"Oh come on." A number of heads turned. Buffy ignored them. "Sid was way cooler than this dummy." The man sitting ahead of Buffy turned, glaring, and put a finger to his lips. Rolling her eyes, Buffy turned her attention back to the screen muttering, "At least he had hair."

"Hey," hissed a woman two seats over from Buffy. "We're trying to watch the movie."

Glancing over, Buffy took in the couple, even though she already knew everything she needed to about them. The girl was an idiot, not really interested in artistic movies, and was only there for the prestige of it; Cluj-Napoca might not be Paris or Rome, but it was an up and coming city and it's film festival drew a sophisticated crowd. The guy's clothes were carbon dated, but she wasn't about to do anything about that in a crowded theater. Not if she didn't have to. "No you're not," she said instead. "You're totally necking."

Maybe she should have said something to put the guy on his guard, but she was really into the movie and was hoping he'd make his move so she could deal with him and get back to the film. She got her wish; a few minutes later the girl gasped. With a quick and quiet efficiency, Buffy pulled the guy off of the girl, struck a stake through his heart, and turned her attention back to the screen.

Clapping echoed around her. No one else seemed to notice, those closest being too busy either trying to hear the movie or shushing the girl who was actively freaking now that her date had turned to dust. Looking around, Buffy saw a figure standing at the back of the theater. She'd been wondering when he'd show up.

Standing there, waiting for her under a streetlight, he looked like something off of a romance cover: the dark leather pants; the white shirt, brilliant in the light, whose sleeves rippled in the breeze. And of course nobody else she knew could pull off the cape. "So, Buffy Summers, you found you could not resist me after all."

"Pfft, don't flatter yourself. I'm here to Slay. A film fest in Transylvania, you know that's gotta be a bite fest."

He stepped closer to her, moving from light to darkness. His lips looked even redder. "You could have sent any one of a thousand Slayers, and yet you came yourself. Alone. You, out of all the Slayers, long for the touch of a demon. Not as in a fight, but a caress, a kiss."

Buffy leaned in toward him, but her words were a challenge. "I'm here alone because I know you can't thrall me."

"It does not matter; you may lie to yourself if you wish. Angel. Spike. I have no intention of being the next in a long line of discarded lovers."

"Discarded lovers?" Buffy's eyes narrowed. "You want to try that again?"

As Dracula vanished into a mist that wafted its way back into the theater, Buffy thought she heard, "I feel sorry for you, child."

Buffy ran for the door only to be stopped by the ticket taker. "No admittance after the movie has started."

"But I just came out of there."

The guy shook his head.

As Buffy turned to walk away, the thought struck her: Dracula had just stolen her seat. A thin patter of rain drizzled onto down as she walked back to her hotel. "Discarded, hmph. Like I'd want his lame ass anyway, and besides it hasn't been that long since I've had a boyfriend." Her shoulders slumped. "Stupid vampire."