From The Ashes (Chapter 12/?)
The more she walked, the more she remembered how much she disliked L.A. It felt impersonal, anonymous. Like you could be lost walking down you own street. And sure, dark, dank alleyways came with the slayer gig. But was it really too much to ask for a quaint little cemetery, maybe with a crypt? Buffy in no way longed for ‘Sunnydale- Home of the Hellmouth’, but she missed its small town compactness. As far as evil infested places went, at least it had warmth and character. Rome, too, was different. “A touch of the old world,” Giles had said, and he had been right. She could see the hold that ancient glamour held over some of the older vamps. The blood lines still held sway and import there, unlike in the New World. She had studied them, amused by the idea of a vampire aristocracy. The Master’s lineage had been of particular interest to her. The vampire elite: The Order of Aurelius. She had purged the world of that accursed line. Only three remained. Drusilla. Spike. Angel. Maybe someday, there would be only two. Maybe not. Such was life.
Life. At least she had one now. Even though it still revolved around all things mystical. Even though living in sunlight and freedom just wasn’t enough without at least a couple of nights of slaying a week. Even though the human boyfriends never lasted as long as the non-human ones.
“Why do you always want to boink undead guys?”
Dawn’s question prompted Andrew to choke on his Corn Flakes. It reminded Buffy so much of Xander, and in that moment she missed her friend so desperately, that she was struck momentarily speechless. Dawn, as she often did, took the lack of response as an invitation to continue.
“I think it’s because your inner Id never really got over Angel, and you were always trying to get as close to him as possible. Hence, sleeping with someone who slept with Angel’s sire, and a vampire he sired himself. Well, sort of sired. Grandsired. Is that a word?”
Buffy didn’t resist the compulsion to tell her sister to drop Intro to Psychology, and fled from the kitchen.
It wasn’t like she went around thinking all undead were hotties. Just two particular vampires, and one… whatever the hell the Immortal was. She had her reasons, her darker urges that no human could hope to satisfy. Deep down, she had known that Dawn’s assessment was correct, and yet had stubbornly refused to admit it to herself.
“Hey!”
Suddenly, she wasn’t thinking about Angel anymore, which was a good thing, but it was only because something had grabbed her from behind, which was a bad thing. A distracted slayer was a sloppy slayer, and sloppy usually equalled dead. Buffy really wasn’t in the mood to die a third time. She grabbed the hand clutching at her throat and pulled the fingers back forcefully, hearing bones crack. The hand vanished, and she spun around, poised and ready. She found herself face to face with a man of about twenty, tall, and muscular, his face handsome with its sharp angular features. He could have been any of a hundred other L.A. guys, a would-be actor or musician perhaps, but the tingle threading its way through her skin told her he was something else entirely.
He touched the broken fingers gingerly with the other hand, conforting her with affronted eyes.
“Well what’d you do that for?”
“Gee, I dunno, maybe ‘cause of the grabby?”
He smiled, showing a hint of fang.
“It’s not every day you get the chance to sneak up on a Slayer. Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Yes, I can. I can completely blame a guy for trying! Besides, I don’t want you thinking you can just sneak up on me. I’m not some newbie.”
The vamp lunged at her, but Buffy grabbed the extended arm and used his own momentum to flip him onto his back. She wouldn’t stake him yet; the only thing that could erase the bitterness of her completely amateur carelessness was a drawn out kill. A dance to the death (she thought it was rather poetic), and she hoped this vamp could deliver.
He was back on his feet and circling her within seconds. Good.
“You were really out of it back there, you know. Couldn’t believe it when I felt the slayer vibe.”
“You’re big on the insult to injury thing, aren’t you?”
She swung a right hook, and he twisted out of the way, connecting a backhand to the side of her head.
“Just the injury part. What’s the deal, Slayer? Having some guy troubles or something?”
Buffy momentarily dropped her guard.
“How did you know that?”
He smiled again, less menacing this time.
“Human, demon- it’s the only thing that gets to all of us like that. Makes us lose our focus, do stupid things.”
Buffy sighed.
“What is it about exes that just messes with your head?”
“Hell if I know. My last girlfriend was a vengeance demon, so she literally messed with my head. As in, tried to remove it.”
Buffy’s memory supplied the image, vividly and with great sadness, of the last vengeance demon she had known. Of what Xander had lost. Suddenly, her own jumbled feelings weren’t so critical anymore. Not when she and Angel had both lost friends they hadn’t gotten to bury. Suddenly, being psychoanalyzed by a vampire (again! What was it with waxing introspective around the undead?) seemed silly when she could just kill it.
“Ok, done with the mopefest. Gonna have to get on with the slaying now. You understand.”
The vampire shook his head, chuckling softly.
“Unbelievable. And I thought I had issues.”
He morphed into vampface as he grabbed for her. Buffy spun away, hand whipping out from the waistband of her jeans. She clutched the familiar object, the weapon of her trade, and felt her blood stir. He came at her again, and this time she let him. Her fingers closed around his neck as they collided, and the wood in her right hand found its mark. His face betrayed surprise as he crumbled around her, done in by the tiny human whose strange shift in mood had given him whiplash.
“Stake in the heart… seems like an issue.”
They were the last words he ever heard.
Next: Chapter 13~ Chasing Light
Life. At least she had one now. Even though it still revolved around all things mystical. Even though living in sunlight and freedom just wasn’t enough without at least a couple of nights of slaying a week. Even though the human boyfriends never lasted as long as the non-human ones.
“Why do you always want to boink undead guys?”
Dawn’s question prompted Andrew to choke on his Corn Flakes. It reminded Buffy so much of Xander, and in that moment she missed her friend so desperately, that she was struck momentarily speechless. Dawn, as she often did, took the lack of response as an invitation to continue.
“I think it’s because your inner Id never really got over Angel, and you were always trying to get as close to him as possible. Hence, sleeping with someone who slept with Angel’s sire, and a vampire he sired himself. Well, sort of sired. Grandsired. Is that a word?”
Buffy didn’t resist the compulsion to tell her sister to drop Intro to Psychology, and fled from the kitchen.
It wasn’t like she went around thinking all undead were hotties. Just two particular vampires, and one… whatever the hell the Immortal was. She had her reasons, her darker urges that no human could hope to satisfy. Deep down, she had known that Dawn’s assessment was correct, and yet had stubbornly refused to admit it to herself.
“Hey!”
Suddenly, she wasn’t thinking about Angel anymore, which was a good thing, but it was only because something had grabbed her from behind, which was a bad thing. A distracted slayer was a sloppy slayer, and sloppy usually equalled dead. Buffy really wasn’t in the mood to die a third time. She grabbed the hand clutching at her throat and pulled the fingers back forcefully, hearing bones crack. The hand vanished, and she spun around, poised and ready. She found herself face to face with a man of about twenty, tall, and muscular, his face handsome with its sharp angular features. He could have been any of a hundred other L.A. guys, a would-be actor or musician perhaps, but the tingle threading its way through her skin told her he was something else entirely.
He touched the broken fingers gingerly with the other hand, conforting her with affronted eyes.
“Well what’d you do that for?”
“Gee, I dunno, maybe ‘cause of the grabby?”
He smiled, showing a hint of fang.
“It’s not every day you get the chance to sneak up on a Slayer. Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“Yes, I can. I can completely blame a guy for trying! Besides, I don’t want you thinking you can just sneak up on me. I’m not some newbie.”
The vamp lunged at her, but Buffy grabbed the extended arm and used his own momentum to flip him onto his back. She wouldn’t stake him yet; the only thing that could erase the bitterness of her completely amateur carelessness was a drawn out kill. A dance to the death (she thought it was rather poetic), and she hoped this vamp could deliver.
He was back on his feet and circling her within seconds. Good.
“You were really out of it back there, you know. Couldn’t believe it when I felt the slayer vibe.”
“You’re big on the insult to injury thing, aren’t you?”
She swung a right hook, and he twisted out of the way, connecting a backhand to the side of her head.
“Just the injury part. What’s the deal, Slayer? Having some guy troubles or something?”
Buffy momentarily dropped her guard.
“How did you know that?”
He smiled again, less menacing this time.
“Human, demon- it’s the only thing that gets to all of us like that. Makes us lose our focus, do stupid things.”
Buffy sighed.
“What is it about exes that just messes with your head?”
“Hell if I know. My last girlfriend was a vengeance demon, so she literally messed with my head. As in, tried to remove it.”
Buffy’s memory supplied the image, vividly and with great sadness, of the last vengeance demon she had known. Of what Xander had lost. Suddenly, her own jumbled feelings weren’t so critical anymore. Not when she and Angel had both lost friends they hadn’t gotten to bury. Suddenly, being psychoanalyzed by a vampire (again! What was it with waxing introspective around the undead?) seemed silly when she could just kill it.
“Ok, done with the mopefest. Gonna have to get on with the slaying now. You understand.”
The vampire shook his head, chuckling softly.
“Unbelievable. And I thought I had issues.”
He morphed into vampface as he grabbed for her. Buffy spun away, hand whipping out from the waistband of her jeans. She clutched the familiar object, the weapon of her trade, and felt her blood stir. He came at her again, and this time she let him. Her fingers closed around his neck as they collided, and the wood in her right hand found its mark. His face betrayed surprise as he crumbled around her, done in by the tiny human whose strange shift in mood had given him whiplash.
“Stake in the heart… seems like an issue.”
They were the last words he ever heard.
Next: Chapter 13~ Chasing Light