Origin and Season One (Ch. 7)
Character: Buffy Summers
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2958
Setting: pre-Pilot
- The ants go marching... -
The past few days had sucked. Tina hadn't taken the news of her detention well, and had replaced Buffy with first alternate for the week with the suggestion that if she missed anymore practice, she'd be off for good. Tyler was avoiding her, and she wasn't really looking for him, given she didn't know what to say and a growing part of her didn't care. Her parents at least hadn't done much, beyond a late night talk from mom about the importance of controlling her temper.
But all in all, it sucked to be sitting in that depressing little box of a room on the second floor of building C, staring off at some point between the desk and the wall, no book, no homework, no nothing, surrounded by a group of losers with mohawks, heavy eyeshadow, and cheek piercings. And it sucked even more to know that at this moment that was where she was headed, away from the sunshine and the practice fields where the Hemery Heroines were gathering for practice.
Sighing, she reached for the door to building C.
“Buffy!”
She paused, glancing back.
“Buffy! Stop!”
Recognition hit. Oh come on. Not now.
She turned around, “What do you want?”
Merrick slowed to a stop. He'd been running to catch up with her, and even that minor expenditure seemed to have tired him. “I'm glad I caught you,” he wheezed.
She raised her eyebrows. “For what, dare I ask?”
“There's an urgent matter,” he grabbed her arm and steered her around the corner of the building, where it was more sheltered. “A group of vampires have nested in Arcadia, and you need to take care of them quickly.”
“That's kind of non-specific, and if you hadn't noticed, I'm at school right now. I'll take care of it later.” She started to move past him.
He blocked her. “It's urgent you go now.”
“Why? Are you determined to have me fail so I can be kicked out and move to Cleveland with you?”
He paused, “Have you reconsidered?”
“No.” Her voice was icy. “The vamps won't go anywhere in the hour or so I have left.”
“They may, and who knows how long it'll take for you to find them. Buffy, this is far more important than dancing around with pompoms.”
Anger replaced irritation. “Listen,” she said, poking his blue and yellow striped tie. “A, you don't get to tell me what's important, okay? This is my life. And B, I'm going to detention, not to 'dance around with pompoms,' and I don't feel like being in more trouble than I already am, so if you'll excuse me?”
She tried to move past him, but he grabbed her arm again. “I am your Watcher, and I do get to tell you what's important.” She tried to speak, but he cut her off, “I've allowed you to remain here, in Los Angeles, and to continue your schooling instead of focusing full-time on your training, but you will not tell me what is and is not worth your time.” He was angry. “It's not only your birthright, but your duty to take care of this. The Slayer does not get the luxury of being self-absorbed.”
“Self-absorbed?” she repeated hotly. “Who the hell are you to call me that?”
“Your Watcher,” he said again. “People live and die by your actions, today, tomorrow, and until your time has ended. You will do whatever is in your power to keep the world safe.”
She glared at him sullenly. This wasn't fair, but somehow she knew that not only did he know that but he didn't care. She said nothing.
“You'll have to come with me,” he continued. “I'll drop you off, but we must hurry. Every minute you spend here is a wasted one. If the sun goes down before you find them, we may not have the same chance again.”
She studied his face for a long moment. “There's something here you're not telling me,” she said. It wasn't a question.
He looked around again, as if suddenly remembering where they were. “I'll explain tonight, after you've taken care of them. It's time you knew anyway.”
“Knew what?” she asked.
“Later.” He turned and walked away.
She stood there for a moment, the petulant teenager in her wanting to plant herself here and remain defiant, but the rest of her knew deep down he was right, and, sighing, she trotted to catch up with him.
They said nothing to each other on the way to his car, or as they pulled away from Hemery. She wondered what he was keeping from her, and if it was even anything significant. Merrick was big into prophecies and cryptic messages from people who'd died a long time ago, long before she was born, and she always found herself zoning whenever he got into it. The Slayer may be a mystical position, but frankly she found most of the mysticism somewhat dull.
Something about this felt different though. Usually he was only too happy to share his vague prophecies, and if he wasn't talking now a part of her felt she wouldn't want to hear it when he did.
“I'm sorry,” he said abruptly, cutting through the silence and her musings. “I didn't mean to be harsh.”
“You were being honest,” she replied mechanically, not entirely sure if he was wrong, or if she was even angry about it.
“I just worry about your priorities sometimes.”
“I'm a fifteen year-old girl, Merrick. Making the switch from boys and hair products to monsters and demons takes time.” But the truth of it was that she secretly hoped she never would change over. She so desperately didn't want this to be her life, and she knew he'd never understand that.
Her Watcher said nothing, eyes on the road. They went back to driving in silence. Something was obviously bothering him, because he looked even more worried than usual, but she couldn't bring herself to press. He'd said tonight, so she'd deal tonight.
Eventually, finally, they rolled to a stop. It looked like they were sitting outside Live Oak Memorial, a cemetery, which made sense given she was there to dust vamps.
She looked over at Merrick expectantly.
“In the Jerse mausoleum, the vampires have tunneled down to the sewer system. I don't know where they are in the tunnels or how many there are, only that they're there, and that they won't be for long.”
She stared at him, mind catching on only one word. “Sewer?” she repeated weakly.
“Hopefully it's just the storm sewer. I don't think they like the ones for waste anymore than you do.”
“Hopefully? Think?” Once again, she couldn't fathom why she was here. She could be sitting safe and snug back in room 228C, staring at a wall, contemplating the bag of truffles she'd nagged her dad into buying. Now she was contemplating vampires in sewers.
Instead of answering her, he reached behind them, into the back seats, and pulled out a sword. “Here,” he said. “Assume you have stakes?”
“In my bag,” she replied irritably.
“Take them out. You can leave your bag here.”
Sighing, she bent to comply, reaching to the bottom of her book bag and pulling out her two emergency stakes. She shoved one into the interior pocket of her jacket, and another up her sleeve.
“I don't know what you should expect, so just expect the worst.” She couldn't tell if he was joking or not, and she didn't care. She opened the door. “Good luck.”
Grunting, she grabbed the sword and slid out of the car. It shined dully in the light. “See you later,” she said.
“I'll be at the warehouse.”
Buffy nodded and slammed shut the door, then set off into the cemetery. She had no idea where the Jerse mausoleum was, but she could see the little structures dotting the cemetery here and there, so it wouldn't be too much work to find it. It occurred to her that she'd never been here during the day, and she'd only visited a couple times on patrol. It was a quiet sort of place, the kind you didn't really expect to see people in-at least, live ones-and she figured this was a good thing, what with her wandering around with a sword like a crazy person.
Not that this whole thing wasn't crazy, her being the Slayer and savior of mankind and all that.
She approached the first mausoleum. To her surprise, it said Jerse.
Score one for Buffy.
The door was unlocked, and she slipped inside, letting the door shut behind her. It was gloomy, dark, and musty, and from here you really couldn't tell it was so bright and sunny outside. Cursing the fact that the dead didn't need windows, she stumbled around, searching with her sword-free hand for some kind of opening. She was just tempted to go back and open the door wide for the light when her foot found a hollow, and she cautiously poked the sword out into empty air instead of wall.
Score two for Buffy.
By now her eyes had adjusted somewhat, and she could just make out the hole in the bottom corner of the crypt as a gaping, black pit. All instincts told her to not go in to the gaping, black pit of death, but as Merrick had pointed out, it was her responsibility.
Dreading what awaited her, she laid on her stomach and felt around the side of the hole, then inside it. She didn't find the floor, but she did find a metal ladder, which somehow didn't seem to go with crypts and creatures of the night, but, hey, she wasn't going to complain.
So she climbed, blindly, into the abyss. The floor wasn't a long time in coming, but it was enough that she felt the change from the dead air inside the mausoleum to the more earthy coolness of the air underground. She also noticed a light source from far away, directing her from the complete and utter blackness she now stood in to a distant pinpoint of grey.
She headed for the light, holding her sword out and to the side. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but what she found was a lantern, like the kind for camping. When she looked around, she saw more dotting the tunnel, providing just enough light to expose a path from the shadows.
Well, at least she knew something was here. If they'd bothered putting down light sources then they'd obviously been coming and going a lot, or at least they anticipated that they would be.
She followed the path, wondering vaguely where vampires got lanterns, or a ladder for that matter.
The tunnel eventually let out onto concrete, and here the way was lit by little LED lights stuck along the walls. Below was a vast expanse of nothing, possibly the storm drain, which wasn't in use given the fact that it hadn't rained any time recently.
Not sure of the right direction, she chose right at random. Her shadow was huge and black against the opposite wall, and the whole place smelled like old concrete dust and mud. She could hear the skittering of little feet, and she caught a glimpse of a long, scaly tail disappearing into the shadows.
Rats.
She was underground, in a storm drain, slogging through rat poop and looking for vampires. What surprised her was how little this surprised her. This was par for the course for Buffy, a typical day at the office.
Self-absorbed her ass, she thought irritably. No one with control over their life would be down here voluntarily.
She paused, her eyes lighting on another pit of darkness, a maw on the opposite wall. The nearest LED bulb exposed broken concrete, and deep inside, she could just make out the grey of what could possibly be another lantern. So she'd gone the right direction, and something told her she was getting close.
Steeling herself, she backed to the wall at her side, and, gripping the sword tightly, she launched herself toward the void at her feet, then leaped over it. She hit the ground rolling, and she could feel what she hoped was mud seeping into her shirt as she pushed herself up.
Not giving herself time to think about it, she traveled into the tunnel. This one wasn't cement, it was earthen, but it didn't last long before it let out into another storm drain, this one unlit except by the little lanterns. Maybe it was abandoned.
She made to keep walking, but froze, hearing something. Voices.
She stole into the shadows, hearing her heartbeat in her ears.
“-why we came here. Usually, you know, situation like this, we go elsewhere.”
“Yeah, but get in good with him and we're set. Would you rather be running ragtag out there?”
Pause. “Yes, actually.”
“Well, you're an idiot, Bobby.”
“Right, Phil, because Lothos always delivers? How many times now has he said he found the Slayer and she was actually there?”
Buffy felt the hairs stand up on her neck. Slayer?
“Four.”
“And how many times has he gone all over the world chasing her?”
There was a long pause. “How many vamps you know killed four Slayers?”
“I don't know. How many spend all their time chasing them? We could just as easily not come here and stay over in a town across the country. I hear Miami's nice.”
“Come on, doesn't your name as a creature of the night mean anything to you?”
“No.”
Buffy saw them move into the light of a lantern, which was in the mouth of another tunnel. She was considering following them when she saw figures approaching out of the shadows. Three more, and one was carrying a lantern.
“Got a long time till sunset,” one of the new ones greeted. He looked vaguely like Mr. T. “Remind me again why we're down in this shithole?”
“It's covert,” another one replied. He had what appeared to be a mullet.
“So are any of the abandoned buildings up on the surface. We're in LA.”
“Yeah, but how many can take you all over the city no matter what time it is?”
Mr. T paused, then grunted. “Whatever.”
“As long as we don't have to eat rats,” a female one said.
“You don't,” Mullet said. “I heard from Bill there was construction a few pipes down. We can take ourselves a couple maintenance guys.”
She seemed to consider that. “Yeah, I can do that.” She glanced around at her companions. “Want to come?”
“Nah,” Mr. T said as the other two shook their heads. “Go ahead.”
Nodding, she and Mullet turned and went back down the tunnel, bringing the lantern with her.
The other three vampires resumed talking, but Buffy wasn't really hearing them. A vampire named Lothos had come to LA for...what? Her? Is this what Merrick knew that he didn't want to say? She was on the hit list of some vamp who enjoyed going on safari?
Well, this was great. She was to be the hunted now.
But these five? They would be the hunted first.
She carefully crept forward, keeping to the shadows. She was so close to them she could almost feel their presence, and just when she saw that they were approaching the next lantern, she shot forward, stake slipping from her sleeve into her hand. She drove it through the first one, almost straddling his back as he fell, then disintegrated, beneath her.
“The fuck?” one of them said, and all at once it was a rush of commotion.
She was thrown against a wall, and the concrete knocked the breath out of her as she dropped her sword. Before she could get up, one of them had her in his grip-Phil. “Slayer,” he said.
She saw Bobby running away, calling for the other two. Shit.
Phil tried to hit her, but she ducked, and his fist connected with concrete. She kicked his legs out from under him, then staked him before he could react. As she rolled back to her feet, she grabbed the sword, then made chase on Bobby, who was running down the tunnel the other two had gone down. She could feel the air rippling her hair, and she could hear their footsteps as they banged against the ground and echoed out into the tunnel.
His back was in sight, and she leaped, sweeping the sword across the tunnel, through his neck. It was like forcing an ax through a tree, but it went, and she almost thought he screamed as he fell, but then he was gone.
She was breathing hard now, but she heard the footsteps running toward her long before she saw the return of Mullet and the female. It occurred to her she should've hid and ambushed them, but at the same time she almost liked it better this way.
“Who the fuck are you?” the female asked as the both of them stopped to stare at her and her sword. Both of them were in vamp face, and growling like tigers.
“I'm Buffy,” she said, “the Vampire Slayer.”
They snarled and launched forward, and she brought her sword up to meet them.
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