Shocking, but none of the characters are mine. I know y'all were confused there for a second. None. Nada. Zip. Zero. No copyright infringement intended. No profit is gained. BTVS belongs to Joss. All characters and property of Supernatural belong to Eric Kripke and Warner Brothers
Pain. Throbbing pain. It felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to his head.
“Wake-y, wake-y, sunshine!”
That perky, fucking voice was like a white, hot poker to the brain. Made him thank God he never had a daughter. John shook his head--mistake. Now, he was experiencing nauseous on top of throbbing pain. He blinked his eyes open to find two skinny blond girls standing in front of him. Nope, there were three. One? One skinny girl and a guy about Dean’s age with an eye patch. What the hell was going on?
“Where is Mr. Hanson?”
Oh, Mr. Hanson. Yeah, he wasn’t giving up the key to finding yellow-eyes to blond-y here. And how the hell did she sneak up on him? His eyes narrowed as he looked her over. Was she possessed? It would explain a lot. Maybe he could fake a head trauma, which wouldn’t be a stretch since there were three of her again.
“I’m not above hurting you to find out.”
She smiled when she said it; sidling up to him with a chipper wink. Definitely part demon. His hands were tied behind him, which made it easy to grasp the pocket knife he had hid in his pocket. She was babbling on and on; the little bitch seemed to like the sound of her own voice. He’d almost cut through the ties when she said, “I promised his daughter I’d bring him home safe and sound, and a Slayer never breaks her promise.”
The guy behind her snorted. Cocking her head, she slowly turned to check him out. John took advantage of her inattention to work harder on the ropes. There was no way this chick was The Slayer. For one, she was tiny. For two, her voice was very grating and that had to be a sign of evil.
“What are you snorting at?” She looked up at her partner with a glare, but that didn't seem to intimidate the dark, young man.
“A Slayer never breaks her promise… Next you’ll say you’ve got a Slayer Code.”
There was a distinct mocking tone to the guy's voice and John's eyes widened in surprise. He glanced between the pair and finally stopped to study the young, blonde woman. There was no menace to her voice at all when she whined the words, "Shut-up, Xander.”
John blurted it out as the rope tying his hands broke, “You’re The Slayer? You are?”
“Yep, and you’re a demon hunter who can’t tell bad demons from harmless half-breeds.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him with disgust. “The world isn’t black and white, buddy. Now, where is Mr. Hanson?”
Well, shit. The Slayer's fight against evil was legendary. If he couldn't trust her, he was well and truly fucked. Letting out a sigh, he went against instinct and decided to share.
“For the love of Christ, I’m not hurting Harvey The Tongue Hanson. He’s got information on a demon who killed my wife, and he was supposed to meet me here hours ago. Knowing how he feels about Slayers, though, you probably scared him off.”
Despite the dim light of the warehouse, John could see her superior haughty look vanish and suddenly she seemed very interested in her shoes.
“You just wanted info?”
The guy with the patch rolled his eye and nudged her with his elbow. “Looks like assault and kidnapping are going on your rap sheet.”
John almost smiled when she gave her friend a stony glare – almost being the operative word. The Slayer could be an asset. It couldn't hurt to see what she could do in the field. “Look, I don’t want to stir up trouble. Help me find Harvey and I’ll call us even.”
She shot him a grateful look and started forward. “My name’s Buffy, sorry to screw up your info exchange.”
John gave her a half smile and stuck out his hand. “John Winchester, apology accepted.”
“Hey, you got loose!" Indignant, she turned and let her friend have it, "That’s the last time I let you tie a guy up, Xander Harris.”