The house was too quiet when I slipped inside. The air smelled of polish and dust, like someone had scrubbed away the night. My ribs ached, every breath sharp, but it wasn't the pain that made me hesitate—it was the silence.
I pushed into my room, the air stale, the shadows thicker than they should have been. The bed sagged beneath me as I collapsed, chest heaving, knife still trembling in my grip.
For a moment, I thought I could rest. Just breathe. Just forget.
Then I heard it.
The voice.
The shadow flickered against the hallway wall, red eyes burning in the dark. Waiting. Watching.
"You fought and survived," it whispered, voice curling like smoke. "Almost like you were one of them."
I tightened my grip on the knife, though it felt useless here. "How did you know?"
The shadow laughed, low and cruel. "Well, you lived?"
My chest tightened. The memory of the vampire's scream, the furnace swallowing it whole, burned in my mind.
"And I did it with my own straight," I spat.
The red eyes glowed brighter, unblinking. "You think strength comes from survival alone? No, Damien. It comes from power. And if you want Darla dead, you'll need a lot of power."
Her name cut like glass. My jaw clenched, fury twisting inside me.
"I'll kill her without you."
The shadow leaned closer, its voice a hiss. "We'll see. Tomorrow, your mother may still sleep. Tomorrow, the slayer may still bleed. And tomorrow, Darla will still laugh. How long before you beg me?"
I turned sharply, dragging the pillow over my head, shutting out the glow of those eyes. My breath came ragged, the cotton muffling the world.
The voice lingered, softer now, almost tender. "Good night, Damien."
The laughter followed, curling into the silence, mocking, cruel.
The sunlight crept through the blinds, pale and unwelcome. I blinked against it, my body heavy, the sweat of restless dreams still clinging to my skin. The pillow lay crooked beside me, as if it had tried to shield me from the night but failed.
Then the voice curled through the air, soft and mocking.
"Good morning, my little warrior," it whispered. "Did you dream of me?"
I froze, staring at the empty room. No shadow. No red eyes. Just the sound, slithering into my skull.
"Why would I dream of a demon like you?
He laughed, "That would hurt my heart if I had one."
I dragged myself up, ribs aching, and pulled on clean clothes. The smoke‑stained ones lay crumpled in the corner, reminders of fire and blood. My knife slipped into my bag, its weight familiar, necessary.
I left my room, the knife heavy in my bag, the silence pressing against the walls. My ribs ached with every step down the hallway, but I forced myself forward, refusing to let the voice win.
I opened the refrigerator; the box of donuts sat inside. I flipped the lid open.
"Sweet distractions," it whispered, mocking. "Do you think sugar will drown out the truth?"
I clenched the donut in my hand, my jaw tight. "Shut up," I muttered. "I don't need you. Not now. Not ever."
The laughter was low, cruel, echoing from nowhere. "Eat, Damien. Pretend you're normal. Pretend you're just another boy with breakfast before school. But when the day ends, you'll remember me. You always do."
The voice lingered, softer now, almost tender. "Good luck at school."
I slammed the door behind me. I stepped outside, the morning air sharp against my face. The streets of Sunnydale looked ordinary: kids rushing to school, cars rumbling past, sunlight spilling across cracked sidewalks. But every step carried the weight of last night—the furnace's roar, Buffy's voice, the shadow's taunts.
At the corner, Xander was waiting, leaning against a lamppost like he'd been there forever.
"Morning, sunshine," he said, pushing off the post. "You look like you wrestled a furnace and lost."
I smirked. "Funny. I thought I won."
"Yeah, well, you did," Xander admitted, falling into step beside me. "That's the weird part. Last night you were… different. Stronger. Like you'd been training with Buffy behind our backs."
"I just got lucky," I muttered.
Xander snorted. "Luck doesn't usually come with a side of vampire barbecue. You shoved that thing into the fire like you'd been waiting your whole life for it."
I tightened my grip on my bag. "Maybe I had."
He glanced at me, his grin fading. "Look, I'm not saying it's bad. I mean, hey, if you've got hidden ninja skills, that's cool. But it's… surprising. You froze before. And then suddenly you're tossing monsters into flames. That's not normal."
"Nothing about this place is normal," I said flatly.
Xander gave a short laugh. "Fair point. Sunnydale's basically the opposite of normal. But still… Buffy noticed."
I slowed, staring at the cracked sidewalk. "I don't really care if she noticed."
"That's a bit cold, man. I'm just saying we're happy you came and helped out."
I sighed. "Sorry. I'm on edge today."
Xander's grin softened. "Yeah, I get it. Oh, and speaking of edge—who's Darla? You dropped her name like it was supposed to mean something."
I stopped walking for a beat, the word cutting sharper than I expected. "She's… someone I need to kill."
Xander blinked, then tried to laugh it off. "Okay, wow. That's… intense. Usually people say 'she's someone I need to avoid' or 'she's someone I need to break up with.' Not 'kill.'"
"She's not a person," I said, voice low. "She's worse."
Xander studied me, his grin gone now, replaced by unease. "You're serious."
I nodded, jaw tight. "Dead serious."
We walked on, silence stretching between us, heavier than before. Kids rushed past, voices sharp with morning chatter, but none of it touched us.
Finally, Xander muttered, "Guess I'll stick close, then. If you're hunting monsters, I'd rather be the guy walking next to you than the guy walking alone."
I glanced at him, surprised. He shrugged, forcing a crooked grin. "What? I'm loyal. And stupid. It's kind of my thing."
For the first time that morning, I almost smiled.
The school loomed ahead, brick walls catching the morning sun. Students streamed through the gates, voices sharp with chatter, backpacks bouncing.
At the entrance, Buffy and Willow stood together, their laughter cutting through the noise. Buffy's leather jacket caught the light, her confidence like armor. Willow hovered close, her smile softer, curious eyes flicking toward us.
Xander nudged me with his elbow. "There they are. Come on, let's go in together."
I slowed, my chest tightening. The furnace's roar still echoed in my head, the shadow's taunts gnawing at me. I wasn't ready—not for Buffy's sharp gaze, not for Willow's questions, not for the weight of what I carried.
"You go," I muttered.
Xander frowned. "What? Why?"
"I'll wait here." My voice was flat and final.
Buffy glanced over, her eyes narrowing slightly, but she didn't call out. Willow gave a small wave, hesitant, like she wanted to bridge the distance.
Xander hesitated, then sighed. "Suit yourself. You're going to have to join us eventually."
He jogged ahead, catching up with Buffy and Willow. The three of them disappeared into the school, their voices fading into the crowd.
I stayed at the gate, the morning sun heavy on my shoulders, watching Buffy, Willow, and Xander disappear into the crowd. My bag felt heavier than ever, the knife inside like a secret I couldn't share.
I told myself I'd go in soon. But for now, I waited—alone, watching the doors swallow them whole.
"Wow," a voice cut in, crisp and unimpressed. "Standing out here like a brooding statue. Very mysterious. Very tragic. Very… cliché."
I turned. Cordelia Chase stood beside me, perfectly put together, her hair catching the light like she'd stepped out of a commercial. She arched a brow, lips curling into a smirk.
"You planning to sulk all day, or are you actually going to walk inside like the rest of us?" she asked.
I adjusted my bag, jaw tight. "I was waiting."
"For what? An invitation? Newsflash: this isn't prom. You don't need a date to enter the building."
I almost laughed, despite myself. "Maybe I just didn't feel like walking in with them."
Cordelia's eyes flicked toward the doors where Buffy and Willow had gone. "Them? Oh, right. The Scooby Squad. Honestly, you're better off. They're like magnets for disaster. Stick too close and you'll end up with blood on your shirt—and not in a fashionable way."
Her words were sharp, but there was something underneath them. A warning.
"You sound like you know," I said.
Cordelia shrugged, smirk intact. "Please. I've seen enough weirdness in this town to last a lifetime. And I'm not about to ruin my reputation by getting dragged into their monster‑of‑the‑week drama. But you…" She gave me a once‑over. "You look like you already did."
I tightened my grip on my bag. "Maybe."
She tilted her head, studying me. "Well, whatever. If you're going to mope, at least mope inside. Standing out here makes you look like you're auditioning for a horror movie."
I exhaled, half a laugh, half a sigh. "Fine."
Cordelia turned on her heel, striding toward the doors. I followed, the crowd swallowing us both.
We moved through the crowded hallway, lockers slamming, voices bouncing off the walls. Cordelia walked like the place belonged to her, and maybe it did.
"There's a field trip to the zoo this week. Everyone's buzzing about it. I'm only going because it's an excuse to skip class, but apparently it's supposed to be educational."
I glanced at her. "The zoo?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Animals, cages, smells. Not exactly my idea of fun. But it beats sitting through another lecture on quadratic equations. Besides, Willow's already planning to bring a notebook like it's a science convention. And Xander—well, he'll probably try to feed himself to the lions just to impress Buffy."
"Sounds… chaotic."
"Exactly," Cordelia said, flashing a grin. "Which is why I'll be staying as far away from them as possible. But you—" she gave me a pointed look—"you should come. Might be good for your whole mysterious loner act. Blend in. Pretend you're normal."
I adjusted my bag, jaw tight. "Maybe."
Cordelia shrugged, already scanning the hallway for her friends. "Suit yourself. But don't say I didn't warn you. Sunnydale plus zoo animals? Something's bound to go wrong."
Her words lingered, sharper than she meant them to.