There were three rules at Hemery that were never broken. First: Buffy Summers had the best hair, clothes, and shoes. Second: Buffy Summers dated the hottest guys. Third: Buffy Summers was always the top of the pyramid. These rules still held true in her dreams.
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Buffy stood proud and tall at the top of the pyramid her squad had formed. The crowd was stomping and clapping and screaming her name. She began to ready herself to flip off the shoulders of her teammates to land on the gymnasium's floor to the tumultuous applause of the audience. Just as her feet left the support of her teammates, the world around her went dark. Buffy couldn't see a single thing as she tumbled through the air.
However, when she reached the ground, she fell into a crouch rather than the exaggerated cheer pose she was accustomed to. Her head whipped up at the sound of a twig snapping. She stood up and spun around quickly, completely bewildered on how she came to be in a graveyard. Buffy rotated to the direction she could hear footsteps in. All she saw was a pair of glowing blue eyes staring into hers. Coming closer. Fast.
She turned to flee, seeking some respite from the chills the strange pair of eyes were causing to squirm down her spine. Buffy couldn't understand what was going on, and she didn't want to. Just because she was dreaming didn't mean she had to face facts and her fears.
She was running as fast as she could through the cemetery, but she could hear the stranger gaining on her. Buffy turned to see how far ahead she was from the unsettling eyes, when Blue-Eyes pounced.
They were falling, falling, falling, when she landed on what felt like a bed with Blue-Eyes on top of her. She felt cool, soft lips press to hers while strong hands found their way underneath the top of her cheer uniform. She wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but it felt good...and anyways, Buffy knew it was a dream, so she could do what she wanted.
She started kissing back as she moved her hands to remove his top, when she found no boundaries between her tingling fingers and the firm muscles of his back. She wrapped her suddenly bare feet around his legs, discovering he was not wearing any pants either. Surprised, her eyes widened as she stared into the blue, and she lifted her arms as she felt him gently remove her top. She arched upward as his hand skimmed down her torso to caress her breast while the other brushed her nipple, before both moved smoothly over her stomach to slowly remove her skirt and chaste underclothes.
Buffy opened her mouth to moan as she felt him ground into her, and was momentarily startled when she could not make a sound. The moment quickly passed as he began to slide into her. Blue-Eyes paused when he encountered her virgin barrier, placing his lips over hers before thrusting firmly into her. Buffy was shocked as she felt no pain, only pleasure. She matched his thrusts, speeding up until he was pounding into her, setting her senses aflame. She felt completion just beyond her reach, scratching at the back of her mind, screaming to burst out into twinkling splashes of color. Something rushed through her as Blue-Eyes gently bit down on her neck.
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Buffy woke panting, still feeling the aftershocks of her completion. She looked down at her bed, seeing blood on the sheets in the early morning's light. She screamed.
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"Sodding Dru!" Spike shouted as he thundered into the room they were to share while in Transylvania. He chugged a bottle of whiskey as he lamented his mercurial psychic of a sire. Of course, she would have been there with him, he knew, had it not been for...
"Dracula! That ponce! I'll rip his intestines out and strangle him with em! Nah, wouldn't work–need to breathe for that. No, yeah...I'll pull his brains out through his nose with a hook. The Egyptians had it spot on. Embalming is a bloody bitch, innit? I'll seal 'im up for a couple centuries in a pyramid." The thought brought a smirk to Spike's face. "Wouldn't even be able to get outta there without is bloody dirt, the poof."
All happiness left his face when he thought back to Druscilla's words earlier in the evening.
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'Tonight's the night, sweet William! The actors must get to their places and the spectators must get to their seats. Darling Vlad will sit with me while you get into your place.'
Dru wouldn't let go of Dracula's arm.
'But Dru, my place is by your side, just as it has been for over a century! Now come on princess, it's almost dawn. We need to get somewhere else before we're stuck here all day with this ponce.'
She still wouldn't let go of that bastard's arm.
'Yes, my Spike, the lights are about to come on...but no one's in the wings. You must get into place!'
Why wouldn't she let go of the tinkard?
'Yah, Villiam, know your place. Now, sveet seer, let us spin the future ourselves.'
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"That's it! Soon as the sun sets, I'm finding that cheating bitch and we're leaving this bloody country! Prague's close, we'll go there. An if that poncy, Anne Rice gyppo git of a vampire tries to follow us...if I ever SEE that bastard again, I'll set fire to his precious sodding dirt so he'll leave fore he has time realize where he is."
He flung his bottle against the wall, the smashing of glass doing little to soothe his rage.
"My place is with her!" Isn't it?
He began to feel a buzzing that reached down to his bones. A slow grin started to spread across his face.
"A new slayer. Sounds like fun. Haven't played with one in a while. Might be amusing to dance with this one if she lives longer than a year. This one'll be strong, I can tell already. 've never felt one this strongly before. Can't wait."
As soon as the buzzing started, it stopped. Spike gasped as he felt his release come upon him from nowhere, warming him from the inside as he spent himself in his pants. He looked down at himself, shocked.
"Huh, this is new."
He tilted his face towards the sky as his jaw dropped in a silent scream. His eyes glowed golden as the sun cresting over the mountains.
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Joyce Summers was not looking forward to going home. After five months away at a series of art symposiums that was given only once every seven years, she really ought to be excited to see her family again. She reached down to hold her swelling stomach–well, most of her family, at least. Neither her husband nor her daughter even knew she was pregnant. She had wanted to tell Hank first. About a month before she left Los Angeles, she noticed how temperamental her stomach had become, and realized she was late. At first, she was overjoyed. Joyce had decided with her husband to try for another child; Hank wanted a son and Joyce wanted a baby to take care of–Buffy seemed to spurn her parents' attentions and Hank had been spending an increasing amount of time at the office. When the pregnancy test read positive, she elected to surprise Hank at work. Making her way to his building, she smiled blissfully as she imagined his joyous reaction. When she arrived at the door to his office, however, she received the shock of her life. There was Hank, her husband who had already given her one lovely child and was soon to be the father to another, backing his secretary onto his desk, his lips attached to hers. Fleeing from the office, she began to eagerly look forward to the art festival she would be attending soon. She wouldn't tell Hank until she was back. She couldn't tell Buffy for fear of her daughter spilling the secret to her father.
Back in the present at the symposium, Joyce smiled somewhat sadly at the ultrasound scan of her unborn son. As eager as she was for him to be born, she regretted the fact that her son would be without a present father. She steeled herself to commence divorcing Hank as soon as she returned to LA in a week. Unfortunately, it was at this time that Joyce felt her water break. Feeling tremendously fearful at the early beginning to labor, she wasn't sure if her son would be able to survive if he was two months premature.
Arriving at the hospital around midnight, the doctors seemed to be anxious. No one would tell her, but she could tell that the prognosis for her darling baby boy was not at all bright. After several hours of intense labor, the newest Summers was born as the sun surpassed the horizon, but he was rather sickly. Joyce was quite relived when she heard his cries, but that was quickly changed when the head doctor approached her with a grim expression as the other doctors and nurses tidied up and left the room.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Summers, but your son didn't make it."
"What? No! But–but I heard him cry out!"
"I'm afraid not, Mrs. Summers. The poor lad was gone even before he had a chance to be born."
Joyce looked at the sole remaining doctor in shock and grief.
"I'll let you have a few minutes to yourself. The nurse will be back shortly to check your vitals and see how soon you may be released." He paused at the door, turning back to his mournful patient. "I offer my most sincere condolences, Mrs. Summers. There was nothing that could be done."
Joyce cried out her sorrows with only the early morning's light as her witness.
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A young woman, a few weeks shy of nineteen, carefully steps around a corner. Securely confident, she knew she had every reason to be. She had been trained since she was seven, and had even survived the test posed to her on her eighteenth birthday. Checking her surroundings, she finds no sign of the beast she had been hunting for days. She was so enthusiastic when she caught his trail earlier that night. Looking down at her feet, she saw the glowing-green trail of slime suddenly stop. She spins around, bewildered.
All at once, a grotesque figure with three arms and mottled purple skin drops behind her and grabs her red-gold braid.
"It was a valiant effort, Slayer," he sneers as he wraps his two remaining arms around her slender form, coating it in green, "but it seems to be for naught." He presses her into a wall as one arm leaves her body and wraps around her neck.
"The Slayer is dead," he calmly states as he snaps her neck.
Elsewhere, a girl wakes up screaming, a man's eyes glow gold, and a baby is born dead while his mother weeps in the face of the rising sun.
"Long live the Slayer..."
Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain. I do not profit from this story.