Edit: To Anonymous (Guest)

Thank you so much for this wonderful comment, I didn't expect so much. It goes straight to my heart, you can't know how much. That you call it a trashfic, my god, I didn't expect it. I'm literally crying tears of joy seeing how much you liked it. I'm reassured and happy to know that it deserves to go in the trash, I was afraid that it wouldn't. You encouraged me to write even more stories like this. Thanks again.


In the quiet town of Sunnydale, nestled in the shadows of a seemingly innocuous cemetery, Buffy Summers, the Chosen One, patrols with a fierce determination. Her heart beats in rhythm with the cautious steps she takes, each one echoing through the silent night like the ticking of a doomsday clock. The wind whispers through the tombstones, carrying with it a chilling sense of foreboding.

Her senses are on high alert, her vampiric instincts honed by years of fighting the undead. She can feel the unmistakable presence of a new creature of the night, one that seems eerily familiar yet strangely different. Her green eyes, sharp with focus, dart around the graveyard, searching for any sign of movement amidst the dancing shadows. The sudden rustle of leaves behind a mausoleum causes her to pivot, her stake poised for battle. She tenses, waiting for the creature to reveal itself. But all is still. The air is thick with anticipation, the tension palpable. Her thoughts race through possible scenarios, each one more ominous than the last.

'Could it be a vampire from my past?' she wonders, her grip tightening around the stake. 'Or perhaps something new, something even more dangerous?'

Suddenly, her thoughts are interrupted by the mournful howl of a lone wolf, a sound that sends a shiver down her spine. She knows it's not just any wolf. It's a harbinger of darkness, a creature that often precedes a vampire's quiet is shattered by the sound of breaking earth. A hand, cold and unnaturally pale, claws its way out of a freshly dug grave. Buffy's breath hitches as she watches the creature emerge, its movements jerking and erratic. The moonlight reveals its face, a twisted mirror image of her own, with fangs bared and eyes alight with malevolent intent.

Her eyes widen in horror as the vampire, a twisted doppelgänger, lunges at her. She leaps back, her boots skidding against the dew-slicked grass. Buffy's instincts take over, and she leaps into action. Her stake flashes through the air, aimed at the creature's heart, but it moves with an uncanny agility, dodging the blow with a sinister grace. The vampire hisses, its eyes narrowing to slits.

"You're not like the others," it snarls, its voice a twisted mockery of her own. "But you will fall, just like they did."

The vampire charges again, and Buffy sidesteps, spinning around to deliver a roundhouse kick that sends it staggering back into the open grave. Dirt and dust billow up around them as they continue their deadly dance, the clang of the stake meeting air the only sound amidst the quiet whispers of the graveyard. Her thoughts race faster than her heartbeat.

'How does it know me?' she wonders, her mind racing to piece together the puzzle. 'What is this creature?'

With a snarl, the vampire leaps from the grave, its movements fluid and predatory. Buffy meets it in mid-air, their bodies colliding with a bone-jarring force. They crash to the ground, the impact sending tremors through the earth. The struggle continues, their limbs entangled in a macabre ballet of life and death. She can feel the cold, unyielding strength of the vampire, its power unlike anything she's ever encountered. Sweat beads on her brow, and she grits her teeth, pushing with all her might. The creature sneers, revealing its fangs in a twisted smile.

"You're weaker than I thought," it taunts.

But Buffy isn't one to give up so easily. With a roar of defiance, she shoves the vampire off of her, rolling away just in time to avoid the plunge of its claws. She springs to her feet, stake at the ready.

"You don't know me," she growls, her voice steady despite the fear that gnaws at her insides. "I am the Slayer, and you're just another monster to dust."

The vampire's eyes flare with rage, and it charges again. This time, Buffy is prepared. She sidesteps, driving the stake deep into its chest. The creature shrieks, its body writhing in pain. The air around them crackles with energy, the very fabric of reality seeming to bend under the weight of the battle. As the vampire dissolves into dust, she stands tall, panting heavily and then stares at the spot where it once was, the truth of the situation beginning to dawn on her. This wasn't just any vampire. It was something more, something that bore her own likeness and knew her deepest fears.

Buffy's thoughts swirl like a tempest in her mind as she turns to leave the graveyard. Her boots crunch against the gravel path, her steps quickening as she tries to outpace the fear that now clutches at her heart. The silence of the night feels heavier now, as if the very shadows are watching her, whispering secrets she's not ready to hear. The wind picks up, carrying the scent of rain and the distant sound of the town's nightlife. Her hand tightens around the stake as she walks, her eyes scanning the darkness for any other signs of trouble. Her thoughts are a tumult of questions and unease.

'What does this mean?' she asks herself, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. 'What is coming to Sunnydale?'

The lights of the town beckon in the distance, a beacon of safety in the sea of uncertainty. But even as she nears the town's edge, she knows that she can't shake the feeling that she's being followed. A shadow flits at the corner of her vision, and she spins around, ready to fight. The cobblestone street is empty, the only sound the distant chime of the town's clocktower. Yet, the feeling persists, a gnawing at the back of her neck that tells her she's not alone. With a heavy sigh, she continues her journey, her eyes never straying from the shadows that cling to the buildings like a living cloak. As she reaches the safety of her home, she can't help but feel that she's brought something with her, a piece of the grave that refuses to let go.

Inside, she collapses onto her bed, the weight of the night's events finally taking its toll. But even as she closes her eyes, she can't shake the image of the vampire with her face, its words echoing in her mind.

'You're weaker than I thought.'

Her mind races, piecing together the events of the night. The vampire's strength, its knowledge of her. Tt's as if it was crafted to challenge her very essence. As sleep finally claims her, she makes a silent vow to find out what's happening, to protect her town and those she loves from whatever new evil is lurking in the shadows.

The following evening, Buffy is a whirlwind of activity, her mind racing with the unanswered questions from the night before. She paces her bedroom, her eyes darting over the weapons laid out before her; Stakes, crossbows, and holy water glinting in the soft light of her desk lamp.

Her mother, Joyce, then calls out from downstairs,

"Are you okay?" Concern laces her voice, but her daughter knows she can't share the truth with her. Not yet.

"Yeah, I'm just... working on a project," she calls back, her voice strained.

In reality, she's working on a different kind of project - one that involves research and strategy. She sits at her desk, her eyes scanning through ancient tomes and dusty scrolls, searching for any mention of a vampire that could be her mirror image. Her mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, but she remains focused, her brow furrowed in concentration. The scent of burning candle wax fills the room as she pores over the texts, her green eyes flitting from page to page. Her thoughts are a maelstrom, but she remains steadfast, determined to uncover the truth.

As the hours tick by, she finally finds a cryptic passage that speaks of a rare ritual, one that creates a shadow self' - a creature born from the Slayer's fears and doubts, made flesh and blood. The idea sends a chill down her spine. Could this be what she faced in the graveyard? With a newfound urgency, Buffy gathers her weapons and heads out into the night, the rain now a gentle patter against the windows. Her mission is clear; She must find the source of these vampires and stop them before they grow in number, before they become an unstoppable force.

The town of Sunnydale is a canvas of shadows and neon lights, the rain casting a gloomy pallor over everything. Buffy moves through the streets like a ghost, her senses heightened, every sound a potential threat. Her search then leads her to the local university's library, a place she frequents for both research and refuge. The place's archives hold secrets that could help her unravel this new mystery. She moves through the aisles, her eyes scanning the spines of books, looking for anything that could lead her to the truth.

The library is eerily quiet, the only company the soft rustle of pages and the occasional drip of rain from the leaky ceiling. Buffy's footsteps are silent on the cold marble floor, her eyes searching the dimly lit shelves for answers. The musty scent of old books fills her nostrils as she delves deeper into the archives, her heart racing with every step. The tension is palpable, the air thick with the promise of secrets waiting to be uncovered.

Her eyes catch on a dusty, leather-bound tome, hidden away on a shelf that seems to have been untouched for decades. With trembling hands, she pulls it out, the ancient leather creaking under her grip. The title, written in an archaic language, translates to 'The Shadow Slayer' in her mind. Her heart skips a beat as she opens the book, the pages revealing ancient drawings of a Slayer locked in combat with a creature that bears an uncanny resemblance to herself. The descriptions match her encounter in the graveyard. The same erratic movements, the same haunting voice.

Her eyes widen with horror as she reads about the ritual that creates these shadow selves. It's a dark magic, one that could threaten not just her, but every Slayer that has come before and after her. The clock chimes midnight, the sound echoing through the library like a death knell. Buffy knows she's running out of time. because the vampires grow stronger with each passing moment, and she needs to find a way to stop them.


With renewed determination, she flips through the pages, her eyes scanning the ancient text for any clue on how to defeat these monsters. Her thoughts are a blur, a mix of fear, anger, and the burning need to protect her town. As she reads, she becomes aware of a presence nearby. Her head snaps up, her hand reflexively reaching for a stake. But it's just Giles, the local Watcher, standing at the end of the aisle, his eyes filled with a mix of surprise and concern.

"Buffy, what are you doing here?" he asks, his voice low and cautious.

"I... I found something," she stammers, holding up the book. "It's about a ritual, creating vampires that look like me."

Giles' expression darkens.

"The Shadow Slayer," he murmurs. "This is serious, Buffy. We must find out who's behind this and put a stop to it before it's too late."

Together, then they formulate a plan, their whispers carrying through the library like the ghosts of the words on the pages around them. It's a race against time, one that will test her strength, her courage, and her very identity as the Slayer.

With the newfound knowledge weighing heavily on her shoulders, Buffy and Giles set out into the night, their footsteps echoing through the deserted streets of Sunnydale. The rain has stopped, leaving behind a glistening sheen that reflects the moon's ominous glow. Their destination; The local cemetery, where the vampires are rumored to rise from their graves. The silence is deafening, broken only by the distant howl of the same wolf that had warned her of the doppelgänger's presence the night before.

The cemetery looms before them, its wrought-iron gates seemingly inviting them in with a sinister smile. Buffy's grip tightens on her stake, her eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. Giles, ever the scholarly warrior, clutches a crucifix in one hand and a crossbow in the other. As they venture further into the heart of the cemetery, the shadows seem to stretch and twist, as if the very earth is trying to swallow them whole. The air is thick with the scent of decay and the faint metallic tang of blood.

They then come across a freshly dug grave, the soil still moist and the scent of the grave's new occupant lingering in the air. Buffy's heart races as she recalls the creature from the night before. Could it have been spawned from here?

Suddenly, the earth around them begins to tremble, and the sound of breaking earth fills the air. Graves erupt, sending dirt flying as vampires rise from their restless slumber. The shadows come to life, their eyes glowing with malevolence.

"We need to find the source of this," Giles says firmly, his voice cutting through the chaos. "The one orchestrating this... it's not just a random occurrence."

Buffy nods, her jaw set with resolve. They fight back-to-back, their movements a synchronized dance of death and survival. Each stake to the heart sends a vampire back to its grave, but more keep coming, their numbers seemingly endless. In the midst of battle, Buffy spots a figure standing atop a distant mausoleum, watching the chaos unfold with a twisted smile. It's Willow, her best friend, but something is wrong. Her eyes are black pools of darkness, her aura suffused with an evil power.

"Willow?" Buffy calls out, disbelief coloring her voice.

The figure turns to her, its voice a chilling parody of Willow's.

"Hello, Buffy. It's been a while since we've had a good chat."

The revelation hits her like a punch to the gut. Could her friend be the one behind this? Or is it something else, something far more insidious?

Buffy's thoughts reel as she stares at the figure on the mausoleum.

"This isn't possible,' she tells herself, her eyes narrowing in determination. 'This isn't my Willow.'

The vampires close in around them, their growls a cacophony of evil intent. Giles fights valiantly, his crossbow firing bolts of holy wrath into the undead hordes.

"We have to get to Willow!" Buffy yells over the din of battle. "She's the key to all of this!"

They then push through the vampires, their movements a blur of steel and strength. Buffy's stake finds its mark time and time again, the dust of the fallen monsters swirling around her like a grim aura. As they climb the mausoleum's stairs, the figure of Willow beckons, its movements eerily graceful. When they reach the top, the figure is gone. In its place, a dark portal yawns open, emitting a sickly green light that seems to pulse with malicious intent.

"This isn't just a fight for Sunnydale," Giles says, his eyes never leaving the portal. "This is a fight for Willow's very soul."

Buffy nods, her grip on her stake never wavering.

"Let's do this," she murmurs, stepping through the portal.


The air around them shimmers, the fabric of reality stretching and warping as they enter a realm of shadow and doubt. The other side is a twisted reflection of the cemetery they left behind, the graves and tombstones now twisted into grotesque shapes that seem to mock them. The figure of Willow is nowhere in sight, but the sense of foreboding grows stronger with each step they take.

"Willow?" Buffy calls out into the darkness, her voice echoing through the unnatural stillness.

A laugh, cold and cruel, answers her. It's coming from everywhere and nowhere at once, sending chills down her spine. The figure of Willow reappears before them, its eyes gleaming with a power that's not of this world.

"You think you can save her?" it taunts. "You think you're strong enough?"

Buffy squares her shoulders, her resolve unshaken.

"I have to try," she says, her voice steady. "Whatever this is, I won't let it win."

The figure laughs again, the sound echoing through the graveyard like a funeral dirge.

"You're already too late," it says, raising its arms. "The Shadow Slayer is born."

The earth rumbles, and a monstrous form emerges from the shadows, a twisted version of Buffy herself. Its eyes lock onto hers, and she can feel its hunger, its anger, its hatred.

"It's time to face your fears," the Willow-like creature says, stepping aside to reveal the true enemy.

The Shadow Slayer stands before them, a mirror image of Buffy but for the malevolence that seeps from every pore. Its eyes, a perfect match to hers, bore into her soul, a maelstrom of doubt and anger.

The creature lunges, its movements a blur of darkness. Buffy reacts on instinct, her stake flashing through the air in a desperate bid to protect herself and her friends. The battle is fierce, a clash of light and shadow, good and evil. Their fight takes them through the twisted landscape of the shadow realm, each blow resonating with a thunderous crack that shakes the very ground beneath their feet. The vampires watch with glee, feeding off the energy of the conflict.

As the battle rages on, Buffy sees an opportunity. The Shadow Slayer is strong, but it's also a reflection of her fears and weaknesses. If she can find the courage to face herself, she might just stand a chance.

"You're not me," Buffy snarls, her eyes never leaving her twisted doppelgänger. "You're just a shadow, a lie!"

With a roar of fury, she charges, her stake aimed at the creature's heart. The Shadow Slayer meets her strike with its own, their stakes clashing with a shower of sparks.

Their strength is evenly matched, their movements mirror images of each other's. But Buffy has something the creature doesn't; The love and support of her friends, the knowledge that she's not fighting alone. As they struggle, the ground beneath them cracks, the very essence of the shadow realm starting to fracture. Giles, still fighting off the vampires, calls out a warning.

"Buffy, the portal is collapsing!"

The urgency in his voice spurs her on, her muscles straining as she forces the creature back towards the portal. The air is thick with the stench of brimstone, the sound of the realm's unraveling a symphony of horror.

"You can't win," Buffy says, her voice filled with conviction. "You're just a part of me that I've outgrown."

With a final, desperate push, she sends the Shadow Slayer tumbling into the abyss. The creature's screams echo through the night as the portal collapses, the realms of shadow and light slamming shut with a sound like the end of the world. Buffy stands there, panting, her heart racing. The cemetery is silent once more, the vampires vanished along with their twisted leader.

Giles approaches, his face a mask of relief.

"You did it, Buffy," he says, his voice shaky. "You faced your fears and won."

But Buffy knows it's not over. The memory of the Shadow Slayer lingers, a reminder of what could happen if she ever lets her guard down. She nods, her eyes steely with determination.

"We'll be ready," she says. "For whatever comes next."

The two of them walk away from the cemetery, the moon casting long shadows behind them. The town of Sunnydale sleeps, oblivious to the night's horrors, but Buffy knows that she won't be getting much rest. There's always another battle to fight, another monster to slay. The quiet resolve has come to define the Slayer now, her green eyes reflecting the light of the moon, a beacon of hope in the eternal night.

In the weeks that follow, life in Sunnydale returns to a semblance of normalcy. The rain-soaked streets shine under the glow of the streetlights, the townsfolk go about their business, and Buffy attends school with a newfound vigilance. But the nights are still long and filled with danger. She patrols the streets with her friends, the Scooby Gang, their bond stronger than ever. They train, they research, they plan, all in the name of protecting their town from the supernatural threats that lurk in the shadows.

Giles continues to guide them, his wisdom and knowledge a beacon in the dark. Willow, her eyes clear and free from the shadow's influence, dives deeper into the world of magic, her curiosity now tempered with caution.

Xander, ever the loyal friend, wields his wit and his stake with unwavering bravery, while Anya, the former vengeance demon, brings a new perspective to the group with her quirky charm and surprising insights. And Buffy, the Slayer, carries on her duty, each night a battle against the unknown. But she's not alone. Her friends stand with her, ready to face whatever the night throws their way.

The shadow realm is sealed, but the memory of the Shadow Slayer lingers. It's a stark reminder that darkness can come from within, that fears can take on a life of their own. But it's also a testament to the power of friendship, of love, and of never giving up.

As the moon waxes and wanes, so does the balance between good and evil. But Buffy Summers, the Slayer, remains a constant force, her light shining in the heart of the darkest nights. And so, the cycle of the Slayer continues, a never-ending battle against the forces that wish to bring about the end of days. But for now, the town of Sunnydale rests easy, its guardian watching over them, ready to face whatever tomorrow brings.