The Ultimate Pretend
Chapter One—The Title No One Wants
..::Prologue::..
“And in breaking news,” the dark brunette anchorwoman said, her voice grave, “there has been a recall on all Blot-Out-The-Sun sun block. The lotion, which lead scientists and shamans have been working on developing, to provide protection for vampires’ skin against those deathly rays of the sun, has proven to be too hazardous by the American Board of Health. The statistic rates of fatality while using said product is that one in every three user’s parishes while the lotion is in use. Xavier Mendez, the president of the Blot-Out-The-Sun Corporation, has stated in a press release that his team of researchers have been working around the clock to refine and improve the sun block, and that he would not be surprised if this product were re-released in the very near future.”
She gave a reassuring smile to the camera, her perfectly white human teeth only vaguely hinting at the razor sharp canines that they could transform into at a glance. “I know that we vampires are all looking forward to that day when we can take a non-fatal stroll out into the sunlight, so here’s to hoping that we will see this product improved soon.”
The anchorwoman turned in a different direction; the camera-lights glinting off of her pale, translucent skin. “And now it’s about time for Harmony’s celebrity news. Harmony?”
The camera cut over to an equally gaunt-looking anchorwoman, who had platinum blonde hair and a shrill, bubbly little girls’ voice. “Thanks, Olivia.
“Okay, so, I have, like, some major news for you guys today.”
A corner of the screen filled in with a picture of a couple. A raven haired woman stood wrapped from behind in the arms of a man who had bleach-blond hair. She was staring off into the distance while he was smirking imperiously into the center of the shot.
“One of our most favorite couples, Spike and Drusilla, are going to be celebrating their one hundred and twenty-fifth anniversary next weekend! And they’re going to be having a totally fab party to commemorate it!” Harmony gave a little series of claps and briefly bounced up and down. “I already have my invitation!”
Her countenance suddenly changed, and she said in a professional manner, after worriedly mumbling ‘whoops’ under her breath, “But don’t feel left out, America. Spike and Drusilla’s anniversary celebration will be televised. So check your local listings for time and channel info, because it’s most definitely going to be the biggest bash of the decade and you won’t want to miss it.”
The beloved picture of the couple faded out and was replaced with a picture of a young girl with wide brown eyes and curly, strawberry blonde hair.
“And on a more serious note,” Harmony said somberly, “sixteen-year-old Jennifer Lawmen passed on today. Now, as we all know, Jennifer had been called as the slayer in the beginning of February this year, after the French slayer, Jacqueline De Bough, died in a Paris containment facility.
“Jennifer died this morning at the Aurelius family mansion in Sunnydale, California, where she was being kept. Sources say that the cause of death was malnutrition. She had reportedly been refusing to eat,” Harmony’s voice turned exasperated, as if she didn’t think much of the deceased girl, “no matter how many gourmet meals, cooked by the world’s most highly sought-after chef’s, were put in front of her.
“So now that she’s dead,” Harmony continued callously, “a new slayer is somewhere out in the world, unsupervised. It is, like, totally vital that everyone be on watch for any young females who fit the description of the slayer, because internationally, no one has, as of yet, reported to her where-abouts. So, in your local area, if you see a normal-looking fifteen to seventeen year old human girl showing signs of superhuman strength and agility, please report her to your local authorities. But please don’t try to bring her in yourself. Slayers are unstable and highly dangerous and only experienced master vampires are able to handle them.”
A picture of the same bleach-blond vampire took over the picture of Jennifer, the deceased slayer; but this time he was without his paramour. In this photo, he had a professional studio-done background, and looked more like a Calvin Klein model, ready to devour whoever looked into his darkened blue eyes in the most sinful of ways.
Harmony giggled. “That means, of course, Spike, our world-renowned ‘Slayer of Slayers,’ will be tracking the newbie slayer down.” She sighed and fanned herself. “Poor girl won’t know what hit her. Lucky.” Muted laughter from the other anchorwoman and television crew could be heard. Harmony preened at the attention, and gasped in excitement as something seemed to occur to her. “Wouldn’t it be great if he caught her in time for his and Drusilla’s anniversary? Like as a present for Drusilla? I think that would be way cool. But anyway, so look out for her,” she winked, “and try to make our Aurelius couple’s anniversary extra special by having her found soon, so that’ll be one less thing that they’ll have to worry about handling.”
The picture of Spike faded and turned into a picture of an exceptionally beautiful woman, with one exceptionally beautiful man on either side of her.
“And in other news, it looks like our Italian hotties are feuding again. Drac is accusing The Immortal of once again trying to put a thrall on one of his vampire brides and is saying ‘Enough is enough.’ I’ll tell you more about that after this commercial break.”
..::One Day Earlier::..
Los Angeles, California
“So how do you think you did on the biology test?”
Buffy turned to her homework-conscious best friend and wrinkled her nose. “Mr. Gianni’s tests are evil. I firmly believe that he puts those tongue-twister questions on them in some nefarious plan to get everyone to drop the tenth grade.” She eyed the intellectually adept red-head. “Well, at least everyone who doesn’t have big brains like yours, who know everything there is to know about anything.”
The red-head huffed indignantly. “Hey! That’s so untrue! There’re lots of things I don’t know.” At Buffy’s skeptical look, she continued, “Oodles. There are oodles and oodles of things that I am unknowing of and—“
“Willow, what was the answer to number thirty-four,” Buffy asked boredly.
“C: Homeostasis,” Willow replied automatically.
Buffy gave her a look, as if to say, ‘I told you so,’ before she abruptly frowned. “It was letter C? Really?” She pouted when Willow nodded. “Ah foowie; and I actually thought I’d gotten that one right.”
Willow patted Buffy’s shoulder reassuringly. “I’m sure you did fine.”
Buffy gave a playful glare. “Only big brains who know everything would feel the need to assure their dim-witted best friends that they did okay on the test.”
Willow sighed. “Okay, you caught me of my big braininess. But I still think you did fine. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
Buffy gave Willow a queer look. “No, I give myself enough credit—or little credit, as it is. I pretty much know that I bombed that test. I’m allergic to studying,” she jokingly explained.
“No, not just about the test.” Willow gave out an exasperated breath. “In general. You don’t give yourself enough credit in general.”
Buffy raised a perfectly arched brow. “Okay, Miss Cryptic…‘splainy. Where did that sudden piece of Buffy-psychoanalysis come from?”
Willow rolled her eyes. “It came from your lack of acknowledging the fact that a cute, senior boy likes you.” At Buffy’s blank look, she continued her description. “He’s tall, shy, and once tried to have a conversation with you about cheese.”
A light bulb practically materialized above Buffy’s head. “Riley? Riley Finn likes me?”
Willow ‘uh huhed’ and then nodded to the steps that led up to Hemery High’s entrance. Buffy followed the move with her gaze, and her eyes widened when she saw the aforementioned senior boy, standing in the distance, shuffling his feet and bashfully looking down through his fringe in their direction.
“Willow,” Buffy harshly whispered, “are you gonna let him ambush me while you tra-la-la into the distance?”
The red-headed conspirator gave her an innocent look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But she started to back away, nonetheless. “I’m not going to tra-la-la into the distance. I’m going to grumble as I make my way to the blood bank to go donate blood as is mandatory to do every six weeks.” She gave Buffy the sad puppy dog eyes. “Go talk to him, Buffy. He’s really nice. And I went out of my way to make sure that my blood-letting appointment would coincide nicely with Riley’s ambush. You know how I feel about pokey needles.”
“I hate you.”
“Love you, too, future miss girlfriend-of-an-upperclassmen,” Willow simpered over-affectionately. “Buh bye, now.”
“No, wait!” Willow stopped retreating; the vulnerability was evident in Buffy’s voice. “What do I say to him?”
Willow gave Buffy a soft look. “Just say whatever you’d normally say. He really likes you, Buffy. Your quirks and all.”
Buffy took a huge cleansing breath and readjusted the straps of her back pack on her shoulders. “Okay. How do I look?”
“Like a total knock-out,” Willow assured. “Now go; he’s been standing there waiting for you since school let out twenty minutes ago.”
Buffy mouthed the word ‘bye’ to her best friend and then turned her back to her. She walked up the steps to her school, trying to mimic the way supermodels sashayed their way down a runway. She saw that Riley had a big, goofy grin spreading across his face as he watched her come closer towards him. When she was only a few feet away from him, he ducked his head for a second and then looked her shyly in the eye. “Hi,” he said quietly.
Buffy found herself ducking her head in nervousness too. I’m about to get my first boyfriend, she thought excitedly. “Hi.”
..::Later That Same Day::..
Buffy dropped her backpack on the dining room table and breezed her way through her house. She made her way to the living room when she spotted her younger sister, Dawn. “Hey, Dawnie,” she practically sang in enthusiasm. She sat down in the vacant spot on the couch, next to the younger girl—who did not respond to her greeting. Losing some of her pent-up happiness, Buffy groused, “Hey. Earth to Dawn. Come in, Dawn. Aren’t you going to say hi to me?”
Dawn, who was staring fixedly at the flashing images on the television screen, kept staring ahead, only acknowledging Buffy’s presence with her words. “Hi,” she said distractedly. “They’re showing a Spike marathon all day today. The unedited version, with all of the never-before-seen footage.”
“Oh,” Buffy said; put-out by the way her sister’s attention wasn’t really on her. “I don’t really watch that one. The violence can get really graphic when he catches those slayers.” She frowned. “You shouldn’t watch it either.” Her voice suddenly went straight back to perky. “Wanna hear about my day? Something really good happened.”
“Lemme guess? Riley Finn asked you out… Everyone who isn’t you already knows that Riley’s warm for your form. Loser.”
Switching topics, and ignoring Buffy’s spluttering, Dawn continued, “And don’t be such a weenie. It’s in a vampires’ nature if you think about it.” She finally turned away from the screen to meet Buffy’s eyes.
Buffy, still stuck on her twelve year old sister using the fraise ‘warm for your form,’ couldn’t grasp the direction in which their conversation had turned to. “What? Nature? What’s nature?”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “Spike and violence. Or vampires and violence, really. You know, because vampires used to go all ‘gurr,’ and rip their victims’ throats out before the Human and Vampire Alliance was passed all those years ago.” She turned back to the television screen. “It must have been pretty scary to live back then, before vampires came into civilized society. But,” she added, sounding contemplative, “now only those crazy slayers have to worry about a vampires’ wrath. Good riddance, I say.”
Her happy news forgotten, Buffy looked at the television screen, too. Spike, the vampire she had known as the ‘Slayer of Slayers’ since what seemed like before she even had the motor-skills to understand English, was grinning as he traded blows with what looked like an ordinary teenage girl. The look of unleashed freedom on his sharp, high-planed face would have given him the look of a celestial being were it not for the cuts, abrasions, and the flecks of the girl’s blood that dotted his pale skin.
The girl just looked scared.
“Yeah,” she answered Dawn’s statement, while sympathy squeezed her insides. “Good riddance.”
Later that evening when their mom and dad came home from work, they all sat down to dinner. Dawn was the only one to help their parents cook—because it had become apparent that Buffy was a horrible cook. So she had been demoted to ‘table setter.’ After dinner, Willow had called and demanded to know every word Riley had said to Buffy, and wanted to know every expression he had had while saying it. Buffy’s happy feelings had been reaffirmed when she could finally gossip about her love life, and she had proceeded to go into rigorous detail about her encounter with her now-boyfriend. After she was done talking, having had spared no detail, she finally said goodnight to her best friend and hung up. She then washed her face and put on her pajamas, then snuggled into her warm bed and gave a happy little sigh, thinking of her good fortune.
Riley really is a nice guy. This…is the best day ever, she thought, before closing her eyes and drifting off into sleep and sweet dreams.
Tomorrow would be one of the worst days of her life.
TBC
Author's Note: Please review and tell me what you think ;)
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Author's Chapter Notes:
*ducks head in shame at the negligance of her other fics* My computer went BOOM!... And then my muse went on vacation, and then when I finally got access to a computer, and the muse came back, this came out. Please love me and my wishy-washiness *puppy dog eyes*