Title: Scarlett the Vampire Slayer Author: Coru (jedically@yahoo.com) Rating: PG-13 (to be safe, in case I should continue it) Summary: The story of a Slayer from the past, when her future is irrevocably altered. Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of 'Gone With The Wind', I do not own the legend of the Slayer or any of the creatures of the Buffyverse. They belong to their respective creators and various companies. I own this story, the situations in it, and Scarlett's Watcher. Steal them, and I'll go Buffy on your booty ;) Author's Notes: I have NO idea how I thought this up. I was reading GWTW and listening to the Buffy musical, and it just came to me. I do intend to continue, it just might not be any time soon. I was just curious as to what people thought of the concept. I've got writer's block on most of my stories, so...if you're reading them, I apologize, heh. On with the story!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Prologue ~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Scarlett O'Hara looked into her mirror with haunted eyes and crossed herself. For the first time in her young life she found herself thinking, hard, painful thoughts. She didn't want to believe it, but the truth couldn't be denied. There was no other explanation for the things that had occurred earlier that night. No other explanation for what she felt in her, even now.

Her eyes landed on the 'gift' she had received. It didn't match the other items on her bureau in any manner. Her things were delicate, gently carved and expensive. And this new addition, smooth as it might be, was obviously not designed for beauty.

Just that afternoon she'd been at a party the Tarleton's were holding. She'd danced and flirted, and enjoyed herself thoroughly. Ashley and introduced her to an elderly man, visiting from England. Of course, she hadn't paid him much mind at first, her thoughts were always on Ashley-but he had approached her later in the evening, while she rested after a waltz with a particularly bad partner. He'd said things-she didn't believe it then. Refused to. He had asked nothing of her but that she meet him in the slave graveyard behind Tara at ten o'clock.

She'd laughed at him then, but oh, she wasn't laughing now. Amusement was about the only emotion that wasn't jumbled up inside her. Anger, resentment, sorrow, despair, and a queer feeling that life would never be as happy or as innocent as it had been twenty-four hours ago filled her, leaving her unsure if she wanted to scream, cry or kill.

When she came home she'd had every intention of ignoring the old man's request. He must have been insane, she'd told herself. No one could possibly be sane and believe the things he claimed to! But some feeling deep inside told her to go. So, she'd put on her wrapped and climbed down the terrace from her window, realizing that if anyone should find out about this she would be ruined.

He had been there waiting for her, and handed her the item that was presently under her scrutiny. "The ability is in you now." He'd told her. "Just follow your instincts, allow them to guide you. You'll know what to do when the time comes."

And she had done it. Not without difficulty mind you, her wrapper was not designed for such activities. Nor was her mind used to seeing dead darkies rising from their graves. She'd dealt with shock, horror, and finally, she'd stabbed the demon in the heart with the stake given to her by a 'Watcher', as he called himself.

A sob rose her in her throat. She didn't want to be a 'Vampire Slayer'. She wanted to be the Belle of Clayton County, and mistress of Twelve Oaks. She wanted to be Ashley's wife. Her fists clenched, her newly ruined nails digging into her palms. The pain didn't register, a terrible rage clouded her mind. She DID NOT WANT THIS. She never wanted to be a 'Warrior For Good', her most noble aspirations had been to become like her saintly mother.

Heavy steps came down the hall and Scarlett hurriedly tossed off her wrapper and leapt into her bed, quickly feigning sleep.

The door opened and a sliver of candlelight shone through the room. Mammy's wide face looked in suspiciously. Something told her all wasn't right with her lamb. After a moment, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she turned and with the boards creaking under her weight, turned down the hall.

That night Scarlett cried herself to sleep.