in this little game and what are they packing?"
Buffy cocked the gun and was secretly delighted by the sound it made - like a special effect in an action movie. She especially liked the way it made this trapped hunter's Adam's apple bob up and down.
"Me," the hunter began with little resistance, still wincing from the pain, "Two Germans with AR-15s and a grenade launcher, yellow-skinned demon with long knives, vampire couple from Texas named Gorch."
Buffy made a mental inventory; two Germans, yellow demon, couple of vamps.
"That everybody?" she asked impatiently, still pointing the rifle at the guy's face as Morgan breathed raggedly behind her.
"Everybody who's out here," he replied, "Germans are wired. Their boss is tracking them on a computer. Get me out of this!"
"Wait!" Morgan exclaimed, "First, do me a favor and tell your friends that I'm not a slay-"
Morgan screamed as two curved throwing knives flew through the air and landed deep into a tree, dangerously close to her head. Buffy didn't have time to ask the hunter anything more about the others, the Slayerfest or Sugar Motta's vampire father. She grabbed the gun and the girl and ran.
xxx
Shelby sipped lemonade under brightly colored decorative balls fashioned out of paper mache. The DJ - a junior with an iPod - was playing a Cyndi Lauper song. Something slow for McKinley's senior couples to cuddle to on the open space of the gymnasium, but not so current that they could start grinding and get kicked out. A smile crept onto her face as she spotted Quinn and Rachel holding each other in the middle of the all the couples, one girl in a pale pink dress, the other pale blue, both equally pastel and so wholesome even the most conservative of teachers couldn't have punished them for melting into each other.
Shelby heart ached for so many reasons. How similar she was to Quinn. How different she was from Rachel. How even these two - whose lives she had woven herself through and often feared she'd overcomplicated or intruded on - even they were happier than she had been at their age. She was such an angry teenager. So guarded and yet so naive. She wished she could have let herself be more open to the young, fresh, perfect, heart-wrenching love that teenagers were supposed to have. She wished she hadn't made herself grow up so quickly.
"Having fun?"
Shelby blinked the stars out of her eyes and looked over at Puck. She was temporarily speechless. He'd shaved his mohawk and was wearing a black, pressed tuxedo, smiling dapperly down at her. Sometimes she forgot how tall he was, especially when she saw him next to Finn. But then he was right beside her, towering over her, and she was speechless all over again.
"Um, yes, actually," she said, quickly regaining her composure as Time After Time faded away and Girls Just Wanna Have Fun started booming through the speakers, followed by an overzealous cheer from every girl (and some boys) in attendance, "How are you? I heard your chances of winning homecoming king were pretty good."
"Yeah, I guess so," Puck shrugged, "I didn't campaign or anything. Seemed pretty lame."
Shelby shrugged, smiling. "I think it's fun. You only have high school to do things like this. You might regret not embracing the experience."
Puck frowned down at her. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," she blinked, "Just… I didn't go to homecoming when I was in high school. I kind of wish I had. Everything you feel when you're this young is so intense. It's difficult to get that back."
Puck had an odd look on his face as he stared at the counselor, as if he were trying to tap into her mind. "You don't seem like the kind of chick who wastes her time wondering, 'what if?'" he said.
Shelby opened and closed her mouth, surprised. "I'm not. It was just a thought. Beth will be a young woman someday, probably at this school, and I want to teach her not to run from her childhood. There's plenty of time to be an adult."
Puck followed the woman's dreamy gaze out at the dancing crowd. "Guess you're right," he said, clutching a plastic cup of punch, "I had to grow up pretty fast, too, when my old man left. I had to take care of my sister."
Shelby nodded. "I didn't have any siblings to take care of. After my mom died, I just took care of myself."
"Bet that's harder than it sounds."
Shelby smiled up at him. "Yeah. It was," she said, and laughed, "I couldn't get out of this town fast enough. I never imagined I would move back here."
Puck stood with her, smiling to himself. He was happy just to stand with her and listen to what she had to say. She was the only person he'd ever met who was always so real with him.
She smiled slyly. "Where's your date?"
"I don't have one. I said it'd be just me and my bros, but what do you know, they ditched me to go talk to some girls."
The overhead lights faded to a dreamlike blue and the dance music faded away until Alphaville was crooning about being forever young.
"Do you want to dance?" asked Puck, setting his cup down on a long refreshment table and extending the palm of his hand out for Shelby to take.
She looked back out at the dance floor full of teenagers clinging to each other in their formalwear, desperate for closeness, listening to the song but not really hearing it. It frightened her how much she identified with them. She felt like a teenager playing house, with her rented apartment and the daughter she could barely take care of on her own.
"No, thank you," she sighed, just loud enough for Puck to hear her, "It… wouldn't be appropriate. I'm actually going to leave now. Excuse me."
She hurriedly left Puck's side and made her way through the crowd, leaving the boy staring after her at the other side of the gym, wondering if he should've just shut up and listened to her talk. Maybe then he could've gotten closer to her, pierced through her hard candy shell. But no, he'd been too forward, wanted to put his arms around her too badly. He knew he was acting like a lovestruck freshman. Rookie mistake.
"Hey, man," Mike greeted him as he made his way through two sets of dancing couples, "You okay? You look a little sick."
Puck grimaced. "I'm gettin' out of here."
"You're not gonna stay to see if you won homecoming king?"
Puck just gave Mike a glare. "I don't give a rat's ass about some stupid high school competition. I'm out."
Puck stalked away, shoving a scrawnier classmate out of the way so he could leave through the fire exit. Mike quirked an eyebrow at his volatile friend before turning back and scanning the gym. He wasn't even sure why he had come at all. He'd decided against going with Morgan at the last minute. He was only going to come as her date because she had asked so sweetly and he didn't see a reason why not, but after that video of her leaked all over school, he could think of a million reasons.
His eyes settled at the small circular tables set up nearer to the seats, where a few lonely classmates were sitting, waiting for the agonizing slow dancing to be over. He spotted the one face he wanted to see most: Tina's. She looked beautiful in a black dress with a short, poofy skirt, red lace poking out from under it. Before he knew what he was doing, he had weaved his way through the dance floor and was walking toward her table, where she was sitting alone, looking miserable.
"Did your friends ditch you to go save the world?" he had asked, a smile on his face, before she realized he had approached her.
She looked up, her eyes widening a little. "Uh, no. They just… They're dancing."
Mike pulled out a chair and sat next to her, looking out at the crowd, spotting Kurt and Blaine twirling together, Quinn and Rachel embracing, Kitty practically mauling whatever senior she had weaseled into buying her a ticket.
"It was supposed to be a ladies' night kind of thing," Tina hastily explained, "That's why I didn't bring a date."
"Is that the only reason?"
Tina hesitated. "Yes."
Mike nodded with a frown on his face. "Well, my friends are M.I.A, too. Puck bailed. Sam and Mercedes are bullying the DJ into playing some R. Kelly. And I'm pretty sure Finn is making out with Celeste in a janitor's closet somewhere."
"Celeste?"
"Neckbrace Cheerio," he said, and Tina nodded, "They went on a few more dates, I guess. I give it a month."
Tina shrugged. "It's nice that he's with somebody new."
"Yeah, I guess. Hey, do you want to dance?"
Tina looked anxiously at her schoolmates. "I don't know…"
"Come on, just one dance," Mike leaned forward, smiling charmingly at her, "You know I'm in my zone when I'm dancing."
Tina smirked, before shaking her head, her eyebrows buckling with worry. "I'm trying really hard to get over you."
Mike frowned. "Well, don't try so hard."
She blinked at him. "Mike, I don't want us to get back together."
"Would it be so bad?"
"Are you forgetting why we broke up?" she asked him, her mouth a stern straight line, "I know what I'm doing with my life after graduation. Watchers' Academy and then working here, on the Hellmouth, saving people, learning about the unknown. That is my life. That's what I want. And you know what you want. Early admission to Harvard. Law school. Then a high paying job, an equally ambitious wife, a couple of overachieving children and a McMansion. Our lives don't fit together, Mike."
Mike interlocked his fingers and frowned, staring at the paper tablecloth. "Maybe I'm not as sure as I thought I was."
Tina sighed, exasperated. "Well, I am, Mike. I know what I want. If you don't, that's fine, but don't risk breaking my heart all over again because you're lonely and you're wondering what could've been."
Mike ran his fingers over his forehead. "That's not what I'm doing."
"Isn't it?"
He sighed. "I don't know, Tina, it's just… You were the person I went to about all my problems, and now… I don't know who I'm supposed to turn to."
Tina frowned sympathetically. "You can still talk to me. As my friend. I just can't go and be your girlfriend again and spend all my time wondering if you're going to leave me because of my life choices."
Mike nodded. "I get that. I really do."
Tina pursed her lips and gave him a poignant look for a few long seconds. "Are you okay? What's going on that you need to talk about?"
Mike tapped his foot against the polished court floor. "It's my dad. He's been acting strange lately."
a/n: Now that the school year is coming to a close, I hope to update on a more regular basis, at least for this summer until I start university :) Thanks for reading!