Of Slayers and Authors
Hello! I just recently delved into the world of “Castle” and I LOVE it. So, naturally, by the end of episode one, season one, I had a Buffy/Castle story brewing in my head and here she is!
I got the idea of doing this more similar to a television show so instead of “chapters” they are going to be more like episodes. Basically, a ficlet. Certain episodes might form more of a story arc than others, but for the most part, each episode is its own little story. :)
I don’t own Buffy or Castle. You know who does!
Episode One: Of Slayers and Authors
Rick Castle was walking in the general direction of home when he heard the commotion in the alleyway.
He didn’t usually find himself out on random walks around the city, well, at least not without a gorgeous woman on his arms, but tonight was different.
His final book in the Derrick Storm series was about to launch and he was a bundle of nerves.
He’d gone back and forth, constantly wondering if killing Derrick Storm off was the right thing to do.
However, now it didn’t really matter. He’d done it. The book was printed and being shipped out, all across the country. Probably at that very moment even.
His two usual comforts, his sixteen year old daughter, Alexis, and his mother, veteran actress, Martha Rodgers, had left him and his nerve bundle on his own while they took in an evening of shopping, dinner and a play. The apartment was left seeming larger and emptier than it was. Hence his walk.
He followed the noise down the alley, expecting to walk in on a small turf battle between alley cats or, if he was lucky, a mugging. What he found instead, was to say the least, shocking.
There was indeed a scuffle happening, though definitely not between mangy looking felines. It was apparently between a very muscular man wearing excellent facial prosthetics and a petite, blonde woman. The shocking part was that it was the young woman that seemingly had the upper hand, despite the large difference in their statures.
Somewhere during his assessment of the situation, Castle missed Costume Guy making a break for it. He bolted and ran smack dab into Castle, sending them both crashing to the ground.
As Castle got a more…up close and personal look at Costume Guy’s face, he found that he was suddenly questioning whether or not it was a costume at all. Bright yellow eyes were accompanied by sharp ridges that zig zagged all across his face. Oh, and of course, there were the fangs.
Before he had time to process the paralyzing fear that was now creeping up throughout his body, CG burst into dust.
One second, he was there, all in full bodied, corporeal form and the next……..poof. Gone. Literal dust in the literal wind.
A hand stretched out in front of him.
“Need some help?”
Castle stood in the alley, staring the blonde down.
And not in the usual way he’d be staring her down, either.
not in that way.
She was, as he’d noticed earlier, petite. She couldn’t have been anymore than 5’3”…if she was lucky. She seemed a bit older than he had thought before. No more than twenty-five or twenty-six, though. Her blonde hair was just barely shoulder length and semi-curly. The DIY curly. Not the ‘born with it’ curly.
Her skin was a bit pale for the warm, late summer days that NY had brought as of late, but still, a nice, youthful complexion overall. Her eyes, however, were a different story. They were an absolutely beautiful shade of green—piercing green, he would’ve named it—and they seemed more ancient than she. Her eyes told a story for sure. A tragic one, he would bet. A story he would kill to know. And write.
“So, that guy….just, um…kind of turned to dust.”
“Yeah…sorry ‘bout that.” she said, softly. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt when you fell? He was kind of, um, big. Oh god, no not like that
. Heavy. I mean he was heavy. I can bring you to the hospital, if you want?” she rambled.
Castle raised his eyebrow. Not only did she apologize for a guy turning into dust, but she was tossing in accidental sexual innuendos. Was this too early to confess his love? Yeah, probably.
“Nah, I’m fine.” he smiled. “I think you probably saved my life.” He held out his hand. “Rick Castle.”
She stared at him for a moment, hesitated, then grabbed his hand and reciprocated the hand shake.
She was definitely
stronger than she looked.
Castle’s ego deflated a bit. There was no ‘oh-my-GOD-i-love-your-books-please-sign-my-chest-&-here’s-my-number’
Not even an ‘oh-I’ve-heard-of-you’
He decided to ignore the deflation, at least for now. Mostly because he was steadily losing feeling in his hand.
“That’s a firm grip you’ve got there.”
She ripped her hand from his.
“Oh God! I’m sorry!”
He flexed his hand back and forth, partially to make sure nothing was broken.
“So, was that a vampire?” Castle blurted out.
Buffy’s face changed several shades before she cleared her throat and answered.
“I know I’ve never been very good at hiding it, God knows especially not since Sunnydale, but when they say ‘secret identity’, you expect at least one
person in the world to not know.”
Castle shifted his eyes. “I just meant because of the fangs. And the bumpy face thing. And I’m pretty sure there was sticky red stuff around his mouth.”
Buffy pursed her lips. “Oh. Right. Of course.” She wavered and then continued on. “Yeah, it was.”
Castle nodded his head. “So, you do this often? Chasing vampires into alley ways and turning them into particles?”
She laughed a beautiful laugh. “Often doesn’t even cover it.”
Castle was to say the least, intrigued by Ms. Summers. He had to know more about her. Had to.
“Would you like to join me for a drink?”
She raised her eyebrow. “A little quick, don’t you think?”
“Oh, no not like that. Just as a token of my appreciation for saving my life. Also, I’ve kind of just been through an incredibly harrowing situation. Some company would be nice.”
“You’re not some weird, creepy, vampire fan-boy stalker, are you? You don’t look it, but then again, they never do.”
“Nah, I’m too famous to be a creepy stalker…whatever. I’ve had
creepy, weird stalkers.”
Buffy’s expression brightened a little. “You’re famous? For what?”
“I’m an author. And, by the way, just a little note, nothing deflates the famous’ ego more than having to explain what they’re famous for.”
She shrugged. “Not much of a reader. At all, actually. And, I feel that your ego probably needs deflating a bit.”
“So, join me for a drink?”
He could see her uncertainty but then it vanished and she was nodding her head.
“Sure, why not?”
Castle led Buffy into a small, quiet pub.
“What are you drinking?” he asked, walking towards the bar.
“Just ice water with lemon.”
He looked at her curiously but pointed her towards a secluded back booth.
By the time she was seated, he was there, placing her water in front of her and a beer in front of him.
“What’s with the water?” he asked.
“I don’t drink. Alcohol. Not anymore, anyway.”
“Don’t tell me you’re a former alcoholic?!”
She laughed. “Oh, no. Just…..bad experiences. Very, very bad experiences.”
“No chance you’re going to tell me about them?”
“Look, I appreciate this and all, I really do. I mean no one usually says ‘hey thanks for saving my life’ and you tend to just get used to it after awhile so I really do appreciate this, but please…..just get to the point.”
“I’m a naturally curious person. You fascinate me. I want to know how you became this super cool, comic book-ish vampire fighter.”
Buffy hesitated. She was definitely not one to just launch her entire slaying career to strangers, especially not with her previous history, but Castle seemed trustworthy. I mean, she’d known him for about forty minutes at this point and she was already calling him ‘Castle’ in her head. Though, that could’ve just been her dislike of the name ‘Rick’.
“The Slayer was created tens of thousands of years ago to fight evil and stop the forces of darkness—vampires, demons….blah blah blah. Some….changes….were made to the rules a few years ago. There’s over five thousand Slayers at this point. I’m a Slayer, don’t tell anyone. Secret identity and all that.”
Castle quietly nodded his head, picked up his beer glass and drank it down in three large gulps.
“You’re taking this awfully well, minus the silence and how fast you just chugged that beer.”
Castle laughed. “If it makes you feel better, I’m internally freaking out.”
Buffy smiled. “Is it wrong if it kind of does?”
They sat at the table talking for another hour or two, Buffy explaining in greater detail about Sunnydale, Giles and the gang, her time spent in Italy and the UK, her time so far in NYC, Slayer life in general and Castle telling her about his books, Alexis and his mother.
“I want to write about you.”
“That came out so cheesy probably. Let me rephrase. I want to use you as a model for the base character for my next book.”
“Do you know what secret identity means?”
“I wouldn’t use your name or anything else you wanted me to leave out. Like, per se, certain aspects of your life, or certain stories. But just the general idea of your life.”
“I’m going to be completely honest here. I’m totally speechless right now.”
“Good or bad speechless?”
“Haven’t figured that out yet.”
Castle’s phone started to vibrate across the table, making some of the glasses clink together, lightly.
“I’ll give you a few minutes to think about it while I go assure Alexis that I’m still alive.”
As soon as his back was out of view, Buffy slipped her phone out from the special pocket she’d had sewn inside her jeans.
She lost a lot
of phones due to them falling out of her pockets or getting crushed during patrols. Giles called for a solution because, quite frankly, the Council was getting sick of replacing them. Xander thought up the hidden spy pocket.
She needed some serious advice on this and the only one she could trust to keep her mouth shut to the others was Willow. So she ran her fingers across the touch screen as fast as she could and hoped for an immediate reply, despite the time difference.
Buffy waited and waited but no reply and before she knew it, Castle was sitting back down.
“Where was that hiding?”
“Secret pockets. I’m always losing or breaking these stupid things.”
“What did you decide?”
Buffy glanced down at her phone, willing Willow to answer.
But it just laid still, screen black.
“What exactly would this entail? I mean, like, what would I have to do?”
“Well, to write your character absolutely perfect, I’d have to shadow you. That’s how I get into my characters.”
“Shadow me. As in, come patrolling with me?”
Buffy took a deep breath. “It’s not safe-“
“I’m well aware of that.”
“Shut up and let me finish.”
“Ooh, demanding. I like that.”
“It’s not safe therefore you’d have to go through some training. I’m not making the same mistake I did with Willow and Xander. I can’t look after you while I’m fighting nor can I be worrying about you because that could get us both killed. And I really don’t want to be responsible for someone famous dying.”
“Training? What kind of training?”
Buffy smiled. “What better way to get into the mind of a Slayer than by training like one?”
Castle nodded his head in agreement. “There’s just one other thing I’ll need.”
“I understand that it’s a secret identity thing but I need to tell Alexis and my mother. I don’t lie to them. Ever.”
“Really? That simple?”
Buffy smiled. “I understand. I wish I had told Mom and Dawn earlier than I did. It’s just….”
“Don’t expect them to believe you. And don’t expect to bring them along because you want to prove it. And don’t go out looking for vamps on your own. Neither one of those ever ends well.”
“So, basically, just let them think I’m nuts?”
Buffy nodded. “Yep.”
She grabbed Castle’s phone, typed something in and handed it back to him.
“Be at that address Monday morning. 7am. With caffeine."