The Devil Went Down to Sunnydale VI
Chapter VI: Hate This Town I
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Graveyard #12
Sunnydale, California
11:12 PM, A School Night
Into every generation, a slayer is born: One girl in all the world, a Chosen One.
A small blonde stood in the heart of a once-quiet graveyard, her expression resolute. Her hair flowed down to her shoulders, the only thing keeping too much of it out her face being a white barrette. In her hand, she held up a wooden stake, the tip of it sharpened to a threatening and deadly point.
She alone will wield the strength and skill to fight the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness.
Roars and hisses filled the air as the ground shifted and pale clawed hands began to dig their way free from the graves that once held their unmoving bodies.
To stop the spread of their evil --
In barely any time at all, three yellow-eyed vampires stood above ground once more, their bodies hunched as they rushed mindlessly toward what they saw as their first meal.
As usual, the girl didn’t hesitate.
Moving fast enough that she was almost a blur, she jabbed the stake in her hand through the chest of the first bloodsucker, a brown-haired man that would have bemoaned his unlife if he still had a soul to speak of.
In the blink of an eye, the vampire’s body became a cloud of glowing green dust.
-- And the swell of their number.
Buffy didn’t stop.
Still in motion, the girl rushed past the second vampire, a brown-haired woman in a blue top Buffy might have called ‘too much’, if she was in the mood to speak to the freshly risen. Leaping and spinning into the air, the girl drove her trusty stake through the slutty vampire’s back, before dropping to the ground.
She is The Slayer.
Both her kills done so quickly that neither of the ashes had yet to fully fall to the ground, still possessed of that greenish glow, the third yellow-eyed bloodsucker could only stare in alarm as Buffy stared him down.
He turned to run, fear propelling him as fast as his unblooded corpse could carry him, and dashed past another potential victim, a tall bespectacled figure in a full three-piece tweed suit, the man engrossed in a book even as he raised his head slightly and called out to his charge with a somewhat bored tone. “One left, Buffy.”
The girl smirked, reaching for a wreath balanced against a gravestone. “On it.”
With superhuman strength, she hurled the thing and it flew hard and fast. It slammed into the back of the fleeing vampire’s skull with an audible thwack, sending the monster screaming into an open grave.
Only to fall right onto the wooden handle of a shovel, his body turning to ashes a second later.
“You had a bit of luck with that slaying,” the man said, casually adjusting his glasses with his index.
Buffy scoffed with a smirk on her face. “C’mon, Giles, give a girl credit,” she replied, both hands on her hips. “I’m still in a bad mood over losing out on a potential hottie.”
“Potential ‘hottie’ aside,” Rupert Giles continued, “you did eliminate the Anointed One, which is to be commended. More than that, your vampire-slaying skills have improved greatly in the last few weeks.”
Buffy turned to her Watcher, a conflicted look on her face. “Improved enough you think Willow and Xander might stay out of danger?”
The librarian could only grimace, looking aside rather than directly at his Slayer. “...That rather depends on them, doesn’t it? At the very least, you can at least be happy they’re safe in their beds now.”
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
“Five hundred.”
Xander Harris pulled a face, his expression one of complete befuddlement. "You're joking... and not in a good way like Allan Sherman or Adam Sandler. More Anthony Michael Hall." The musty air of the backroom, cluttered with dusty tomes and bizarre artifacts, only seemed to thicken the longer he stood there, the smell of raw old books managing to hide the irritating odor of all sorts of magic items clumped over each other.
Stupid Devil senses, he thought, wrinkling his nose.
"Kid..." Bob Bogarty stated flatly, his gaze barely flickering from the monstrous green corpse on the table to the disheveled teenager across from him. The dim light from the single bulb dangling above cast an eerie glow over the cramped space, illuminating the wrinkles on the old man's face and the garish pattern of his blue Hawaiian shirt.
Xander wasn't in the mood for back-and-forth bartering. His irritation from the fight was visible, made even worse by the sticky green demon innards that smeared his tank top and shorts. And here I was thinking I was being smart by wearing all black to hide blood and dirt, he mused, looking down at his ruined outfit with a grimace. Next time, I'm bringing a poncho. Or a hazmat suit.
Leaning forward, Xander ducked under the lightbulb, its faint swinging making the shadows dance across his bruised and bleeding face. "I just fought a giant bug demon with my bare hands," he said, his voice gaining an edge as he jabbed a finger at the lifeless mantis. "How 'bout you make me a deal that sounds right? 'Cause I'm pretty sure this should run me more than a measly five hundred." Measly? I remember when that would sound like a life changer.
The shop owner rubbed his bald head in frustration, the action making the loose skin on his arm jiggle slightly. "I don't know what to tell you, kid. You’ve killed 3 of those Chalkies for me, and you got good pay for ‘em. I got the flier and the personal card you gave me. I’ll summon you anytime I need something, but…” He shook his head disbelievingly, “but c’mon, you bring me a demon corpse and just expect me to throw money at you, who says I can even use this?" He gestured at the mantis with a dismissive wave of his hand. “
Oh, come on, Xander thought, exasperated. He was already regretting giving the man his personal card a few days ago, considering the guy had been requesting summons to do back-to-back Chalk Goblin hunts just because. Tana giving him a personal set of cards to give out had him giddy, especially seeing as they let people summon him either with it or through a flier that Sam marked with his energy. Seeing as he only had one client so far, the old guy had gotten one out of necessity. Those teleports drained the magical energy he didn’t even know how to use yet too, which was annoying. He’d honestly prefer to run.
He wiped his slime-covered hands on his already filthy shorts, the dried green goop making the whole action as annoying as it was pointless. Is it racist or self-hating to say I hate demons? I don't think I care either way. I just want my cash.
"Because," he explained, counting off on his fingers, "I got paid to take it out, and before that payment, I got a full written lecture on it from some old bug demon expert. Virgin Thieves, Kleptes Virgo, or whatever. Full of fresh virgin sacrifice energy, same class as sirens and sea-maidens, only even stronger because this thing can shapeshift. On top of that, the bug ate like 3 guys, y’know. Perfect mojo for all kinds of rituals and spell slinging."
Bogarty's expression changed, a flicker of interest clear in his eyes.
Xander could almost see the gears turning in the old man's head, calculating the potential profits. Ha, you old fogey, Xander smirked inwardly. Didn't expect me to come prepared, didya? I may be new to this whole supernatural shtick, but I know how to do my homework… He paused, frowning slightly. Okay, usually.
"One thousand," Bogarty conceded, albeit grudgingly, his fingers stroking his chin thoughtfully as he eyed the corpse with renewed interest.
"Five," Xander countered swiftly, his hazel eyes narrowing under the dim light as he stared down the store owner.
"B-bullshit," Bogarty nearly spat, his voice actually shaking. "I'm trying to run a business here. I don't care if you really are a Fiend. You don't know what you're talking about."
"What I know?" Xander snorted, the laugh empty of any real humor. "What I know is that we're talking about 150 pounds of demon flesh here. You cut it up into a quarter of a pound, sell it for your real buyer at what...? Fifty dollars a pop, if you're generous... which we both know you're not..."
The old man couldn't hide his grudging respect, a bitter smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
"Let’s be honest, old man," Xander continued, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're making at least thirty grand off this thing. I'm even being nice after counting in labor and refrigeration and all that, so how about you be nice, give me my money, and I'll be out of your hypothetical hair, Uncle Bob?"
Bogarty groaned, dragging his hand down his face in exasperation. "You Fiends are just like the stories. Greedy, conniving bastards."
Xander raised an eyebrow. Coming from you, I don't know if that's a compliment or an insult. Probably both, knowing this town.
The old man sighed heavily, looking more resigned than anything else. "...you wouldn't happen to take checks?"
Is he for real? Xander thought, barely suppressing an eye roll.
"Not from you."
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
Later That Night
In a Shadier Part of Sunnydale…
The night was dark, but far from quiet as the Velvet Nocturne, a club notorious for its exclusive clientele—vampires and other denizens of the dark—buzzed with music and the raucous voices of those inside.
At the front entrance of the warehouse turned nightclub, two pale burly bouncers — one bald and the other in a buzzcut — both with black suits, black ties, white shirts and earpieces stood guard. The first bowed his head deferentially as a full-faced vampire with coiffed white hair and an all-black suit suit walked to the front of the black velvet rope, gracing the entrance alongside his also full-faced guest, a female vampire with black hair in a severe cut and a black leather dress that was as low-cut as it was revealing.
“Good to see you again, Lord Lucian,” the bald guard greeted, putting a hand out in front of him. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”
Lord Lucian, with his pallid skin and aristocratic poise, stared back with sharp demonic features, carved as if from marble, and betrayed no emotion as he acknowledged the welcome with a nod, his eyes sweeping over the club in a predatory manner.
The next guests didn’t receive quite the same welcome as the rope closed in front of them.
"You're not going to let us in? That's not fair, we're vampires too," a pale freckled vampire girl with her hair protested to the bouncer as she took an aggressive step forward with her fist raised. Above a pair of gray jeans, the girl wore a short leather jacket that stopped above her midsection, as well as a yellow shirt, with a black choker and a long beaded necklace. The bald bouncer, a tall broad-shouldered brute with a gaze as cold as the grave, fixed her with a look that suggested his patience was wearing thin with the group in front of him that looked all of sixteen years old.
"Look, baby vamps, it's my job to keep this place free of undesirables. And you—" he paused, his eyes narrowing and yellowing as he shifted into full vampire face "—are undesirable."
The girl’s friends, a chubby Asian girl with round glasses, an Asian boy with a similar appearance only with rectangular glasses, and a thin boy with brown hair who looked Caucasian, huddled behind her fearfully.
The other bouncer stared at them as well, expression bored and placid.
"But this is a club for vampires! We should be able to go in!" the girl insisted, her voice rising in as she clutched at the velvet rope in front of them. “We’re a part of this now!”
“Kid, I don’t make the rules,” the bouncer said, voice coming out with an undertone of growls and hisses as he wore his game face. “Come back when you’ve lost your new-vamp smell.”
He sneered with a fanged grin, his gaze sweeping over their less-than-fashionable attire. "And acquired some fashion sense," he added dismissively.
The girl in front growled, her own face shifting to match the bouncer.
The Asian girl tugged at her angry friend’s sleeve, her voice pleading. "Hester, let's just go."
Still in her game face, Hester growled and stuck her hands in her jacket pockets, stomping away from the club with her friends right behind her. "We're the coolest and sexiest of monsters! So why do we keep getting treated like we're losers?" she hissed as she marched away furiously.
"Maybe coolness is something inside you? Something you're born with?" the other girl offered, trying to make her friend feel better.
After a moment, she looked down, slight sadness on her face. "And maybe even turning into a cool, sexy monster doesn’t make you automatically cool," she mused, sounding wistful.
Hester shot her a yellow-eyed look. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, Lisette. So stupid,” Hester shot back, one hand on her waist as she pointed a finger aggressively in her friend’s face. “I—we—deserve to be cool." Turning around to face the club’s entrance once again, the goth vampire yelled out to the bouncer just a few meters away, “Hey! For serious, what would get us into this club?”
The bald bouncer, having overheard bits of their conversation, rolled his eyes as he let out a silent sight and cast a monstrous yellow-eyed gaze over in their direction. "You could kill the Slayer," he answered blithely.
The suggestion hung in the air, the guest walking into the club turning back to shoot a wide-eyed yellow gaze at the bouncer’s insane offer.
Unfortunately, being young also goes hand in hand with being overconfident, unaware and stupid, all something a fresh vampire had in spades. "Kill the Slayer... that’s perfect! We can do that!" Hester shouted out, her yellow eyes lighting up as an evil smile spread across her fanged mouth. The girl’s hand went into her pocket, bringing out a black flier with red lettering on it and her grin widened even more.
Hester rushed away, an idea forming in her mind, her friends following right after her. As they vanished, the two bouncers shared a look.
"That was mean, man. Slayer's gonna dust 'em," Buzzcut commented, a slight whine to the large man’s voice.
"So what? They were bugging me," Baldy replied nonchalantly, giving his friend a shrug.
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
The Next Day
It was a sunny afternoon in Sunnydale, the kind that almost made you doubt the horror that went on most nights. Buffy and Willow sat around the coffee table in the brightly lit living room of the Summer’s residence, huddled around textbooks in front of them and papers strewn across the floor.
“How’s your mom, by the way, Buff?” Willow asked, the girl’s head mostly down in a book.
“Oh, yeah,” the blond glanced up, only pretending to read in the first place. “She’s doing all right now, Cuclidus demon juju all gone now,” the girl answered back, before actually glancing at the page she was supposed to be looking at.
"History is awful. How many beheadings again?" Buffy groaned, her face scrunched up as she flipped through her textbook with her chin resting on an upturned palm, clearly more interested in doing the beheading than reading about them.
"Well, it was a revolution," Willow chimed in with a gentle reminder.
"Guess you can’t have a revolution without chopping people's heads off," the blonde replied back, nodding as if that made perfect sense. "Does the French Revolution really matter if the apocalypse happens tomorrow?" she mused, only half-joking as she let her hand fall and sat up straighter. “It might, honestly, considering Sunnydale is right over a portal to Hell.”
“Yeah,” Willow admitted, laughing as her green eyes sparkled, “but our history teacher doesn’t know that.”
Buffy, not quite ready to give up on her procrastination, suggested something else. "We could tell Mr. Fraser, 'Can I have an extension on this essay? The world will probably be over soon because Hellmouth.'"
Willow countered with a knowing smile, "I'm sure he'd take that well.”
Buffy dropped her chin into both her palms this time, sighing, “Adults love it when you shatter their world and reveal that monsters exist. It’d probably go over great."
“Okay, so back to the French Revolution—” "So, how's Xander?"
Buffy’s immediate interruption had Willow shoot her a knowing look. "Now you're just trying to avoid doing homework."
The blonde smiled back, not willing to admit anything. “No, I really want to know! How are you and him?”
"We're friends, always and forever, I guess," Willow responded with a loud sigh, her tone both resigned and accepting as she kept her head down.
“No luck getting him to see you as more than a friend?” Buffy pushed.
“Oh, he sees me as more than a friend,” replied Willow with a sarcasm that could only arise from close proximity to Xander. “I’m also a buddy, a pal, a homework partner… The list goes on.” She slumped forward on the coffee table, resting her head on her arms.
“That’s rough, buddy.” Buffy patted her friend’s arm with a sad smile and let out a sigh, leaning back on the couch. “At least it’s nice to have someone you like, right? I haven’t had much luck with that recently…. Especially since Owen last week.”
Willow perked up at that, the redhead sitting up on her knees to focus on the Summers girl. “Oh, really? What about that mysterious, handsome stranger you keep bumping into? The one who always has cryptic advice to go with his smoldering gaze?” She bit her finger playfully, eyebrows waggling. “His name starts with an A, I think?”
"His gaze is pretty smoldering, isn't it?" Buffy mused, a soft smile playing on her lips as she entertained thoughts of him. “Even his name is smoldering.”
Willow teased, sitting up against the couch to be next to Buffy, "See? There's someone you like too."
Buffy nodded. “And all you need is for Xander to get his act together and you’ll be set. You sure he doesn’t have his eye on anyone right now?”
Willow frowned, the girl thinking for a moment. “Honestly, I thought he might have been into you those first couple days.”
Blue eyes widened slightly. “Me?” The small blonde coughed slightly. “I mean, that’s flattering, I guess, who wouldn’t? But…” Buffy paused, her face reddening a bit,” are you sure?”
Willow shrugged, her palms turning upwards. “I mean, I thought so, but he doesn’t seem to really notice you the way he did before.”
“Oh,” Buffy responded, a disappointed expression crossing her face for a second.
“In fact,” Willow continued, “I don’t really think he’s seriously paying attention to any girls anymore, at least since the Amy situation,” the redhead frowned. “Maybe… seeing all that skin from the cheerleaders burned him out?”
Buffy shot Willow a look, one eyebrow raised. “And you believe that?”
Willow sighed. “A girl can dream, can’t she?” She shook her head, a somewhat despondent look in her face. “He’s been so different too. He never even hangs out with me alone since last month. I don’t know what he’s up to anymore.”
Buffy frowned, sighing as she rested her head on Willow’s shoulder. “Well, whatever he’s up to, at least it’s nothing too crazy, knowing Xander.”
Willow giggled, leaning into Buffy as they both ignored their homework. “Right, what was I thinking?”
– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –
7 Hours Later
“I’M GONNA USE YOUR DUST AS KITTY LITTER!”
“We’re sorry!”
“YOU TRIED TO DRINK AN OLD LADY!”