Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing but my OC's, even the plotbunny belongs to the muse. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and her universe belong to Joss.
A/N: I haven't done anything with Buffy for some time now. The muse just hasn't been cooperating at all on that front. That is she wasn't until she saw Black Hat from Priest on YouTube. Now I've got a brand new OC that won't leave me alone. The character belongs entirely to the muse, but the physical look belongs to Karl Urban. By the way, the movie is ok too, just not a very muse happy one for me. On to the story!
The dance floor was full of dancing young women, most of them too young to be in the mixed species club, but the owner wasn’t stupid enough to think that any of his demonic bouncers could keep a single Slayer out, much less an entire group of them. He leaned out on the rail of the balcony above the dance floor and muttered to himself, “They’d better not be serving the Slayers alcohol or I’m going to turn them into dinner for you.”
His eyes flashed gold under his black, wide brimmed had. “Frankie knows that and we’ve got lots of fruit juice, lemonade, and soda for them. I had them stock up after the girls started to come in. They drank us dry the first night.” A set of bright fangs flashed in the man’s grin.
The flashes of eye and fang quickly disappeared as all of the Slayers lifted their heads and looked around for the vampire they sensed. They went back to dancing after a moment, but the man thought that they were getting a bit irritated at the here and gone again sense that he was giving them. “It’s bad enough that you have to hide when they’re around,” the man grumbled. “How are we supposed to hunt when they’re here all the time?”
“I think that’s the idea,” he answered his own question. “They don’t want us out there because they think we kill people.”
“If you tried it, you know what would happen.”
“Yeah, you’d puke,” the man sighed, the argument long since argued out and dealt with.
Frankie, a human and the club’s manager, was used to ignoring her employer’s habit of arguing with himself, and referring to himself as two different people. She’d known he was crazy when she took the job and it paid very well in compensation. She finished walking up the steps to the balcony. “They brought in the Red Witch tonight as well as both senior Slayers.” She watched as the man tensed, as if fighting a fight or flight reaction.
After a moment he turned to her. “Send them up.” His ankle length leather coat swirled around him as he went to sit at the table at the back of the balcony. He set one boot on the table and draped his arms along the back of the bench. His head lowered to the point where it almost looked like he was sleeping. Frankie knew better. He had scared the living daylights out of most of the staff at one time or another with that pose. She shook her head and went to find the Resurrected Slayer and her group.
It was a serious group of young adults who walked up the stairs to greet the owner of the club. “Greetings to you Bright Slayer, Dark Slayer, Red Witch and White Knight,” the owner said, his face hidden in the shadow of his hat. “I suspect that your errand here tonight is more than simply the fact that your young ladies have come to a club that they are technically too young for.”
“Rumor has it you’re nuts,” the young man he’d called White Knight said bluntly.
The man sighed. “And you need to find out the truth behind the rumors,” he said. “Actually I could almost wish that was the case. It would be easier to deal with my situation if I was crazy. Please sit.” He gestured to the chairs scattered in front of the table. Buffy Summers, Faith Lehane, Willow Rosenberg and Xander Harris all sat down.
The man raised his head, showing them the scruffy face of a handsome man with dark hair and hazel eyes. “About thirty years ago I woke up on an altar. The entire area around it was pretty much devastated, covered in the remains of demons. I’m pretty sure that whoever it was that wrecked the party thought that I was dead and had left me there in order to go after whoever was responsible.” He turned his hands, clad in black fingerless gloves, over in a shrug. “What I woke up to was no memory and a body that was no longer solely my own. We’ve been to several demonic doctors. As far as they could tell us, the mage somehow fused us together.” He brought his hands together.
“We ended up with a case of physical multiple personality disorder. When I control our body, it’s human. When my brother controls us, we are a vampire. This effect is permanent. We don’t know who did it, why the mage did it, or how it was done. We have had to learn how to get along with each other.”
His eyes flashed gold and Buffy and Faith stiffened - the feeling that a slayer had when a vampire was nearby suddenly filling the room. “This means that we’ve had to find other ways to hunt since both of our needs must be met without causing harm to the other. My brother has a tendency to throw up if my blood is spiced with pain or death.”
His eyes changed back to their normal hazel. “And he has a tendency to get sick if I eat garlic. That’s only one example of the adjustments we’ve had to make but I do believe it answers the question that you are most concerned about.”
Buffy held up her hand. “Willow?” she asked.
The young woman known throughout the supernatural world as the Red Witch of Sunnydale had been watching the man from the moment she’d set foot on the balcony. “He’s telling the truth. I can see both of them. They’re just like Ben and Glory.” She turned to the man. “So, if pain and death are out how do you hunt?”
The man suddenly smirked. “Freely given blood is much nicer and I certainly don’t mind finding enough dates to keep him healthy.” He was aware of who Glory had been. The Hellgoddess had made enough enemies that the news had swiftly made the rounds when she had fallen to the Bright Slayer and her Scoobies. He hadn’t known that she had been like them, but at least the fact that the Bright Slayer and her people had known about Glory made it easier for them now.
Faith smirked right back at him. “You ever hook up with a Slayer?” the invitation was thick in her voice.
The man switched from human to vampire quickly. “Don’t tempt him! I’m not that stupid even if he is. Damned humans and their hormones.”
“You’re the one who’s perpetually frustrated, not me.”
“Of course I’m frustrated, I can’t even get a decent kill.”
“Killing off your food supply is a study in stupidity.”
“Only if you kill all of them,” the vampire grumbled halfheartedly.
The back and forth switching between the two men living in the same body was rather entertaining, if confusing, but Buffy quickly put a stop to it as it was beginning to give her whiplash. “Listen, personally I don’t care what your personal issues with each other are. I’m glad that you’re not interested in world endage or going out on a killing spree. So that leaves just one thing. Why didn’t you kick the mini slayers out? You’re right about them being too young to be in here legally.”
“I know that they can take care of themselves as long as they aren’t drunk, and I don’t allow my bartenders to serve them anything that might get them even the slightest bit drunk. I’m also not stupid enough to think that I could come out on top in a confrontation with the four of you. All I ask is that they don’t bully my bouncers and don’t trash my club.”
“Deal,” Buffy said and shook his hand. “They need a place to blow off steam.”
A week later the man was back at the balcony watching the slayers dance again. This time it was not the slayers that had his attention, but a young woman that they’d brought with them. She was a magic user, a mage. They’d hated mages ever since they’d found out that one was responsible for sticking them together. He allowed his vampire brother to take over as they watched one of their employees bring the girl up.
Once her long brunette hair and clubbing make up, along with clothes to match would have been a delight to watch and to eat the vampire knew - back when they were separate. Neither of them had any memories of such a state, but they still knew some things that they had to have learned when they were separate people. As much as he wished for that state, the knowledge that it would never be possible again fed his anger as much as it fed his human brother’s. “I agreed to allow slayers, not magic users,” he growled.
“You let Willow in and I can take care of myself as well as any slayer,” the girl said defiantly.
“I don’t care. Only a fool pisses off the Red Witch or I wouldn’t have let her in either,” he snarled. “I want nothing to do with mages of any kind, not after what happened to us.”
Immediately the girl’s offended body language fell away, and sorrow took its place. “You’re the Glory guy. Oh I am so sorry. No vampire should ever have to suffer something like that. It’s terrible. Have you found a way to hunt at all? Don’t tell me you’re stuck with bottled blood,” the girl chattered on. The vampire was so shocked that he took the metaphorical step back, turning their body over to his brother.
She didn’t even seem to notice and continued to talk, her words coming so quickly that they were surprised that she didn’t trip over any of them. “Here,” she pulled out a small knife and made a small cut on the side of her hand. “Given blood is supposed to be stronger than taken and with my magic its even stronger, so just a little will be even better than a full meal.” He just stared at her in amazement and she huffed a little in aggravation. “Come on, it won’t hurt you and it will help him. It’s not right that he’s leashed, even if it is by you. Now get over here before it spills. We’ll all be in trouble if that happens.”
She had noticed, he realized and he knew that whatever trouble she was talking about was not something that either one of them wanted to have happen. “You are the only one who has ever taken his side,” he said as he took her hand and lifted it to his mouth. “Thank you for that.” He stepped aside for his brother, and the vampire drank the small amount of blood that was beginning to pool in her palm, licking the small cut closed. She tasted green and the rush the blood gave him was more than he anticipated, even with the extras she had mentioned. This one had to be a personal student of the Red Witch with as much power as she had.
The girl shrugged. “Honestly, it’s mostly because of Spike. Did you hear about the Initiative?”
“Who moves in our circles that hasn’t?” he asked. “Tales of humans torturing demons aren’t that common.”
She nodded. “Well, they put a computer chip in his head that caused him pain every time that he hurt a human. He babysat me when I was growing up for money to buy blood down at the local demon bar. He was, well…it was terrible to see what he was like before he found out that he could kill demons. He just, he’d lost so much of himself when he found out that he couldn’t hurt humans anymore, not even to eat.”
“And you felt sorry for him,” the man concluded.
“He had become a friend,” she said simply. “He taught me to shoot a crossbow and hotwire a car.”
“What’s your name mageling?” the man asked.
“I’m Dawn,” she said, but she realized that he didn’t recognize the name when he didn’t react. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”
The man cocked his head. “Should I?” he asked.
“My family is pretty well known,” Dawn admitted. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather take advantage of the fact that you don’t know who I am. I don’t have any friends who don’t know, and to be honest none of them can be friends with just Dawn. People either try to take advantage, are too intimidated or just plain screw with me because of who I am.”
The man actually smiled at that. “That makes a sort of karmic balance, because my brother and I don’t know who we are either.”
“What do you mean?” Dawn asked.
“Do you know what we told the Red Witch about how we came to be?” he asked as he guided her to the table at the back of the balcony.
“Yeah, it’s a Glory deal, two people sharing one body space, and you don’t know the who, how or why,” Dawn said as she sat on the bench next to him.
“Yes, but we also don’t have any memories going back before we woke up on that altar as we are,” he told her as he relaxed on the bench. “That includes any names we might have had before we were made one.”
“So what do people call you then?” Dawn asked, curious.
The vampire grinned. “People call us Black Jack.”