Disclaimer: I wonder what freak goes around pushing lawsuits on fanfiction writers. Anyhow I'm sure it's not the fine folks who own BtVS, Ats, or SG-1. I'm not one of those fine folks, by the way.
Code Name: Pedestrian
Chapter 5: Cheese, Crackers, and Demons—It's a Party!
"So, you drink animal blood?"
The vampire rolled his eyes. "Yes, love, as I've said twice. I'm not planning on draining you dry."
"You drink animal because you have a soul." Sam was still trying to wrap her finger around the vampire aspect. So far she had gotten what seemed to be a very summarized version of the vampire species, along with a few obviously censured bits of Spike's history. The scientist in her had several more questions.
"No," Spike snapped. "I don't kill humans anymore—at least, not often. 'Course if they're planning on asking me annoying questions for the rest of my unlife, I might make an exception."
Sam spared him a glance. Honestly, she didn't see how a dead being could behave this way. While the thought that the "vampire" might be a parasite had occurred to her, she still hadn't figured out how it could . . .
Spike raised a hand, grabbing her attention in one motion. "We've found it."
"What? Can you sense it?" Sam's curiosity peaked at the thought of blood markers.
The vampire smirked. "Actually, it was rather rank, so I can smell it." He pointed off the road. "Plus I just saw it run into that house. Some poor bloke's in for a surprise."
Sam's eyes widened. "That's Daniel's house!"
Four hundred pounds of tooth and claw tore through the door frame, splintering wood and appearing out of a cloud of dust and plaster.
Daniel raised a hand over his head, blocking the scrap as he slid to the sofa, snatching up his jacket and digging through his pocket. "Where is it?" he grumbled. His fingers wrapped around metal, and he gave a bitter grin, pulling the zat gun free.
The witch glanced over at him. "I said stay behind me!" she snapped.
Her eyes widened when Daniel aimed at the demon, the serpentine head of his weapon raised. Energy hit the creature in the chest. The charge was still coursing over its horns as a second blast hit it in the shoulder. The demon stood stunned for a moment before releasing a battle cry and raising its talon-tipped hand high.
"That didn't work. . ."
Willow ran to his side, grabbing hold of his arm again and jerking him back before he could fire again. "We need to get out of here!" she shouted.
The demon ran forward, only to bounce off of an invisible barrier, falling back onto the floor. Daniel's jaw dropped, and he turned to see Willow with her free arm raised out before her, as if she was somehow keeping the creature away.
"This won't hold it long. Out the window."
Daniel didn't pause to think, grabbing hold of the window and pushing it up.
"You first," Willow called.
The archeologist slipped out feet first, loosing his footing on the slick grass below. He landed on his stomach, rolling over to look back up. Only a few seconds passed before the glass shattered out, Willow's form flying over him, collapsing onto the ground. Daniel crawled to her side, an arm around her waist to help him pull her up.
"He's not here to sell cookies," she muttered, glancing up at the window.
Hearing a sound from behind, she turned on her heels. A smile of relief crossed her face as she realized that the shadow rounding the corner of the house was not a demon—at least not the demon after her.
"Just getting a book, are we? Suppose you don't need a hand then, Red?"
Andrew, not for the first time, peaked through the bushes where the vampire and demon had disappeared a good fifteen minutes ago. "I'm just going to wait over here," he called, timidly searching the greenery for movement.
When it seemed safe, he stepped out into the open, the stake he'd drawn (the only weapon that Willow had let him take to the park) clutched tightly against his chest. He made his way back to the swing set, biting his lip in frustration. In the American Andrew/English Dictionary, the word "wait" is clearly defined as a verb that means to hide for three minutes before becoming bored. In Andrew's mind, he had already waited five times over. Now, he would proceed to wander around until he found trouble or vice versa.
Trouble, in all politeness, met him halfway.
Andrew approached the hole at the center of the playground, bending down to see into its dark depths. "Doesn't look like Hell," he muttered, taking another step closer.
Something metallic glittered from further down, past the mass of roots and soil and shadow. Andrew's brow scrunched, lips parted as he tried to make out what it was buried down there. He took another step forward.
It was in the next second that he realized that there were no more steps to actually take. His right foot hovered over the hole. Waving his arms frantically, he kept his balance a moment longer, right before the gravel beneath his left shoe decided to join the revolt.
"Ouchy. . .Oh. . .Hurt," Andrew breathed, wincing as he rolled over onto his back, having just done a perfect belly flop, minus the pool of water. He looked up at the hole above him, moonlight streaming in from the heavens. "Oh, God, this is just like The Ring—Little girl, I promise I'll be your mommy, just don't kill me in a gross way."
His ramblings went unanswered. Andrew pushed himself up, thankful that his surroundings were devoid of slimy water and corpses. After a moment, he realized that he was also rather pleased that there were no demons in sight. The area was surprisingly clean for an underground nest. Actually, it was kind of shiny.
Andrew bent down. The floor—that had been what was reflecting in the light. It was bright silver, dulled slightly by a layer of grime.
"Cool. . ."
And then the lights flickered on.