[tms] bob dylan - blood in my eyes
NOTE: Amelia is ratherbe_mspeel and is mentioned with knowledge of the mun.
Hey, hey, babe, I got blood in my eyes for you.
I got blood in my eyes for you, babe,
I don't care what in the world you do.
====================
“You’re taking a huge chance, being out alone after dark.”
The little frission of wrongness zings up her spine before the voice touches her ears. Reflexively, her hands fall out of the pockets of her jacket as she melts into a defensive stance. Feet planted and arms loose at her sides, she can strike any blow she chooses at any time.
Turning on her heel, she faces the vampire with a smile.
“I’m not.” She declares, nodding to the tidy little compact parked along the sidewalk just a few feet away from the drug store she’d just walked out of. Amelia’s head is visible out the window, watching her intently as her hand snakes out to wave. Unconcerned, Hank waves back brightly and motions, indicating she’ll be there in a moment.
The vampire, a tall male with broad shoulders and greasy blonde hair, just smiles. Another frission of wrongness buzzes in her blood, but it isn’t power causing it.
“She’s human. And far away.”
“I’m armed. Retired don’t mean dead.” Something’s off…what isn’t she seeing?
The vampire shakes his head, regarding her with a thoughtful tilt of his chin. “No, it doesn’t. But it does mean that I don’t have to play by the rules.”
Too late, the answer fills her as swiftly as the vampire can move, as neatly as the Ruger 9mm fills the holster she only now notices bulging beneath his jacket, making it hang oddly even on his stocky frame. Too slow, she dredges up battle instinct to move and can only think to cover herself, brace for the blow. She’ll never drop fast enough to beat a bullet…
“Nahuel sends his love.”
She doesn’t hear the shot over the slam of her own heart in her chest, pounding in her ears like a snare too close to the microphone. She mourns her jacket, a gift from Joe…the bullet hole and blood ruin the black leather he’d wrapped so lovingly around her shoulders in Paris not to long before. Joe’s beautiful jacket…
Someone is fighting nearby. Hank is only dimly aware of the scuffle and accented female cursing as Amelia arrives at a run. By the scream from the vampire, she knows her adopted aunt has done perfectly: glass vial of holy water thrown in his face, shot to the chest with the handheld crossbow Val forced her to learn to use.
Hank is proud of her, wants to tell her, but it’s hard because she can’t breathe all of a sudden, and the miserable heat of the desert just got really fucking cold. Bone deep, soul deep, and her shoulder’s really starting to hurt…
Joe’s jacket is ruined now…he’s going to be so upset…Dad, she needed to tell Amelia…about Dad...
Glassy brown eyes fell shut as Amelia’s hand dug painfully hard into the bullet hole at her clavicle, struggling futilely to hold Hank’s life in place until an ambulance arrives.
Muse: Hank Callahan
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (OC)
Words: 489
Hey, hey, babe, I got blood in my eyes for you.
I got blood in my eyes for you, babe,
I don't care what in the world you do.
====================
“You’re taking a huge chance, being out alone after dark.”
The little frission of wrongness zings up her spine before the voice touches her ears. Reflexively, her hands fall out of the pockets of her jacket as she melts into a defensive stance. Feet planted and arms loose at her sides, she can strike any blow she chooses at any time.
Turning on her heel, she faces the vampire with a smile.
“I’m not.” She declares, nodding to the tidy little compact parked along the sidewalk just a few feet away from the drug store she’d just walked out of. Amelia’s head is visible out the window, watching her intently as her hand snakes out to wave. Unconcerned, Hank waves back brightly and motions, indicating she’ll be there in a moment.
The vampire, a tall male with broad shoulders and greasy blonde hair, just smiles. Another frission of wrongness buzzes in her blood, but it isn’t power causing it.
“She’s human. And far away.”
“I’m armed. Retired don’t mean dead.” Something’s off…what isn’t she seeing?
The vampire shakes his head, regarding her with a thoughtful tilt of his chin. “No, it doesn’t. But it does mean that I don’t have to play by the rules.”
Too late, the answer fills her as swiftly as the vampire can move, as neatly as the Ruger 9mm fills the holster she only now notices bulging beneath his jacket, making it hang oddly even on his stocky frame. Too slow, she dredges up battle instinct to move and can only think to cover herself, brace for the blow. She’ll never drop fast enough to beat a bullet…
“Nahuel sends his love.”
She doesn’t hear the shot over the slam of her own heart in her chest, pounding in her ears like a snare too close to the microphone. She mourns her jacket, a gift from Joe…the bullet hole and blood ruin the black leather he’d wrapped so lovingly around her shoulders in Paris not to long before. Joe’s beautiful jacket…
Someone is fighting nearby. Hank is only dimly aware of the scuffle and accented female cursing as Amelia arrives at a run. By the scream from the vampire, she knows her adopted aunt has done perfectly: glass vial of holy water thrown in his face, shot to the chest with the handheld crossbow Val forced her to learn to use.
Hank is proud of her, wants to tell her, but it’s hard because she can’t breathe all of a sudden, and the miserable heat of the desert just got really fucking cold. Bone deep, soul deep, and her shoulder’s really starting to hurt…
Joe’s jacket is ruined now…he’s going to be so upset…Dad, she needed to tell Amelia…about Dad...
Glassy brown eyes fell shut as Amelia’s hand dug painfully hard into the bullet hole at her clavicle, struggling futilely to hold Hank’s life in place until an ambulance arrives.
Muse: Hank Callahan
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (OC)
Words: 489