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Blood & The Beast.

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Story

Summary: Xander and Cain have a misunderstanding.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Television > Kindred: the EmbracedMagnusXXNFR18112,877044,97412 Mar 0512 Mar 05Yes
Author: MagnusXXN

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: BTVS doesn't belong to me, its Joss Wheldon's baby

as is Angel. The concept of Kindred, and their vampiric Clans belong to

White Wolf, who unlike certain people named Joss, actually have my

respect.

And I truly hope I wont be sued. The telling info was given by Greg

Stolze,

and his book a Hunger like Fire. I insist you read it. Adult themes.



Blood & the Beast.



The first thing that comes to mind when I open my eyes is, "what the

hell?". A valid question I think, since I woke up in one of

Sunnydale's many sewers covered in what I guess from the smell is shit.

The next thing to come to mind is the smell, god I just want to vomit.

The fumes curdle in the back of my mouth and thank Christ I don't

actually taste any of the feces 'in' my mouth.

It's just the scent.

Now that that's over, I'm back on to my first question. What the hell

happened and why and I covered in shit? I flex my fingers first; just

to make sure they are in working order, then on to my arms and legs.

Everything seems all right, not injured and sore in the least. I'm

just dirty, not hurt.

Pushing up into a sitting position, I finally have a chance to make

out not just my surroundings but what state I'm in. My shirts is gone,

no telling where that went.

Good thing I still have my pants on, the absent of shorts would have

made me even more freaked out then I already am. Back to my

surroundings, it's not a sewer its some sort of storm drain.

Which kind of makes me wonder if I was being pelted with rainwater,

then why am I covered in human crap?

The only light I can make out is coming from the street lamps in the

distance, above ground. And maybe a little ilumination from the moon

above.

Not as helpful as actually sun light but.....(Fire). In an instant,

I'm in a cold swept from fear, head numbing heart-pounding fear

through my very veins.

It's almost maddening.

For the life of me, I can't figure out why I'm so afraid all of a sudden.

Nothing has changed around me, no monsters lurking around. No danger

at all.

So why was I so frightened?

All I have right now is more and more questions, and not an answer in

sight. Damn, I really have to get out of this sewer; the stink is

making me light headed.

Hunched over, I have to crawl on all fours to get to the nearest exit.

The cement ceiling is rounded, like the whole tunnel. It was made to

carry sewage away, not for people to walk around in.

The grating is all ripped up, as if something 'really' big got a hold

of it and tore it right out of the concrete.

Now more then ever I really want out of this sewer.

******

Surprisingly enough, being above ground doesn't really settle any of

my fears. That, and with the sewer no longer taking up most of my

noise, I can really smell of much I stink.

What happened yesterday?

Halloween costumes, turning into a soldier. Weird even by Sunnydale's

standards but there has to be more then that. I mean, I remember the

spell ending.

I remember going with Cordelia to get the kids home afterwards. I

remember walking home then...it's a blank.

God I'm hungry, my stomach is empty and really giving me a problem

now. I hadn't even been thinking about it before with the whole waking

up half naked in a gutter thing, but I'm freaking starving.

******

Its early November in Southern California, around 60' degrees, not

exactly chilly but for the sunshine state its cool weather. The night

air actually feels good against my skin as I walk.

It's almost comforting.

This is baffling. I mean, Sunnydale plus night should equal terror on

a massive scale. However, for some reason it just doesn't bother me as

much as I know it should.

I start walking down the street towards Buffy's house, not mine, and

as my feet make contact with the pavement something else surfaces in

my mind.

I'm barefoot. Shit.

What was I mugged? Take my shirt, shoes, and freaking SOCKS! Then

throw me in a sewer full of shit and leave me to be eaten in the night?

Is this where my parents taxes are going? To pay cops that of course,

are too stupid to stop the monsters, but can't they pull it together

enough to stop the common criminal?

Is that really too much to ask? It's bad enough that I might be eaten

at any given time, but I at least expect not to be murdered by some

junkie who likes my shoes.

Damn, I've been walking the whole time I was thinking and I'm already

half way to Buffy's.

I'm sure she's worried about what happened to me, Willow too. I can't

let them think something bad has gone down. They already have enough

stress in their lives without me piling mine in too.

I feel strange.

Ya, I really feel weird. I'm tired, and god I'm hungry. Food it pretty

much the main topic for my brain right now. I feel weak all over, damn

how long was I out?

It feels like I haven't eaten in a week.

I have to stop; the walk to Buffy's house just seems to far right now

on an empty stomach. There has to be something open so late, so I can

fill up.

Not that I have any money on me. Nevertheless, I'm sure I can con

someone out of a little money, I mean look at me! I look like a

homeless guy who decided to bath in human shit.

Can I get some sympathy please?

I really have to think of something to tell Buffy and Willow. If I've

really been missing more then one day, then they're really going to be

worried.

Because when someone disappears in Sunnydale, its not because they

don't want to be found. Its because something mean found them and

decided to cover them in Bar-B-Q sauce and eaten up.

What am I going to tell my parents? I know they're probably already

drunk off their asses, but even their not messed up enough to miss the

fact that their only son has been missing for days.

Can't really tell them about Halloween. 'Hi mom and dad. Where have I

been you ask? Well after being turned into a soldier and running for

my life from Spike and his gang, some hobo knocked me out and stole

most of my cloths.'

Come to think of it, that's not really such a bad story.

Course I can't tell them about the costume, or Spike and his minions.

But the hobo part? Hell ya! I got jumped, and robbed, kiss my bobo and

make it better.

Ok, maybe the last part is a bit too much. From them at least. I might

be able to gain serious bobo kissage from my two bestest friends.

Hmmm..... Buffy kissing my bobo.........Sorry, got a little distracted.

I look up and finally! Somewhere I can get something to eat. The Fish

Tank might be the rankest bar in all of Sunnydale, but they have hot

wings! And that's good enough for me.

******

I remember Willow talking about this place, which is probably why I

remember it. Any time my Wills of all people decided to bring up a

bar, and not a library, I'm at attention.

Well not 'attention' attention, but you know I'm listening. God, I

even ramble in my own head. Loser.

Half naked and covered in shit, you'd think I'd get more then a few

passing glances when I walk into the place. But judging from the

people in here tonight, I don't think I really stick out too much.

All I want right now is about two dozen hot wings covered in super hot

hot sauce, and a extra large coke. With the way my stomachs rumbling,

I'm somewhat surprised no ones heard it over the music.

Which if I had to give a guess is one of Korn's songs? Falling away

from me, I think.

Not really, a big follower of metal, but it was a catchy tune and

really angsted the hell out of me. And isn't that what makes being a

17 year old boy all about?

The place isn't really packed, just some leather-clad teenagers

playing darts in the corner, some rough looking biker guys playing

pool down front.

And two guys and a girl at the bar doing their best to get shit faced.

They can't be all that older then me.

But this place isn't one to ask for picture ID, I'm sure.

The two guys at the bar don't even spare me a glace when I sit down,

but the girl at least sneers in my direction. No doubt as drunk as she

so obviously is, she can still smell me.

I think I know her, Sally or Sandy, something like that.

God she smells GOOD! I mean, I don't know if its her perfume or her

shampoo, but Jesus just being this close to her makes my mouth water

and DAMN, I have a hard on.

Talk about embarrassing.

Ever since puberty hit, my dick just want stay down. He's like the

energizer bunny; he just keeps going and going and going. You get my

point.

"Hey." I don't think I was subtle when I leaned over and looked down

her shirt. And from the pissed off look I'm getting, ya, not subtle at

all.

"Back the fuck off freak!" Sandy or Sally shouts, still not to clear

on her name.

"There's no need for that." I say, more then a little annoyed at her

tone. Who the hell is she to call me a freak? I'm not the twenty year

old dressed in cheap leather and drinking my ass off in this shit hole.

"Hey Jessica, this guy giving you trouble?" One of the two guys she's

with calls out. Jessica, huh, I wasn't even close.

Now both guys are looking at me like it'd be their pleasure to beat

the holy hell out of me, as long as it meant looking tough in their

girls eye. No doubt insuring that they'll be in her pants later tonight.

I take off before anyone can come to blows. Not exactly brave, but I

don't need to wake up in a ditch somewhere after another ass kicking.

Damn, I'm still hungry.

******

Walking back towards Buffy's house is harder then last time. I'm

hungry, and tired, and I for some reason I just feel like crap. And

the smell really isn't helping me out with that.

I have to get a bath somewhere.

The lights aren't on in the Summers house; I guess Ms. Summers and

Buffy are out. I know the Buffster's mom works late sometimes at her

auction house. So that's probably where she is.

No telling where the slay master general is. Out patrolling for vamps,

or with Willow.

Or for all I know she's over at Willow's house right now waiting on a

call from the cops about their missing friend. Namely me. I hope she

gets here soon, and doesn't mind too much that I crawled through a

window to get into her house.

Its not as if I could have gone through the front door and all, it

being locked up tight. But I just don't feel like waiting outside on

the porch until she gets back.

And I really need to take a bath.

******

I loose my dirty pants, and disregard my boxers when I jump into the

shower.

As famished as I am, I'd have liked to have gone to the kitchen first.

But I wasn't about to track shit all through Ms. Summer's house. I'm a

guest for Christ's sake.

Well, sorta.

Just getting all that wonderful clean water running down my body makes

me feel ten times better. All that crud and crap, and anything else

disgusting that was on my body gone is just wondrous.

My hard-on is still there. I'd sorta hoped the walk here from that

shit hole would have at least distracted me enough for my dick to calm

down. Apparently not.

So I take matters into my own hands, pun intended.

I really hope neither Buffy nor Joyce come home and find me jerking

off in their bathroom. The how and why to that isn't something I

really want to explain.

Wow, just thinking about those two makes my cock soo much harder. And

damn, I REALLY do not want them to come home now.

I just know that they'll come in and find me with my dick in my hands,

and just now that it was them I was thinking about as I jerked.

Shoot me, stuff me, mount me. I'm a 17-year-old ball of hormones, its

not as if I have a choice in the matter.

I cry out when I finally reach my climax, and I'm filled with no small

amount of joy as the evidence of my trespass runs down the drain with

the rest of the dirty water.

At least I have enough self-control not to go rambling through their

underwear drawers. I'm not a TOTAL perv.

******

My boxers are all I have that are clean, so it's them that I wear on

my walk to the kitchen. I hope the explanation that my pants are

covered in human feces is enough to throw them off guard.

Because as of right now, I really feel like a total bastard.

I didn't just break into their house, but I jerked off in their shower

thinking about them, and now I'm about to steal some of their food.

Ya, ma and pa would be SOOO proud.

Opening the fridge I find the left overs of a large cheese pizza, and

a gallon of whole milk. Course there's other stuff too, but I'll get

to that later.

I don't even wait to get a plate or a glass, I just pop open the

container of milk and chug it down.

The white substance explodes from my mouth in a spray of milk and

spittle. This stuffs rancid! I'm surprised its not already turned

green its sooo damn bad.

Why the hell do they even have this stuff still in their fridge?

I mean, I know Buffs no neat freak but I would have expected better

from Ms. Summers.

I grab a slice of pizza and take a bite. I upchuck it all over the

kitchen table; this stuff is as rotten as the milk. Why the hell

haven't they thrown this garbage away?!?

The milk was bad enough, but the pizza too had to turn on me. I tried

out a few other things, like oranges, bread, and shit even a glass of

water but it was all no good.

What the hells the matter with me?

Did sewer water get into my stomach and totally fuck it up? I have got

to get to the hospital, maybe get this stuff pumped out of my gut.

Then maybe I'll be already to eat something.

But I need food NOW!!! I'm dieing here, my belly's so empty I'm truly

amazed that it hasn't caved in on me.

And look at the mess I've made. Milk, vomit, and pizza all over the

kitchen table, and the jog of milk I had fell onto the floor and

spilled out all of its contents.

God, I've made a disaster area of their dinning room. Way to make a

good impression.

******

I try to clean up as best as I can, not really knowing where all the

cleaning stuff is in this house. So, I make due with paper towels and

water.

Most of the junk is still strew all across the kitchen, but at least

there is no proof that I puked anywhere in the place.

That has to count for something at least.

I'm still cleaning when the front door opens, and at least one member

of the household returns home. I still don't know how I'm going to

explain what a really messed up night I'm having.

Buffy marches through the front door and into the living room without

a care in the world, not for once thinking that she's not the only one

in the house.

Guess that slayerness doesn't cover everything.

"Buffy."

My blond haired friend has never once shrieked like that when we were

patrolling after vampires, or the latest monster of the week. I must

have really caught her off guard.

"XANDER! Wha, Xander?"

"Sorry I, I just needed to use your bathroom. I'm just...." Ya, that's

about as far as I got in my head as an explanation. Pure genius,

right? I'm a fucking retard.

"Xander? Wha...where have you been?!? I've, I mean we've all been

soooo worried!!!" Its mean, but that actually makes me feel a lot better.

That they were all worried about me.

"I don't know. I mean, I woke up in the gutter a few blocks away from

my house. Something must have hit me, knocked me out."

Her green eyes are so wide right now, and her breathing is off. Damn,

she must still be really scared. Funny how the fiends of hell don't

faze her, but me jumping out and pretty much going 'boo', does the trick.

"What hit you?" She finally demands. Uh oh, some nasty is in for a

slaying.

"I don't know, I was almost to my house when, uh, something just hit

me from behind." I walk over to her now, and her eyes widen even

further when she spots how very little I have on.

"Hey there buster! Where are you clothes?!?" She angry and her voice

is really getting a little high now.

And that makes me feel even better. I've been working out, and I might

not be 'Angel', but I think I have a nice bode. A six pack always

comes in handy.

"I woke up missing everything but my pants." I explain.

"Ya, well, where'd they go?" If I didn't know any better, I'd think

she was getting shy on me. Wow, all I needed to finally get a reaction

from her was to go missing for a few days then reappear pretty much

naked in her living room.

"I was dirty, that's by I took a bath. And my pants? Pretty much ruined."

I'm so close to her now, and its times like this when I'm reminded how

very small she really is. Buffy doesn't usually seem like it, but

she's just a little thing.

And it shows when compared to me. At 5'11 I'm not exactly a giant, but

she's 5'3 and as skinny as a rail. Of course her top isn't small, at

least a C. And her behind is an awfully nice size.

All these things distract you from the fact that Buffy is one of the

smallest people I know.

"Well uh, I don't think I have anything for you to change into." She's

rambling now, wow. I should be knocked out and covered in shit more often.

I don't know why I did it, but I grabbed hold of her. My hands reach

around her tight little waste, its the skin underneath my fingers is

so warn and alive.....

"Wha ya doin?" Buffy can't even speck correctly right now, but my mind

isn't really their to pay attention to that either.

She smells soo good right now, a hell of a lot better then that

Jessica skank at the bar. The scents like nothing I've ever smelled

before, it's delicious.

And the feel of her now pulled against my bare chest, my hands coming

around the wrap around her body, without a thought they've wrapped her

color something fierce.

"Hey! Back off!" Her minds finally caught up to the rest of her, and

she's finally getting pissed off at how I'm holding her. And that I'm

holding her in the first place.

However, it's too late for that, I lean over and I bite into her

throat. Sweet mother of Jesus, this is what I was hungering for; this

is what I needed to be sated.

Its pouring down my throat, into me, and she's moaning in my arms.

Frightened, and aroused, and everything I am at this moment. We're one.

******

I bit Buffy,

What the flying fuck is the matter with me?!? I freaking drank her blood!

It has been two hours since I left the Summer's house. Two hours since

I left Buffy passed out on her living room floor, and called the

ambulance.

God, I hope she's all right. Please, please don't let her be dead. I

couldn't have killed her, I just couldn't.

I just can't get my mind around it. It was just so.... There are no

words for what I did, or how it felt doing them. I can't be a vampire.

I mean, I walked, or rather claimed into her house without an invite.

Hell, after I ran out of Buffy's house I went to the nearest church

and plunged my hands into the pool of holy water they use to clean the

new born baby's on Sunday.

Nothing happened, not a blister or a burn. The holy water had no

effect and neither did the crosses. Therefore, I'm not a vampire. But

SHIT, I can't be normal.

I don't know why I licked the wound after I drain her, but the holes

in her neck disappeared as if they were never there. Like magic.

Buffy. God, what did I do to her?

She was rubbing against me as I bit her; she was 'enjoying' it. I

don't know, I guess that spurned me on. Even now, hours later and

across town I can still feel her.

The memory of her body pressed against mind. The warm salty flesh of

her throat opening up for me, allowing me to devour as much of her

life as I could swallow.

And I don't feel weird anymore.

Oh, I feel like some total twilight zone shit is going down, and it's

even off the radar for Sunnydale. But the weakness I felt before, the

sluggishness I had while I was walking to Buffy's? It's gone.

I feel like I could run ten blocks I have so much energy. I'm bursting

with it. Her life's blood, her life poured into me. It made me

stronger then I've ever imagined, ever dreamed.

At this moment, I think I could kick the holy crap out of anyone that

got in my way. I big and I'm bad, I'm the toughest motherfucker in town!

I find myself standing outside Sunnydale's only Mall, which it being

2am is closed. But I just can't continue to run around the streets

only wearing my black and green boxers.

There the ones with the Riddler's question marks printed all over

them. It was a gag gift from Jesse's last year. Before Buffy and the

slaying.

Before the monsters and vampires. Before he died.

One good thing at least is coming out of this; I'm so damn strong

right now, that breaking into the place wont be any trouble at all.

******

I think I'm come up with a foolproof plan. See, there are three steps

to this plan. Step one, cloths. I can't very well keep this whole

streaking thing up much longer.

Step two; I go to Giles's place. I heard him and Ms. Calendar talking

one day during lunch, and I over heard the address to his place.

So I'll go by there and hope he can figure out what's wrong with me.

finally, step three check on Buffy. She's at the hospital by now, and

if I'm lucky, she's still alive. And if I'm really lucky Giles

doesn't know anything about it yet.

Not exactly the staging for the attack on Pearl Harbor, but for now

its as good a plan as any.

You'd think finding a cloths store in a mall would be a cake walk, but

they've all got those chain fences pulled down to cover the entrance.

As strong as I am right now, I don't think bending steel is in my near

future.

Ironically, the only place where I can find some clothes is the only

place normally I would never 'go' for cloths. Hot Topic is usually

where you see the head banger types. Not really my scene.

But it isn't covered in that damn fencing. The only thing keeping me

out is the glass door. Which, with a single punch to said glass,

shatters into a thousand pieces.

Its weird that I didn't so much as get a scratch from the broken

glass, and I know I should have. But I've decided to forego thinking

to hard about the weird shit right now.

Leather pants and a solid black t-shirt, its the only things I'd

actually ever be caught wearing from the place.

They had other stuff, but I'm not particularly in the mood to where a

shirt with a dog on it that says 'my wiener knows tricks.' Call me old

fashioned.

Shoes in my size weren't hard to find either, but apparently, the

place doesn't sale socks so I guess I have to go without. Not the end

of the world. Just uncomfortable.

Now that I'm dressed on to step two.

"Who are you?" The question catches me off guard since I thought I was

all -alone in the mall. Turning around I catch sight of a guy, or at

least I think it's a guy. (Kill)

At first glance, the guy looks as homeless as I did earlier, bare

chest and feet. Only clothes on his body are an old torn up pair of

cargo pants.

That's not important, what is important is his skin. Damn, it looks

like the entire left side of his body was melted!

Like his skin was candle wax and simply starting running down his

body. The guys face his distorted, his left eye's gone and his teeth

are all jagged and brown. (Kill)

It makes no sense, I've never met the guy or demon or whatever the

hell he is but I'm running at him screaming like a banshee out of hell.

Its like there's something deep inside compelling me to attack, to

fight, and to kill this who ever he is.

And I think the same things happening to him too. Because he lets out

a growl that would be better suited coming from the mouth of a bear,

not his twisted and mangled pie hole.

When I finally reach him I grit down on my teeth, I ignore the fact

that my canines have dropped down to form fangs. I was sorted

distracted by the pain in my fingertips.

Like someone hit them with a hammer one by one, and split thing right

open.

We're trading blows at a speed I know for damn sure I'm just not

capable of. Or at least not last week. I land one good solid punch to

his twisted face and hello! There are inch long black claws were my

finger nails used to be.

Wax face takes this time when I'm looking at my monstrous hands to

kick me with all his might in the right kneecap.

The sound of it breaking is only a little louder to me then the pain

filled shout I let out before falling to my one good knee before him.

"Freeze!" Before either of us hand the chance to continue our

impromptu battle, Sunnydale's finest and shown up and three officers

are pointing their pistols at us.

"Did you call the cops?" I blurt out pissed, after being mugged and

left for dead by some freak, now the police decide to make their

presence known?

"Do I look like someone who wants the pigs down on me?" Freak face

counters, a little less angry then myself. But obviously none to

pleased either.

"Put your hands on top of your head and get on your knees." The

nameless boy in blue calls out.

We take the time to look at each other, his rotted out teeth are as

sharp as broken glass, and holy shit I can see my reflection in his

good right eye.

I'd ignored the fact that my reflection was distorted and blurry when

I was in Buffy's bathroom, and standing outside the mall looking at

the reflected glass.

Now I can make myself out a little clear, and holy shit my eyes are red!

I'm not talking the red your eyes get when you don't get enough sleep,

or like my old man when you've drunk yourself silly for three days

straight.

I'm talking fire engine red, hot poker red. My eyes are glowing!

Something passes between me and freak face, some untold story or a

solace knowing that between the five of us in the mall, we two are the

freaks.

As one we both turn to the cops with looks on are faces that clearly

say, what are you stupid? "Look at us you dumb shits, do you 'think'

your gonna take us in?" He says with a smirk.

Not that I'm really sure, with half his face still being gone and all.

My knee shifts back in place with a loud 'pop', and it's enough to get

the three stooges to open fire on us. The first bullets take us in the

chest and arms.

These guys have to be rookies because most of their shots go waaay off

center. We don't even spare a glace at one another, we just charge at

the cops howling like madmen.

******

Waking up a second time in the sewers is actually a lot easier then

the first.

At least thing time I remember how I got there. It doesn't take a

genius to realize that I slept the day away, AGAIN. Something is

seriously wrong with me.

Last night was a fuck up on an epic scale. I bit Buffy, and still

don't know whither or not she's all right. I broke into the mall and

had to dress like an ICP fan because there wasn't anything else I

could find.

Then there's my impromptu battle with whatever the hell that guys

name, I just call him freak face. Well, not 'too' his face, but in my

mind.

After we beat the living hell out of Sunnydale's finest, I thought

everything would be a little slower. A little more time to get the

things done on my list.

But freak face lost his shit, totally went crazed.

He bit two of the cops and I know for damn sure the first ones dead.

The guys throat was torn open so bad, I swear I could see his backbone.

I just stood and watched with, what I'm sure was a dumb founded look

on my face. When freak face was done minutes later, I was still

staring at him.

It's a hard guess, telling which one of us was more surprised.

The thing that glares at me, the thing that tugs at my gut is the look

on his melted face. The look that said so plainly, so terribly is that

he didn't mean it. He didn't mean to kill that guy.

Something deep inside him took over. The same something that took

control when I was in Buffy's house, when I was holding her against

me. Drinking away her life.

Goddamn, what the hell was done to me? To us?

Founding my way out of the sewers this time around is a lot easier

then last night. After all, as fucked up as it sounds I'm starting to

recognize landmarks.

God knows I've spent enough time down here.

One day I'll be walking then, it'll hit me, how do I get from Lakewood

Cemetery to Crest Vine apartments? Just take a left at the third sewer

entrance on the right and keep walking.

If you hit the maggot eaten rat you've gone to far. I may have missed

my calling as a tour guild.

Still, I know how to get out into the open streets. So hopefully I'll

get something done tonight, maybe check on Buffy. See if she's all right.

See if she's still alive.

First things first, I need cloths, 'real' cloths. Not these Goth 'I'm

dark and brooding so cry for me clothes'. And HOLY SHIT I have holes

in me.

Holes, honest to god holes as big around as my thumb, are in my chest

and left arm. There's dried blood and dirt covering my new cloths

already, but still clean enough for me to make out the white skin

underneath.

I have a hole just above my right nipple and Christ I can see 'inside'

me, fucking hell. There's another in the middle of my chest about

eight inches below my neck.

lastly one on my shoulder, like right in the middle.

They're not bleeding or even hurt too much. Its just, I have goddamn

holes in me. This shit is just toooo much for me. Things aren't

getting easier and I don't know how much more of this I can take.

As I walk towards the end of the sewer, and crawl up a storm pipe to

get onto the street I've spoken too soon as I watch the holes close up.

It took just a few moments and it was all over.

If I'd been shot before, I'd have been in the hospital for I don't

even know how long. It would have been months before I was good as

knew, if ever.

And now? I'm healed before I make it out into the cool night air.

Sweet Jesus Christ, I'm freaking 'hungry' again. I actually think it

is worse than last night. I've got to get some food...blood....

whatever right now!

******

I found something to eat on my way home. If you want to get literal, I

find Spot.

Spots one of those wiener dogs, real long bodies and little bitty

legs, that's Spot. He's well groomed with a collar and everything,

probably some kids dog and he ran away.

He started barking the second I noticed him across the street from my

house, or as my parents like to tell me their house and the place I

just take up room.

I think, 'hey I need blood right? I'm.... Whatever the hell I am, but

what I do know is I need blood. And poor little Spot he's got some.'

Cold I know, but it beats the shit out of almost killing someone else.

"Hey, buddy. That's a good little fellow, come here. Just come here."

I feel like a total retard, and even worse when Spot just whines and

glares at me from across the street. Not taking one step into the road

or near me.

"Come on buddy, come here. Come on please? Come on, you stupid little

bastard. You're the reason I'm a cat person. Come heeere"

I don't know what was up with my voice, the last word came out like a

growl. Like I was channeling some pit-bull or something. But whatever

happened, it worked.

Spot struts his little doggy ass across the street and into my open arms.

"The people from PETA or soo gonna want my ass." I just bite into the

little guys throat, and I don't even need to see a mirror to know I

got fangs again.

The blood tastes...I don't know, nasty. Its nothing like last night,

Spot tastes like warmed over shit but Buffy. She tasted sweet and

alive. Her blood burned on my tongue.

She was a four course mean, Spot was a pound of beef jerky.

I feel really bad as I toss the poor little guys lifeless body into

the gutter. I guess tomorrow some kid will find him and be

heartbroken, thinking his little buddy was hit by a car.

Better, that then knowing some monster ate him, I guess. But the

hungers lessened, its not gone. But it doesn't feel like I'm about to

bite off my own arm anymore.

Mom and dad shouldn't be home tonight, though I don't know really. I

mean, if they were caring and compassionate parents that were in a

state of panic over there missing son then they might be home.

Doors locked so I punch through the window and reach in to unlock it.

No ones woke up, no ones calling the cops. No ones home, why the hell

and I not surprised?

******

Sunnydale Medical.

Ms. Summers has been crying again.

Of course, it's her daughter laying up in a hospital bed in a coma. So

yes, I do believe she has every right in the world to cry if she feels

like it.

God knows I've done my fair share over the past few days.

When he'd gotten the news, when he found out his slayer his charge was

in a coma it had hit him like an eighteen-wheeler. It's the phone call

you don't ever want to get, but your always expecting.

In that way, he was a lot like Joyce. The call a parent gets telling

them their only child was in a terrible accident. The call that chills

you to your very soul.

It's the call he feared since finding out he'd be a watcher to a slayer.

Because Giles knew, knew in his gut that he should be expecting the

call. Because slayers don't live to old age, hell slayers don't

usually live to see 18.

They die violent deaths at a young age. Not surrounded by their loved

ones in the beds at 80.

It took him a half hour for the information to sink in, then he red

eyed it all the way to the county hospital. Joyce was already there,

and Willow.

God, poor sweet Willow. As if Buffy's... accident wasn't bad enough,

but to add the fact that Xander had been missing for almost a week?

How she most be suffering.

If he was truthful, Giles wasn't doing to well himself. People don't

go missing in Sunnydale and just show up one day all right.

Bad things, unspeakable things happened to people in this retched

town. Moreover, deep down, he knew something had happened to Xander.

God, I just let him walk home after Halloween. I just assumed he'd be

all right, that they all would be all right.

After Ethan's spell was broken, Xander, Buffy, and the rest brought

the kids back to the library to wait on their parents to pick them up.

Then they just went their separate ways.

Damn it to hell, Giles cursed himself. I should have bloody known!

Cordelia had a car; she drove herself home without any problem. Both

Buffy and Willow's parents came to pick them up.

But Xander walked home.

I should have given him a ride myself. I should have insisted he call

his parents to come get him, I should had done SOMETHING. But its too

damn late now, and god only knows what happened to that boy.

The only bright spot he could find was that no body had been found, so

there was at least a shred of hope that he was safe, that he was...alive.

"Uh, is the uh, doctor ready to speck to us?" He asked with a tremor

in his voice.

He had every right to be here, he'd guided Buffy and taught her what

it was to be a slayer. Legally, Giles knew he was after to the outside

world only the girls' library teacher.

No one had said anything yet, mostly because Joyce hadn't.

She was just grateful to have someone to be there with her when she

looked at her daughter. When she found out any news, she could get

about her little girls condition.

Ms. Summers didn't make any big deal about it. When he asked to be

with her when the doctor came to talk, she just nodded her head in an

after thought.

And muttered something about how good the school most be to send a

teacher to check up on one of their students.

If that was what she wanted to think, who was he to delude her?

"Yes, the doctor is ready to see you know."

******

Buffy's room number is 114. She resides on the third floor, the ICU.

The Sunnydale residents are used to weird goings on, and people

disappearing never to be heard from again.

However, it is unusual for someone to just go into a coma one day.

When Giles heard the news that his young slayer was hurt, vampires

were the first things to come to mind. Demons, creatures with fang and

claw.

But she didn't have any injuries like that. It was the strangest

thing. There wasn't a mark on her, yet she had dangerously low blood

pressure.

This is in fact `why' she was in a coma.

Giles couldn't help but see the blood loss and think vampire, but

vampires use fangs to drink the blood of their victims. They leave

ugly teeth marks.

So how is it that Buffy was drained of blood, but without leaving a

mark? However, this wasn't the moment to be thinking of that, Joyce

needed him to be strong. She needed a shoulder to lean on.

And by god, so do I, Giles thought sadly.

One could suspect that something bad was bound to happen. You could

try to prepare yourself for it, try to ward of any deep shock when it

happened.

However, see Buffy laying there, as pale as the sheet underneath

her...it was something else entirely.

Buffy's skin was usually a peach color, soft and healthy. At 16 years

old, that wasn't too uncommon. Now, she'd taken on a pasty tone. In

addition, she seemed almost blue, she was that pale.

Her blond hair was lank.

God, and Joyce just broke down when she saw her daughter laying there.

So lifeless and still, I can't image how this must be for her.

But there is some good news at least, "Though she 'is' comatose, we

had no reason to put her on a respirator. She can breath on her on and

her vital signs are in good shape." Dr. Simon Pile informed the pair.

"She's responding to outside stimuli, and her eyes though unresponsive

aren't veiled over. She's a very lucky young lady."

I don't know if I'd call her 'lucky'. But if what the doctor had to

say was true and I don't see why he'd lie, then Buffy wasn't in any

lasting danger.

With her vast healing abilities she'd be on her feel in no time. Ms.

Summers might not know that but she sure seemed to take the news in

the way it was intended.

Joyce's blue eyes teared up at those words, how her whole body shook

with the relief. "Oh thank god, thank you doctor. Thank you." She

clutched to the young MD and hugged him tightly.

Dr. Simon didn't seem to use to this action, but since this 'is'

Sunnydale he most be used to giving people bad news and receiving

scorn. Not praise.

Blushing like a schoolboy, Dr. Simon who couldn't be a day younger

then 50 stammered a few words more then hastily ran off. "Yes, uh,

your very welcome." Then he was gone.

"Its good news then." Giles said once the red faced MD was out of

hearing range.

"That's so...hmmp." He coughed, as now it was his turn to have Joyce

wrap her arms around him in a tight embrace. "And thank you Mr. Giles

for being here. I uh, I don't know if I could have done this alone."

"Uh, yes, uh right then." Stammering like a fool, and no doubt

blushing up a storm as well, Mr. Giles just stood there under the

mother's 'attack'.

******

Sunnydale High, The Library.

"What can I, I mean we do?" Willow asked after a moment, seeing

Cordelia in the library wasn't something utterly out of the norm. But

she usually didn't come to Scooby meetings.

"I mean, whatever put her in the hospital might try again."

The tolls of the past week were really starting to weigh on the young

girl, Giles could see it clearly. The girls normally bright green eyes

were dulled and almost defeated.

Her oldest friend was missing and by now presumed dead, and the only

other person she had to lean on was in the hospital in a coma.

"What can we do? This thing kicked Buffy's ass, right. What can 'we'

do against something like that if little miss slays a lot was whipped

so easily." Though Cordelia's words were without tact, they still

rang true.

There unknown foe had put Buffy down for...hell, she wasn't even awake

yet. She could very well be laid in bed for months. And that wasn't

even to heart of the matter.

"I due believe it's a even worse then that." Giles said, he removed

his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

After 32 hours straight with no sleep, his body was almost at its

limit. He really needed to sleep. But not before he let his fears be

known.

"What's the supposed to mean?" Willow demanded. "Do you think we're in

danger?!?" She exclaimed.

"Xander didn't just take a vacation. He's a resourceful young man, but

in no way is he equal with the slayer. And we've seen how well Buffy

didn't against what ever this thing is."

Giles didn't want to lay this on Willow or Cordelia for that matter.

But if this creature, this unknown fiend was targeting them then the

girls needed to be on guard.

"Xander is NOT dead!" The tired and frustrated red head all but

growled. "I don't care what you think, he isn't dead. I would know if

something happened to him."

I wish that were true, Giles thought sadly. But no matter how much she

cared for the boy she couldn't know if something had befallen him.

He couldn't send her or Ms. Chase home without pounding the facts into

their heads. Even if they didn't want to hear it.

Though Cordelia hadn't interrupted once during the conversation, in

fact she seemed awfully stoned faced about all of this. He'd have to

ask her about that later.

"I know you don't want to see this, god knows the thought of something

happening to Xander..." He trailed off.

Damn it, this wasn't supposed to be happening. The young man who had

foughtbeside them shouldn't have been there in the first place. If

only he'd argued more with Buffy to keep Xander and Willow, and after

a fashion Cordelia out of the fight.

But Buffy had been so set on them helping, that she needed people

around her. Friends to watch her back.

A lot of good that did her. "The fact of the matter is you 'are' in

danger. The only thing I can do to keep you safe is to urge you to get

out of town. See if you can stay with a family member somewhere that

isn't here."

I hope I'm doing the right thing sending them away. That whatever is

doing this will not follow them. That the bastard will stop attacking

children and fight 'me.'

Then I'll kill the son of a bitch, or die trying.

******

West Hill cemetery.

I think I might have freaked out a few of the local demons.

I mean, what could they have been thinking when they saw me sitting on

a tombstone chowing down on stray dogs? Once you get past the

disgusting taste of it, animal blood is just...ok, its just plain nasty.

But it gets the job done. It's been a week since I woke up in that

sewer, and every night I awake with a hunger that's so intense, I

think my stomachs going to cave in on its self.

But dog blood slacks it. It doesn't satisfy me, I haven't been

satisfied since the first night when I had Buffy in my arms.

When her life's' blood rushed out of her into me. God, that had been

the most agonizing and exciting few minutes of my life. Just thinking

about it made me hard.

But it was more then that. This blood lust, this thirst was sated when

I drank her. The roaring hunger was quieted, and that's what I miss.

The cats and dogs I catch and eat, they're good for a quick fix.

However, whatever I am was not meant to feed solely from lost pets.

I haven't actually gotten anything on my list done. I just don't have

the nerve to go see Giles. I can't stomach the thought that he might

tell me there's nothing he can do.

That I'll be stuck like this for the rest of my life.

And I can't stomach the thought the he might be able to do something

about it. That he can take away this...whatever it is, and with it the

power.

If I listen I can hear a couple whispering almost a block away. The

marching of these little dogs is so clear in my mind, I swear I could

track any one of them just from the sound they made when running.

And the smell. God, you've never smelled a freshly cut lawn of grass

until you senses have been enhanced 20 times.

I have found somewhere better then the sewers to sleep. There's this

cave on the beach outside of town, the openings only big enough for a

single person to crawl in on all fours.

The stones cold, but that doesn't seem to bother me as much as it used

too. At least its dry and the sunlight doesn't get in.

Damn, just thinking about the sun makes my skin crawl and something

deep inside snarl and demand I ran from the cursed light. When the

tide is high, the water comes right up to the mouth of the cave.

I actually have to swim through it to get outside.

It seems like a lot of work, but during the day, I'm down like a rock.

Completely helpless to whatever creatures come across me during the

daylight hours.

That was the main reason for me moving out of the sewers, no demons or

anything had bothered me but rats and started chewing on me while I slept.

The wounds healed almost within moments, but just the thinking about

the fact that there are pieces of me inside the bellies of those

rodents. It's sickening.

I'd tried to find somewhere inside the graveyard to bed down but I ran

into a few vampires that weren't to keen on the idea.

Like the first night, my fingernails have became long black claws. It

was the damnest thing to watch. The soft clear nail on my fingers

didn't change into the claws.

In fact, the claws themselves had sprung from underneath the nails and

torn them right off with a throbbing sting. That's how I learned how

much stronger and faster I was.

I took down those two vamps like I was walking through geeks in high

school.

Hell, I freaking ripped their heads right off their shoulders with my

bare hands. Just seeing those shit heads looking at me, growling at me

when I tried to find somewhere to rest...

It was like a red haze covered my eyes and all I saw was two pieces of

shit trying to start something with me. And those sons a bitches had

to DIE.

But all of that meant nothing tonight. But all of that meant nothing

right now, because for the first time I had some way of finding out

what had happened to me.

Why I was this thing.

Because while I was eating, freak face, who I hadn't seen since the

first night had shown up and told me that their was a meeting tonight.

And once I got over the sudden urge to rip his throat out, we talked

some. And he told he how someone a lot like us and come up to him and

given him the address.

Though he was a little closed lipped, he did mention something about

'Kindred'. Or whatever the hell that means.

******

I'm really starting to get sick of this flee or fight feeling that I

get every time I see what one of my kind. Which since this is the

first night I've met anyone other then freak face, you see how short

my temper has gotten.

It didn't take us more then twenty minutes to walk to the warehouse

that the meeting was supposed to go down in.

Which gave me some time to talk with freak face, which unsurprisingly

enough 'hates' that nickname. However, he did give me his real name,

so now I know what to call him.

Lenny Miles.

Mr. Miles used to be a bank manager over at First National. He had

three kids and a lovely wife named Betty. Lenny was active in his

church, and also a local member of PTA.

That is, until he woke up in the local landfill with half is face

melted away. Hell, not just his face. The whole side of his body is

like candle wax.

Shamefaced, or at least that's what he was, he informed me that the

scars went all the way down.

I don't know whither he meant his legs and feet, or that his dick was

messed up too. Whatever, my heart goes out to him. All I got was some

weird shit with my eyes and fingernails. He lost half his body.

But we did swipe some information. We both hunger every night, after

we awaken from the day that was slept totally away.

Fire and sunlight makes us loose our shit, and every time we get near

each other for a few moments its like we want to claw each others eyes

out.

But it doesn't last too long, and the two of us can control it a lot

better then we did the first time we met.

I don't know who he has been eating, and frankly, I don't have the

heart to ask. But with any luck, he's figured out how to grab strays

and slack his thirst.

There are seven others like us; well they don't look anything like

Lenny. But when our eyes met that need to attack was there as strong

as ever.

And a handful of them lunged at us before taken control of themselves

and stepping back. The others simply shrunk away like they'd been

scolded when they saw us.

This would be my first meeting with Sunnydale's Kindred; I would learn

later that's what we're all called. And my first impression of them

wouldn't change too much.

First off, I know one of them. A girl that is among us goes to, or at

least used to go with me to high school. Hell, she used to be a Cordette.

Nikki Sheer.

She's thin, 1/2 white 1/2 asian. Though I've never met her parents so

I don't know which ones which. She's always been kind of a bitch, but

in no way as bad as Harmony is now or Cordelia used to be.

Nikki was sorta like this little hanger on even among the 'popular' crowd.

Which most people don't know is primarily white. We might be in South

California but it might as well be South Georgia, for the way the

different races and clicks get along here.

In school, she always had a ready sneer to send to anyone who looked

at her funny. Which as I see has been replaced with a frightened

little girl look.

She was one of them that flinched away when me and freak face walked

in. For some unknown reason that makes me feel good.

The abandoned building really is a dump. Dirt floor, with all the

windows either broken out or nailed over. I guess it's a perfect place

to set the meeting.

Its not like there's any chance of a normal person decided to go on a

stroll and walk through here. Nikki was on the far right away from the

others. Not that any two were standing that entire close together.

Right dab in the middle of the warehouse was someone I've never seen.

We get the introductions out of the way and I learn a few things about

him.

Stewart Keeper.

Stewart used to go to UC Sunnydale. He started last fall and was

working on becoming a computer teacher. Much like Ms. Calendar was

before she died.

He's tall and lanky, and this is coming from 'me'. So you gotta

understand he's one lanky bastard. And if it wasn't the whole computer

thing, and his general demeanor, something tells me Stew is something

or a nerd.

He tries to hide it, and thinks he outgrew all that in high school.

But talk to him for five minutes and its plan to see this guy still

plays dungeons & dragons. He flinched.

Not five feet from him is one of the oddest guys I've ever met. Though

I don't know his name, he refuses to speck.

We'll just call him the smiling man.

He looks to be in his late 50's early 60's, and he's really short. I'm

talking if he was any smaller he'd be a midget. I don't know much more

then that, and I'm sure no one else does either.

The guys just standing there grinning like a madman. Though what I do

know about him is that he 'didn't flinch.

To the far left is a pair of Kindred talking to one another. These two

haven't left one another's side anymore then me and freak face have. I

guess there thinking the same thing we are, there's safety in numbers.

The first guys tall, dressed in a three-piece suit. He's got sandy

blond hair and light blue eyes. He looks like he belongs on Wall

Street, not here of all places.

Jordan Peter.

Jordan ran his own small law firm here in Sunnydale. He had a wife

that he was cheating on, and a dog in his backward named Spot. I shit

you not.

I'm not sure if it was the same animal, but this being Sunnydale I

don't want to think too much into it. There are only three things that

really stand out about this guy.

One, he's a dick. Utter smart-ass dick. Two, his dog is more

interesting over all then he is. And he takes ALOT about that dog. And

three, he didn't flinch.

At his left is someone else I've seen in high school. Though I think

he's a grade underneath me.

Andrew Wells.

Until tonight I would have pegged him right in there with that Stewart

guy, and totally and complete nerd. But now, standing next to Jordan,

he's acting like he's the second coming.

I don't know where I got all this so-called self-confidence, but I

know it's only paper-thin. Andrews putting on a good front, but I saw

him flinch. Even now, he can't look me in the eye like a man.

And I don't know, there's just something about him that pisses me off.

Apparently, he's the one that put this little meeting together. And

nerd boy says he has a lot to tell us once we're done learning

everyone's names.

God, Andrews talking to us as if we're a band of dumb kids. And the

fuckers actually talking 'down' to us. And seeing the look on freak

face's well face, I know I'm not the only one tired of the punk already.

Standing a good ways behind the two blond dicks is a really big black guy.

Rubin King.

Don't know too much about this guy because he called me a bitch and

walked away half way through the fucking conversation. And I don't

know if I'm pissed off or amused.

It was just so out of the blue.

'Hello, how are you doing?'

'I'm doing fine, how about you?'

'Just great, now fuck off bitch.' Ya, that's sorta how the

conversation went more or less.

Lastly, and pretty much lestly is the guy beside the door who welcomed

me and Lenny in.

Goran.

The name's fake. I know damn well that his momma didn't name him

Goran, or forget to give him a last name. He has dark brown hair with

red highlights, and a firm build.

He also flirted with me shamelessly the entire time I tried to talk.

Ya, my night is really going to shit. The only action I've gotten all

week is from some weird guy who says I have pretty eyes. He didn't flinch.

But the introductions were finally out of the way and Andrew brought

this little meeting to order.

"Welcome friends, brothers in blood, fellow Kindred. Come gather

around and here the tale of our beginnings and future." God, I just

want to pop this little brat right side his damn head.

He's even using a cheesy British accent. Loser.

******

Sunnydale Medical.

I didn't kill Buffy, thank God. Or Cain, or whomever the hell I'm

supposed to pray to these days.

After the meeting, if you could really call it that, Lenny and me

split the place and we showed me what he'd been eating for the last week.

There's a slaughterhouse in town just off the main street going

towards the school. Apparently, he isn't as good at the whole 'beast

speech' as me, but he knows how to pick the locks and can get as much

cow blood as he wants.

That's how I found out about Buffy, in a sorta round about way.

Angel was getting his weekly stash of pigs blood, I guess he's too

cheap to opt for cow blood but to each their own. Anyway, I followed

him to the high school.

Him and Giles were going over their plans to protect Buffy while she's

in the hospital, and hunt down whatever it was that hurt her. Namely me.

Getting into the hospital and past the few doctors and guards wasn't

all the difficult. Actually finding out her room number was a little

harder. Room 114.

She doesn't look like herself, and I'm actually surprised by that.

Stupid. Of course, she isn't going to look the same; she's been in a

coma for days and only got a bath her first night in.

Her skins taken moist and sticky feel to it, and cold to the touch.

People shouldn't be this clammy, and I don't know whither it is from

what I did to her or the fact that the nurses haven't been cleaning her.

"Hey, Buff. I guess your not doing so hot, but I got the cure for that."

That pompous little puke Andrew didn't really tell me anything

terrible important. Somehow, I don't really know but we came a

fictional band of vampires. Or Kindred.

But what I did find out was that my blood could heal someone who's

seriously injured.

I can't help but reach out touch her. She looks so helpless, so not

Buffy. And I can remember her now as if it was just moments ago when I

held her against me.

My teeth sinking into her lean beautiful throat and I drank from her

so deeply. To deeply. And the stolen blood I've acquire tonight goes

rushing downward.

God, I'm disgusted with myself. I hurt her, one of my best friends in

the whole world. And all I can think about is drinking her again,

tasting her warm vibrant blood on my tongue again.

The feel her of soft white skin against my lips, the press of her tone

body against mine.

I look around; I closed the door to her room when I entered. It's

around 11:30, well past visiting time and I don't want to explain why

I'm here.

More so now that something else has come to mind.

No one will know if I take a little peek. The hallways empty, and for

a hospital its awfully quiet already. No one will know, and god I want

to see her. I want to touch her.

I slowly, carefully slide her covers away and reveal her long legs.

For a girl so short, Buffy really does have legs that go one for days.

They reach all the way up, underneath her nightgown.

She's as quiet as a church mouse when I push that nightgown of hers up

so that her sex clad in virginal white underwear is exposed to the

cool air. And that perfectly flat stomach of hers.

Shit, I shouldn't be doing this. Its wrong and she'd never forgive me

if she knew I was taking advantage of her like this.

Will she ever forgive me for biting her? Even after I've healed her,

will my name be at the top of her 'most be slayed' list? Will she kill me?

And I press on. My fingers are only room temperature, just like the

rest of me. The blood I'd taken from all those strays cools inside me

so quickly.

Even all the extra I took to get enough to feed her. A lot of little

boys and girls are gonna wake up tomorrow to find their beloved pets

missing. But it's for a good cause.

Her stomach is so tight, the muscles her so well formed and worked

out. Being a slayer is good for her body, that's for damn sure.

And I'm sooo tempted to remove her underwear. To see her in all her

glory, after all when will I ever get another chance? But I can't do that.

It'd be too much. That would be taken it too far. And deep down, I

don't know what I'd do if I saw her. Lying there naked from the waste

down. I might not be able to restrain myself.

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I move upwards and push her gown

all the way up to her neck.

"Sweet Jesus." No one put a bra on her. God she's breathtaking. Those

perfect breasts, as white and smooth as the purest of milk. The only

color to be seen is her ripe pink nipples.

Like the buds of a rose, and just as perfect.

Shyly I look around again, no ones here. No one will know. I lean over

and lay a chase kiss on her right breast. Her skin tastes so salty,

and I can detect the slightest remains of dirt.

I swear, I should fucking sue these bastards. They let their patients

just lie in their on filth and do nothing?!? But I'll deal with that

later. Right now, all I can do is revel in the fact that my tongue is

circling her soft bud.

I want to do more, so much more. But I know deep down I've taken

enough liberties with her.

I stole her life's blood away from Christ's sake. And I'm sure I've

had her mom worry something awfully, and that's not even taking into

consideration Giles and the guys.

Swiftly, I rearrange her gown back into place.finally I reach upward

and carefully open her mouth, and block out the mental vision that

that sight inspires.

And with great care, I open up my wrist with those razor sharp teeth

of mine. And place the open wound against her lips to allow the

magical blood to pour freely down her throat.

"Shhh, that's it. Take as much as you need." I whisper as the blood

gushes from me into her, hopefully healing her from the injuries I

inflicted.

Andrew said this would work, that Buffy would be as good as knew.

Because my blood would make her heal as quickly as one of 'us'. And

Since I watched bullet holes close up in moments, that's pretty

fucking fast.

And with a start, her green eyes pop open. And her hands automatically

come up and grab my wrist, holding it tightly against her open and

wanton lips.

And she drinks excessively. But she's still weak from her coma, and I

easily pry her delicate fingers away from my wrist and pulled it away.

"Noooo, please?" She whines, her voice sounded harsh from being unused.

Something else Andrew said, our blood, the blood of the 'Kindred' is

like cocaine to mortals. Instant addiction, and as selfish as it is I

hope that her addiction will be enough for her to forgive me biting her.

I swiftly leave her room, and can easily over hear her crying and her

helpless whining for more blood.

******

The first thing that always stuck out to Willow about hospital's was

the smell. That Lysol smell to cover up the sickness and blood, but it

was just as stomach turning.

Good thing I didn't eat anything before coming.

And it was true; she hadn't eaten anything before her visit to Buffy.

Actually, she hadn't really eaten well in a week. Not since Buffy was

hurt, and not since Xander's disappearance.

His disappearance. That's how she thought of it; her oldest friend had

simply vanished. He wasn't head in her mind, he wasn't even hurt. He

simply wasn't 'here'.

But he'd come back. Willow knew that deep down in her bones.

And was only slightly less nerve racking then the smell was the sound.

The wheezing sound of respirators, people only barely getting enough

air in their lungs to keep going.

The constant and mind numbing beeping of heart monitors. And the low

talking from patients in other rooms, crying and sobbing, or simply

talking low.

But enough of that shit, she blushed outwardly at her inner cursing.

It wasn't something she did often, even in our on head. But it seemed

appropriate.

Buffy was awake! She'd gotten the news early this morning right before

school and had almost not gone to Sunnydale High, rather run off to

visit her blond slayer friend.

But her parents were having none of that. They shooed her off saying

that her friend would be there when she got out of class, and then she

could go visit.

Sometimes I hate them soo much.

Giles of course had beaten her to room 114. Willow never thought of it

as Buffy's room, it wasn't her room. It was just the place she slept

until she got better.

Her room was at her house, where Ms. Summer's was waiting for her.

Both watcher and Slayer turned when I entered the room, with very

different looks on their faces.

Giles was pleased, very pleased. You could see the relief shining

through his eyes like little beckings(?). He looked better then he had

in days. But there was also a questioning look on his face, as if he

was thinking something over deeply.

But Buffy was glowing! Well, not literally but she looked good. Her

skin just the day before had been pale and clammy was now lush and

shining. Hell, her hair had looked droopy and dirty yesterday, now

looked like it belonged on a model for Pantene.

"Willow! Hey, can you tell him I'm fine and ready too go home." She

insisted sternly.

Oh, Ms. Summer's had mentioned how much Buffy hated Hospitals. Ever

since her cousin died in a hospital years ago, you'd be hard pressed

to get Buffy to set foot in one.

But she didn't look as anxious as I'd expect for someone who hated

this place so much.

In fact Buffy's sprits seemed unusually high, like she had something

on her mind that was so good that even her fear of hospital's couldn't

dampen her mood.

"So how you doing, Buffy? Oh and I brought homework!"

That flattened her mood a little bit, but not as much as Willow had

been expecting. "Homework? Most people these days bring flowers or

balloons."

Grinning, I explain my gift. "I did all the work, all you have to do

is sigh your name."

Now this gets a pleasant reaction out of her, "Flowers mean nothing to

me." She says with a smile that just brightens up the whole room. What

are they putting in her food? Cause I'd like some for myself.

But then she takes on a serious face, that's no less pleased. "Guys! I

have important news! Its Xander he's alive."

Of course he's alive, my mind rages. But the way she said it, like to

her as much as he their isn't any doubt. And my heart sores at the look.

"He came to me last night, like an guardian Angel. He did something

and healed me." And this takes away my happy mood.

Because no matter how beautiful angels are, or how vibrate or alike

their are in the bible or television. There's one thing that someone

has to be to be an Angel. Dead.

******

I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. Scratch that, I know how I'm

'supposed' to feel. I'm supposed to feel disgusted that I freaking

violated Buffy like that.

And I do, god I feel sick inside like in a way that I've never know.

But that's a small part of me.

The larger parts glad I got away with it, and even more that I fed her

my blood. Because if that little punk Andrew was right then she'll be

on my side no matter what.

Just to get another taste of my poisoness blood, she'd go with what

ever I tell the others.

"Not that its hard to come up with anything," Xander muttered to

himself while sitting on the curb outside Giles's home. Freak face

told him what the Scooby gang was mewling over.

Though, for the life on him, he didn't know 'how' freak face knew

anything that went on in the room while the guys talked to his blood

haired ghoul.

But that's beside the point, they thought, or rather Buffy thought he

was some sort of angel come down to heaven to save her. That he'd been

killed by whatever monster it was out their and came back to look

after them.

How anyone could come to THAT conclusion was beyond him.

Apparently, she'd blocked out his attack on her completely. And what

she did remember of his late night visit in the hospital was him

standing over her healing her wounds.

He didn't deserve the praise, knew that for damn sure.

Vampire molesters shouldn't become mystical heroes by default. If

there was anything he learned from Angel, it was that. But he wasn't

about to disagree with them.

Willow was buying it hook line and sinker, and so was Cordelia,

thought she wasn't as quick to it.

The only problem it seemed was Giles. Who wasn't stupid or foolish.

Things didn't seem to work out like Buffy saw them, and how they did

work out wasn't in my favor.

And if I'm going to rejoin the Scooby game, I'm going to need him on

my side 100%.

Which is why I'm standing outside his small apartment right now,

debating how I'm going to take care of it.

I'm getting a good deal of blood from the stray animals in town, and

I've got a decent place to sleep during the day. I may not have gotten

anything on my list accomplished, but after almost a month as a

'kindred', I'm doing pretty good.

And if Buffy's really buying into this hero business, then it'll be

easier for me to come back.

Well, not as an 'angel', no. I'll explain vaguely what I am now. Which

is why I've been missing for so long, I was ashamed to tell them.

Afraid of what they'd do.

Which is mostly the truth.

I'll tell them about the animal blood I drink, and how I'm not killing

people. Paint a pretty picture of pain and angst, sorta like dead boy

only without the gay ass hair gel.

Course, the attacking Buffy and drinking her blood thing will be left

out of my tale.

But I will tell them that after I learned of the slayer's condition I

came in and fed her some of my magical blood. Which healed all her wounds.

This, I'm sure might cause a few problems. Not from Buffy, though for

face value she'll no doubt be all 'eck'. But that'll be for show,

she's already addicted to my blood.

Like a crack addict. One hit, and she's putty in my hands.

The only monkey wrench in my plan, the only obstacle standing in my

way of having a simi normal life again is Giles. Giles who is asleep

in his bed right now.

So, I'll just snick on into his room, and open a vain. Instant addict,

putty in my hands. Ya, this plan could work out good.

But I can't feed of dogs and cats all the time, now all I need to do

is find some 'blood doll's. Morbid as hell, that term. But that loser

Andrew's anal that we call our feeders that.

I'm sorta debating wither or not I should just beat the shit out of him.



Fin.





): )

The End

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