Title: Knights Consort (4/?)
Feedback: Please be gentle.
Distribution: Gimme credit and a link. Plus, archived at http://www.fanfiction.net/u/62966 or http://www.fanfiction.net/~cyclone
Rating: Just a little bad language.
Spoilers: Anything and everything.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to other people. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: In most fairy tales, the dashing knight gets the princess, but sometimes, it's a liiittle more complicated than that. Who's the knight? And princesses are in short supply.
Author's Note: Nothing much to say here.
* * *
That complete and utter, pig-headed moron!
I mentioned before why I always go with Xander, his apparently incurable habit of trying to get himself killed in the line of duty.
It's not really a martyr complex, despite what it sounds like. He's not _trying_ to suffer or die doing something meaningful. He just places so little value on his own life that I want to beat his head in with a spoon sometimes.
All right, some background here. When Willow cast the spell to call all Slayers, it didn't actually affect _every_ Potential. It asked each of us a single a question: "Are you ready to be strong?"
Not everyone said "yes."
We're not sure how many answered "no," but it's definitely a significant number. After that mass calling, the spell seems to have tweaked how the whole Slayer calling thing works.
Sometimes, a girl who said "no" changes her mind, thinks back to that question, and gives a different answer. That's how most of the meet-and-greets go.
But occasionally, a girl who said "no" gets called whether she likes it or not. Because she's needed. Because something big -- something apocalyptic -- is going down nearby, and there isn't an active Slayer around. When that happens, the girl who said "no" is basically told to shut up, quit whining, and slay, usually with a rather graphic vision to help her along. And we're always praying it isn't this or that we at least get there in time. Those meet-and-greets are never fun.
That's how Eleanor got called.
It shouldn't have been anything special. Another vampire apocalypse cult summoning a major demon to make a meal out of a small town. It should have been simple. It should have been easy.
As you might imagine, it wasn't, or I wouldn't be here, in the hospital, waking for him to wake up. I'd gotten a bit banged up too, but hey, Slayer healing.
"You stupid idiot," I hiss angrily. I'm _not_ crying, damn it. "I'm a Slayer. I can _take_ that kind of hit."
One of the vamps had gotten the drop on me, but Xander had my back, as always. Now, a piece of lead pipe to the noggin will knock even a Slayer for a loop, but give us a few minutes, and we're back in fighting trim. Xander, on the other hand... well, I won't say he's a normal human. I've heard the stories, after all: hyena possession, Russian shark-man SEAL killer gene mods, troll god hammer to the head. No, he's definitely not normal, but he's still within normal human limits. A piece of lead pipe to the noggin to him...
"Don't you dare die on me, Harris."
I can hear the some chatter from down at the nurse's station. Slayer hearing is such a lovely...
Excuse me. It seems I need correct some misconceptions.
I get up and storm out of Xander's room, making a beeline for the nurse's station. I slam my fist on the counter. Not Slayer hard, but hard enough to get their attention.
"One, I did not hit him," I growl. "Two, he did not hit me. Three, he, in fact, saved my life. Four, if he doesn't wake up, I _will_ hold you responsible. Personally."
They're staring at me, wide-eyed. Hmm. I think I'm forgetting something. Oh, that's right.
"Five, he is _not_ my boyfriend."
Had it been any other time, I would have stuck around to enjoy the looks they were giving me, but instead, I just turned my back on them, ignored them, and stalked back to Xander's bedside.