”The creatures ‘round town sure do love bars, don’t they?”
Her head rested in her hand, her arm keeping it held up by propping itself on Ricochet’s bar countertop. Fingers were digging into her right cheek, but nothing could really scrap her eyes off of the far too obvious group of otherworldly people seated a few tables away from her. They all dressed the same: dark, angsty, no fashion sense whatsoever. Black wasn’t even a hard color to match something with, so what the hell was their excuse? Pale skin? Puh-lease, as if that could take away from the tacky malfunctions they had from head to toe. And don’t even forget to mention the ridiculous anarchy symbols some of them proudly walked around with. Did demons even have rules? And even if they did, they probably weren’t as strict as the kind humans lived by. ‘Don’t eat too many humans in one day’ or ‘don’t forget to bury the bodies’ or anything that’d be considered crazy by normal people.
”You sound bitter, Fran.”
A heavy sigh followed the comment, a glower tossed in Rick’s direction before he crossed his arms in front of her and followed her eyesight.
”They could be worse, but I hear the ones around Lake View take the cake in that category.”
She shifted what arm had the task of holding her head up, shutting her eyes and tapping on the counter; her signal for him to shut the hell up and get her a drink. He replied with an equally heavy sigh on his part before filling a shot glass up, sliding it her way and tending to the newer patrons. But now that she had the drink, she didn’t want it. Getting drunk at night would only lead to the worst case scenario, and she didn’t want to have a funeral her family couldn’t attend – let alone even find out about. She dismissed the drink and waved Rick off, leaving Ricochet with a face that could’ve been better summed up to her eating something way too sour. The vamps at Ric weren’t causing her any problems, but she didn’t want to be a meal; and with how little humans came around the club these days, she’d have to find a new place to be before they got to her.
But thinking about it wasn’t doing, and the doing was what needed to be done – but her thinking never led up to it. She kept thinking they’d leave: they didn’t. She kept thinking she’d find a better job elsewhere: she didn’t. She kept thinking she was doing herself a favor by sticking by her ‘they’re all monsters’ gun: she wasn’t. Maybe they weren’t all bad? But how would she know. The stick up her ass wasn’t really a “Come be friends with me!” allower, and the only vamps that sprung up at Ric’s were about as old as Linette; not grey-haired, but definitely older than her. She shook off whatever thoughts remained and came to a halt, passing a hand through her hair before she came to the conclusion that her thinking truly wasn’t doing her any favors.
”Where the hell am I…”
She lived in Cleveland long enough, or so she thought, and she still hadn’t come across graves before. Maybe this place was Lake View? But again, graves weren’t exactly something she saw every day – and she sure didn’t want to make it a regular sight now.
”Maybe I—”
A rough thud into her shoulder sent her pummeling down, a quick curse leaving her lips when her ass collided with dirt and grass. She tried to find the culprit responsible for landing her on the ground, but was greeted with nothing but the same surroundings she saw moments ago.
”You gotta be shittin’ me. I can’t be imaginin’ things… I didn’t even drink tonight!”
Vampire population in Cleveland: Supposedly high. Places scoured for vampy/demony beings: every club in town, all the usual dark alleys, and all but one cemetery. Number o’ dustings or even spottings: 0. Buffy was making a last ditch effort to have at least a minimally successful patrol. So far, no good. She was supposed to be back in the game, fighting demons like the badass of old she used to be. Could she even claim such a title anymore? Or were the vampires just getting more hidey? It had to be the vampires. Since her little stay-in-bed-cation she’d been feeling particularly refreshed and agile, no way it was her.
She sat down against a tree, her sigh of disappointment the only noise that rung out in the dead silence of the graveyard. She peered at the golden brown locks that cascaded down her shoulders. Being a brunette was all… weird, and having a different face was something she’d never get used to. She looked a little young or something, but fierce as ever in the eyes. Which she really liked. She was herself, only not. Willow’d conjured up a good one, that’s for sure. She remained, fortunately, a hot chick with superpowers.
The almost inaudible crunch of feet on grass broke Buffy from her thoughts. Someone else was in the graveyard. In one silent motion Buffy jumped up to her feet and scanned the area around her for whatever else was lurking in the graveyard. There it was, far off- a beast of the demon-y kind. She set her sights on it like some sort of laser, she liked to pretend at times like this that she had some sort of special slayer scope with the little red dot and everything. The demon, a sort of dog shaped thing with vibrantly red and possibly scaly looking fur, was a hundred yards off- but not nearly too far away. She sprung into motion, weaving in and out of gravestones with precision a surgeon would be jealous of. She was gaining on it, yes it was definitely of the scaly variety. Each step brought her closer and closer to the beast.
And suddenly a wall of blonde. A blonde haired, humany shaped wall of person- she thudded into her and sent her flying to the ground. It didn’t hurt her, but she could tell that it’d leave a bruise on the other woman’s shoulder and probably elsewhere. She ran a few steps ahead, her eyes trying to focus on the demon which she still needed to be chasing after, but it was gone.
“Great,” she said through clenched teeth and really only to herself. She turned back to the blonde on the cold hard ground. Maybe her fall had been padded by the grass at least a little. Either way, she was still lying there, trying to get up with a curse word and an exclamation of confusion. She walked over to her, holding out a hand to help her up. "Nope, no shitting.“ The word wasn’t one of the chosen few swears that Buffy liked to use and it felt a little funny and awkward coming out of her mouth. "It’s all real- no imagination needed.” She shot the blonde a small smile as she helped her up, she didn’t need it too terribly much. “I’m sorry about that, I was chasing…” Well she couldn’t come right out and say that she was chasing a demon. Nope, Buffy was the only slayer and right now she wasn’t Buffy. Or at least she was pretending she wasn’t, she was undercover like some sort of superspy with an awesome catsuit.
“My uh, friend.” She forced out a chuckle. Buffy gave the blonde a quick once over, she didn’t look hurt. Buffy could probably just leave her to her devices, but that was rude. And if she wasn’t polite, what was she? "Whoa, sorry. On top of the stellar rudeness that is pummeling you to the ground, I didn’t introduce myself either.“ She held out her hand yet again, hopefully it’d get shaken and she wouldn’t be left hanging. "I’m Bea."
This Is A Test 