Fic: A Time To Kill (1/3)

["sochankitsune" <annelise@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>]

Yes, this was previously a snippet. But now, rewritten and 
augmented, its part 1!

--

Her head ached. The raw light hurt her sensitive eyes, and she 
scratched at the painful wound in her right arm. Her questing fingers 
discovered a long splinter of wood she remembered as having come from 
her coffin when she'd dug herself free from the ground. She ripped it 
out of her arm with a grimace. Pain. She'd only remembered pain as a 
distant fleeting memory, one she'd been all too glad to transcend.
But now she was back, and pain was once more her erstwhile 
companion.
Everywhere she looked, things seemed slightly familiar. She'd been 
here before, long ago. When, she couldn't quite recall. All her 
memories were beyond her, out of reach, mocking her through the 
frosted glass of time. How long had it been since she'd last walked 
these moonlit streets? No idea. And now she hungered.
She followed her feet, stumbling along a roadside devoid of 
traffic. And yet there were people, and those that resembled people 
and yet were subtly different, all around.
Her voice, choking and rusty from unuse, cleared as she called 
out, "Excuse me, but where am I?"
Two from the crowd approached, sure of themselves. Confidence 
radiated from their aura, their swagger. "Welcome to Sunnydale, 
little girl!" One laughed.
She looked up into his altered face and gave him an innocent smile, 
before punching him in the neck so hard, her hand exploded through to 
the other side, showering his companion with gristle and gore that 
burned a little as the vampire exploded into ash.
"The hell?" The other vampire gasped as he backed away, one hand 
brushing frantically at his cheek.
She let him run. Sunnydale; The hellmouth. Now she remembered. She 
had a duty to do here, a job to fulfil. And a Slayer to kill.

*

"Hey, Willow, can I come in?" Buffy knocked on the bedroom door.
The muted sobs slowed and stopped. "Its your house," Willow called 
out, petulantly.
"Don't be like that," Buffy sighed as she entered. Willow looked up 
and saw Buffy's beautiful eyes were red-rimmed from where she'd been 
crying too.
Willow opened her arms, and Buffy entered her embrace. "I'm sorry," 
Willow whispered as she shared a kiss with Buffy.
"I'm sorry too." Buffy replied as their lips parted. "I hate it when 
we fight." She looked across at the window, gazing beyond at 
nothing. "But I do enjoy the making-up!" She declared and turned 
around to give Willow a good tickling.
"Its nice to know the world's in such safe hands!" Dawn commented as 
she walked in on the pair moments later. Willow was trying to fend 
off the Slayer with a pillow, whilst Buffy's clothes had fallen askew.
Buffy looked at Willow and saw the same mischief in her eyes. She 
rolled forward, leaped, and grabbed hold of Dawn.
"Hey!" Dawn squealed. "Let go!"
Buffy's arms snaked around her sister as she held her in a tight 
hug from behind. Willow slowly approached from the front.
"Please," Dawn giggled. "No tickling!" Her voice wavered as she saw 
Willow's mouth approach her own, and she held out no resistance as 
Buffy's tongue traced the edge of her ear.
"No tickling," Buffy agreed with a husky voice.

*

Although disjointed, memories continued to assail her mind with 
lurid imagery. Pleasure and pain, fights and passion. She'd had such 
fun back when she'd still been alive. Why should such a minor thing 
as death prevent her from continuing where she'd left off? She looked 
around herself in a musement. She used to own this place, and now it 
owed her something.
"Slayer?" She called, as some might call out to their wayward 
pets. "Oh Slayer...?"

*

"Buffy!" Dawn squealed as she orgasmed. "Stop, oh please, god, 
enough already!"
Buffy's head emerged, her face slick with perspiration and 
more. "Do you think she means it?" She asked of Willow.
"Oh, I'm not so sure..." Willow grinned back as she slowly drew the 
tassels of her crop across Dawn's breasts.
"No, really," Dawn sighed as she slowly came down. "Tomorrow's a 
school night."
Buffy blinked. "I'd forgotten. You're right." She looked 
crestfallen.
"Its okay," Willow said as she helped Dawn up. "I'll take care of 
your sister."
Dawn's eyes contributed to her dampness as she leaned forward to 
kiss Willow, a kiss beyond friendship. "Thanks you guys," she 
said. "You're the best!"
"Anything to help!" Willow smirked. She watched Dawn retreat to her 
own room.
"She whines a lot less since we started having sex together," Buffy 
mused.
"I know," Willow agreed. "I don't know if I could have stood it much 
longer. If Anya's vengeance sense hadn't revealed her jealousy... It 
could have been messy."
Buffy nodded. "Still, all's well that..." A tinkle of breaking 
glass came from downstairs. "No rest for the wicked," she sighed.
"Go play," Willow encouraged. "I'll keep the bed warm."

*

"Hey! Hey...!" Spike groaned as he lay on the floor, bleeding from 
the cuts and abrasions from his fall through the window, and from the 
impromptu pummelling Buffy felt she'd judiciously handed out.
"Talk!" Buffy demanded. "And make it quick, 'cos I don't have any 
time for your crap!"
Spike chose his words very carefully. "New big bad," he offered.
"Oh." Buffy's shoulders slumped. "Well. In that case, I'd better go 
and wake everyone."

*

"Hey, that's not fair!" The whine was beginning to edge into Dawn's 
voice, and it was setting Buffy's teeth on edge.
"Life isn't fair!" Buffy pointed out. "Life's not bliss, its just... 
Look, you've got school in the morning, and that's that!"
Dawn slammed the door behind her.
"Whatever," Buffy sighed.
She wheeled, and caught the whole band of Scoobs staring at her.
"What?"
"Nothing," Xander said, a shade too quickly.
Willow looked to Spike and Xander, her eyes darting. "Uhuh!" she 
added.
"I'd offer you a relaxing back rub," Spike began. Willow's elbow cut 
him off with an accurate (and painful) jab to the gut.
"Nice reflexes!" Xander commented.
Buffy sat down opposite Spike, and gave out her best armour-
piercing glare. "So then, what's the deal?" She asked. "What does it 
want, and how do we kill it?"
"Well," Spike managed after a moment. "That's just the thing... You 
can't. Kill it, I mean."
Willow looked interested. "Why, what would happen if we do?"
"Oh," Spike shrugged. "Not that, I mean... You just can't kill it. 
Believe me, its been tried."
Xander coughed. "They said that about the Judge too, if you 
remember. And we kicked his big blue butt too."
"Yeah, well. They don't make 'em like they used to."
"If you don't know how to kill it," Buffy mused, "do you know 
anthing that could be useful? Does it have a purpose, or..."
"An agenda?" Willow sugested.
"Yeah, one of those."
Spike nodded. "Yeah, its got a hard on for killin' Slayers."
"Oh."

*

Jeremy Talbot had the flu. He hated the whole deal, being stuck in 
bed, the running nose, the horrible goop his mother forced on him. On 
the other hand, he hadn't the strength to leave his bed, so he 
figured things could get worse if he didn't drink it. But worse than 
the various ailments was his brother, Gordon.
"Hey, Jerry, can I play with your guitar?"
"No."
"Please?"
"No." Jeremy sighed. His brother, six years old and half his age, 
annoyed the hell out of him. The fact that his brother also looked up 
to him with some sort of bizarre hero-worship didn't make thing's any 
better.
"Can I play with your football then?"
"N... Oh hell, why not?"

*

Bright. Too bright. The sunlight burned at first, as if her skin 
should burst into flame. That just wouldn't do of course. Being dead 
was bad enough... without being discorporate. She willed herself to 
ignore the sun's power, and just like that, the pain faded.
She looked up at the sapphic blue sky and bared her vampire teeth 
in a scowl of defiance. Oh, how the slayer would pay for this 
indignity, only... She had no idea who the Slayer was anymore.
Blood. Now blood seemed readily available. Hundreds of little happy-
meals scurrying about around her. She could just reach out and grab 
one, tear it to bits and drain it dry... and there was nothing anyone 
could do to stop her!
"Hey!" A child's voice called out to her, and she turned to its 
source, bemused. A small boy stood staring back at her from twenty 
feet away, hands on hips. "Can you kick my ball back?" She smiled at 
the audacity of the child. Had it really been so long that people had 
forgotten how to be afraid? How they should run, fleeing in terror? 
Oh how delectable.
She slowly approached the boy, her movements sensual.
"You forgot my ball!" The boy announced, and gave her a look that 
accused her of silliness. The boy made to move past her, and she 
grabbed it by the neck and lifted him high off the floor. Choking, 
strangled sobs issued forth, and she chuckled as she reached up with 
her other hand and ripped off the boy's right arm.
Screams from all around, bedlam, and still she continued to laugh 
as the boy's life blood flooded into her mouth, coating her face.
It was good to be... back.

*

Screams! the radar signal of distress. Who needs a bat signal when 
you have a horde of fleeing civilians? Buffy ran into the park, 
dodging the contraflow, and stopped short of the sorry remains of 
Gordon Talbot. Of the big bad, there was no sign.
Tears of rage and helplessness coursed down her cheeks, and she 
realised she ought to move away from the scene before the police 
arrived, guys with guns and bad attitudes, and without enough brains 
to appease even the youngest of cannibals.
She ran away.

*

End Part 1.