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After the Storm

The girl with the honey blonde hair looks cautiously around everywhere, as if checking for anything that might have been watching her. She is hiding behind a bush, and holds something under her coat. Her eyes, blue like water, flick here and there in intense concentration. Suddenly there is a rustling in the bushes, and she tenses, ready to spring. An onlooker would think that a girl in a park alone would run off if she heard a suspicious noise. But no. She looks at the area where the sound came from with a hungry look in her eyes, and seems more like the hunter than the hunted. The bushes part with a crack and a shambling figure leaps out, almost onto the watcher. The girl moves out of the way at the last moment, and follows the figures every move. Then she appears to come to a decision. She rushes forwards, then snap kicks the figure, a woman with long mousy brown hair. The woman falls over surprised, and then a low guttural growl , like one from a wild animal, comes from the shadows hiding her face. A shaft of moonlight breaks like a tide over her features, flooding it with an ethereal silver light. Her face is grotesque a high ridged forehead meets her yellow beady eyes and the elongated canines that rest on her lower lip are also an unhealthy yellowish colour. The blonde girl looks down on her with distaste and more than a slight tinge of boredom. Her hand whips out of her coat pocket and she is holding a piece of wood sharpened at one end to form a point. She brings it straight down to plunge into the thing’s chest automatically. It can no longer be called a woman. The moment after the wood enters the ribcage, the figure explodes into a shower of dust. The girl brushes the grey powder out of her clothes and hair, and then walks away from the bushes swiftly. She paces up and down the path between the trees, and then gives an exasperated sigh and sits down abruptly on a park bench. She wriggles on the hard seat and grimaces, then pulls her coat off and sits on it, with her legs tucked up under her. She puts her elbow on the armrest and her head in her hand. After a few minutes she checks her watch and scowls impatiently, finally settling down to stare into space for a period of time.

How long will I have to stay here Giles said that I had to patrol until ten o’clock and then I could go home I wonder what Will and Xander are doing bet it’s better than what I’m doing sitting here damn I’m missing Dawson’s Creek sigh the trials and tribulations of being the Slayer bloody sacred duty I might as well be dead for all the fun I have I wonder what it would have been like if I hadn’t been the Chosen One well, it couldn’t have been worse could it but then I wouldn’t have met Will and Xander and Giles and Cordy I don’t know if I would have chosen to meet Cordy anyway but they’re all better than my “friends” back in Hemery and at least I don’t have to be constantly neurotic about what I look like oh but what about Pike he was all right actually he was more than all right I think I was in love with him for a bit but then he went off without explaining where he was going or why and what am I even doing thinking about him oh god if I hadn’t been chosen I wouldn’t! have met Angel trouble is is that a good or bad thing I wouldn’t have run away or been so hurt by him when he turned and when I had to send him to Hell but then none of that was his fault in fact part of it was mine I love him so much I can’t imagine life without him I think I would die if he went again ha last time I nearly did I just wish that we could both be normal but there’s no point in - Oh shit! She jerks upright out of her reverie and grips her stake, as though for comfort. Her blonde hair flies into her eyes as she whips around, and comes face to face with a tall, dark haired and clothed man with an apologetic expression on his face. The look fades quickly as the blind panic in the girl’s eyes is replaced by recognition. She gasps and backs away for a second, and then blinks and looks steadily at him. But he has seen the expression of hate and fear in her eyes, even though it was swiftly replaced by love and trust. She still hasn’t forgotten, he thinks with a twinge of pain. I’ve seen the way she looks at my handwriting, and the way her face clouds. But why should she? I killed her friends. I killed a part of her, although she will never admit it. However, he pretends not to notice and smiles weakly at her. She sighs and puts her hand to her chest, feeling the frantic pounding of her heart. She pretends not to have noticed the momentary pain in those other eyes, the ones that are looking anxiously at her, belying the travesty of a smile. “Hey. I told you not to creep up on me. One of these days I’ll think you’re one of the bad guys and then - well, you know.” “Sorry. I thought you might like some company. Patrol and all that.” Buffy smiles at Angel, a real smile this time. God, I must learn to control my mind. He’s back, and he’d never hurt me. Remember that.