Disclaimer: I own nothing. All Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters and E. W. Hildick characters are the property of their original owners.
Author’s Note: A while back, I was browsing through the 2010 Crossing Over Awards and came across Jrabbit's "Best of British" Award section. While wondering if I could write a story about a crossover with some sort of British fandom, nothing really came to mind, until I suddenly remembered reading decades ago an entertaining series of books done by an English writer of children’s literature. Hope you enjoy this!
Sprinting through the deserted streets of either a large town or small city somewhere in England, Faith cast an anxious look towards the east. It was still pitch-black there, but the Slayer knew that any minute now, the first faint light of dawn coming from that direction would signal that the night was finally over. This would make her prey even more desperate, not that Richard Eddington somewhere a few hundred feet ahead and out of sight had been particularly calm at any time during the last couple of hours while that panicked vampire had been chased by the brunette woman.
Skidding to a stop next to some sort of delivery truck parked on the residential street, Faith tensely checked out the vicinity, looking and listening around herself with all her superhuman senses. The only sounds at all that seemed significant were faint footsteps coming from a side street beyond, accompanied by even fainter clinking and rattling noises. Not wanting to alarm her demonic prey, Faith glided forward to the street corner and then she peered around the edge of the brick wall of a house there.
The Slayer saw at once that the guy walking there away from her along the sidewalk wasn’t Eddington. She’d seen that fleeing vampire’s back often enough tonight to recognize this anywhere, and the stranger was slimmer than that burly monster. Plus, the human going about his business, for whatever reason at the crack of dawn, was carrying something in either hand--
At that exact second, Eddington burst out from the side passage between two houses where he’d been lurking, darting towards the meal on legs that had just gone by. Faith also blurred into motion, running forward while pulling out a stake from her jacket, yet also feeling absolute despair flood her mind. Even at her fastest Slayer speed, she couldn’t possibly get there in time before that innocent guy got killed or taken hostage--
Coming to a dead stop on the sidewalk, Faith gaped in total shock at what she’d just seen.
Seemingly unaware of the fanged creature coming up behind himself, the guy walking away had then inexplicably tossed high up into the air what he’d been carrying in his left hand. As it reached its apex, the full milk bottle floating there seemed to have its white liquid actually glowing through the sides of this glass container. This would naturally attract anyone’s eye, including Eddington himself, as the vampire paused to gawk at what his prey had just done. That didn’t last long, not when the human next whirled around, and fiercely thrust with his left hand towards the chest of the demon standing in front of what had just turned out to be anything but a potential victim.
Faith didn’t see what exactly happened then, as Eddington’s broad back hid this, but the results were extremely familiar to the Slayer, as the vampire then puffed into ashes. This left the human standing there with his left arm kept held vertically straight ahead, flattened palm down, and still gripping his wire crate filled with other milk bottles at his right side in that other hand. An instant later, the milkman’s left hand turned over to allow his tossed-up distraction to unerringly land back into his palm, with the softest possible slapping sound being made by this by the contact of glass against flesh.
As she disbelievingly watched the milkman’s fingers curl around the milk bottle, Faith also saw the cigarette in the guy’s mouth flare brightly as a breath was drawn in. The glow from this revealed a mature man’s stern face, with tight cheekbones over a lean countenance having no scrap of excess flesh. This man’s black hair was also severely cut short into a sleek coiffure over two deeply-set grim eyes which now shifted as if being a pair of gun muzzles that were tracking.…
Faith stared back in utter shock. She was at least a hundred feet away, standing stock-still in the blackness of the night-time shadow cast by one of the houses in the side street, but it was absolutely clear that the guy over there not only knew of her presence, he was looking right at her. Yet, for all that, her Slaydar was insisting her observer was completely and totally human.