For Queen crowgirl13: Day Dreams
Queen T requested superstitions or day dreams. I went with the latter with a little bit of the former.
Hope you like the fic and the icon, babe!
And I apologize for the way cornyness of the title, but it's a double meaning. Or a metaphor. Whichever. :P
Title: Slayer of Dreams
Rating: PG
Word Count: 603
Warnings: Crossover-ish with "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"
Summary: For lostsquee's luau.
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Fingering the cross hanging against her breast bone, Shannon wonders how a god she doesn't believe in can protect her. Ever since her father died she's believed in no one, and now all of humanity believes in her whether they know it or not.
Eighteen years old and the savior of the world.
She plays with the pendant in one hand, a firm grip on the wooden stake in the other. It had rained the previous night, so the ground gives slightly under her sneakers, but the grass is no longer wet. Shannon listens intently, hunting the hunter, trying to find them before they find her, remembering her first kill when she had missed the heart twice before landing a blow dead center, and then there was nothing but dust.
The sound of a twig snapping is the only warning Shannon gets as a vampire launches itself at her from behind one of the larger tombs, arms spread and eyes yellow. She spins down and away, her dance lessons coming in handy more than once since she'd been called, and it lands behind her in a crouch. Shannon stands quickly, reaching out a long leg to kick the vampire in the side, knocking it flat to the ground before it can stand.
Suddenly there's another on her, its fingers around her neck, sharp nails digging into her skin, and she closes her eyes for a moment, waiting for death, but instead there's a hissing sound. It releases her, howling in pain from the contact with the cross she wears. Shannon takes advantage of its pain, kicking it away from her, against a tree, where it looks up surprised at the sight of the branch sticking out of its chest before turning to dust.
The first vampire is circling her, waiting for her defenses to slip, but she gets better with each one she slays, and Shannon won't let this one in the knock-off Armani suit be the one who succeeds in killing her. It charges, aiming a punch at her stomach, but the blow glances off her shoulder as she twists out of the way, hitting it in the jaw. It grabs her arm as it stumbles backwards, pulling it towards her, yanking her wrist to its mouth as they fall to the soft ground. She squirms when it licks at her wrist, tasting her skin, smelling the blood that runs underneath.
Her reaction is pure instinct, scraping her manicured nails against the vampire's face. It snarls but is otherwise unaffected, wrapping its fingers even tighter around her arm. She's stronger, though, she knows this, and Shannon pushes against its strength, moving the stake closer and closer as it tries to keep her at bay.
"Wake up, Shannon," it says, shaking her, and Shannon jerks, surprised to hear Boone's voice from the vampire's mouth. "Wake up," it repeats.
Shannon's eyes open, taking a moment to register that she was in Boone's apartment. She'd been helping him unpack and had fallen asleep on the couch with the television on. Boone's looking at her oddly, like she'd been talking in her sleep, and she ignores his gaze, sitting up to take the chopsticks and the box of Chinese food that he's holding out to her.
"She could be trapped in...in some sort of hell dimension," Willow says on the television, and Shannon sighs inwardly, wondering if she'd even need to ask Boone if she could stay for a while and if it was possible to get her stepmother a one-way ticket to a hell dimension for not allowing her any of the money she deserved.
Hope you like the fic and the icon, babe!
And I apologize for the way cornyness of the title, but it's a double meaning. Or a metaphor. Whichever. :P
Title: Slayer of Dreams
Rating: PG
Word Count: 603
Warnings: Crossover-ish with "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"
Summary: For lostsquee's luau.
+++
Fingering the cross hanging against her breast bone, Shannon wonders how a god she doesn't believe in can protect her. Ever since her father died she's believed in no one, and now all of humanity believes in her whether they know it or not.
Eighteen years old and the savior of the world.
She plays with the pendant in one hand, a firm grip on the wooden stake in the other. It had rained the previous night, so the ground gives slightly under her sneakers, but the grass is no longer wet. Shannon listens intently, hunting the hunter, trying to find them before they find her, remembering her first kill when she had missed the heart twice before landing a blow dead center, and then there was nothing but dust.
The sound of a twig snapping is the only warning Shannon gets as a vampire launches itself at her from behind one of the larger tombs, arms spread and eyes yellow. She spins down and away, her dance lessons coming in handy more than once since she'd been called, and it lands behind her in a crouch. Shannon stands quickly, reaching out a long leg to kick the vampire in the side, knocking it flat to the ground before it can stand.
Suddenly there's another on her, its fingers around her neck, sharp nails digging into her skin, and she closes her eyes for a moment, waiting for death, but instead there's a hissing sound. It releases her, howling in pain from the contact with the cross she wears. Shannon takes advantage of its pain, kicking it away from her, against a tree, where it looks up surprised at the sight of the branch sticking out of its chest before turning to dust.
The first vampire is circling her, waiting for her defenses to slip, but she gets better with each one she slays, and Shannon won't let this one in the knock-off Armani suit be the one who succeeds in killing her. It charges, aiming a punch at her stomach, but the blow glances off her shoulder as she twists out of the way, hitting it in the jaw. It grabs her arm as it stumbles backwards, pulling it towards her, yanking her wrist to its mouth as they fall to the soft ground. She squirms when it licks at her wrist, tasting her skin, smelling the blood that runs underneath.
Her reaction is pure instinct, scraping her manicured nails against the vampire's face. It snarls but is otherwise unaffected, wrapping its fingers even tighter around her arm. She's stronger, though, she knows this, and Shannon pushes against its strength, moving the stake closer and closer as it tries to keep her at bay.
"Wake up, Shannon," it says, shaking her, and Shannon jerks, surprised to hear Boone's voice from the vampire's mouth. "Wake up," it repeats.
Shannon's eyes open, taking a moment to register that she was in Boone's apartment. She'd been helping him unpack and had fallen asleep on the couch with the television on. Boone's looking at her oddly, like she'd been talking in her sleep, and she ignores his gaze, sitting up to take the chopsticks and the box of Chinese food that he's holding out to her.
"She could be trapped in...in some sort of hell dimension," Willow says on the television, and Shannon sighs inwardly, wondering if she'd even need to ask Boone if she could stay for a while and if it was possible to get her stepmother a one-way ticket to a hell dimension for not allowing her any of the money she deserved.