The Slayer and the Shrink
Timeline: Post-Chosen for Buffy. [Edit, 5/7/12] For Frasier, sometime during season 5.
A/N: I own nothing, except the plot idea. Don't sue! Reviews are very welcome. Sorry if it sucks! :-)Seattle, Washington
"Well, if you don't mind my saying so, it's rather painfully obvious that you have hostility issues," the pompous-sounding, well-dressed man told Buffy, his chin lifting slightly. "If you like, perhaps we could take a few minutes to try and resolve some of those for you. You may not know this, but I happen to be a licensed professional. I guarantee you'll feel much better."
Buffy could hardly believe her ears. Despite his lack of a British accent, the tall, slightly balding man reminded her very much of Giles. His credibility would have been much more impressive if his fine Armani suit wasn't covered in the dirt of a freshly-dug grave, or maybe if he wasn't leaning against a headstone, his arms crossed over his chest, as he spoke to her. This vacation to Seattle was getting to be less and less of a vacation, it was turning out.
"No thanks," she responded at last, her tone a bit sharp. "I've been psycho-analyzed by a vamp before, and it's just not fun. Besides, I do have a job to do here." She sent a meaningful glance to the stake she held in her hand.
He drew his brows together, and cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I was wondering if perhaps we could negotiate on that particular detail. After all, we're both rational, civilized people. I'm sure we can come to some arrangement that doesn't end in you shoving that rather pointy stick into my chest. You see, this is a very expensive suit; my brother bought it for me."
More confusion on Buffy's part. "You're worried about the suit? It's covered in yuck!"
"I beg your pardon, it is not
covered in yuck....whatever that means. It's just a little dusty...if I can just find an all-night dry cleaners, it will soon be as good as new." The man straightened up, glancing down at the dark suit he wore, obviously tailored to fit him, and began brushing away the cemetery grime that still clung to it. Then he re-focused his attention on Buffy. "Obviously you don't recognize who I am...."
"I know exactly what you are," Buffy cut him off, and she took a threatening step towards him. "You're a blood-sucking parasite that lives for no other reason than to make the lives of everyone you meet miserable."
"Now see here...you've obviously got me confused with a lawyer. Quite the contrary, I'm a psychiatrist, and a quite well-known one at that. I'm Doctor Frasier Crane, the radio-show host. You must have heard of me...." But Frasier's self-satisfied smirk faded into a worried frown at her lack of recognition. "Come now, I'm somewhat of a minor celebrity...my listeners number over half a million!"
"Sorry. I doubt anyone's listening to you anymore. Except me, unfortunately." Buffy took another threatening step forward and raised her stake, and now Frasier backed away, stumbling over the headstone he'd been previously leaning against.
"There must be some way we can settle this!" Frasier cried, his voice rising in panic as he continued to retreat.
"Nothing comes to mind," the Slayer said with a shrug as she stalked closer.
"But you can't just...just kill
me! I'm a good man! I've helped hundreds, maybe thousands of people in my career!"
"Newsflash, Doc. You're already dead. And I don't think your inclination to help people is still with you."
Frasier's back-pedaling brought him unexpectedly against a tree, and desperate, he spread his hands out wide in a vain attempt to hold her off. "Look, wait, just wait, give me a moment, let me think!" He looked wildly around for something, anything, that might help him, and then his expression brightened as an idea occurred to him. "Did...did I mention just how really lovely you are looking tonight?" He gave her a hopeful smile.
Buffy stopped her advance only a few paces from him and rolled her eyes. "Come on, really? That's all you've got?"
"Will you give me a break, I'm working on the fly here! And it's not like I'm very experienced in being chased through cemeteries at night by homicidal midget blondes wielding sharpened firewood!" he blurted.
Green eyes widened in outrage. "Midget?!"
"Did I say midget? Oh my...well, I meant it in the best possible way....and in their own way, midgets...er, I mean, vertically challenged people are the most noble...and, uh, graceful..." Frasier babbled, raising his hand to wipe non-existent sweat from his forehead.
"I gotta say, you're not helping your case here, Doc," Buffy said dryly.
"I'm sorry, I'm a little distracted, in case you hadn't noticed! I can't believe it's going to end this way...a brilliant and successful career cut short in its prime!" Frasier moaned, and he began pacing a short distance back and forth with long-limbed, quick strides.
Buffy backed up a little, bracing herself in case he decided to charge her, but after a few moments of watching him, her stake hand slowly lowered. "Wow. You're really frightened, aren't you?"
"Of course I'm frightened! When you first found me, that missed kick of yours broke a cement headstone!" Frasier stopped his pacing and stared at her. "I never knew anyone could be that strong."
Buffy cast a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure that they were alone, and then she folded her arms down over her chest. "It's not as easy as it looks."
"I'd imagine not," Frasier replied, his tones calming down now that she was talking and not trying to kill him. "You do this often, do you? Wander cemeteries at night, killing whomever you happen to meet?"
"Not whomever." Buffy bristled again. "Just your type."
"Psychiatrists?" Frasier asked in confusion.
"No, vampires, you idiot!"
Frasier scoffed then. "My dear girl, I am a man of medical science. There are no such things as vampires. This is obviously a delusion your mind has created in order to protect your psyche from the violence that seems to be a compulsive part of your possibly schizophrenic personality."
Buffy stared at him in disbelief. "You mean you don't know? What the hell did you think you were doing wandering in a cemetery late at night? Meeting the Queen of England for tea?"
"Well, I'm lost, apparently. I seem to have taken a blow to my head, as I can't quite recall how I got here in the first place. If you were any sort of decent person at all, you'd help me get to a hospital instead of trying to make me your latest over-sized hors d'ouerve!" Frasier snapped at her, and he lifted a hand to his head again, running it through his reddish-blond hair in search of some injury.
"You haven't been hit on the head, and no hospital will help you. You've been dead for at least a day already. I can't believe you haven't figured it out yet. Aren't you hungry by now?" Buffy glanced around again, and then tucked her stake in the back of her pants before flipping her blonde ponytail off of her neck and strolling closer to Frasier, who stared at her as if she were insane. She moved closer to him, her hands casually folded behind her back, and tilted her head a little, exposing her soft throat. When she spoke, her voice was low and coaxing. "Don't you feel the urge to lean in....and take a nice big bite?"
Frasier was starting to wonder if he were the insane one, because he was feeling hungry. He hadn't been lying earlier, either, when he'd said she was lovely. Unconsciously, he leaned down a bit as she slid nearly against him, a look of confused desire on his features. "N-now that you mention it...." he said slowly, and swallowed hard past the sudden lump in his throat. "Y-you really are....beautiful...." he whispered, his lips inches from her neck.
Buffy sensed the change almost before it happened, and a split second before his fangs could plunge into her throat, her hand whipped around and caught him by his own throat, lifting him off the ground and slamming him into the tree. "Yep. That's what I thought," she said, her free hand darting behind her to yank her stake free.
Frasier choked, his desire gone as swiftly as it had surfaced, and he struggled in her unnaturally powerful grip. "Wait, that wasn't fair, you tricked me!"
"So what? You were going to bite me anyway!"
"No...no, I..." Frasier's words were cut off as the small blonde squeezed his throat. He coughed again. "I tell you, I don't know what happened! Honestly, I don't! Please...." His words lowered to a mere whimper. "Please...don't kill me."
Buffy stared at him for a moment and then, with a frustrated growl, the Slayer dropped him to the ground and stalked several paces away. Frasier fell to his knees, gasping for breath that would never come. When he raised his gaze, she was standing directly in front of him, her hands on her shapely, leather-clad hips. She stared down at him with cold green eyes. "You know what? Fine. I'm gonna take a chance on you, Doc."
"What...what do you mean? You're...you're going to let me live?" Frasier could hardly believe his luck.
"No. You're already dead. But I'm not gonna make you deader. What I will do is help you learn to deal with your situation." She never took that icy stare from him.
"My...my situation? What do you mean?" Frasier slowly got to his feet, and began wiping off his pants again.
"You're a vampire. You drink blood. But I've known vampires who learned not to kill humans. You can learn, too."
"Me? I would never harm a living soul!" Frasier declared, shocked that she would think otherwise.
"I guess we'll put that to the test. Come on. If you make any sudden moves, I'll stake you." She turned away from him then and began walking swiftly east.
"I...I see." Frasier hesitated only a moment, and then hurried after her, though he was careful to keep a discreet distance from the Slayer. He realized then that he was walking into the night with a violent young woman whose name he didn't even know.
"Um, if you don't mind..." Frasier began.
She cast a look at him over her slender shoulder. "What do you want?"
"Well, if it's not too much trouble...perhaps, an introduction?"
"I'm Buffy. The Slayer. For now, that's all you need to know." She kept walking.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Buffy. If you didn't catch it earlier, my name is Frasier." He found that he had to shorten his long strides to match her shorter ones.
"I heard." Her replies were terse and discouraging of conversation, but Frasier was not easily daunted.
"Well, since it seems we're going to be...er, traveling together, how about we start work on those issues I mentioned earlier? Do I detect the slightest hint of a superiority complex?"
"God, what have I done. Watch yourself, Doc. I've still got my stake, you know," Buffy reminded him, but her tone was light, and for the first time since the beginning of this horrible evening, Frasier wasn't scared.
"Do you know, Buffy...I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship...."