"Sunday"
Based on the Buffy the Vampire Slayer Episode "Fool for Love" Written by Douglas Petrie and the Angel Episode "Darla" Written by Tim Minear
The following story is copyright © 2024 by Mark Moore.
At night, all was quiet in the mist-shrouded graveyard. Suddenly, the peace was shattered as Buffy pounded a vampire dressed like a rock star to the ground.
"You know, it's probably none of my business, but I just gotta ask..."
The vampire lunged at her, and she backhanded it.
"You smell this bad when you were alive?" Buffy kicked the vampire into a headstone. "'Cause if it's a post-mortem thing, then, damn, is my face red..." She flipped him over the headstone and whipped out a stake. "But just so you know, the fast-growing field of personal grooming has come a long way since you became a vampire."
Buffy somersaulted over the headstone, stake raised and ready to strike. But the vampire seized her arm as she landed, spun her around, and plunged the stake into Buffy's abdomen. Her eyes went wide with shock and pain as she looked down at the stake protruding from her body. Buffy looked down in horror at the stake in her gut. She gripped the shaft and, with a gasp of pain, pulled it out. Her sweater was soaked with her blood. For the first time in a long time, Buffy felt fear. She turned and fled, trying to escape the vampire. Her wound slowed her, however, and she cast terrified glances over her shoulder. Suddenly, the vampire leaped in front of her, and she stopped with a gasp, looking around desperately for an escape route.
"You're going? But you were having so much fun a minute ago!"
Buffy brought the stake up, but the creature easily knocked it from her grasp and tossed her against a nearby crypt. She doubled over in pain as the vampire picked up her stake and approached with a predatory grin. Buffy was helpless. She realized this was the moment that she'd been dreading but always knew would come. She was going to die. As the vampire raised the stake for the killing blow, he was suddenly tackled to the ground by a figure, who rained blows down on the vampire, who got away and took off across the graveyard.
The figure rushed to Buffy's aid. It was Sheila Martini. "Buffy! What happened?"
Buffy held up her bloody hands, then collapsed in Sheila's arms, unconscious.
The next morning, in their bedroom, Tara was applying first aid and dressing Buffy's wound.
"I can't believe I passed out. Do you think I'm a total wuss now?" Buffy asked her.
Tara smiled. "Nah, sweetie. It's a major stab wound; no one can blame you for passing out."
"You said it wasn't that bad."
"I said 'for a Slayer'. There's a difference."
"Well, at least, no major organs got kebabed."
"I still think you need to see a real doctor."
"That would put me in a real hospital, which would get my real mom real freaked out. I can't do it. Don't worry. Accelerated healing powers come with the Slayer package."
"How well will this heal?"
"I'm hoping completely."
"If it scars, I'll fix it."
"You can do that?" Buffy asked in surprise.
Tara nodded. "Uh-huh. I got rid of Anne's tattoo for her when she visited last Thanksgiving."
"Cool. Hey, remind me to thank Sheila."
"'Kay."
Buffy smiled. "I'll take her to Willy's, buy her a Martini."
"So tell me about the bad guy. He was, like, a super-vampire or something?"
"No, he was the regular kind. He just beat me."
"That ever happen before?"
"I'm in the best physical shape of my life. I mean, if you're asking how it happened, I don't-"
The door flew open, and Dawn ran in.
"Dawn!" Buffy yelled.
Dawn smiled. "Sorry to interrupt the sex-capades. I just wanted to tell you that Mom's coming."
Tara hid the bandages and tape just as Joyce entered the room.
"Hi, Tara."
"Hey, Mrs. Summers. How're you feeling?"
"I'm fine, bordering on chipper and, tomorrow, planning on being obnoxious."
Tara smiled. "Glad to hear it."
"Buffy, when you have a minute, I'd like to go over the grocery list for next week."
"You got it."
"Are you disinfecting something?"
"Huh?" Buffy noticed the bottle of alcohol. "Oh, uh-"
"Mine!" Dawn exclaimed. "Some nail polish experiments are doomed before they even begin."
"But you keep pushing the envelope, honey." Joyce smiled and left, closing the bedroom door behind her.
Dawn smiled at Buffy. "Did I just pull a Slayer-related Mom cover-up thing?"
"Yeah." Buffy hesitated. "If I show you something, you promise you won't tell?"
Dawn crossed her heart, and Buffy lifted her shirt to reveal the bandaged stab wound.
Dawn was awed. "Oh, cool!"
Buffy gave her a look.
"I mean...gross!"
"And Mom cannot know. Okay? You'll help me with the household stuff?"
Dawn frowned. "Oh, sure. I save your ass, and you dump all your chores on me."
Buffy gave her another look.
"I got it. You're covered. We're good. Just lucky it's not bikini season."
Buffy smiled and stroked Dawn's hair.
"So Dawn takes household duty. I'll take tonight's patrol."
"By yourself?" Buffy asked Tara.
"Just a sweep."
"Be careful."
"I will."
"When do I get to patrol?" Dawn asked.
Buffy shot her a look. "Not until you're never."
Angel was sitting behind his desk at the Hyperion. Cordelia and Wesley were sitting in a couple of chairs on the other side of it while Gunn was standing behind them.
"Am I the only one that thinks that this is just a really bad idea?" Cordelia asked.
"We can't just sit here, waiting for Wolfram & Hart to make a move. It's time we go ahead in the game."
"This won't involve kidnapping again, will it?" Cordelia asked Angel.
"All we gonna do is find her."
"And this would be the same woman you didn't notice was in your bedroom every night for months on end?" Cordelia asked.
"That was different."
"Different in the sitting-right-on-top-of-you sense, yeah."
"Cordelia has a point."
Cordelia looked at Wesley. "Finally!"
"The last time Darla emerged, she wanted to be found. Now, she is out there among six-million other people."
Cordelia nodded. "She could be sitting on top of anybody."
"Come on, guys. We are a detective agency. We investigate things. That's what we're good at."
Cordelia looked at Angel. "That's what we suck at. Let's face it, we're pretty much shit out of luck."
Wesley looked at her. "It's not gonna be easy."
Cordelia got up. "Before, he said he could smell her. How about...we cruise around with the top down...and you take big whiffs?"
No one said anything.
"Well, we'll wait until after the sun sets, obviously."
"It's a big law firm. They've got to have housing for the out-of-towners, right?" Gunn guessed.
"Out-of-towners?" Wesley asked. "It's not as if they flew her in from Miami. She was raised from the very depths of Hell by an ancient and dangerous ritual."
"Yeah, and? They still got to put her up, don't they? That's an expense."
Everyone stared at him.
"You're telling me these lawyers haven't figured out a way to write that off?" Gunn asked.
Cordelia looked at Wesley, then turned to go. "I'm gonna start digging into Wolfram & Hart's real estate acquisitions."
Wesley followed her. "Not just primary holdings, but subsidiary as well."
"She'd want something with a view!" Angel called after them.
"Based on this, we think that the search is over? The property is owned by Wolfram & Hart?" Angel asked.
Wesley nodded. "Annapolis Olive Oil Import Export, a corporate client of Wolfram & Hart."
"That's pretty slim."
Cordelia looked at him. "It has a view."
"That's not enough."
"And Berber carpeting."
"Nah, we need to narrow it down further. Keep looking."
"And my sister is living in unit 319."
Angel walked out of the room. "You don't have a sister."
"Sure, I do. My older...way older...like, four-hundred years older...blonde sister, Darla, no last name."
Angel slowly came back into the room.
"I've been desperately trying to find her, because...Mom and Dad are in the coma. Sue, the property manager, was...very helpful." Cordelia looked over at Wesley with a smile. "She even cried."
Angel ripped the page with the address off the notebook and walked towards the door. "Let's go."
Wesley blocked his path. "Perhaps it would be best if you let me contact Gunn, and he and I can check this out."
Wesley tried to take the paper with the address, but Angel wouldn't let go.
"We could do the reconnaissance, give you a full report, and we can all decide how to proceed...as a team."
Cordelia nodded. "Probably a good idea, since it's one o'clock in the afternoon, and that address is in Sun Valley."
Angel let go of the paper, and Wesley walked out.
"Right." Angel laughed. "Sun."
Cordelia laughed. "Actually, I was thinking Valley. I mean why go there, if you don't have to?"
Angel and Cordelia were at Angel's desk, looking at some video footage of Darla's trashed apartment.
"What happened? Did someone break in?" Cordelia asked.
Gunn was sitting on a sofa in the lobby, eating a sandwich. "Well, us."
"You guys did this? Really mature!" Cordelia exclaimed.
Wesley looked at her. "No. This is the way we found it. No evidence of a forced entry."
Gunn took a bite. "Well, not before we got there, anyway."
Wesley nodded. "It appears she did this herself."
"Why?" Cordelia asked.
"Isn't it obvious?" Angel asked.
Wesley looked at him. "Angel, I don't think anything is obvious."
"The weight of her soul, she's feeling it."
Wesley frowned. "We don't know that for certain."
"It makes sense. She was a vampire; now, she has a soul."
"That makes sense? So why don't you go around, smashing shit?" Cordelia asked him.
"I did...at first."
The phone rang, and Cordelia went to answer it.
"Look, if she's in trouble, we have to find her."
Cordelia answered the call. "Angel Investigations. We help the helpless."
Wesley sighed. "Angel-"
"Can I talk to Angel? It's Darla."
"She needs help."
"That might very well be. It might also be what somebody would like you to think."
Cordelia looked at Angel. "Angel-"
"Cordy, just take a message." Angel looked at Wesley. "So you think this is a setup."
"We mustn't rule it out."
"Angel!" Cordelia yelled.
"Cordy, please, I'm talking."
"Hi, Darla. He can't talk right now. He'll call you back."
Angel ran over to Cordelia, reaching for the phone.
"Yeah, bye-bye."
Angel grabbed the phone before she could hang up. "Darla?"
Cordelia activated the speaker.
"My boy. My darling boy."
"Where are you?"
"I have a question. Where was I? I don't remember anything. It's a great big nothing. Could it be there is no Hell?"
"There is a Hell. A few of them. I've been to one."
"I told him no one could understand, but I was wrong, wasn't I? My boy knows."
"Yeah, I know."
"You said you'd give me everything. Do you remember that? I believed it then. I still do."
"I'll do whatever I can."
"It's been four centuries since I've had to be afraid of anything. And now I'm sick with it."
"I know."
"Angel-"
"Darla. What are you doing?" Lindsey asked.
"Help me!" Darla said quietly.
"Just put down the phone."
"Darla."
"Hang up the phone. It's okay."
"Darla?" Angel asked. "Darla!"
"It's okay. All right? Just put it down."
"Mr. McDonald, is everything okay in there?" someone asked.
"Yes, we're fine."
"Mr. Manners said you might need some help with her."
"No. Leave."
"I have to go to him, Lindsey."
"Don't say that. Don't say that."
"He's the only one. He can help me."
"No. I can help you, too."
"No. No, you can't. You don't have it in you. Sorry."
"Why don't we all take a walk down to Mr. Manners' office?"
"I can handle this, all right? Go!" Lindsey yelled.
"She's not leaving the building."
"I said go!"
"Darla."
They could hear a struggle, followed by a gunshot.
"Darla!" Angel yelled.
There was no response. Angel hung up and went and put on his coat.
"You want me to come with you?" Gunn offered.
"No. This is something I have to do on my own."
Cordelia handed him his car keys.
"Thanks."
"Angel-"
"I know, Wesley, I could be walking into a trap. I get that."
"I'm not convinced you do."
"Look, she asked for my help. I can't turn my back."
"No, you shouldn't. Not for one moment. You know better than anyone what she was."
"What we were. And I also know what she's going through. And unlike me, maybe she won't have to go through it alone."
Cordelia looked at him sadly. "You're not alone."
"You may be right. She may be experiencing all of this exactly as you did. But Angel, you yourself wandered for a hundred years without ever seeking redemption."
"That's right. I sought her."
Darla was laying with her eyes closed on a sofa in the hotel lobby with Angel crouched in front of it and Cordelia, Wesley, and Gunn standing around it.
Angel nodded. "She's gonna be okay."
Cordelia looked at him. "Maybe we should get her a doctor."
Darla opened her eyes. "No. No doctors." She looked at Angel and smiled. "Angelus."
Cordelia looked at her, frowning. "Um. Sorry, I know you're concussion girl and all, but, around here, it's Angel - just Angel, okay?"
Angel looked at them. "Guys, do you mind? Just give us a minute?"
Wesley started to leave. "Yeah, of course."
Gunn started to leave. "No problem."
Cordelia followed them with a last look at Darla and Angel.
In Minden, Louisiana, Shannon Wilcher, a fourteen-year-old girl with long black hair, walked into Malbec's Diner for her after-school shift.
The place wasn't busy quite yet. Shannon headed for the timesheet on the clipboard hanging on the wall.
Jessica, a seventeen-year-old girl with red hair tied back in a ponytail, walked over to her and smiled. "Hey, Shannon."
"Hey." Shannon grabbed the pen and notepad from her pocket and wrote the current time in the proper space. "What's up?"
"Not much. Yet. How was school?"
Shannon shrugged. "Same as usual. Nothin' interesting."
"Customer in the corner booth. I haven't gotten to him yet."
"I'll get it." Shannon looked and saw a black man that she didn't recognize. She looked back at Jessica. "Someone new?"
Jessica shrugged. "I ain't never seen him before."
Shannon grabbed a menu and walked over to the corner booth. She smiled. "Hi, my name's Shannon, and I'll be your waitress this afternoon." She set the menu on the table. "Would you like a drink to start off with?"
"Regular Pepsi, no ice, thank you."
Shannon couldn't place his accent. "You're not from around here."
"No, I'm from England."
"They have black people in England?" Shannon asked, surprised.
"Uh, yes, since at least the 3rd Century."
"Huh. Learn somethin' new every day." Shannon wrote down his drink. "I'll give you a bit to look over the menu."
"Ms. Wilcher, it is imperative that I speak with you."
Shannon stared at him, suspicious. "I never told you my last name. Who in the goddamn fuck are you?"
"My apologies. My name is Sam Zabuto. I'm the new priest at St. Martin's."
"They've got Catholics in England?" Shannon asked in surprise.
"Uh, yes."
"I thought, like, King Henry killed all of them, because he wanted a divorce."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh, dear Lord. Please have a seat."
"I'm on the clock."
"There are urgent matters that we need to discuss."
Shannon sat down opposite him.
"Have you ever wondered if you were meant for a higher purpose?" Sam asked her.
"Is this some kind of recruitment?" Shannon asked, irritated. "I ain't interested in becomin' a nun."
"No, it's nothing like that."
"You sure you're Catholic and not from one of them weird religions that says 'Blah, blah, blah' and claims they're talking in tongues?" Shannon asked.
"No."
"Or has a shit-ton of kids?" Shannon asked.
"No."
"Or fucks Jesus?" Shannon asked.
"No. I'm just Catholic."
"Okay." Shannon paused. "Sorry about the cussin'."
"That's quite all right."
"So what in the goshdarn fuck do you want with me?" Shannon asked.
"This may be difficult for you to believe, but...vampires are real, and they're in this very town."
Shannon stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "Uh-huh. I'm datin' one."
Sam stared at her in shock.
Shannon grew worried. "Don't tell my parents. They wouldn't approve."
That evening, at the Magic Box, the reading table was piled high with books. Buffy and Giles were into some deep research.
"Here's another one. Early 18th-Century Slayer."
Buffy closed her book with a sigh and set it on the stack. "Good. Let's hope she'll be more helpful than this last one."
"Why? What does it say?"
"Same as all the others. Slayer called...blah, blah...great protector...blah, blah...scary battles...blah, blah...oops! She's dead. Where are the details?"
"Details? Well, it says this Slayer forged her own weapons." He handed the book to Buffy.
"Gotta love a gal with an anvil. But where are the details of the Slayer's last battle? You know, what made that fight special? Why did she lose?"
"You didn't lose last night, Buffy. You just-"
"Got really close. I fucked up, Giles. I've been training harder than ever, and still I..." Buffy paused. "And there's nothing in any of these books to help me understand why. I mean...look, I realize that every Slayer comes with an expiration mark on the package. But I want mine to be a long time from now. Like a Cheeto. If there were just a few good descriptions of what took out the other Slayers, maybe it would help me to understand my mistake, to keep it from happening again."
"Yes, well, the problem is, after a final battle, it's difficult to get any..." Giles paused. "Well, the Slayer's not..." He paused again. "She's rather..."
"It's okay to use the D-word, Giles."
"Dead. And hence not very forthcoming."
"Why didn't the Watchers keep fuller accounts of it? The journals just stop."
"Well, I suppose, if they're anything like me, they just find the whole subject too-"
"Unseemly?" Buffy guessed. "Damn. Love ya, but you Watchers are such prigs sometimes."
"Painful...I was going to say. But you're right. Accounts of the final battles would be very helpful. But there's no one left to tell the tales."
Buffy had a sudden revelation.
"What?" Giles asked.
Buffy rang the doorbell to Sunday's mansion, then waited.
The door opened. Sunday was standing there, dressed up.
Sunday frowned. "What do you want?"
"Hello to you, too. Going somewhere?" Buffy asked.
"Willy's. Why?"
"I wanna talk to you. Or...rather...I want you to talk to me. Tell me about your time as a Slayer...and how you died."
Sunday raised her eyebrows.
Buffy sat at a corner table at the Bronze, waiting for Sunday.
Sunday walked over to the table from the bar, holding two open bottles of Newcastle Brown Ale. She sat down opposite Buffy and offered one of the bottles to her.
Buffy took it, pleasantly surprised. "Ooh, thanks. I didn't think I'd be getting beer tonight."
Sunday shrugged and took a sip of beer. "So. You want to learn all about how I became a Slayer and how I fucked up in the end. Right?"
"Yeah."
"Since I agreed to take time out of my evening for you-"
"How many friends do you have, Sunday?" Buffy asked.
"What?"
"Friends." Buffy took a sip of beer.
Sunday frowned. "Since I agreed to tell you this, we can do this my way. Wings."
"What?"
"Spicy buffalo wings. Order me up a plate. I'm hungry."
Buffy sighed and turned to signal a waitress. "Excuse me-" The movement aggravated her injury, and she winced in pain.
Sunday smiled. "I thought so. Some nasty thing got a taste of you."
"Don't get all excited. I'm fine."
"Oh, right. Stuck in a dark corner with a creature you loathe, diggin' up past trauma, 'cause you're fine."
"Just tell me what I want to know."
"I told you. I'm not narrating on an empty stomach."
Buffy shook her head in exasperation. "Were you born this big a pain in the ass?"
"What can I tell you, babe?" Sunday smiled. "I've always been bad."
Wednesday, October 18, 1978
Seventeen-year-old Sunday Towne walked the halls of Hollywood High School, modeling her new clothes. She got some whistles from a few guys.
A girl with short, black, curly hair was standing at her locker and noticed Sunday. "Hey, Sunday, lookin' good."
"Tell me something I don't know, Betty."
Betty closed her locker, and she and Sunday walked down the hall.
Their friend, Marty, a girl with curly red hair, joined them. "Hey, what's happening?"
Sunday smiled. "Hey, Marty. I think I've just about convinced my dad to get me that dress that I've had my eye on."
Jan, a girl with long black hair tied up in pigtails, was drinking from the water fountain.
Sunday gave her a fake smile. "Hey, Jan, not to critique your fashion choices, but you're a complete disaster."
Jan looked at her, upset.
"Are you done?" Sunday asked impatiently.
Jan got out of the way. Sunday bent over and drank some water.
Buffy and Sunday were eating spicy buffalo wings (Buffy had ordered a plate for herself as well) as Sunday related her story.
"So you were always a pain in the ass." Buffy sipped the last of her beer. "Then what?"
"Then comes a triple-decker cheeseburger, medium rare."
Buffy forced a smile. "Sounds good. I'll have one myself. But I want another beer."
"Fine." Sunday stood up and walked to the bar.
Buffy wiped her fingers and mouth with a napkin and then raised her hand to signal the waitress. "Excuse me."
Friday, October 20, 1978
School was over for the day, and the students came streaming out. Sunday walked down the steps with Betty, Marty, and Jan.
Sunday licked her lollipop. "So I'm like 'Dad, do you want me to go to the dance in an outfit I've already worn? Why do you hate me?'"
"Is Tyler taking you?" Betty asked her.
"Where were you when I got over Tyler? He's of the past. Tyler would have to crawl on his hands and knees to get me to go to the dance with him. Which, actually, he's supposed to do after practice, so I'm gonna wait."
"Okay. See ya later." Betty walked away.
"Bye!" Marty walked away.
Sunday waved to Betty. "Call me!"
"Okay!"
Sunday waved to Marty. "Call me!" She waved to Jan. "Call me!"
"I will!" Jan replied, walking off.
Sunday climbed back up a few steps and looked around. She took off her jacket and sat down to wait for Tyler. She laid the jacket across her legs and idly looked around again.
A man in a black suit approached her. "Sunday Towne?"
Sunday looked at him. "Yeah?" She smiled. "Hi!" Then she was confused. "What?"
"I need to speak with you."
Sunday was worried. "You're not from Bullock's, are you? 'Cause I-I meant to pay for that lipstick."
"There isn't much time. You must come with me. Your destiny awaits."
Sunday, confused, shook her head. "I don't have a destiny." She nodded. "I'm destiny-free, really."
"Yes, you have. You are the Chosen One. You alone can stop them."
"Who?"
"The vampires."
Sunday considered for a moment. "Huh?"
That evening, in Hollywood Forever Cemetery, Sunday landed flat on her back. "Oof!"
A vampire propped himself over her, growling menacingly. She was very frightened and looked around frantically for what to do. Sunday spotted her stake but couldn't reach it, so she just got her hands underneath the vampire and pushed him off. He flew off her and landed hard on his back.
"Oh, God..." Sunday rolled onto her hands and knees and scrambled on all fours to retrieve her stake. "Oh, God...Oh...Oh, God...Unh!" She grabbed the stake and quickly got to her feet. She looked at it, unsure of what to do next.
The vampire got up and lunged at her. Reflexively, she grabbed him, sidestepped him, and sent him flipping over to the ground again, dazed. She looked at the vampire, amazed by what she just did. She glanced back at the Watcher, down at her stake, and then made her move to dispatch the vampire. She quickly got to her knees, raised the stake above her head, and plunged it into him - but got him in the gut instead of the chest.
"Oh! Not the heart!" Sunday plunged the stake into the vampire again and this time hit her mark.
The vampire died. Sunday stood up. She just stared at his corpse on the grass in silence.
Behind her, the Watcher, Mr. Coleman, stepped up. "You see? You see your power?"
Sunday grinned. "Outta sight!"
Saturday, October 21, 1978
The school's gymnasium was packed with students and a few teachers acting as chaperones. The homecoming dance was in full swing. "Grease" by Frankie Valli was playing from the speakers. Sunday had made a grand entrance, wearing her new white dress, but she found herself standing by the punch bowl instead of having a good time.
Betty poured punch into a cup. "I can't believe Tyler never got back to you."
Marty frowned. "Yeah, not cool."
Sunday rolled her eyes, adding some whiskey from a silver flask to her punch. "Whatever."
Jan walked over to the table. "Hey, guys, great dance, huh?"
"Yeah. Sure. Great." Sunday gulped down her spiked punch and tossed the cup in the trash can.
Coleman walked into the gym. He motioned for Sunday to join him.
"Who's that?" Marty asked.
"That's some guy that I've been seeing." Sunday immediately regretted phrasing it like that.
"Ew!" Betty exclaimed. "He's, like, old. He's, like, forty or something."
"And you're going out with him?" Jan asked Sunday.
Sunday rolled her eyes. "Fuck you." She walked over to Coleman. "What?"
"You didn't show up for training."
"I told you: dance."
"Yes, well, I didn't think you were actually serious."
"This can't be a nightly thing with me, okay? I need to have a life."
"I'm sure the victims that you could have saved tonight would have been understanding of your need to 'have a life'."
Sunday frowned. "What victims?"
"Didn't you see the evening news?"
Sunday gave him a look.
"No, of course not. Three teenage boys found dead on the side of the road."
"So?"
"They attended this school, and they each had puncture wounds on their neck."
Sunday looked down at the floor.
"You might know them."
Sunday looked up.
"One of them was named-"
"Tyler."
"Uh, yes, and the other two..."
Sunday was no longer listening to him. She walked over to her ex-boyfriend, who had just walked into the gym. He was dressed in a tuxedo, though it looked dirty. He had a bright orange ascot tied around his neck.
"Hey, Hot Sunday. What's happening?" Tyler asked.
"What the hell?" Sunday asked. "You never got back to me."
"Well, I'm here. You look great."
Sunday crossed her arms. "Thanks. That ascot makes you look like a fag."
"Oh, uh, I bruised my neck during practice."
"Let me see." Sunday untied the ascot.
"No, wait-"
Sunday pulled the ascot off his neck, revealing two puncture wounds. She stared at them in shock.
Tyler smiled evilly. "Oops." He raised his arm and snapped his fingers.
Two other boys walked into the gym, looking similarly disheveled.
"What do you want?" Sunday asked Tyler.
"I wanna dance."
"Dance? Is that slang for 'kill'?"
"Well, now that you mention it-"
"They're innocent."
"Oh, well, in that case, congratulations, you've talked me out of it." Tyler started laughing.
"Saturday Night's Alright (For Fighting)" by Elton John started playing.
Sunday offered Tyler a smile. "All right...let's dance."
She kicked Tyler in the balls. When he doubled over in pain, she karate-chopped him in the back of the neck. She pulled her stake out of her purse. One of the other vampires rushed her, and she spun around, swinging her purse, and hit him in the face. He got knocked backward. The third vampire came at her, and she wrapped the strap of her bag around his neck and started choking him. Tyler got up and lunged at her, and she threw the third vampire to the floor and punched Tyler in the neck. The second vampire came at her, and she plunged the stake into his heart. She withdrew it. The third vampire had decided to go after her friends, so Sunday chased after him and plunged the stake into his back, hitting his heart. She pulled it out. Tyler ran over to her and threw a punch. Sunday dodged it and punched him in the stomach. Tyler came at her again, and Sunday did a backflip, launching herself onto the table. She kicked the punch bowl, and it landed on his head, spilling punch all over him.
Tyler frowned. "That was a rental!"
Sunday kicked him in the face, then jumped down onto the floor. "Bill me - from Hell!" She plunged the stake into his heart.
The music stopped. Everyone was staring at her.
Sunday pulled her stake out of Tyler's body and let it fall to the floor. She smiled nervously at her shocked friends. "They were clearly on drugs and looking to kill me. I had no choice. Is my hair okay?"
Buffy listened, chewing on a piece of her cheeseburger, while Sunday told her tale.
"After that, I was obsessed. I mean...most Slayers learned to take their calling seriously. But I never did. Hell, I even slayed while drunk and high. I mean, if you're looking for fun, there's parties, there's roller coasters, there's death, there's glory, and fuck all else, right?" Sunday shrugged. "I was young."
"So...how'd you die?" Buffy asked her.
Sunday paused and took a sip of beer. "Lesson 1: a Slayer must always reach for her weapon. The vampires already have theirs. One night...I didn't have mine."
Sunday, October 10, 1982
Sunday, now twenty-one years old, was celebrating the evening in her usual manner: by drinking beer and smoking a joint at the Beta Delta Gamma sorority house near UC Sunnydale. She had taken off her shirt and was dancing topless on top of a coffee table in the living room to "Everybody", a song by a new artist named Madonna.
Coleman entered the house and walked over to her, then averted his gaze. "Ms. Towne, get down from there this instant!"
"Go away, Coleman!" Sunday yelled.
"I need you to investigate the Psi Theta house. I believe it's an imminent target."
Sunday's interest was piqued. She hopped down off the table and picked up her Rolling Stones T-shirt off the floor.
Sunday knocked on the front door of the Psi Theta fraternity house. It opened. The house was dark inside. Sunday reached into her pocket for her stake - and then realized she hadn't brought one with her.
Taking it as a fun challenge, Sunday walked into the house and felt along the wall for a light switch. She found it and flipped it. The living room's light came on.
The bodies of a dozen males lay on the floor.
"Yoohoo!" Sunday called. "Candygram!"
The house was eerily silent. Sunday walked further into the room, sidestepping the bodies.
Suddenly, the light went out.
"Hey!" Sunday yelled. "That's not fair!"
She heard footsteps. A moment later, a fist rammed into the left side of her head. Sunday momentarily lost her balance, dazed.
The light came back on. Three male vampires surrounded her.
Sunday grinned. "Okay, boys, ready to dance?"
The vampires bared their fangs and hissed at her. None of them talked.
"Come on!" Sunday assumed an exaggerated fighting stance. "Show me what ya got."
All three of them lunged at her simultaneously. Sunday threw a punch, knocking one of the vampires back. She kicked the other one that was in front of her as well. But the one behind her grabbed the back of her shirt, pulled her back, and then shoved her to the floor. Instantly, the other two vampires were on top of her. Sunday tried kicking them off, but the third vampire delivered a punch to the right side of her head. The other two vampires punched her repeatedly in the chest, knocking the wind out of her. Then they took turns punching her in the face. Her lower lip was split open. She started bleeding from her nose. Between the alcohol and the pot, she was having trouble concentrating on anything. Then one of the vampires unzipped her blue jean shorts.
"No!" Sunday managed to get out.
The vampire ripped her shorts and panties apart, then, as the other two vampires held her in place, he unzipped his own pants and took out his cock.
"No!" Sunday yelled again.
The vampire lunged forward, plunging his cock into her pussy.
Sunday started screaming as loud as she could. "No! No! No! Please, God! Oh, please, God, no!"
As the vampire raped her, he leaned on top of her and plunged his fangs into her throat.
Sunday felt - and heard - the blood flowing out of her. She soon lost consciousness - but not before her rapist made a gash on his wrist and force-fed his blood to her.
Buffy sat in stunned silence for a moment. "That's horrible. I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. That was the best night of my life." Sunday sipped her beer.
Buffy was shocked. "How the fuck can you say that?"
"Simple. I underestimated them, but they underestimated me even more."
Sunday's eyes snapped open. She was laying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. She heard a burrowing sound, but she couldn't tell where it was coming from. She heard voices and laughter.
Slowly, she sat up. She realized she was completely naked and wet. She smelled urine. She looked over and saw the three vampires standing at a distance, also naked, drinking beer, looking at her in amusement, and laughing among themselves. Sunday was filled with rage. She stood up and marched toward them. On her way, she happened to notice her reflection in a wall mirror, and that brought her to a halt. She approached the mirror, shocked by her own appearance.
Her right eye was swollen shut. Her neck had bite wounds on it. She was bleeding from her lower lip. Her face and her chest were covered in cum. There was also cum in her mouth. Her hair was soaked with piss. There were bite marks on her nipples and cigarette burns on her arms. Her ass was also covered in cum, and she was bleeding from her rectum.
Sunday turned and resumed her march toward her rapists. They occasionally glanced at her, but mostly they ignored her. That's when she realized she meant nothing to them - not even as a threat. That made her even more enraged.
Without saying a word, Sunday launched into a sudden attack, jumping and kicking two of the vampires at once. They were knocked against the far wall. Sunday ducked a swing from the third vampire, grabbed the two dropped beer bottles off the floor, and brought them up, smashing them on either side of the vampire's head. She used the jagged edges of what remained of the bottles to rip open the vampire's throat. She bared her fangs and quickly drained the vampire of his blood.
The other two vampires had regained their composure. They ran at Sunday. Sunday found all of her senses heightened as she deflected their punches. She grabbed hold of each of them by the throat and snapped their necks, one with each hand. Then she drained them.
After she dropped their bodies to the floor, Sunday located the nearest bathroom and took a shower.
Buffy and Sunday were at the bar.
Buffy was waiting to pay the bill. "How did it feel?"
Sunday grinned. "Cathartic."
"I mean becoming a vampire."
Sunday paused and thought about it. "Becoming a vampire is a profound and powerful experience. I could feel this new strength coursing through me. Getting killed made me feel more alive than I ever had been before. I was gonna be the Queen Bee on campus. Of course, in order to do that...I had to get myself a gang."
Sunday, October 31, 1982
Sunday, dressed in revealing black and red clothing (including a red lace bra that revealed her ample breasts and a black cape), attended the Halloween party at Beta Delta Gamma. "Monster Mash" by Bobby (Boris) Pickett was playing on the stereo.
Sunday was drinking beer and lounging on a couch when Coleman found her.
"Ms. Towne."
"What do you want, Coleman?" Sunday asked, annoyed. "I thought nothing happens on Halloween."
"True enough, but something's come up. I need to talk to you."
"So talk."
"In private, if you don't mind."
Sunday rolled her eyes and stood up.
Sunday entered Coleman's apartment. Coleman followed her in, turned on the light, and closed the door.
"Well?" Sunday asked.
"I'm, uh, I'm going back to England. I've been recalled by the Watchers Council."
Sunday was surprised. "Why?"
Coleman stared at her accusingly. "They're unsatisfied with my handling of you."
"Your handling of me?" Sunday asked, offended.
"Your reluctance to train, your cavalier attitude towards patrolling, and so on."
"I see. So they're giving up on me?"
"Oh, no, quite the opposite: they're sending you a new Watcher. He will arrive within the week."
Sunday rolled her eyes. "Great."
"Anyway, you are to remain in town until he-"
His phone rang.
Coleman walked over to the phone and picked up the handset. "This is Daniel Coleman."
Sunday looked around Coleman's apartment, bored.
"What? Ms. Towne isn't dead."
Sunday looked at him.
"A new Slayer? Why, that's impossible. There can't be a new Slayer unless-"
Sunday glowered at him.
Coleman made eye contact with her. "No, she's standing right here."
Sunday slowly approached him.
"I see."
Sunday snatched the handset from his hand and gently set it on the cradle, ending the call. Coleman stared at her in worry.
"How do you like my costume, Coleman?" Sunday asked him. "Do I look like a vampire?" She grinned, baring her fangs. "What about the teeth? Do they look good on me?"
"How long?" Coleman asked.
"Three weeks. Ever since you sent me to Psi Theta."
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Coleman withdrew a stake from his pocket.
Sunday snatched it out of his hand, flipped it around, and pointed it at him. "Sorry doesn't cut it. You have no idea what those assholes did to me."
"They turned you."
Sunday closed the gap between them, pushing him against a wall. "They raped me!" She paused. "Then they turned me. Then they raped me some more." She started crying. "For hours, maybe. I'm not sure."
"Dear Lord. Were you conscious for the entire thing?"
"Not most of it. But that one minute will stay with me forever." Sunday laughed. "Forever. How about that? I suppose I have you to thank for this."
"If I could change the past-"
"You can't!" Sunday screamed.
"I know."
"Then it's pointless to bring it up!" Sunday pressed the stake against his chest.
Coleman stared at her in fear.
Sunday looked into his eyes for a long moment, then she stepped back from him. "Get out of here."
"You're letting me go?"
"On one condition: you tell the Watchers Council that you killed me. I've got plans, and I don't want you Watchers or the new Slayer fucking them up. Got it?" Sunday asked.
Coleman nodded.
"I want you gone by tomorrow night." Sunday turned and left his apartment.
Monday, November 1, 1982
Sunday was patrolling the campus that evening, on the lookout for recruits - and a meal. She noticed a guy walking by.
Sunday stepped out of the shadows and directly into the guy's path. She offered him a smile. "Hi."
"Uh, hi."
"Lose your way?"
"Yeah. I'm trying to find my friend's dorm. He lives in Stevenson Hall."
"Oh, I know where it is. Come with me. I'll show you the way." Sunday started walking.
The guy caught up with her. "Thanks!"
Sunday smiled wickedly. "My pleasure."
After getting some information from him, Sunday killed him, draining his body. Then she entered the guy's dorm room, stole his belongings, and left a forged goodbye letter on his bed.
Buffy and Sunday walked out of the Bronze. Buffy stared at her.
Sunday noticed. "What are you looking at?"
Buffy felt disgusted. "I don't know whether to pity you or hate you."
Sunday shrugged. "Do both, if you want. I don't care."
Buffy doubted that. "So what you're saying is...you were just unlucky. Wrong time, wrong place, poor decisions, shitty circumstances."
"Well, yeah. I guess that's it." Sunday laughed.
Buffy frowned.
"Hey! You asked, and I'm tellin'. The problem with you, Summers, is you've gotten so good, you're starting to think you're immortal."
"Not really. I just know I can handle myself."
"Oh? Then how do you explain this?" Sunday reached out and punched Buffy in her wound.
Buffy doubled over, crying out in pain. "You fucking bitch." She stood up straight, gasping. "So that's it? Lesson over?"
"Not even close. Come on." Sunday assumed a fighting stance.
Buffy squared off with Sunday. "Give it to me."
Sunday lashed out at her, and Buffy easily ducked her blows, then wrapped her hand around her throat, pinning her against a chain-link fence. Sunday smiled and laughed.
"What?" Buffy asked, confused.
"Lesson 2: ask follow-up questions."
Buffy released her and stepped back. "There's more?"
"A bit. You sure you wanna hear it?"
Buffy shrugged. "What the hell? I can't get any more disgusted."
"Okay, but I'm not gonna let up." Sunday sent a series of punches at her.
Buffy easily ducked them all. Buffy gut-punched her, then pounded her to the ground. Sunday jumped up and attacked, but Buffy flipped her over onto the ground again, whipped out a stake, and landed on top of her.
Sunday seized her wrist before she could plunge it into her chest. "You're not ready to know."
"I'm ready."
"Okay, then. Went like this." Sunday flipped Buffy up and off her.
Monday, March 10, 1997
A young woman with short blonde hair, in white pants and a pink, button-up dress shirt, landed hard on the floor of the Psi Theta house and rolled to her feet. Sunday squared off with the woman and threw a punch. Sunday and the woman traded blows. The woman ran Sunday headfirst into a window, smashing it. Sunday broke off a piece of wood and wielded it as a weapon. She brought it down in a vicious arc, and the woman counter-attacked, enraged. Sunday cracked the woman across the face with the wood, sending her reeling to the floor, and pounded her repeatedly with it. Sunday brought the wood down for another blow, but the woman caught it and slammed it back into her face, then backhanded Sunday across the face. Sunday fell to the floor, and the woman jumped on her chest, straddling her. She pounded her repeatedly in the face, but then Sunday flipped the woman on her back and straddled her, putting her hands around her throat. The woman struggled beneath Sunday. Sunday gripped the woman's head between her hands, bared her fangs, plunged them into the woman's neck, and drank deep, killing her. Sunday searched through the dead woman's pockets and pulled out her wallet. She opened it and looked at her driver's license. The woman's name was Laurie Bennett. Sunday also found something else in one of Laurie's pockets and pulled it out. It was a wooden stake.
"Death is on your heels, babe, and, sooner or later, it's gonna catch you. Here endeth the lesson."
Buffy stared at Sunday in shock.
"Oh...did I scare ya?" Sunday asked, amused.
Buffy's mind calculated.
"What is it?" Sunday asked her.
Monday, March 10, 1997, 9:13 PM
Buffy drove the Jeep along Revello Drive in silence.
Joyce, sitting in the passenger seat, pointed. "Turn right."
"Right here?" Buffy asked.
"Yeah."
Buffy turned into a driveway and parked the Jeep. She shut off the engine and stared at the house.
Joyce unfastened her seatbelt and unlocked and opened the door. "Well, come on."
As Joyce got out of the car and closed the door, Buffy took the key out of the ignition, unfastened her seatbelt, and unlocked and opened the door. She got out and closed the door. She walked to the back of the Jeep, where her mother was already getting a suitcase out.
Buffy reached in to grab her own suitcase. All of a sudden, there was a rush of energy, of adrenaline, running through her. Her body was humming, alive, overwhelmed, filling up with strength, with power. Buffy fell to the ground.
"Buffy!" Joyce yelled.
Everything - her heartbeat, her breath, the distant sirens - all of it seemed so loud all of a sudden, pressing, crowding into her head, invading. She screamed.
Joyce crouched down and cradled Buffy in her arms. "What's wrong?"
Buffy lay like that for a minute, trying her best to concentrate on her mother's voice. Everything slowly started to return to normal. Joyce helped Buffy to her feet.
"What happened?" Joyce asked her.
"I dunno. I'm totally juiced." Buffy shook off the feeling. "I probably had too much Jolt."
Buffy and Sunday stared at each other for a long moment.
Buffy finally sighed. "Fuck me, I don't know what to do with that information."
Sunday shrugged. "You're the Slayer. Do something about it. Hit me. Come on. One good swing. You know you want to. Give it me good, Buffy. Do it!"
Before Buffy could respond, she noticed the vampire from last night walking by. She froze in terror.
The vampire noticed her and approached. "Well, well. I interrupt a little makeout session between you and your girlfriend, Slayer?"
Buffy couldn't bring herself to do anything. Sunday noticed, jumped, kicked off the wall behind her, and launched herself above Buffy and the vampire. She landed behind the vampire, spun around, and grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. Sunday stared into Buffy's eyes and gave a slight nod. Buffy raised her stake and slammed it into the vampire's chest, killing him. As Sunday dropped the body to the ground, Buffy pocketed her stake. She and Sunday regarded each other for a moment.
Buffy smiled. "Thank you."
Sunday smiled and nodded.
Buffy entered Joyce's bedroom to find her mother packing a suitcase.
"Hey, I put together that grocery list for you."
"Oh, great. Thanks, hon."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Have you seen my conditioner?"
"Did you look under the sink?"
Joyce realized that was where it was and went to retrieve it.
"Where are you going?"
"Oh, I was hoping to put this off, but...you know the nothing that I've been dealing with? It might not be nothing."
"What is it?"
"I'm staying overnight at the hospital for observation. I'm getting a CAT scan."
Buffy didn't know what to say.
"It's only one night, and they say, even if there is something, it's still very early, if they didn't see it before. I'm going to be fine."
Buffy put on a brave smile for her mother's sake. "I know you will. You want me to drive you?"
"No, that's okay."
"All right, well...good night."
"Good night."
Buffy turned, left the room, and entered her and Tara's room. Tara was sitting on the bed, looking at her somberly.
Buffy walked over and sat down to Tara's left. She was terrified for her mother, her eyes brimming with tears. She sobbed uncontrollably. Tara hugged her, not saying a word.
