Fate-fuckery which I apparently no longer had.
"Hey there, cutey!" I woman in a black leather coat and a plunging neckline asked, stepping in my way. "Aren't you a meal. I could eat you all up!"
On one hand, Professor Futsunushi was right, and an instinctive fighter was instantly detectable, and clearly discernable from a disciplined fighter, with Buffy, oddly, being a strange mix of the two, while, on the other hand, could you be more obvious!?
Glancing about, I could see that no one else was on this street, the smarter of the locals having cleared the fuck out the second the sun had set. Sending a thread from my jacket into my palm, I formed it into a cross and held up to her as I neared my 'ambusher'.
Instantly the Vampire reared back, 'Game Face' coming out as she hissed in displeasure, and, from my sleeve, hundreds of strands burst forth, wrenching the monster off her feet, as I used the Shroud pretending to be my clothing to make a kind ad-hoc power armor in order to handle the added weight of the monster I was holding off the ground without breaking stride.
It tried to tear them off, but its enhanced strength wasn't enough, and, in seconds, I had her cocooned, strands shoving themselves down her nose, throat, and every orifice really, which, thanks to the fact my Shroud gave me tactile feedback was just… so gross.
Thankfully, in less than thirty seconds I felt the click of connection, the Vampire, Lisa, apparently, Bound.
And with a single thought, she was Sold too. Focusing on the Phone that was integrated with my Shroud, I got. . . 1.6 points? Capture and Sale got me 4, cut in half for being a non-named Capture which shouldn't matter for this, as I was recruiting fighters for the Blood War, not sale, but apparently still did, and then there was extra ten percent off the total sale price of four to secure my willing captures a future, losing me another .4, so… yeah.
And I needed about fifteen more to get Mind Defense.
This was… surprisingly doable.
I'd need several hundred Vamps to get a comprehensive Defensive Suite, which I'd likely need with the sheer panoply of fucking bullshit that'd be eventually coming our way, but, by the time we graduated to fighting the Tier Seven Hell Goddess, that confrontation should doable without extreme plot-reliant measures.
Because, with even the Destiny Defense I already had, I wouldn't just jump the Plot Railroad, there was a good chance I wouldn't even know where that track even was. And that was even assuming I remembered the series in detail, which I really didn't.
Though, it was kind of comforting, how easy I'd taken down that Vampire. Then again that was the differential between a Tier Three combatant, and a Tier Five like myself, even with my limited experience with my current power set.
Getting to the Bronze, the only club in town worth a damn, I was about to pay the cover charge, my Company Allowance making me twice as wealthy as the average adult of this time period, when I ran into Buffy leaving, the Blonde turning to me, seeming worried as she called out, "Xander!"
"Buffy," I replied. "What's the issue?"
"Have you seen Jesse?" she questioned, and I got a sinking feeling in my gut.
"I was actually just looking for him, what's up?" I reiterated.
"He left with a girl," the Slayer informed me, stopping there.
I sighed, stepping away from the doorway as the bouncer, a reedy white guy, gave me an annoyed look, and I motioned for Buffy to follow. "Let me guess, this girl wasn't Cordelia. Possibly of the exsanguination persuasion?"
"Yes!" she told me, then paused, an odd look on her face. "It's kinda wiggy, just talkin' 'bout this," she remarked, "like it's just, you know, a thing."
"How do you think I feel?" I shot back. "Until today I thought it was just me. At least you got a semi-creepy older British dude watching your back."
The girl grimaced, "But who's watching his back?"
Oh, right, this is supposed to follow the movie, I realized, in which her previous Watcher died.
"Well, let's watch each other's backs, and go save my dumbass friend," I told her, mentally checking my body's internal map of Sunnydale, then turning around and motioning for her to follow once more.
"You know where they went?" Buffy questioned, hurrying to walk beside me.
"Vampires are as basic as basic gets," I told her. "They love hanging around cemeteries, so let's check out the nearest one."
Buffy frowned. "Nearest one? How many are there?"
"Twelve."
She stumbled, and my arm snapped out, catching her, the Slayer's own reflexive blow aborted as she realized what I did, and the blonde gave me a thankful smile. "Twelve cemeteries? Isn't that a bit much?"
"Isn't four guys found dead on school property in a month?" I shot back.
"…Point. Really, no one thinks that's super strange?" the teen questioned, almost jogging to keep up with my longer strides, but she was managing it in block heels, and I didn't want to press her unless I felt like we had to.
Hell, I'd fight the Master myself if need be, though I didn't really like my chances against that Vampire Lord right now. Chances were such that victory wasn't quite assured yet.
"Welcome to the Hellmouth," I shrugged. "I'm not sure how you managed to keep things under wraps elsewhere, but you'll find it's a lot easier here."
"Eh, you'd be surprised what people will tell themselves to not sound crazy," the Slayer replied, with forced cheer. "Kinda hard to hide the fact that you burned down a gymnasium, though."
I winced, "Oof." Hesitating for a moment, I decided to go ahead and prod that emotional wound, to excuse my knowing about it. "Let me guess, full of Vamps?"
"Jam packed," Buffy agreed. "A real undead pep rally, who were pre-tty mad that I didn't let 'em cater the event."
"And did you have any backup?" I asked.
"One guy, Pike. He was… nice enough," the Slayer revealed, frowning. "Except, after the hammer dropped on the entire 'Aggravated Arson' thing, he didn't want anything to do with me."
I snorted in disgust. "Diiiiick."
"He, he seemed nice," Buffy defended. "Deep down."
"Let me guess, bad boy, rebel without a cause, leather jacket, motorcycle?" I listed off, smirking.
The annoyed look she sent me was answer enough.
"As far as I can tell, people try and make themselves seem more complicated than they actually are," I offered. "Think it makes them deep, except the layers are faked, and in making those layers, they usually give away what they really are. Someone who plays at being bad, while being a bit good, is usually weak, because they don't have the strength to just be good, so they try to be bad instead, thinking being bad makes them strong, when the bad are the weakest around. They might have some shock resistance, able to do what needs to be done in the moment, but they've got no staying power."
"Ah-huh," Buffy offered, clearly not believing me.
"Was I wrong about Pike?" I inquired mildly, as we started to near the cemetery.
She mulled that over, admitting, "No." A moment later she proposed, "So, Nostradamus, what if a guy is tall, dark, gorgeous, but annoyingly vague."
"Coward," I replied instantly, knowing she was talking about Angel. "With magic being a thing, maybe he couldn't be clear, but if he can be, but isn't? He's running from responsibility, offering you enough that he can pat himself on the back for any good you do, but cryptic enough that, if you fail, he can pretend it was your fault for not understanding him, not his for being a dick, all the while not lifting a finger to help."
"And if they're a tall, dark, and… ruggedly handsome?" she questioned.
"Gonna need at least one personality trait there, and not just physical descriptors, Buffy," I noted, amused, looking around for any sign of my friend.
"Well, he's, like, ultra judge-y, but willing to go into danger for his friends," she remarked, watching me.
"Then he's probably lost people before, doesn't want to do so again, and so holds others to a high standard," I offered. "The question is, does he hold himself to the same standard?"
Buffy gave me an expectant look. "Well, does he?"
I shrugged, "I have no idea, I've never met this mysterious unmasked man. But I don't hold anyone to any standard that I don't hold myself to. Anything else wouldn't be fair."
Moving past the gravestones, the Slayer considered that. Finally she commanded, "Do me."
"After everyone's safe," I remarked without missing a beat, causing her to freeze, redden, and start to reply, as I told her, "I know what you meant, but we need to find Jesse. Any sign?"
In the distance came a scream, from the direction of a mausoleum.
"One," Buffy shrugged, taking off at a run, and I followed her, shifting my Shroud to cover my hands, ready to spring into armor if I needed it.
Before I entered the structure, right behind the Slayer, I looked around, noting the Vampires slowly converging through the gloom, but I could handle them. Inside the crypt were two more, a dark haired guy with a leather jacket and a red & gold shirt, and a blonde rocking a sweater-formal shirt combo, both of them with their 'Hey, I'm a Vampire' faces on.
"Well, this is nice," the Slayer remarked conversationally, as I looked past them to see Jesse and… I had no idea who that was, pinging my ghost to tell that it was a girl named Harmony who was one of Cordelia's followers.
Waving a hand behind Buffy, catching their attention while the Vampires' was instinctively drawn towards the girl made to kill them, I pointed to Harmony, then Jesse, and jerked a thumb up. To her credit, the ditzy-looking blonde understood me, and immediately started to help the whoozy boy stand, his neck red and bleeding slightly.
Buffy took a few steps deeper in into the seemingly abandoned tomb, leaf debris having collected in the corners, because it was midwinter, the girl commenting amusedly, "It's a little bare, but a dash of paint, a few throw pillows, call it home!"
She walked down the stairs, within arm reach of the Vamps, who looked at her confusedly, as the Slayer moved away from them and checked the sarcophagus in the middle of the space for dust, which, of course, it was covered in it. While seemingly unconcerned that motion also told her it hadn't been opened lately, meaning there was no one hiding inside, as she walked around to the left of it, opposite the vampires who stood on its right, dragging their attention away even further from the civilians they had cornered deeper in.
She made it look effortless, even incidental, but I knew just enough to tell it wasn't, and felt my respect for the girl rise a little.
"Who the hell are you?" the female vampire questioned scornfully, taking the bait and following Buffy around the sarcophagus, the male one slowly backing up to come at her from behind, in a stupidly obvious pincer move, but that was instinctive fighters for you.
Little better than pack hunters, really.
"You mean there's someone in this town who doesn't know already?" the Slayer questioned, as, with silent footsteps, I descended the stairs to the right, more openly motioning for the pair to come to me. "Phew, that's a relief," Buffy sighed, eyes deceptively sharp. "I'm telling you, having a secret identity in this town is a job of work."
With both vampires having turned their backs to the civilians, Harmony started to half-carry Jesse towards me, though, as the boy stumbled, the male Vamp started to look back, but Buffy captured his attention as she addressed him, "And what's up with that outfit? You look like DeBarge."
And, yes, it was that easy to draw their aggro, the man moving from walking to stalking as he got closer to her, the FemVamp even growling, though it had an element of gurgling to it that undercut the menace a little.
Visibly dismissing the guy, Buffy turned towards the female Vamp, asking, "Now, we can do this the hard way or… well, actually, there's just the hard way."
The others got to me, and I put a hand on Jesse's back, extending threads to make a harness that carefully didn't touch his skin, lifting him and helping Harmony get to the exit.
"That's fine with me," the female Vampire told the Slayer, her partner now right behind the girl.
"Are you sure?" Buffy checked, eyes flicking up just for a moment to see I was getting them out, nodding slightly, seemingly to the woman, but I could tell it was to me, as I nodded back. "Now, this is not going to be pretty," the Slayer warned. "We're talking violence, strong language, adult content-"
With a leonine snarl to announce himself, because sure why not, the male Vampire charged Buffy from behind, far enough away to give her time to slip stake out of the inside of her button-down shirt and, without looking, slam it into his heart, causing him to gasp and choke as the male Vamp practically draped himself over her, a slight push from the woman sending him backwards, where he dusted before he hit the floor.
"Okay, tour's over, time to go," I ordered, pushing the other two towards the door, the female Vamp suddenly worried, glancing my way, but, as Buffy readied another stake, not enough to create an opening.
"Don't go far!" the FemVamp ordered me, so I flicked her off with my free hand
"You got this?" I questioned, getting a nod from the Slayer, so I took off with the other two, seeing the dozen vampires closing in on us.
Trusting in her, I hauled Jesse, Harmony struggling to catch up, until we hit the clear area in the gravestones, a few dozen feet away, then dumped him in front of one, ordering the Cordette, "Stay with him," getting a worried nod from the girl.
Stepping around the stone, I looked at the incoming Vamps, who stopped trying to be stealthy, and by that I mean they stopped moving with overacted 'Look how stealthy I am' movements, the sounds of fighting clearly coming from the stone structure we'd just left.
"Come with us, come and meet the Master, and we'll make it painless," one of the Vamps urged.
Smiling, I toggled my full battle gear, my Shroud of Power unfurling around me, covering me, black armor sliding up and over my skin, silver crosses forming all over my front, my longsword forming in my hand, my understanding of engineering enough that I could visualize the power system inside, its Sandia Pt-Au blade cracking with electricity. It was no Power Sword, but WH40k tech was bonkers, and held together with as much Psychic bullshit as it had Science.
"Oh, that's nice of you," I told the corpses infested with blood demons. "Because I won't be."
They hesitated, spread out, then charged, trying to come at me from several angles, but if I could deal with fucking Draugr I could deal with these mosquitos.
The first I beheaded, the Vampire dusting as it fell, the second coming from my left side, thinking that because I didn't have a weapon in that hand It was safe, surprised when a dagger sprung into being from my palm, shoved into her eye, and a half-dozen blades extended out of it, causing the brunette woman's skull to explode, leaving the area behind me 'open' as she dusted.
Predictable as clockwork, a bloodsucker jumped onto my back, only to scream as the armor there, plating that was conspicuously free of crosses, exploded backwards into strands that covered him, ripping through his clothing and, yep, down the hatch.
I really didn't need to know what his insides felt like.
But I did now.
While the sudden attack took them back for a moment, the Vampires still charged, ten left, and, no, one was trying to skirt around me to get to the other two who were hiding where I'd told them to stay, but I tossed my dagger into him, and dragged him, screaming, up into the air, sinking tendrils into the ground to stabilize myself and distribute the weight, my sword flashing out and bisecting another.
Shifting the dagger-tendril hookup from my palm to my back, I cocooned the second vamp, growing another blade from my left hand to shoot out, wrapping around the neck of the next foe, who hesitated, as I grew metal teeth on the inside of the tendril and pulled, chainsawing its head off, then flicking my hand, the tendril able to move on its own and thus messing with any kind of combat expectations, catching another vamp off guard and wrapping around her neck, removing that one's head as well.
Another pause, and I felt a connection form, Selling that vamp, Selling Keith, and, with the extra real estate on my back, I formed two Doc Ock style tendrils, which I sprouted more electrical sword blades from.
Because why not.
I wasn't sure if the electricity was actually doing anything, but between the sound and the smell of ozone, they felt cool.
And, really, wasn't that what truly mattered?
One of the survivors snarled, "You think we're scare-"
Which is when I cut his head off, as well as the one that had reached my charges, dusting both with a Zap as I fired a tendril, which splat wetly against another Vamp, lifting him, screaming, into the air, though his cries were quickly muffled to gurgles,
Which is when the last three Vamps ran.
My Doc Ock arms went out, trying to spear them through their stomachs to then wrap them in streams of Shroud, but I fucked up my aim with one, piercing his heart, and, while it wasn't a stake, apparently electrocuting the organ did much the same as using wood, or maybe it was just some aspect of my Shroud. Either way, I caused it to pop, dust scattering, the last one high tailing it, as I sighed, pulled back the failure of an arm, and shot forward a dagger, which was much easier to control, pegging the last Vamp from thirty feet away, and, as she screamed in terror, begging for her demonic life, I sent threads up to muffle her too, Capturing Donald, Selling him, and hoisting up the other three, who were Caught, one after another, Steven, Judith, and Carey joining their compatriots in the Blood War.
Have fun!
Checking my stats, I'd, after the standard deductions, managed eight points from that fight, bringing up my total to 9.6!
Nice!
I could still faintly hear the lion-like snarls from the mausoleum, so that fight was still going on, but, if they paused to quip, that made sense. Pulling my Shroud back to look like normal clothing, I sighed, walking over to the gravestone next to Jesse and Harmony and took a seat on it, as they just stared at me.
"Hey, so, short version, Magic's real, so are Vampires, I found this out today, I told Willow, and, Jesse, I was on my way to tell you when you decided to get sucked off in the worst way possible," I stated, going for the 'rip the band-aid off' method of supernatural introduction.
"Wait," Harmony, said, frowning. "You mean when he said he was going to 'eat me', he meant…"
"Eat you, not eat you out, yes," I nodded solemnly.
The blonde pouted. "Ugh, just when I thought I finally found a guy that would!"
I glanced at my, well, Xander's surviving only male friend, who was still pretty out of it. "Hey, Jesse!" I called, the boy drunkenly looking my way. "You like blowjobs, right?"
"Duh!" he replied. "Blowjobs!"
I nodded, "And you'd return the favor, with the female version of blowjobs, if you were gonna get one, right?"
"Well, yeah," Jesse agreed. "Fair's fair. But, like, how? They ain't got… you know."
"Less sucking, more tongue-work, like you're fucking her where your tongue's like a small flexible dick," I explained, which, while crude, was an analogy he could understand, even as out of it as he was. "So, if you had a girl who was willing to teach you, you'd try and learn?"
"Sure," he shrugged, "But where am I gonna find a girl like that?"
And that was a roar of pain from the mausoleum, Buffy apparently playing with her food, but if she didn't know about the others outside, that made sense. Meanwhile, Harmony had put her hand up and was waving it, like we were in class, so I pointed to her like a teacher would.
"I'm a girl like that!" she smiled at the boy, who smiled back, blinking, as if just realizing she was there. "Wanna make out first?"
"…Sure!" he grinned, leaning in as Buffy came running out, looking panicked, head on a swivel until she spotted me, sprinting my way, then slowing as she saw I was fine, and the other two were… engaged.
"Uh, I thought you guys were gonna make with the runnage, not the… mackage," she commented, glancing to the pair of teens, then back to me.
I shrugged, "I thought the plan was to give you room to work."
"And if I hadn't worked?" she questioned.
"Well, I'd hope you'd call for help, and then I'd come running, but if you didn't I would've taken care of her, got you medical attention, and, if needed, avenge you," I replied simply.
"Xander, Vampires are no joke," Buffy chastised.
Harmony pulled away from Jesse, chiming in that, "Oh, Xander took out, like, three dozen of them with his shirt! It was, like, super scary!"
"Yeah!" Jesse agreed, trying to back up his friend.
The Slayer looked at me incredulously. "Three dozen. With your shirt."
"It was more like one," I said, reaching behind myself to form a knife, pulling it out. "And I pulled stuff from my shirt."
"Uh, huh," the girl nodded, clearly not believing me, as I stood up, and dusted myself off.
Literally.
"Okay lovebirds, time to go home," I announced, making lifting motions with one hand while I 'stored' the blade with my other. "You both can play oral explorers a night when Jesse isn't effectively drunk off head trauma, blood loss, and vamp venom." As Harmony started to object, I added, "He'll be able to concentrate and remember your instruction better if he's sober."
"Oh, okay then!" the blonde chirped, jumping to her feet.
Rolling my eyes, I walked over and picked up Jesse, set him standing, keeping hold of him, as I instructed both of them, "Get to school early tomorrow, and head over to the Library, where we'll explain things all proper-like. You don't have to Harmony, but those weren't the only things that go bump in the night, and if you know what to look out for, you'll live longer."
"Will Jesse be there?" she inquired. I nodded. "Then I'll be there!"
"Buffy," I requested, "Can you make sure she gets home safe?"
"Aye Aye, Capitan!" she saluted sarcastically. "You got Jesse?"
I nodded back, "See you tomorrow, Buffy. Stay safe."
"You too, Xander," she smiled, touched, and we parted ways.
Alexander LaVelle Harris was likely not Alexander LaVelle Harris.
That was the conclusion that one Rupert Giles, Watcher of the Council, had arrived at, though it was one that he could not substantiate in any meaningful way.
It had all started this morning, as he had expected Ms. Summers to arrive, but had not expected the inclusion of four additional teens to their conversation. Mr. Harris' inclusion was within expected parameters, given the boy's suspiciously well informed status on the topic of this town, possibly excusable due to his having lived here had others not been so incredibly unenlightened, given the extremely high population of supernatural entities that made this location their home, per capita, of course, as many cities, such as London, had established larger supernatural communities within their borders.
What he had not expected were Mr. Harris' two friends, Ms. Rosenberg and Mr. McNally, along with Mr. McNally's paramour, Ms. Kendall, the last two having had a very unfortunate experience last night at the hands of two Vampires, and were, quite understandably, looking for answers.
And, thus, they had gathered, Mr. Harris, Xander, having requested the 'official' explanation, while also noting that, upon seeing the Watcher's hesitation, that if Giles did not provide such, he would, though he'd likely get things wrong.
"The world is older than any of you know," the Watcher had, with some reticence, announced. "Contrary to popular mythology, it did not begin as a paradise. For untold eons, demons walked the Earth. They made it their home, their, uh, their hell. But in time, they lost their purchase on this reality, and the way was made for mortal animals, for man. All that remains of the Old Ones are vestiges: certain magicks, certain creatures."
"And Vampires," Buffy had chimed in.
"Those are some of the 'certain creatures'," Xander had corrected, before Rupert could. "They're blood demons, so weak they can't maintain their own bodies, so they use those of their victims."
And, again, the boy was well informed. Too well informed.
"The books tell that the last demon to leave this reality fed off a human, mixed their blood. He was a human form possessed, infected, by the demon's soul," the Watcher had noted. "He bit another, and another, and so they walk the Earth, feeding. Killing some, mixing their blood with others to make more of their kind. Waiting for the 'animals' to die out, and the Old Ones to return."
"Which is why they are, usually, dumber than a box of rocks, as the Old Ones don't want intelligent, capable slaves, but mutations happen," Xander had added, unnecessarily.
"And then there is the Slayer," the Watcher had stated without acknowledging the additional comment, nodding to Ms. Summers, who frowned in return. "For as long as there have been Vampires, there's been the Slayer, one girl in all the world, a Chosen One," he had stressed, looking at the group.
"He loves doing this part," his charge had noted sarcastically.
At the other's expectant stares, Giles had added, "All right, the Slayer hunts Vampires, Buffy is a Slayer, don't tell anyone. Well, I think that's all the Vampire information you need."
The look Xander had sent him was thoroughly unimpressed, as the boy turned to face the others. "Okay, actionable intel time. Vampires are amazingly metaphysically weak, so have a load of vulnerabilities to exploit that other demons don't have, but the fact that, if you lock a Vampire in a room with ten people, you can have up to elven Vampires tomorrow evens that out, as their main quality is quantity."
Watching the boy work, speaking authoritatively on things he should not know, Giles hadn't felt like he was watching a sophomoric student spouting off, but was standing next to a contemporary, if not an instructor, and that had been the Watcher's first real indication that there was something about this boy which should not be.
"They're heavily disease aligned, since they're basically pathogenic, so anything life or medicine aligned messes them up," the boy had stated, Buffy interrupting.
"Patio jean what?"
Ms. Rosenberg had perked up, explaining, "They spread like a bad cold."
"Ain't that the truth," the Slayer had replied.
Nodding in agreement, the boy had continued, "Sunlight burns them like acid, then sets them on fire, possibly due to the ultraviolet light's antimicrobial properties, or possibly due to the mystical component of the sun being a symbol of life itself. Wood through the heart dusts them, which is due to the remaining bit of life-aligned energies in it, but it has to be through the heart, as they are blood demons, so their core is located in the hearts of their victims, not their heads."
Pacing a little, the boy had continued, "Fire works, as they all go up like they've been soaked in gasoline, probably due to the 'funeral pyre' connotations. Sorry, Wills, magic here isn't science, or if it is we're so in the dark we're closer to Natural Philosophers then modern researchers when it comes to it."
"That's okay," the girl had replied cheerily, clearly smitten with the boy.
Ms. Summers, meanwhile had turned on her Watcher, and had demanded, "Why couldn't you give me the four-one-one like this?"
Taking a moment to clean his glasses, and not to show his offended feelings at such an accusation, Giles had replied, "Because what this boy is saying is, at best, theoretical, and none of it has been proven. He is correct in their weaknesses, but as to the reasoning for them… where did you learn this, if you don't mind my asking."
With an amused smile, the teen had replied, "I took a few… Seminars. Regardless, garlic, again, has anti-microbial properties, but magically has anti-disease properties as well, so, perhaps… pepper spray using a garlic suspension instead? Something to look into. Last two are decapitation and Holy Relics. Decapitation, because the seat of a human's power is in the brain, which, even after their soul has left their bodies, the Vampire that's moved in needs as a framework to keep itself together, and so cutting that connection destabilizes them. Holy Relics, from common crosses and blessed water, to the more extreme, for a whole host of reasons that I'm not that sure about, but is its own field of study. Any questions? Yes, Jesse?"
"Uh, like, what happens to a person if they're turned into a Vampire?" he had asked, a common enough inquiry. "Can you turn 'em back?"
Mr. Harris' response had been anything but common, however.
"You die, pure and simple," he had shrugged, but had not stopped there. "Your soul passes on, but newborn Vampires have about as much metaphysical presence, intelligence, and personality as a pint of your blood does, so it imprints on the echo of you that is left. Like, Ghosts, which, yeah, exist, are a bodiless soul, while the Vampire takes over your soulless body, but just as Ghosts still have the form of the body they no longer possess, dead bodies have the framework of the soul that has left it. Thus, the newborn Vampire has all of the memories encoded into their victim's brain, including speech patterns, general approaches to problems, skills, personal preferences, and so on, along with shadows of their victim's soul, not being a true soul itself, but close enough to fake it in some ways."
The odd boy had sighed, "That's why they seem like the person whose death they were born from, but they aren't, especially as they come pre-packaged with a whole set of instincts that their originator didn't have, like natural subservience to stronger forces, a morality system that priorities the strong abusing the weak, and, of course, the need to feed and reproduce without care for who it harms."
Mr. Harris had shrugged, "And there's other things out there, like demons, monsters, cultists like I'm pretty sure the last librarian was, and more, but Vampires are the most common problem, with apparently a Vampire Lord that calls himself 'The Master', yeah, I know, pretentious, but Vampires, somewhere around here, probably in the caves under Sunnydale, if I had to guess, as Vampires key what they think they should be off what their birth-victims thought Vampires were, so they tend to be really, really stereotypical."
"They really are," Buffy had agreed, before frowning. "Wait, there's caves underneath the town? Wait, when I got jumped last night, that monster, Luke, came out of nowhere… But, he didn't, he came from behind me. I was facing the entrance, he came from behind me, and he didn't follow me out. I'm used to them using sewer systems, they jam on sewers to scurry around anywhere across town without catching any rays. But I didn't see any access around there, so, was it the caves?"
"Might've been the electrical tunnels," Mr. McNally had offered, Ms. Kendall, holding his arm, having remained blessedly silent up to that point. "they run under the whole town too."
"Are you saying there are three separate means of underground transit within this locale?" the Watcher had asked, aghast, the students, sans Slayer, all nodding. "Dear Lord."
Ms. Summers had grimaced, "And so, if we're gonna go stop this 'Harvest' that they're apparently gonna do, I gotta go down into a bunch of creepy cramped tunnels. I hate creepy cramped tunnels. They're creepy! And cramped!"
"Wait a 'Harvest'?" Xander had questioned. "That doesn't sound good. Okay, I guess we're doing this after school then. At least the Vamps are considerate enough to let us get an education."
"What?" Buffy had questioned, concerned. "There's no 'we,' in this. I'm glad you got the others out so I could make with the slayage, but I'm the Slayer, and you're not."
Xander had chuckled, amused, Ms. Kendall laughing at that outright, while Mr. McNally frowned. "So I'm just a weak, helpless normal, right?" the boy had questioned sardonically.
"Well… yeah," the Chosen One had shrugged, only a little apologetically. "You've got nothing that can handle them. I mean, I know you said you 'handled one' last night, but it was running from me, not you."
That remark had made Ms. Kendall laugh so hard she snorted, setting Mr. McNally to chuckle as well, while Ms. Rosenberg sat up. "Oh! Your magical shirt of binding!"
"I beg your pardon," Rupert had stated, interceding as the Slayer became visibly annoyed. "Your what now?"
And then the boy had shrugged, his clothing writhing and twisting, flexing like a living thing, shifting form until he was no longer clothed in a dark green Hawaiian shirt depicting some kind of equatorial jungle, but into a full suit, mimicking Giles' own.
Both Rupert and Ms. Summers had pulled back, as the boy had leaned against a bookcase, taken off the glasses he now wore, which Giles noted were connected to the back of his shirt by a thin thread, and cleaned them, further mimicking the Watcher. "Yeah, about that," the boy had noted. "They weren't running from you, Buffy. I killed them, and none of them escaped."
The Englishman's mind raced, trying to identify what, exactly, was going on. Of the young man's friends, Jesse looked surprised, while Willow just smiled, pleased. Glancing between the two standing men, the red-head was trying to contain her mirth, as the boy continued to talk, indicating that his physical abilities outstripped that of the Slayer herself, though he didn't have her combat abilities.
And, more importantly, that he could prove it.
Thus it was so that a table had been pulled over, both of them going to arm-wrestle like common hooligans, as seemingly forgotten, Giles had quickly retreated to his office, grabbing a few needed supplies. He had returned to see the boy's arm covered in a black armor that almost looked organic, though it possessed hardened plates that were worked, the Watcher able to pick out the smoothed out rivets, and they were embossed with silver crosses that made the one in his hand seem most unneeded.
Regardless, he had stepped forward, and asked the boy, "If you could hold these in one hand, then the other, please."
Glancing at the silver cross, rather than be annoyed at so obviously being tested for weakness, again, the teen merely seemed amused, though not arrogantly so, as a teen should be. If anything he seemed downright understanding. "Of course, Giles. I assume you won't take my word that none of this will do anything."
"You are correct in your assumptions," the Watcher had informed Mr. Harris, expecting more pushback, but the young man had accepted, in order, a silver cross, a cold iron spike, a sprinkling of Holy Water, as well as blessed salt, the recitation of Jesus' name, and a mirror which he both appeared in and looked no different within than he looked to the naked eye.
"We doing this, or what?" Buffy had questioned, in position. "Show and tell can wait until after."
"That eager to be proven wrong?" Xander had replied, putting his hand down and grasping her own. "So when do we-" he had started to say, when the Slayer had tried to slam his arm down immediately, only for the young man to not be budged. "Start," he had remarked, wearing a small smile, looking almost bored.
Harder and harder the Slayer had tried, but Mr. Harris would not be moved, the table starting to crack underneath his armored elbow, and Giles had noted that, coming from the boy's feet, were thin tendrils that spread out, flexing slightly in time with her attempts.
"Move, dammnit!" the blonde teen had demanded.
Xander had shrugged. "Okay."
Then there was a blur of motion, and the table shattered, the Slayer sent flying, but, before she could impact the book-case fifteen feet away, Mr. Harris had stood and thrown out lightning quick tentacles that grabbed the girl, halting her right before she impacted, flipped her around, put her down on her feet, then retracted them back into his arm, as well as the dozens of tendrils he'd laid down into the ground.
"So, after school, we're going to hunt the Master," he had then noted, conversationally.
Lacking any explanation of what had just happened, the freeform shapeshifting abilities with observable physical effects negating the possibility of what they were experience being any kind of subtle perception warping, Giles had resorted to the method of last resort.
He had asked the boy what had happened.
Such accounts were almost never accurate, and his training with the Watchers had been clear about how the accounts of those inflicted with the supernatural were always biased in one way or another, and how their explanations, while possibly sounding plausible, always hid dangerous falsehoods or oversights.
A training which was proven true as the boy had then spun the most absurd story the Watcher had ever heard, of a ritual, not to the Old Ones, but to the Outer Gods themselves, who had deemed him 'entertaining', and bestowed upon him a vestment, which he now wore. While Giles was unequipped to construct a true Elder Sign, the faint one he'd been able to craft on short notice had not even so much as ruffled the boy's shirt, laying lie to, if the boy's outlandish tale as to be believed, Giles' first assumption, that being that Mr. Harris had had been given his own personal Shoggoth.
But Rupert was a Watcher, assigned to guide the Slayer, to deal with threats Demonic, not Eldritch.
The Watcher's Council knew of Eldritch manifestations, of course, but they were blessedly short lived, though they always left madness and destruction in their wake. Given that, despite the absurdity of the situation, and his growing headache, which had faded in the hours after, Giles did not feel the need to paint the walls with symbols made from a paste of his own blood and feces, split his tongue to better chant while callings to forces beyond the stars themselves, gorge himself on human flesh until his stomach split and he kept going, or any of the other Eldritch manifestation he had learned of, it likely meant that the boy was mistaken in his assumptions.
But those assumptions were the only tangible clue as to what the devil was going on that Giles had.
Most damning of all, though, throughout the entire process, through the worry, the testing, the Watcher's informing the teen that he must surely be mistaken, Mr. Harris had not been offended, did not insist that he was correct, but the young man had taken it all with a calm understanding that had no place in a teenager's mind, let alone an American teenager, who were a most unpleasant mix of entitled and bloody disrespectful, and while the boy was not respectful, he was not as dismissive as Giles' main charge was.
Ergo, Xander was likely not Xander.
Not anymore.
Perhaps, like the Vampires he had described, the thing that had visited the library was inhabiting Xander's body, the thing's original form the 'Shroud' itself, though basic tests showed Xander to be both healthy and human, with nothing amiss, despite the boy's clearly alien passenger.
Perhaps Xander had always been like this, and the increasingly potent mystic confluence that had been building up in strength for what appeared to be decades had woken him up, perhaps even the arrival of the Slayer was the tipping point, as the boy claimed to have performed the 'ritual', which he could not adequately describe, the morning after she had arrived, his claims of following the directions within a mystic tome from Giles' stocks, a tome that did not exist, laughable at best.
Perhaps, and most distressing of all, Xander was correct, but the 'Seminars' he referenced, in a way that Giles could practically hear the Capital Letters of, were his pulling upon an alien wisdom, inherent to his eldritch passenger, and, at any given time, he might start to act in accordance with knowledge unfit for human minds.
And then there was the issue that, even if the boy was correct and was no danger now, that did not preclude the possibility that other dangers would present themselves later.
For all they knew this 'Shroud' might be a kind of eldritch egg, and, when it was ready, it would hatch, emerging from the boy's screaming corpse, like a most beautiful, and terrible, reality destroying butterfly.
And then that infernal bell had wrung, and all five of them had needed to go to class, Mr. Harris promising that they all would come back after school was done, and after Rupert had researched this 'Harvest', which was what the man was going to do anyways, but the presumption of the boy to assume such was a bit galling.
All that of which brought them to the now, after having spent the day with Ms. Rosenberg and Mr. Harris dropping in throughout the day to 'help', though at least the boy was insistent that Ms. Summers attend all her classes, so as to make sure that she avoided suspicion from the administration.
Mr. Harris' securement of tomes on spellcraft, meanwhile, had been more than a little more worrying, putting them in a, as he called it, 'to learn' pile. Rupert had tried to warn the boy off, stressing the dangers of dealing with the arcane, but the infernal, or not, boy had the gall to agree with him, adding that the nature of the Hellmouth likely made things even worse, but that, given the threats out there, to ignore such a tool merely because of the danger that, if mishandled, it posed, would be akin to not using stakes because one could poke oneself with the spikey bit. But then he had also agreed that such things could wait until after the current crises was dealt with.
It was most unreasonably reasonable of the thing that called itself Xander.
And so they had reconvened, to go over what had been collated.
"How was class?" the Watcher inquired, after the last bell had rung, glancing towards the whiteboard that he'd been working on, with some help from Ms. Rosenberg as she had used the blasted machine commonly known as a 'computer terminal'.
"Felt like it would never end," Ms. Summers sighed. "Got anything that can make this day any worse?"
"How about the end of the world?" he'd remarked dryly, his studies having been fruitful, in the worst kind of way.
"Knew I could count on you," she drawled, the others looking worried, except for, of course, Mr. Harris, who was as unflappable as ever.
Starting to pace, the Watcher detailed, "Here's what we know: some sixty years ago, a very old, very powerful vampire came to this shore, and not just to feed."
"He came 'cause this town's a mystical whoosit," the Slayer noted.
"Hellmouth," Xander noted.
"What I said," the blonde agreed.
"Yes," Giles added. "The Spanish, who first settled here, called it 'boca del infierno, roughly translated, 'hellmouth'. Not an actual mouth, but a portal, between this reality and the next."
"Another reality?" Ms. Rosenberg questioned. "So it's not Hell?"
Xander interjected, before Rupert could, "Oh, no, it totally is, but, well, Cosmology is a complicated, though needed field of study."
Harmony had perked up, "Oh, I was thinking of studying that!"
While Giles turned a surprised look her way, Mr. Harris shook his head. "No, Cos-mo-logy, the study of other planes of existence. You're thinking of Cos-me-to-logy, the study of beautification."
"Which is also a needed field of study," Ms. Summers added with a serious nod, getting a smile and a nod from her fellow blonde.
"So, there's a lot of different Hells, just as there are several different Heavens, and a whole bunch of other stuff out there," the possibly eldritch being stated, with utter confidence.
Lifting an countering finger, the Watcher noted, "While there are indeed a great many Hell Dimensions, there is only, as far as we are aware, one Heaven. Though, I must say, given the predilection for infernal forces to cause trouble, while very little is seen of their celestial counterparts, our studies have been fairly unidirectional, in terms of such cosmic alignments. Regardless, Yes, Buffy, the ancient vampire-"
"Vampire Lord," Xander corrected.
"Vampire Lord," Giles echoed, humoring the boy, "hoped to open that portal-"
"And bring the demons back," Buffy noted, understanding the severity of the situation, though did she really need to cut him off to do so?
"Just like they're programmed to," Mr. Harris observed.
Ms. Rosenberg, who'd been present when Giles had made his discovery, added, "But he blew it! Or, I mean, there was an earthquake that swallowed half the town, and him too."
Taking a seat, the Watcher picked up the explanation, instructing, "See, opening dimensional portals is a tricky business," noting as the likely eldritch being nodded in firm agreement. "Odds are, he got himself stuck, rather like a, a… a cork in a bottle."
"And this Harvest is meant to build up enough magical energy," Mr. Harris noted, eyes narrowing in thought, "stolen from the lives of others, to pop him out, like heating up that abyssal champagne bottle he's stuck in."
"It comes once in a century, on this night," the Watcher noted. "The Master can draw power from one of his minions while it feeds. Enough power to break free, and open the portal. The minion is called 'The Vessel'," he explained, standing, moving to the whiteboard, clearing the space to draw a misaligned recessed triangle. "And he bears this symbol."
"So…" Buffy said, standing herself. "I dust anyone-"
Xander cleared his throat meaningfully.
With a flash of annoyance, Ms. Summers tried again, "We dust anyone sporting that symbol, and no Harvest."
"Simply put, yes," Rupert admitted.
The Slayer, now, thankfully, taking this seriously, questioned, "Any idea where this little get-together is being held?"
Giles grimaced, unsure, "Well, there are a number of possibilities-"
"It's the Bronze, duh," Jesse interrupted.
Harmony nodded, "Like, totally! Every other place is just dead!"
Xander thought about it, and agreed, "And younger 'sacrifices' are usually better, especially ones that are 'unsullied'. Short of ganking a school, which they can't, because they're being let out already and it's today, it's their best bet. Good call, Jesse!"
"Thanks, man!" the boy replied with a smile.
"Then we should get there," the Watcher said, grabbing his coat. "The sun will be down before too long."
But Mr. Harris held up a hand, standing with the others, "Hold on, 'We?' No, Buffy and I can handle this."
"Come on," the Slayer argued with a nasty smirk, "only you get to play?"
For a moment something dangerous flashed across the boy's face, an anger that made Giles stiffen, though, as Ms. Summers had looked away, she missed it. "I'm a walking blender," Xander stated seriously. "Jesse, Harmony, and Willow, meanwhile, don't know how to fight, and until they're Combat Ready they shouldn't be out in the field."
"What about Giles?" Buffy challenged.
"The trained Watcher and thus Mage?" the eldritchly-aligned boy had shot back. "I assume he at least knows the danger of what we're walking into. They don't."
Mr. McNally frowned, stating, "I can fight!"
"You can brawl," Mr. Harris corrected. "Dealing with monsters is kill-or-be-killed, and we don't even have the gear to outfit a team, let alone the training."
"I have supplies in my boot," Rupert countered, all of the teens except for Xander looking at his feet, causing the man to clarify, "Of my car."
"He means his trunk," the boy explained, getting a chorus of 'Oh's. "But I don't care if you've got four sets of Crusader Plate, Giles, they're not ready."
Jesse took a step forward, "Hey, man, we can still help!"
Willow nodded, "We don't need to fight! But, like, people will need to get out, and we can help with that!"
"Indeed," the Watcher stated. "And, if we do not, the very world would end, as Hell once more would reign on Earth."
Looking around at them all, then downwards, the boy muttered, "I'm renting a goddamned workshop," before looking back up. "Fine. Willow, you're wearing a cross."
"But I'm Jewish!" she objected.
"Then when you've got a Star of David, you can wear that instead, but for now, you're hardcore Vamp Bait, Jesse, Harmony, you too," he ordered.
"But I'm not Jewish," the other blonde argued.
"Then you won't need to switch out your cross," Mr. Harris informed her, thoroughly annoyed, while Ms. Summers smiled at the byplay.
"And you?" Rupert questioned.
Again, the boy's clothing shifted, this time turning into full body black armor, festooned with crosses, that looked too worked to be eldritch, but too strange to be anything else, armed with a sword enchanted with lightning that sprung from one hand, a dagger that instantly frosted over with cold in the other, and, lifting up behind him, were two clawed tentacles that snapped independently of each other.
"I think I'll be fine."
And then it pulled back, leaving him once more clad in loose shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, this one depicting an enormous city of red stone that, in some ways, resembled the depictions of the metropolitan Hell-plane of Dis.
"I, uh, I gotta go," Buffy stated, appearing slightly unnerved, and Giles could understand, that armor alien in ways that only led credence to the boy's wild tale. At Xander's concerned look, one that was very human, the Slayer explained, "I've got supplies at home. From, from my last hunt. Meet you at the Bronze?"
"I'll see you there," the eldritchly-infused boy told her, but held up a hand. "Be swift, but stay safe."
"I'll be the swiftiest," she agreed, bolting out the door at Xander's nod, while the others, well, the others merely treated this as normal.
Was this more of the Hellmouth's tainted energies at work, or were they not surprised because they had grown used to seeing their friend, or the thing pretending to be their friend, displaying his supernatural capabilities?
It was something to investigate further.
Striding forward himself, Rupert led the others out, Mr. Harris falling in step with him, deferring to him in this matter other than his understandable concern for the safety of his friends, which, while admirable, was, once more, not how Giles had been lead to believe that American Teenagers acted.
Even the boy's walk was wrong, a confident tread that was not the foolhardy step of youth charging headfirst into danger, unknowing of what awaited them, but the sure stride of a warrior going towards a known threat, prepared to meet it, that Rupert had only seen in the Council's enforcers, leading Giles back to the same thought.
Mr. Harris was not Mr. Harris.
But, until the Watcher was able to identify what the thing pretending to be, or even honestly believing itself truly as being, the young man walking with him was, the Englishman was at a loss as to what to do about the matter, given that it displayed no easily exploitable weakness.
All of that said, however, Rupert Giles was thankful, at least in the interim, for the Eldritch Teen's presence, as, if this Harvest was anything close to what it was built up to be in the tomes he'd spent the last twenty-four hours poring over, there was a good chance that not all of them were going to walk out of this alive.
And, to stop the end of the world, the man would sacrifice anything, including his own soul.
Such was the duty of a Watcher.Last edited: Aug 27, 2023 Like Quote ReplyReport Reactions:notasock, mkw, lurk and 633 others