Notes/Timeline: Post-Season 7 for BtVS. Nothing to do with the BTVS comics. Season 1 for SPN.
Disclaimer: Buffy and Xander are a product of Joss’s beautifully twisted mind. Kripke, who is wickedly wonderful, owns Supernatural. No profit is gained, no infringement intended.
The Winking Lizard was an average sport’s bar. Tall tables and stools lined the room. Along the bar was the traditional brass railing that glimmered in the bright lights. Anyone would be fooled by the ordinary look of the place--anyone who wasn't a Slayer.
Buffy’s internal radar, though, was lit up like a freaking Christmas tree. Taking a deep breath, she tried to ignore The Slayer side of herself that itched to kill the peaceful demon in front of her. Letting out a sigh, she smiled at the gorgeous half-demon. The young looking 'woman' trembled as she placed a Diet Coke in front of Buffy. A bit of the dark liquid sloshed over the rim of the glass and Buffy felt a pang when the demoness ducked her head and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spill…”
“It’s O.K., Samantha. I’m here on a peacekeeping mission.”
Busy mopping up the few drops of cola, she kept her eyes downcast in a submissive gesture that wasn’t wasted on The Slayer. Gently, Buffy touched Samantha’s hand, and was startled at the coolness of her skin. Usually, Tharkold demons were warm bordering on hot to the touch. The coolness of her skin was an indicator that the poor thing was freaked out.
Trying to ease the tension, Buff added, “I’m here to apologize for Kennedy. Please let your father know the council will pay your brother’s medical bills and any damages done to his car.”
Samantha’s hand warmed a bit. When she looked up, tears were in her eyes as she blinked and nodded. “I’ll tell him, but he won’t like it.”
Perplexed, Buffy eased back and asked, “Why?”
“Dad just wants you and your kind to leave us alone. Ever since Johnny got hurt by that Slayer, hunters have been showing up in town.”
Buffy frowned. As far as she knew, there weren’t any demon hunters. Well, according to Angel, Wesley used to call himself a demon hunter, but Wesley was dead. And Angel and Spike were still a little gun-shy after their fiasco in L.A. The Circle of the Black Thorn wasn’t anything to mess with, apparently.
“If someone hurts you or your family, I’ll take care of them.” Buffy slipped the girl her card and smiled evilly. “I’ll protect you, I promise.”
Feet pounding on the green turf, Buffy sprinted down the football field after the newly risen vampire and, she assumed, its sire. It still blew her mind that someone decided to build a high school next to a cemetery. What were they thinking? Of course, that was nothing compared to a high school being built on a Hellmouth. But still
, people were pretty damn stupid sometimes.
Almost to the goal post, she snagged the back of the vampiress’ black funeral dress, jerking her to a stop. Circling, dust rained down as she plunged her stake into the vamp's back while driving her foot into the male behind her. She spun, stake still in hand, and jabbed at the guy. This one had a bit more experience than the newbie she’d just dusted and he darted out of the way.
And that's when the song, "Poker Face", began playing inside her jacket. Jumping in surprise, Buffy glanced down and jerked her cell phone out of her coat pocket. It distracted her long enough for the vamp to dodge her second blow. Annoyed, she turned to watch him run around her and off into the distance. That was the last time she'd ever let Dawn borrow her cellphone. Dawn's idea of a good time was changing Buffy's ring tone when her back was turned.
Grumbling, she flicked the talk button and grouched, “Hello?”
A female’s voice trembled over the phone. “Ms. Summers, this is Samantha. A hunter came and I think he kidnapped my father.”
Well, wasn't that a pain in the ass, Buffy thought.
With a peek, Buffy glimpsed through the cracked window of the abandoned warehouse. It was dark and empty looking, but the 1969 Chevy Chevelle sitting outside led her to believe differently. She knew it was a 1969 Chevy Chevelle because Xander had fawned over it when they pulled into the parking lot.
“That is a sweet car,” he said again, approval and envy dripping with every word.
Before she could stop herself, Buffy turned and eyed Xander. There was no hiding the look of annoyance on her face. With a scowl, she returned her attention to the building. She was pretty sure she could get in through the window, but shattering glass would make noise.
“I wonder how much it would cost…”
“Shut-up about the car, Xander.”
“Ya’ know, I drove you here out of the goodness of my heart. I coulda let Andrew take you.”
Buffy leveled a glare at her friend. “And I could let Spike room with you next time him and Angel are in town.”
“That, my friend, is just evil.”
While smiling sweetly up at him, she smashed the window with her elbow.
Xander let out a groan as he grumped, “I thought you were going for stealthy.”
“I got bored.” Brushing the chunks of glass out of her way, she nodded at Xander who knelt down and cupped his hands together. A quick boost and she was through.
Without a sound, she dropped to the floor. Breath puffing softly, she paused to let her eyes adjust while listening for noise in the inky dark of the warehouse. A soft, metallic click of a gun being racked was all the reason she needed to drop to her knees and hide behind a group of barrels to her left.
Silently, she crept around and looked across the wide open space. Lucky for her, the human male that was standing in the middle of the room didn't have enhanced night time vision. His arm was out as he trailed the gun in her general direction and she could tell he was waiting for a sound to alert him to her location.
Wasn’t going to happen. She crept closer moving in a crouch until she was a few feet behind him. Holding her breath, she tumbled him to the floor. He hit with a thud and she could tell from his choking noises she'd knocked the air out of him. With little effort, she grabbed his gun hand and sat on his back. Despite his squirming, he was effectively pinned.
“So, big-man, demon hunter, why are you picking on poor defenseless half-breeds?”
The man stilled, and Buffy was positive he was plotting something. “Waiting for an answer here,” she said in a bored, sing-song voice. “Or, I could just beat one out of you.”
“I’m looking for information, not killing anything.”
She lightly smacked the guy in the back of the head – the word ‘thing’ made her kind of pissy. Plus, it didn’t bode well for Samantha’s father if this dude was calling him a ‘thing’.
“Where is Mr. Hanson?”
The guy paused. “He’s in the back.”
Squeezing his gun hand, she forced the Glock out of his grasp and slowly got off his back. Forehead crinkled, she looked at the weapon wondering where the safety was. She really needed to learn how to shoot one of these. Demon-hunter-guy, though, didn't know she was clueless when it came to arms. Pointing the gun at him, she said in her best mock cop voice, “Get up slowly and put your hands on your head.”
She watched warily. When he pushed himself to his knees, his left hand slid down his calf to lift the hem of his jeans. With a light touch, she stepped on his wrist and stretched across him to see what he was reaching for. It was another gun.
“Sneaky, aren’t you?”
With a sigh, she punched him in the head once, and he fell face forward--knocked out cold.