All hopes that this sweep would be an uneventful one suddenly came crashing around Sam as he turned a corner around one of the many mausoleums.
He saw her feet first, the rest of her body hidden behind a giant marble angel.
"Dammit," he muttered under his breath as he quickly made his way over to the brunette. Gun drawn, he knelt over her pale body, instinctively feeling her neck for a pulse.
His fingers touched something wet and sticky and he cringed, already knowing what was going to be on his hand before he even looked at it.
Damn vampires!
He was in the middle of trying to decide what the hell to do with her body--he couldn't just leave her here--when the first kick nailed him right in the ribs.
"Sonofabitch," he groaned as he made contact with a very solid tombstone. Somewhere in the back of his mind, under the blinding white pain, he could hear Dean riding his ass for not paying more attention to his surroundings on a hunt.
He could hear the vampire approaching, but unfortunately, he had lost both his gun and his stake during his roll. He stood quickly, feet planted underneath him in fight stance, as he took in his attacker for the first time.
A girl, no older than him. Holding a stake.
His brain almost managed to connect that she wasn't a vampire, but then her stake was aimed for a direct plunge at his heart, and all though process outside of "survive!" disappeared.
He grabbed her by her wrist, using more effort than he thought he would have to use on a girl her size to twist her arm and force her to drop the stake.
And he was one second away from explaining that this was some bizarre mistake when she kicked his feet out from under him. He landed on his back with a grunt.
"Sonofabitch?" She echoed, watching as he pulled himself back to his feet, dropping into a fighting stance. "I think that was MY line..."
She'd learned, from her days with Merrick, that it was important to take everything in during the fight. To observe your surroundings, your attacker...
She noted, as she rushed him, the blood on his fingers, the sort of dazed look in his eyes and Buffy Logic went out the window. All of a sudden she wanted to kill this guy and kill him a lot and when he grabbed her wrist, even she'd admit she was surprised at that.
He twisted, hard, and she was forced to drop the stake, to take stock of the situation and when he opened his mouth, Buffy dropped, kicking out his legs.
She scrambled for her stake quickly, grabbing it and twisting back and--Crap.
She totally had the advantage in this fight, damnit. But him sitting on the floor pointing a gun at her chest was never going to end well.
"What, fangs suddenly aren't enough for you guys?" She snapped, praying that he was as crappy a shot as he was concealing the fact that he was a murderous asshole with blood all over his hands.
He tried not to smirk, glad to finally be at the advantage here cause this was bordering on sad. He'd been bested by a girl who looked like she'd be more comfortable in a cheerleading squad than in the middle of a cemetery.
He kept his defensive stance, gun leveled at her chest but his finger now loose on the trigger, even as he tried to show he wasn't the enemy here. "Look, not a vampire," he said, a bit breathless as his pulse bounded. He slowly moved to lift the corner of his upper lip. "See?" He dropped his hands. "No fangs."
He slowly got to his feet as she did as well, her stake still clutched defensively in her hand.
"This is a very bizarre mixup, alright? We obviously both came to the very wrong conclusion." He gave a small half-smile, trying his best to seem nonconfrontational even as he held her at gunpoint. "Now, you promise to stop kicking my ass if I lower my gun?"
No fangs, great. Which meant that Buffy was out of her element here in that she could have been dealing with anything. Demonic or otherwise unworldly, hell, even just your run of the mill crazy, maybe. Who was--Still toting a gun, even as he tried to look non-threatening with it.
She scowled at him, getting to her feet just as slowly as he did.
"Wrong conclusion, right," Buffy nodded, not at all willing to let go of her theory that the guy was evil incarnate (you had to reserve some dubious judgement, after all) "That doesn't explain why you were kneeling over a dead girl with blood all over your fingers, does it?"
She wasn't much feeling like the better person here. From where she was standing there was no mix-up, no benefit of any doubt... But he seemed to be her age. And he was doing that placating thing that Angel sometimes did - when she was all confrontational and he didn't want to be and--Great, comparing him to Angel, there was a winning argument for the guy if ever she'd heard one.
"I'll stop kicking your ass if you can give me a damn good explanation for what you're doing in my town toting some serious weaponry."
He sighed cause, yeah, this looked bad on his part. Especially with blood literally on his hands.
Truth seemed like a good option right about now, really.
"I was...hunting," he said with a small frown. No matter how many times he said it, he could never wrap his mind around the fact that he was brought up first and foremost a hunter. "Just like you. Vampires, right?"
He lowered his gun only slightly, aiming it at the ground. It was obvious he was gonna have to win this girl's trust, or they were going to be back at beating on each other. "My name is Sam. Sam Winchester." He paused with a deep exhale. "I found her, and I checked for a pulse, hence the blood." He lifted his bloody fingers. "I didn't do this. I can promise you that, but you just gotta trust me for a second."
Dean would blame him for pulling "the damn puppy dog eyes", but at this point, Sam had no shame.
Especially when it meant not getting his ass handed to him.
And that, Buffy hadn't been expecting. She stood gazing at him for a long moment, wondering whether he was, in fact, serious, when he said it.
Vampires, right?
Buffy frowned. Your general, run of the mill crazy did not know about vampires. He certainly didn't show up outside a mausoleum, trying to fight one of them.
Or the thing that was trying to kill it. And be sort of good at it.
Buffy took half a step back, still frowning even after the attempted introduction, and wondered if she'd be making the biggest mistake of her life (this week, at least) if she lowered her stake.
"You're a hunter?" Okay, she'd benefit of the doubt girl for a minute. "And you're doing what in Sunnydale, other than giving me a really bad headache?"
Sam nodded, glad to see her stance relax a little. They were slowly getting somewhere here.
"Yeah, not by choice, but yeah," he nodded. "Family business and all. Which is why we're unfortunately going head to head right now. My dad, he, uh, packs us up all the time, moves to these supernatural hotspots to hunt down demons." He paused with a shrug. "Werewolves, succubi, whatever rears its head."
At that moment, his cell phone vibrated in the pocket of his jeans. With slow, non-threatening movements and the gun still aimed at the ground, he retrieved his phone, his gaze still glued to the blonde to watch her every move.
"Dean, yeah, hey," he said into the phone. "Yeah, I know we were supposed to meet back in five minutes. Yeah,I'm an idiot," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Look, I finished my sweep and headed towards the library. I'll catch you at home."
He hung up before Dean could protest, his full attention back on the girl. "My brother," he said as he placed the phone in his jacket pocket.
"Look, you can check her if you want to," he said, nodding towards the girl's lifeless body. "She has two punctures right near her jugular. Classic feeding position. You and I are hunting the same thing here. Quiz me if that makes you feel better."
He sounded like a mini-American version of Giles, explaining the hunt, throwing in as many versions of the things that went bump in the night as he could.
His phone rang suddenly, sending out a tinny ringtone into the dead of night, and Buffy watched as he tensed, taking it out of his pocket with slow, deliberate movements.
He certainly sounded like a hunter, she noticed, talking about finishing up his sweep and suddenly, she felt a little antsy.
Not because she had the shiny loaded weapon that could do major amounts of damage pointed at her, no. More the fact that he'd admitted that he was a hunter, that he was here for a reason. You didn't just hear of a place called Sunnydale and hotfoot it down on the next Greyhound. There was a reason, usually, why hunters stopped off through here and that reason? Was never good.
She didn't need to go near the girl to know what had killed her, not really. Buffy did anyway, sighing when she realized that she vaguely recognized her from the Bronze. That was the thing about a small town like Sunnydale - half the victims were usually people she knew.
She turned back to Sam, tucking her stake into the back of her jeans as she straightened. "Okay. I can be benefit of the doubt girl 'cause, y'know, you could have totally shot me already..."
His lips quirked at that and Buffy gave him a half-smile in return. "I'm Buffy. Buffy Summers. I'm a Slayer."
She expected some spark of recognition on that one. Maybe even a flicker but Sam looked like he was drawing a blank and Buffy sighed, not wanting to give the Giles version of the explanation. "Slayer, y'know... She who fights unspeakable evil while trying to juggle schoolwork and a social life?"
She sighed, "I could give you the whole speech but it's kind of long. And boring. So what unspeakable evil brings you to the Hellmouth, Sam?"
And if it was something to do with werewolves like Oz or vampires like Angel, how fast could she get him gone? Hunters weren't exactly reknowned for being the world's most rational people.
He vaguely remembered hearing something about Slayers from his dad, mixed in with vampire lore, but he had never thought to ask more about it. But now, staring at this girl, he couldn't help but wonder if Slayers were always this young.
Sure now that she wouldn't stake him unannounced, he placed the safety back on his gun before slipping it into the back waistband of his jeans. "That unspeakable evil would be my dad," he joked with a dry laugh.
Buffy raised an eyebrow at him, and he quickly added, "Joke. Kinda." He shrugged. "Hunting's always been sort of my dad's thing. Me and my brother are just foot soldiers along for the ride. Word is this place is a pretty much a supernatural hotspot so here we are, just waiting for the next apocalypse, I guess."
He didn't know much about why they came to Sunnydale this time around. Before they had picked up and left town again, he had heard Bobby say something about a devil's gate as he had loitered in Bobby's shop, but before he could hear more, Bobby had sent him on an errand.
More than likely, whatever reason they were in Sunnydale had to do with his mom. In the end, it always came down to his mom and whatever demon had killed her. Her death was the shadow that seemed to follow them everywhere.
Sam took a step forward, retrieving his own stake that had been tossed during their confrontation. He slipped it in his pocket as he studied her for a moment. "So, are Slayers always this...." he trailed off as he tried to think of the right word.
Young. Pretty. Violent. Perky?
He let the question just linger there because he was having a hard time placing one title on this girl.
"What, like 'the family that slays together, stays together?'" She asked, her nose wrinkling. Just the thought of her mother accompanying her on a routine patrol had Buffy indulging in major wiggage.
Those were two aspects of her life that, if she had anything to do with it, would never EVER merge. Ever. Shopping, her Mom could deal with - slayage was a totally different ballgame.
"Did you just say you guys are hoping for an apocalypse?" Buffy blinked, almost sure she hadn't heard the guy right.
Who, in the right frame of mind, wished for an apocalypse? Sure, maybe, if you were evil... But by all accounts from Sam, he wasn't. He was a hunter - therefore, a fighter of said evil. And there was only so much of people getting off on the fight that Buffy could take in one week.
"Are Slayer's always this what?" Her eyebrow arched again, and Buffy honestly wasn't sure if she should be seriously offended at the way his lips quirked like that or kind of flattered. Maybe what he was thinking wasn't all bad?
"Sorry about kicking you," she offered, after deciding that maybe she was flattered, after all. "I'm not usually so 'hit-first-ask-questions-later-y'."
He shrugged off her apology with a small smile. "Even I admit I kinda looked suspicious. Would appreciate though if we run into each other in school you didn't greet me with a kick to the ribs," he laughed, a hand held to his side.
Buffy seriously had a good amount of strength that he wasn't eager to encounter anytime soon. Hell, as of right now, he wasn't even going to let Dean know he'd just nearly been bested by a girl. He would never hear the end of it.
"And I'm not really hoping for an apocalypse. Honestly, I'd rather just get through my SATs and senior year without incident, but my dad is on this search for answers." He frowned, not even sure how to explain or how much he even wanted to explain. "It's a long story with my mom, but it ends the same with dad on this mission of his."
Honestly, he didn't want this life anymore. He was tired of being a nomad, tired of always being on the hunt. He wanted his own life, not his dad's.
Buffy grinned suddenly, feeling the crank ebb away, "No rib-kicking in school, I promise. Besides, I don't think I need to give our fine, upstanding Principal yet another reason to hate me... You had the pleasure of meeting Rodent Man, yet?"
She almost felt sorry for him when he admitted that he'd rather have the quiet in his senior year. "You're in the wrong place here if you want quiet," she told him, forcing herself to stop from sounding really bitter now. "You weren't far off when you said this was like a hotspot for evil. It's more a dead-things party town..."
And not just dead, either, she thought, shaking her head.
"Your Mom's not around now, huh?" Yeah, she could figure out THAT look on his face all on her own.
A lot of people always aske about his mom. Every school he went to he always had the same cover story--military dad, dead mom, big brother, but tonight that usual cover story had been blown. And it left Sam feeling a little exposed actually. He'd almost gotten used to living the lie.
"She, uh, died when I was a baby," he admitted after a long moment of hesitation. "So dad packed us up and we've been moving ever since. The road, guns, knives, and exorcisms are a pretty standard way of life."
He paused with a quiet laugh, embarassed by his own emo moment. Usually they only happened within the safety of his own mind, not vocalized for complete strangers to hear.
He rubbed the back of his neck as he cleared his throat quietly, "And I sound like some whiny punk as my brother would say, so I will just shut up and say that, yeah, got the grand tour of Sunnydale High from Rodent Man himself."
"You've been doing this since you were a kid?" She stopped to think about that for a moment, about what her life would have been like without Dorothy Hamill obsessions and playing Power Girl up in her bedroom with her cousin Celia, not knowing about any of this.
Was that better? Having normal for a little while and then being thrust into this life? "I'm sorry about your Mom," she offered, though it did occur to her that it was a little strange for his father to bring his kids in on this life, especially as young as Sam had been.
"Eww, a tour with Snyder? You being punished for something, Sam?" She grinned. She could think of nothing worse than being with her Principal for an extended period of time. God, no. It'd been bad enough being in a car with the guy when the towns older residents had gone crazy over the band candy.
It occurred to her suddenly that they were still standing in the cemetery and where Sam was more comfortable than most would have been, Buffy could hear her mother in the back of her head telling her that she was being a terrible hostess.
"Okay, I have the last half of my patrol to finish but then I'm free, mostly." Free if she ignored the SAT prep book propped open on her desk and the little Willow voice berating her for not studying. Again. "You want a proper Sunnydale tour from someone who actually likes this town, the majority of the time?" Her smile was easy, "It'd probably only take an hour. We don't have a whole lot of town to speak of."
Sam nodded in appreciation of her condolences, but he really couldn't bring himself to say more about his dysfunctional family. It was different to have someone know the truth about him, about his family, so he still felt uneasy about the whole thing, no matter how nice Buffy seemed.
"Yeah, Snyder doesn't really seem like the type to like teenagers. Or anyone for that matter," he added after a thought. "But, yeah, a real tour would be kinda nice. I haven't really seen much outside of my apartment, school, and unfortunately, the cemetery. Just as long as we can swing by the library so my brother doesn't catch me in a lie."
He nodded towards the girl, a smal fown returning to his lips. He may have met a friendly person tonight, but it had been under horrible circumstances that still weren't settled. "I was gonna leave an anonymous tip with the cops once I was far enough away."
"Snyder hates everybody," she clarified with a nod, "And he has it in for me on a weekly basis." Which wasn't even close to an exaggeration. He'd only let her back in the school 'cause her Mom had tried the intimidation schtick on for size.
She cast a baleful look at the dead girl, her shoulders slumping just a little. She officially hated this part. "Yeah, we can do that. It might be better that you do it... I don't think I'm so anonymous with the police any more."
He quirked an eyebrow at that and Buffy blinked, wondering what she'd said. "Oh. Not that I'm, y'know, little Ms. Criminal. It's just when you call a few of these in, they tend to start recognizing your voice, y'know?" And amateur dramatics had never been her thing.
He saw her feet first, the rest of her body hidden behind a giant marble angel.
"Dammit," he muttered under his breath as he quickly made his way over to the brunette. Gun drawn, he knelt over her pale body, instinctively feeling her neck for a pulse.
His fingers touched something wet and sticky and he cringed, already knowing what was going to be on his hand before he even looked at it.
Damn vampires!
He was in the middle of trying to decide what the hell to do with her body--he couldn't just leave her here--when the first kick nailed him right in the ribs.
"Sonofabitch," he groaned as he made contact with a very solid tombstone. Somewhere in the back of his mind, under the blinding white pain, he could hear Dean riding his ass for not paying more attention to his surroundings on a hunt.
He could hear the vampire approaching, but unfortunately, he had lost both his gun and his stake during his roll. He stood quickly, feet planted underneath him in fight stance, as he took in his attacker for the first time.
A girl, no older than him. Holding a stake.
His brain almost managed to connect that she wasn't a vampire, but then her stake was aimed for a direct plunge at his heart, and all though process outside of "survive!" disappeared.
He grabbed her by her wrist, using more effort than he thought he would have to use on a girl her size to twist her arm and force her to drop the stake.
And he was one second away from explaining that this was some bizarre mistake when she kicked his feet out from under him. He landed on his back with a grunt.
He really should have stayed home tonight.
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She'd learned, from her days with Merrick, that it was important to take everything in during the fight. To observe your surroundings, your attacker...
She noted, as she rushed him, the blood on his fingers, the sort of dazed look in his eyes and Buffy Logic went out the window. All of a sudden she wanted to kill this guy and kill him a lot and when he grabbed her wrist, even she'd admit she was surprised at that.
He twisted, hard, and she was forced to drop the stake, to take stock of the situation and when he opened his mouth, Buffy dropped, kicking out his legs.
She scrambled for her stake quickly, grabbing it and twisting back and--Crap.
She totally had the advantage in this fight, damnit. But him sitting on the floor pointing a gun at her chest was never going to end well.
"What, fangs suddenly aren't enough for you guys?" She snapped, praying that he was as crappy a shot as he was concealing the fact that he was a murderous asshole with blood all over his hands.
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He kept his defensive stance, gun leveled at her chest but his finger now loose on the trigger, even as he tried to show he wasn't the enemy here. "Look, not a vampire," he said, a bit breathless as his pulse bounded. He slowly moved to lift the corner of his upper lip. "See?" He dropped his hands. "No fangs."
He slowly got to his feet as she did as well, her stake still clutched defensively in her hand.
"This is a very bizarre mixup, alright? We obviously both came to the very wrong conclusion." He gave a small half-smile, trying his best to seem nonconfrontational even as he held her at gunpoint. "Now, you promise to stop kicking my ass if I lower my gun?"
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She scowled at him, getting to her feet just as slowly as he did.
"Wrong conclusion, right," Buffy nodded, not at all willing to let go of her theory that the guy was evil incarnate (you had to reserve some dubious judgement, after all) "That doesn't explain why you were kneeling over a dead girl with blood all over your fingers, does it?"
She wasn't much feeling like the better person here. From where she was standing there was no mix-up, no benefit of any doubt... But he seemed to be her age. And he was doing that placating thing that Angel sometimes did - when she was all confrontational and he didn't want to be and--Great, comparing him to Angel, there was a winning argument for the guy if ever she'd heard one.
"I'll stop kicking your ass if you can give me a damn good explanation for what you're doing in my town toting some serious weaponry."
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Truth seemed like a good option right about now, really.
"I was...hunting," he said with a small frown. No matter how many times he said it, he could never wrap his mind around the fact that he was brought up first and foremost a hunter. "Just like you. Vampires, right?"
He lowered his gun only slightly, aiming it at the ground. It was obvious he was gonna have to win this girl's trust, or they were going to be back at beating on each other. "My name is Sam. Sam Winchester." He paused with a deep exhale. "I found her, and I checked for a pulse, hence the blood." He lifted his bloody fingers. "I didn't do this. I can promise you that, but you just gotta trust me for a second."
Dean would blame him for pulling "the damn puppy dog eyes", but at this point, Sam had no shame.
Especially when it meant not getting his ass handed to him.
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Vampires, right?
Buffy frowned. Your general, run of the mill crazy did not know about vampires. He certainly didn't show up outside a mausoleum, trying to fight one of them.
Or the thing that was trying to kill it. And be sort of good at it.
Buffy took half a step back, still frowning even after the attempted introduction, and wondered if she'd be making the biggest mistake of her life (this week, at least) if she lowered her stake.
"You're a hunter?" Okay, she'd benefit of the doubt girl for a minute. "And you're doing what in Sunnydale, other than giving me a really bad headache?"
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"Yeah, not by choice, but yeah," he nodded. "Family business and all. Which is why we're unfortunately going head to head right now. My dad, he, uh, packs us up all the time, moves to these supernatural hotspots to hunt down demons." He paused with a shrug. "Werewolves, succubi, whatever rears its head."
At that moment, his cell phone vibrated in the pocket of his jeans. With slow, non-threatening movements and the gun still aimed at the ground, he retrieved his phone, his gaze still glued to the blonde to watch her every move.
"Dean, yeah, hey," he said into the phone. "Yeah, I know we were supposed to meet back in five minutes. Yeah,I'm an idiot," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Look, I finished my sweep and headed towards the library. I'll catch you at home."
He hung up before Dean could protest, his full attention back on the girl. "My brother," he said as he placed the phone in his jacket pocket.
"Look, you can check her if you want to," he said, nodding towards the girl's lifeless body. "She has two punctures right near her jugular. Classic feeding position. You and I are hunting the same thing here. Quiz me if that makes you feel better."
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His phone rang suddenly, sending out a tinny ringtone into the dead of night, and Buffy watched as he tensed, taking it out of his pocket with slow, deliberate movements.
He certainly sounded like a hunter, she noticed, talking about finishing up his sweep and suddenly, she felt a little antsy.
Not because she had the shiny loaded weapon that could do major amounts of damage pointed at her, no. More the fact that he'd admitted that he was a hunter, that he was here for a reason. You didn't just hear of a place called Sunnydale and hotfoot it down on the next Greyhound. There was a reason, usually, why hunters stopped off through here and that reason? Was never good.
She didn't need to go near the girl to know what had killed her, not really. Buffy did anyway, sighing when she realized that she vaguely recognized her from the Bronze. That was the thing about a small town like Sunnydale - half the victims were usually people she knew.
She turned back to Sam, tucking her stake into the back of her jeans as she straightened. "Okay. I can be benefit of the doubt girl 'cause, y'know, you could have totally shot me already..."
His lips quirked at that and Buffy gave him a half-smile in return. "I'm Buffy. Buffy Summers. I'm a Slayer."
She expected some spark of recognition on that one. Maybe even a flicker but Sam looked like he was drawing a blank and Buffy sighed, not wanting to give the Giles version of the explanation. "Slayer, y'know... She who fights unspeakable evil while trying to juggle schoolwork and a social life?"
She sighed, "I could give you the whole speech but it's kind of long. And boring. So what unspeakable evil brings you to the Hellmouth, Sam?"
And if it was something to do with werewolves like Oz or vampires like Angel, how fast could she get him gone? Hunters weren't exactly reknowned for being the world's most rational people.
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He vaguely remembered hearing something about Slayers from his dad, mixed in with vampire lore, but he had never thought to ask more about it. But now, staring at this girl, he couldn't help but wonder if Slayers were always this young.
Sure now that she wouldn't stake him unannounced, he placed the safety back on his gun before slipping it into the back waistband of his jeans. "That unspeakable evil would be my dad," he joked with a dry laugh.
Buffy raised an eyebrow at him, and he quickly added, "Joke. Kinda." He shrugged. "Hunting's always been sort of my dad's thing. Me and my brother are just foot soldiers along for the ride. Word is this place is a pretty much a supernatural hotspot so here we are, just waiting for the next apocalypse, I guess."
He didn't know much about why they came to Sunnydale this time around. Before they had picked up and left town again, he had heard Bobby say something about a devil's gate as he had loitered in Bobby's shop, but before he could hear more, Bobby had sent him on an errand.
More than likely, whatever reason they were in Sunnydale had to do with his mom. In the end, it always came down to his mom and whatever demon had killed her. Her death was the shadow that seemed to follow them everywhere.
Sam took a step forward, retrieving his own stake that had been tossed during their confrontation. He slipped it in his pocket as he studied her for a moment. "So, are Slayers always this...." he trailed off as he tried to think of the right word.
Young. Pretty. Violent. Perky?
He let the question just linger there because he was having a hard time placing one title on this girl.
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Those were two aspects of her life that, if she had anything to do with it, would never EVER merge. Ever. Shopping, her Mom could deal with - slayage was a totally different ballgame.
"Did you just say you guys are hoping for an apocalypse?" Buffy blinked, almost sure she hadn't heard the guy right.
Who, in the right frame of mind, wished for an apocalypse? Sure, maybe, if you were evil... But by all accounts from Sam, he wasn't. He was a hunter - therefore, a fighter of said evil. And there was only so much of people getting off on the fight that Buffy could take in one week.
"Are Slayer's always this what?" Her eyebrow arched again, and Buffy honestly wasn't sure if she should be seriously offended at the way his lips quirked like that or kind of flattered. Maybe what he was thinking wasn't all bad?
"Sorry about kicking you," she offered, after deciding that maybe she was flattered, after all. "I'm not usually so 'hit-first-ask-questions-later-y'."
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Buffy seriously had a good amount of strength that he wasn't eager to encounter anytime soon. Hell, as of right now, he wasn't even going to let Dean know he'd just nearly been bested by a girl. He would never hear the end of it.
"And I'm not really hoping for an apocalypse. Honestly, I'd rather just get through my SATs and senior year without incident, but my dad is on this search for answers." He frowned, not even sure how to explain or how much he even wanted to explain. "It's a long story with my mom, but it ends the same with dad on this mission of his."
Honestly, he didn't want this life anymore. He was tired of being a nomad, tired of always being on the hunt. He wanted his own life, not his dad's.
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She almost felt sorry for him when he admitted that he'd rather have the quiet in his senior year. "You're in the wrong place here if you want quiet," she told him, forcing herself to stop from sounding really bitter now. "You weren't far off when you said this was like a hotspot for evil. It's more a dead-things party town..."
And not just dead, either, she thought, shaking her head.
"Your Mom's not around now, huh?" Yeah, she could figure out THAT look on his face all on her own.
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"She, uh, died when I was a baby," he admitted after a long moment of hesitation. "So dad packed us up and we've been moving ever since. The road, guns, knives, and exorcisms are a pretty standard way of life."
He paused with a quiet laugh, embarassed by his own emo moment. Usually they only happened within the safety of his own mind, not vocalized for complete strangers to hear.
He rubbed the back of his neck as he cleared his throat quietly, "And I sound like some whiny punk as my brother would say, so I will just shut up and say that, yeah, got the grand tour of Sunnydale High from Rodent Man himself."
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Was that better? Having normal for a little while and then being thrust into this life? "I'm sorry about your Mom," she offered, though it did occur to her that it was a little strange for his father to bring his kids in on this life, especially as young as Sam had been.
"Eww, a tour with Snyder? You being punished for something, Sam?" She grinned. She could think of nothing worse than being with her Principal for an extended period of time. God, no. It'd been bad enough being in a car with the guy when the towns older residents had gone crazy over the band candy.
It occurred to her suddenly that they were still standing in the cemetery and where Sam was more comfortable than most would have been, Buffy could hear her mother in the back of her head telling her that she was being a terrible hostess.
"Okay, I have the last half of my patrol to finish but then I'm free, mostly." Free if she ignored the SAT prep book propped open on her desk and the little Willow voice berating her for not studying. Again. "You want a proper Sunnydale tour from someone who actually likes this town, the majority of the time?" Her smile was easy, "It'd probably only take an hour. We don't have a whole lot of town to speak of."
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"Yeah, Snyder doesn't really seem like the type to like teenagers. Or anyone for that matter," he added after a thought. "But, yeah, a real tour would be kinda nice. I haven't really seen much outside of my apartment, school, and unfortunately, the cemetery. Just as long as we can swing by the library so my brother doesn't catch me in a lie."
He nodded towards the girl, a smal fown returning to his lips. He may have met a friendly person tonight, but it had been under horrible circumstances that still weren't settled. "I was gonna leave an anonymous tip with the cops once I was far enough away."
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She cast a baleful look at the dead girl, her shoulders slumping just a little. She officially hated this part. "Yeah, we can do that. It might be better that you do it... I don't think I'm so anonymous with the police any more."
He quirked an eyebrow at that and Buffy blinked, wondering what she'd said. "Oh. Not that I'm, y'know, little Ms. Criminal. It's just when you call a few of these in, they tend to start recognizing your voice, y'know?" And amateur dramatics had never been her thing.
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