To End The Pain
London, the world without shrimp 1855
She walked alone at night. Her skirt split at the sides. A stake in her boot. She could feel them moving around behind her. The shadows falling to the side of the taller one's face. But she kept going, it didn't matter whether they were vampires or not. There too many things hiding in the dark for her to dust all of them. She just wanted to be at home. Her watcher was waiting for her, she had to give a report on the demon she'd killed at the graveyard. He would be upset if she was late. There was something inside the slayer that made her want to turn back and stake the vampires in the alley. But her instincts told her she was at a disadvantage. Did they know that she was stronger than she looked? She walked on, each of her steps making a distinctive tap on the street.
Angelus did know. He'd been watching her since she left the graveyard. She smelt different than other humans. Something dangerous. He'd heard the legends, the myth of a young girl walking around who could kill vampires was enticing. He could make her worship him. She could kill her and leave her in the street for everyone to find. But that wasn't any fun, he wanted to see her suffer. For the pain to keep going even after death. He wanted a progeny, Darla was boring him.
He waited until the girl got to the end of the alley before he made his move. He hovered behind her, looming until she felt his presence and turned. His fangs bared, but he was going to drain her slowly. He got about an inch from sinking into her skin when he felt the point of her stake pressed against his chest. He stopped moving, froze completely, "I'll do it," she said. Up close she smelt stronger, the blood writhing in her veins as her pulse rose. She was half-hearted, tempted to let him bite her, just so she knew what it felt like. She'd been so close to death so many times, she could so easily turn him to dust. But there was something different about this one, something more bloodthirsty and cruel than the others. She was only sixteen. "I will." She tried to convince herself, as well as him. But he saw through her now, he smiled, the sharp tips of his teeth digging into his bottom lip.
"No you won't," he replied, his accent thick and dripping as he salivated. She was so close to him he could feel her breath on his cheek. "You want this, don't you?" He asked, trying to grasp her but she pushed back a little. It was like the spell broke, a drop of his spit landed on her skin and she shook her head.
"No, no I don't." She said beneath her breath but he heard it. She spat back in face, "you are a monster." She lifted her stake higher, but Angelus was ready this time. He bit her sharply in the neck so that she dropped the stake, the wood clattering onto the ground. But she snapped, she had reflexes that matched his, if not bettered. She shoved her hands into his chest and he was forced backwards, his fangs ripping from her throat. She brought her hand up to her neck to stop the bleeding before turning on her heels and running out of the alley. Home to her watcher.
Angelus watched her go pitifully, his mind in a pit of self-loathing. The taste of her blood was caught in his throat. She tasted metallic, and salty, like he could still feel the extra adrenaline she was pumping. He'd injured her at least, and she hadn't been able to stake him, but she got away. That wasn't good enough. Darla would shame him, he was a failure. He retreated back to the shadows, his face returning to the angelic one because he wasn't a monster now. He threw his fists against one of the walls and pounded until he was bleeding himself. He couldn't run after her, he told himself, because the sun was coming up. There'd be other chances, other slayers. But in his moment of defeat none of that mattered, he felt bitterness creeping over his tongue. He wouldn't tell Darla, she'd ask where he'd been but he'd lie.