I do not own any of the characters portrayed within, or the shows or… other things that I may have borrowed from. This is a work purely for fun, no profit will ever be gained from it. Don't sue, you'll get nothing, and I'll get less.
A new demonic plot has arisen in Sunnydale. The Slayer's life is at risk. Can she face it? Can she stop it? Does she need to?
Set during Season 2 of BtVS – so none I would imagine.
"Would you please not shoot the thermonuclear weapons?" – Broken Arrow
Furtively scanning the darkened alleyways, the vampire sidled through the slim opening into the apparently abandoned warehouse, carefully preventing the bag he was carrying from catching on anything. Only apparently, since he barely managed three paces before a clawed hand was wrapped around his throat and squeezing his airway shut. The vampire knew that this was just one of the many ways his boss liked to torture and kill its prey, and also knew if he struggled then his death would not only be assured, but also incredibly unpleasant. Even for a vampire.
Hanging limply from the unyielding hold with his feet twitching uselessly in midair, the bag still swinging innocently against his shoulder, more than a few minutes seemed to pass before the grip loosened and he was able to speak once more. "Master we have the package, and finally we can destroy the Slayer once and for all." In as unthreatening a manner as possible, he reached into the bag and brought out a heavily bound and warded box and, holding it triumphantly aloft, added in an almost inaudible mutter, "All that the instructions say, are that you should not open it until you are in a place where you hope for much pain, suffering and death."
He hadn't even finished speaking before the box was snatched from his grasp. In front of him his current master gazed beady-eyed at the doom of the Slayer contained within the strongest wards that money could buy, a collection of subtly swirling sigils denoting how black, white and grey magic had been used in their creation. Wards that seemed to be pulsing slightly beneath the demon's hands.
Bud may not have been a vampire long, only a few decades, but had quickly realised that to survive and, more importantly, to become a name to be feared throughout the ages, you really need to run with a powerful gang for a time to see how it was done.
Which was why he was here.
The job may not have been everything he'd been hoping for, still, if it worked his name would be linked forever with the downfall of the most feared Slayer in recent history, however innocuous her name – and that was worth the risk.
When word had first gotten out about the Slayer's name, there had been much merriment amongst the underground community, such of it as there was. However after a few of the elder vampires had gone looking for that most elusive of delicacies, Slayer's blood, and gotten themselves dusted in one of a series of gruesome ways, the laughter had stopped.
And now, after so many years, and the fall of so many creatures of the dark, the laughter was long extinguished, replaced by a terrible dread of being the next one to go under the knife.
Having a connection to her death would be a tale he could eat out on for the next fifty years.
But there was the rub.
The demon he was working for, the one running the gig – the one who was making the vampire's face pale as he shook and rattled the box vigorously – he wasn't actually too bright. In fact the vampire had a suspicion that the plan hadn't been his to begin with.
But no matter. They were here now and everything was in motion. They had all the tools they needed to succeed – primarily the box that the demon was now dropping on the floor for no apparent reason – and the will to carry it out.
He turned his attention back to the task at hand.
"Master? What are you doing?"
Snapping his eyes to the vampire's face the box slipped from the demon's claws to catch on the edge of an outcropping and knocking it across the room. "It's my box, I can do what I like with it. Besides, there's something breathing inside it. I have good ears. I can tell."
From the profoundly smug look on the demon's face following that statement, Bud's impression of his employer's intelligence fell even further.
"Yes, master, it's your box, but don't we need it? To defeat the Slayer? And if there is something alive in it, should you annoy it if it's so dangerous?" Seeing the demon's brow draw down into a dark frown, Bud hastened to add, "I only wish to serve and protect you master."
For a long moment, he worried that he'd gone too far and he was about to die.
The demon sneered nastily. It obviously enjoyed the fear it engendered, and the pleasure swelled its already obscenely large head into a shape reminiscent of a half melted ice-cube. "You worry that it'll kill us when its released, but I bought it, so I own it. Its mine. It'll kill what I want it to, and nothing else. You're a good minion, I won't let you die."
Ignoring the small gasp of relief from the reprieved vampire, the demon then marched across the room and bent over to retrieve the box, unfortunately in its carelessness the box was kicked, skidding and bouncing across the floor yet again.
Staring at the demon's back, stewing over the 'minion' crack, Bud made two decisions. That the moment the plan was accomplished he was going see this bonehead dead, and two, he would make sure not to be standing anywhere nearby when said bonehead finally opened that box.
Buffy was bored. This was nothing new – she was often bored. Schoolwork bored her. Classes bored her. Listening to Giles spout off ancient facts about a demon that took her a matter of seconds to slay bored her. And of course, patrolling bored her. Even when the vampires came out to play, they were almost never any challenge and she barely needed to break a sweat.
So what happened just then should have been a wonderful occurrence, since it meant she was no longer bored.
Unfortunately, she was too busy being confused to notice.
It had started pretty normally. She was walking through one of the many shadowy cemeteries when a group of vampires appeared and quickly surrounded her. Unworried, she kept her senses alert, ready to take down the first to charge.
Only none of them did.
Instead, a demon walked out of the shadows before her and started maniacally ranting about how famous it would be for being the one to defeat her, to be the one to feed on her heart, to be the one who blah, blah, blah. After the first few lines she pretty much zoned out, having heard most of it before and, from the look on the face of one of the vampires, she wasn't the only one.
Eventually the demon stopped talking and reached behind him into a bag he was carrying, bringing out a box. Here she tensed. Boxes carried by demons into combat generally proved to be unpleasant, and this was likely to be bad.
What happened next, then, was a surprise.
The demon began to chant a spell in what she assumed to be some demonic tongue, but which sounded like gobbledegook, the seals covering the panels of the box began to glow with an unearthly shine and seemed to be cracking and dissolving as the words washed over them. With a climactic shriek, the incantation finished, and the lid of the box shattered.
Suddenly the demon was flat on its back and screaming as something small, white and fluffy flew from the container and fastened to its throat.
Buffy was sure she heard a faint noise, a noise she had to strain to catch, a noise that made no sense to her.
Very quickly the screams turned into gurgles, and purplish blood fountained into the air, as the small white creature moved from its spot on the ex-demon, and blurred into one of the shocked vampires who had been staring dumbfoundedly at the scene.
The vampire's startled cry quickly morphed into something else as it also discovered the pain of having a switchblade enter its neck.
By now the bleed of vampires was looking decidedly uneasy and, normally, Buffy would have launched herself into them. However, something about what she was witnessing was causing her to wish not to be there. Causing her to want to run, to hide, to be anywhere else, so that the thing wouldn't have a chance to be interested in her.
Catching some movement, her eyes snapped left to see the previously bored vampire now very slowly and carefully putting himself in position to run away, very, very fast.
Registering her attention, he oh so quietly murmured, "How about just this once, we go our separate ways? I don't know about you, but I really don't want to meet that thing."
The screams abruptly cut off as Buffy recognised the sound of vocal cords being severed. She could swear she could hear someone mutter something about a ferret, and a name she couldn't quite make out, Anna, maybe Enya, about some kind of agreement.
However, the sound of the vampire's body collapsing into dust as its spinal cord was finally broken, shook her out of her reverie.
For the first time in her life Buffy found herself in complete agreement with one of the soulless undead and, with a slight nod to the other, she got the hell out of Dodge.
Behind her, a small and now slightly dusty creature shook himself and, looking around and seeing he was now oddly alone, flipped his ears and hopped off in search of a car to steal. His lips twitched into what might charitably be called a smile as he saw one of the vampires sitting in a beat up old junker, frantically trying to get the engine to start. Its cry of joy as the engine caught turned into a shriek of terror, before gurgling something about 'not far enough' and collapsed in paralysis as the switchblade sliced through its spine.
Pushing the soon to be pile of dust, since its wound wouldn't heal before sunrise, out of the driver seat, the critter prepared to leave.
He had a long way to go to get home, and he was going to be really upset if this little road trip caused him to miss Baywatch.
Nerd boy was so going to get it for this.
Enjoying the automatic gears, Bun-Bun drove off.
Author's Note :
Well what'd you all think? I know it was a little odd, but the story simply came to me out of the blue. There I was, walking home as usual, and this popped up. Strange barely covered it.
Unlike most plot bunnies, when this one hopped onto my shoulder and muttered into my ear, I felt that survival was the best option. When a rabbit has a switchblade at your throat, you do what you're told.
Unfortunately, I think he's given ideas to the other plot bunnies infesting me, and I'm starting to feel a little under siege.
For those of you who don't know, Bun-Bun is a product of Sluggy Freelance, an online comic that I've found to be seriously addictive, and can be found by googling the name. The shape of the demon's head was spawned by a rerun of Red Dwarf. As if you couldn't tell.
I have now altered 'Bleed of Vampires' to 'Kiss of Vampires' with the help of my reviewer FionFee over on TtH – many thanks!
And on the off chance I got the quote wrong, apologies!
Hope you enjoyed it :D