Paragon

Note: So, as the summary said, in this AU, Joyce was a Slayer who was messed up by the initiative so that Buffy is born with her “Slayer Gene” activated. Not even sure if that makes sense canonically or scientifically, but my sciency mind is gonna try. And at this point, Joyce is dead and Buffy has been taken in by the Council. Spike is still William the Bloody! Happy reading!

***************

One

Buffy Summers knew the layout of the Watcher’s Estate like the back of her little hand. After all, she had five years to scour every nook and cranny of the sprawling five story mansion; five years to memorize which stairways creaked the loudest, which not-so-secret passageway led to the kitchen or to the training grounds and how to trick the intruder spells cast on every floor.

So it was no surprise that the dozen or so Watchers, three witches, and a five members of the maintenance staff slept soundly as the ten year slipped past age-old defenses meant to keep the ancient Council secrets safe. Because after all, the original casters of the protective spells weren’t think about having to keep in a pre-teen girl, just keeping out hordes of evil.

Buffy grinned, her eye lighting up with mischief as she past the last defenses. She was finally free to the night. Oh yes. This night was the night that Buffy was going to prove to Giles, Lydia, Mr. Travers all the other watchers that she was a true Slayer—that she deserved to be out here as much as that other Slayer herself, slaying vampires and saving all humankind from the night monsters.

When she had turned eight, Mr. Travers allowed her to finally combat the creatures—fledglings of course, and obviously in a controlled environment with Giles, Lydia and whole lot of more field-experienced Watchers around.  And Buffy was good— more than good, she was a natural. When she fell into step, it was like…dancing, almost. Except that it hurt a lot more and was honestly a lot more satisfying at the end. She was also sure she was as good as, if not better than all the Slayers that came through. In her five years living as ward of the council, Buffy had gotten to know three of them. Four if she counted her own mother.

But Mr. Travers refused to let her get real field experience. He refused to let her go on patrol, even with the Slayer, which was ridiculous in Buffy’s mind because she obviously had more knowledge and experience than each of the Slayer as they were newly called. So tonight, Buffy decided to go out patrolling on her own and show Mr. Travers once and for all that she was more than capable of doing the Slayer gig as well.

Dressed in a pair of worn jean and a pink sweater, with crosses and stakes and holy water stuffed in her pockets and red Hello Kitty backpack, Buffy confidently strode towards Hopewell Cemetery for her first patrol ever.

***********

It had been thirteen years since Spike did in his last Slayer, and what a glorious thirteen years it had been! The word spread like fire that Spike, William the Bloody, had done in yet another Slayer, and not just any slayer—Nikki Wood, a fierce woman living in the inner city of New York. Whenever Spike swaggered into a bar or a gathering, demons of all kind would throw him appreciative nods and words of admiration. Janus Kolti himself, the Demon mob boss that ruled half of New York City, personally congratulated Spike on his kill and even offered him a place in his powerful Family. Spike had respectfully declined. He was more of a one vamp demon, really. A lone hunter.

The best award of all came from his Dark Princess, who showered him with words of praise and endless nights of raw, vicious pleasure. He didn’t even need the aphrodisiac that was the Slayer’s blood this time; he was all demon, possessive, violent and endlessly horny. Oh yes, Spike was coming up higher in his demon glory than ever before, and he was determined to keep climbing.

Despite it all, there was one name he still couldn’t outshine or outdo, even after all the rumors about him marring his perfect viciousness: Angelus, his poofter of a Grandsire. The demonic gossip was that the head of the Scourge of Europe had gotten himself cursed with a soul by an angry tribe of Gypsies. Spike didn’t know if that was true, but with Darla abandoning Peaches right quick, and even Dru moaning angrily about it when Spike brought up the subject, he supposed it was. Hah…let the bloody git suffer with his goddamn soul, he’d say. Better off gone, and Spike could have Dru all to himself.

Plus, there was one thing Spike could do to obliterate Angelus’s shadow over him once and for all: bag himself another Slayer or two.

And that was what Spike was attempting to do at the present, prowling the streets of London. He was hunting for the Slayer, and to his immense luck and satisfaction, she was close. 

***

The scent grew stronger as he neared a cemetery. Typical—Slayers did their hunting in cemeteries. One would think the Sires would keep the bodies from being buried in cemeteries, especially when the current Slayer was Londoner herself; but most vamps these days were brainless as zombies. At least his Drusilla had an excuse of being starking mad when she buried him in 1880, and even she hadn’t done so in a neat cemetery where Slayers might patrol. Really, the standards for turning were bloody low these days

Presently, Spike was bathed in the scent of the Slayer; she was everywhere. It was powerful, with the heady aroma of sweat and the sweet waft of fear. Spike ran his tongue over his teeth in anticipation as he quickened his pace, cracking his knuckles, loosening his muscles—yes, this was going to be one, sweet, fucking fantastic—

Spike stopped abruptly, dumbfounded at the sight presented to him. Instead of the fierce lady warrior he was expecting, he found himself looking at a little blonde girl, standing normal as you like in between the tombstone. He couldn’t help but gawk a bit at the sheer oddness of the sight: the nibblet looked like she was waiting to be picked up from school or something, rocking on her feels and nervously tugging at the straps of her backpack. She even had one of those damned cutesy Japanese characters on her bag, and fucking little sparkly stars on her pink sweater.

But the scent of a Slayer was all around her and, if Spike could believe it, was actually coming from her—which he couldn’t. She had to be a sister or something, wrapped up in the scent of the Slayer. Spike snorted; whoever planted a harmless little thing all covered in Slayer in a cemetery was one evil bastard, and there was bound to be a brassed off Slayer somewhere.

 Finally, he stepped out of the dark towards her, letting out the smallest of growls.

****

Buffy whipped around at the sound of soft growling. She felt her heart skip a couple of beats out fear, if that was possible, when a strange man stepped out of the shadow. Her vampire tinglies went haywire.

Spike, for his part, was still marveling at how much the scent of Slayer was rolling off of her. What did the little girl do? Swim around in a pool of Eau du Slayer or something?

“You’re a vampire,” she stated, her girlish voice as firm as she could get it. Spike could hear her quickened heartbeat and the usual aroma of fear. Little girls wore that the best, according to his Dru.

“Yes I am,” said Spike, his voice light, “’M a Big Bad, sweet.”

Buffy frowned at his cool confidence; the vampires she had contact with were all with the ‘grr’ and bitey and sucky, but they were fledges. She wondered how old this vamp was. He didn’t look like he’d just crawled out of a grave. “Who are you?”

Spike had to give the little chit credit: she didn’t seem as nearly as frightened as she should be, and the fear she had was handled well. Slayer probably taught her little sis properly, it seemed.

“Name’s Spike, pet.”

Spike was given an even bigger surprise when the girl reached into her pocket and brought out a finely whittled stake.

Oh, tough birdie, ain’t ya?

“And what are you going to do with that, bite-size?”

Buffy glowered at him. “Dust you.”

Spike raised one scarred eyebrow in amusement. “Are ya know? Lil brave bitty thing, you are. Don’t you know morsels like you should be tucked in away in your beddy-byes at this hour?”

“Don’t you know vampires shouldn’t be insulting a Slayer?” she returned with a defiant glare, “You’re gonna end up dusty!”

Spike snorted out a laugh. “Oh, a Slayer are you? Lemme tell you, pet, you have to be the shortest Slayer I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, and won’t it make the best story tell? ‘Stupid vamp get dusted by the shortest Slayer he’s ever met!’”

“Oh, fierce lil’ kitten aren’t you?” he sneered, coolly stepping back as Buffy lunged at him with her stake. “Have claws, do you?”

She charged at him again, but instead of trying for a frontal attack, Buffy dived to the ground and slid around Spike’s body and used her momentum to kick out his legs. Spike let out yelp of surprise fell to his knees, his chest down at her level, ripe and opening for a staking. Buffy swung the stake down at him, excitement and adrenaline coursing through her body at the thought of staking a vampire out on her own, especially one as dangerous looking as this Spike. He was a vampire and he looked the part of the bad man with his black coat, weird color hair and was that makeup? If this doesn’t get her the permission to go out patrolling, then nothing would! She was as good as the Slayer!

Spike, however, had other plans. He seized her small wrist just as the stake pierced his skin. An aggravated growl escaped him before he threw her back, sending her little body flying several feet much like a rag doll. She hit a tombstone and fell to the grass.

“Have to hand it to you, bite-size,” Spike said, getting to his feet, and rubbing the area that her stake had tore his shirt and broken skin, “That was the closest anyone has gotten to staking me in a while…”

Buffy groaned as searing pain wrecked her body. Her senses were going haywire, ringing danger alarms in her mind’s ears as Spike started walking towards her. Buffy slowly, shakily, pushed herself off the ground, her hand still tightly clasped around her stake. She looked around, her blurry vision clearing up as her head started to right itself again. Panic filled her at the sight of Spike stalking towards her, his vamp face at the forefront now. Buffy had seen a lot of vampire bumpies before, and they were always frightening and creepy; but Spike’s bumpies were…well…oddly interesting. It didn’t make him look that much uglier, just scarier and even cooler looking. What was that word Robin used a lot? Right, badass. Spike looked badass with his bumpies. Though his fangs were as scary as any vamp’s.

Buffy staggered to her feet, her stake still held threateningly in her hand—well, not so much since she was shaking a bit. She also threw him the meanest glare she could muster. Chilling fear seized as she realized that Spike was going to kill her, and she’d be dead, which, of course, what happens when you’re killed. But she couldn’t die; she was only 10! She didn’t want to die yet!

Spike stopped just a few feet from her, all hostility melting away from his demon visage. Puzzled by the inaction, Buffy looked at him, and found him just looking at her, curiosity written on that monstrous face. He tilted his head a bit in thought. Was he having second thoughts? Cause if he was, Buffy could use that chance to escape. In fact, she could use his current thinker moment to escape.

“All that strength from your scrawny little arms…that speed…and that scent…” Spike mused, “You really are a Slayer.”

All thought of escaping left Buffy at the moment; instead, she became angrily fixated on the doubt he was casting on her Slayer status. “Of course I am!” she shouted angrily, “Gosh! Hello, I’m the longest living Slayer in history!”

“But you can’t be,” he insisted, growing puzzled, “Thought Slayers weren’t called until at least they hit puberty. You’re like what, six?”

“Ten!” she squeaked indignantly.

“Heard the current Slayer was a pretty lil’ bint from the East End,” said Spike, looking even more confused, “Not a ten year old American blondie.”

Buffy let out an irritated snort. “Right, Abby,” she muttered petulantly, “She’s the other Slayer. And she’s not that pretty.”

“Ah right, that was the name. Abby.”

“Stupid name,” Buffy murmured, “I mean, how unscary and lame is that? Abby the Vampire Slayer? I mean, does that strike fear in you?”

Her comment elicited an amused grin from Spike. “What’s your name, pet?”

“Oh now you ask,” Buffy growled, “You weren’t interested before when you were all ‘grr’! What, is it eat first and ask later for you vamps?”

Spike let out a bark of laughter, unconsciously slipping back to his human face. He was absolutely taken aback by the...pluckiness of the ten year old Slayer girl cornered by the Slayer of Slayers. Really, she was fantastic. “Usually,” he answered, “We don’t get to the asking.”

“Well, I won’t get to the telling either,” she answered stubbornly.

Spike raised his brows at her. “You do know you are speaking with the Big Bad don’t you, sweetheart? I could rip out your throat before you could even scream for help.”

“Was that why I was the closest to staking you in years? Cause didn’t really see all the ripping out of throats happening then.”

“You really are asking to be eaten aren’t you, little girl?”

“No,” she answered with an intrepid roll of her pretty green eyes, “I’m obviously not.”

“Are you right in the head, nibblet?” Spike asked, mocking concern, “I said I can eat you.”

“And I can stake you.” She crossed her arms over her chest, “But none of that’s happening right now is it?”

“You have a big mouth for a ten year old.” And awfully sharp tongue, Spike noted with glee. God, she would magnificent in a few years wouldn’t she? Precocious lil’ chit, she was, even if she was starting to grate on his nerves.

“Yeah? Well, you…” she trailed off, unable to find a proper retort. She pouted, and Spike found it ridiculously cute. If this were any different, he’d haul off the pretty little girl for his Dark Princess to play with.  “You’re a big poophead.”

Spike snorted. “Uh-huh. Know why you’re not dead yet, bitty Slayer?”

“Uh, cause I’m a Slayer, duh,” Buffy answered, “And I can dust you. Ergo, you’re afraid to attack me.”

“That’s a pretty big stretch for an ergo, luv,” he muttered. He was surprised at her use of ergo; it was not a word he’d expect to hear from a kid who just called him a poophead.

“’Sides, how are there two of you?” Spike continued, almost conversationally. Because really, this was serious business. Demon world needed to know if there were two of these superpowered adolescents running around. “Thought it was ‘Chosen One’? ‘One’ being the operative word.”

She crinkled her nose in irritation. “Well, I…don’t really know.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s Chosen Two now; maybe the rules have changed?”

Spike frowned, unconvinced. “Right. Two. You said you were the longest living Slayer, but you’re barely out of the nursery. When were you called?”

Buffy fidgeted a bit, and mumbled, “Not telling you.” Buffy didn’t want to let on that she wasn’t chosen by some divine force to become this pinnacle of anti-vampire/demon/dark forces. She was just…a freak of science.

“Now don’t be a brat, bite-size. I was planning on not killing you, but if you—”

“What? You weren’t? Why not?”

Spike again took a moment before he answered, tilting his head like before. “Nah, pet. Would be tragedy. Not much stock in killing a Slayer who’s not quite…”

“Quite what?” Buffy prompted sharply, brows furrowed angrily.

“Well…you’re tiny,” Spike answered, “A baby Slayer. Be a pity to kill you now, pet. Wouldn’t do anythin’ for my reputation.”

“I’ll have you know I’m as good as any Slayer!” Buffy exclaimed hotly, “Did you just forget I almost dusted you minutes ago?”

“I was caught off guard, bite-size—didn’t think you were actually a Slayer.”

“So you’re not gonna try to kill me cause I’m not Slayer enough?” Buffy asked incredulously, “How unfair is that? I’m so Slayer enough!”

Spike grinned when he realized that the girl was brassed off because he didn’t want to eat her. The little chit had a bit of inferiority complex about being the young slayer did she? Abso-fuckingly adorable. Really, Spike wondered if he should just drag the girl off to Dru, give both of them what they wanted.

Nah, the chit had too much potential to be killed right away. If Spike wanted a Slayer to kill that would give him the best fight of his life, it was this one, he realized. A tiny Slayer trained by the early age would grow up to be a brilliant and unstoppable force. A kill like that would solidify his status in the demon world, and even fucking Angelus would have to step down from being known as one of the most dangerous vampires to grace Europe, if not the world. He just had to be patient. Just let the morsel to grow up to a fantastic meal, and then win her blood, life and legacy in a marvelous hunt and brawl.

Buffy charged at him again, but Spike knew this time not to underestimate the nibblet. He caught her wrist and twisted it to unarm her, but the clever little thing followed the momentum, flipping in the direction of his twist and kicked him in the face. Spike yelled out in pain and released her, his hands coming up to his bruised nose.

The small Slayer landed softly on the grass like an experienced gymnast and dashed towards the vampire again, her stake poised so that she could again kick out his leg and have him come down on her stake as she thrusted it up. Spike sussed out what she was planning right quick; he aimed a low kick that was evaded by the girl, but threw her off her little tactic.

Spike growled, his vampire face bursting out as he lunged at the little body, caught her around the middle and hoisted her up. She struggled, kicking and punching with that supernatural strength, but Spike brought forth his demon even more to still her. He brought his fang to just graze her neck. She stiffened immediately, wave of hot fear washing over her, her mind immediately registering the absolute danger she was in.

But the bite never came.

“Don’t struggle luv, or you’ll be my pre-morning snack,” Spike snarled in her ear. Buffy let out a small whimper, tears forming in her eyes.

“Good, sweets,” he murmured into her ears, “Now you be a good lil’ morsel, kay? I’m gonna release you, pet, but I can’t promise I won’t snap your neck if you attack me again. Understood?”

She nodded quickly, breathlessly.

Spike threw her down unceremoniously. Buffy quickly scrambled to her feet and turned around to face Spike. She was trembling, the tears rolling down her face and her mouth set in a tight grim line, as if she was fighting off sobs.

Spike loved the tremble, loved the fear, and even the salty tears. That was more like it, he thought in satisfaction, shaking in the presence of the Big Bad. Girl needed to know where she stood.

Then, Buffy’s face turned determined a flash. “I will kill you,” she bit out bitterly, her voice shaky but hard, “If not today, I’ll dust you someday, Spike.”

Spike grinned wickedly. Exactly what he wanted. “And I’ll be waitin’ pet. Go on, hate me, fucking hate every fiber of me, bite-size. Get stronger. In a few years, I’ll find you and we’ll have ourselves a dance, bitty Slayer.”

“Just you wait,” she returned venomously, her cute little face twisting with anger, “I’ll get so strong that you won’t even be able to get that close to my neck again! And you’ll be sorry that you didn’t kill me now.”

“I look forward to it.” With one gleeful last look at the small Slayer, Spike turned around and walked away. He swore he could feel her eyes burning into his back.

“And my name is Buffy!” she yelled out after him, “Buffy Summers! Remember it, stupid vampire, ‘cause I’ll be the last thing you see!”

“I’m trembling in anticipation, wee little Buffy,” he returned blithely, still walking away from her. He had something to look forward to in the next decade or so…and he was going to have a fucking fantastic time of it.

****************

Note: So Buffy has kept her American accent even though she has lived five years of her formative life in London, but I do have sorta an explanation for that that will be explained later, so…if you were going to point that out, I’ve got it somewhat covered.

Two

It hadn’t occur to Buffy Summers that she would meet creatures other than fledgling vampires; or at least if it did, she didn’t quite it through her brain that non-fledgling vampires were a lot stronger than she was used to and it was a bad bad idea to engage them. More field experienced Slayers had succumbed to them.

To her credit, she did nearly stake William the Bloody, the master vampire who also went by the alias of the Slayer of Slayers. Buffy had no idea, of course—she knew only that a creature she was born to slay had laughed in her face and called her tiny. He had his fangs to her neck but didn’t bite. If that wasn’t an insult, then Buffy didn’t know what was. Not that she wanted to get bitten and die, of course. She still trembled from her very literal brush with death—but that wasn’t the point. The point was that Spike didn’t think she was Slayer enough to even bite.

Caught between deep relief that she was still breathing and humiliating anger, Buffy lingered in the spot Spike had left her, imagining all sorts of colorful, violent bloody scenarios in which she successfully dusted the white-haired vampire, most of them including a moment of her shaving off his offending hair.

It also occurred to Buffy, at some point, that her sneaking out of the Estate to hunt vampires would get her into a world of angry Watchers, but again, it didn’t quite register so much with her. It wasn’t quite clear if it was one of her defining features, or it was just a product of her youth. Frankly, there was always a Watcher somewhere in the Council angry at her, either for some silly pranks…or some other silly pranks. The state of being in trouble was familiar and even a constant for the ten year old Slayer.

Eventually, she shook herself out of the stupor, and decided that it was a good idea to go back now. Spike was enough of a vampire for the night, and she’d save more slayage for another time. Maybe then she’ll actually meet a fledge, and then bam!—dustage and insta-permission to Slay.

The gravity of her misbehavior didn’t hit the girl until she found herself standing just outside the gates of the Estate, face stricken with horror: the dark, quiet Estate she had left was now teeming with activity. Windows on all five floors were lit, and she could see shadows of people running about. Dogs were barking, and Watchers in their PJs and policemen were milling about the grounds with searchlights.

Oh no no no no, she thought in panic. They’re looking for me! I am so dead! She wanted to run away on the spot, turn back and go to the cemetery. Rather face a horde of vampires than a horde of angry Watchers. A part of her wished Spike had bitten her, just a little bite, so that they couldn’t be that mad at her right away because she would be injured. It’d give them the time to diffuse their anger. Oh gosh…she was too desperate if she wanted to be bitten. What was wrong with her? That was so un-Slayer like. Maybe Spike sensed that.

Or at least that she wish she had staked Spike, then she would have something to show for her sneaking out. Stupid vampire! Making me get in trouble. Which made no sense at all, but Buffy, at that point, would blame world hunger on the vampire. 

No, she was going to have to go through the fire for this. Bravely, Buffy approached the gate, and squinted when several search lights immediately swung her direction, illuminating her like a cartoon thief caught red handed.

“Here she is!” a man called out, “She’s right here!”

“She looks unharmed!”  A second voice informed the rest of the grounds.

Buffy bit her lips as a horde of Watchers descended on her. It was going to be long and painful night.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>.

Ten. Buffy had gotten ten lectures in the two hours following her arrival back at the mansion, from five watchers, the gardener, the cook, two witches and a policeman. It had to be a record.

And that wasn’t even counting the one she was obviously going to get from Lydia, who was now just standing by her side, sending her silent promises of many days of punishment. Giles, who was out of town, would definitely give her the third degree and even more lectures once he returned. And Mr. Travers would for sure give her another one tomorrow morning, just because it seemed like it was his main job besides being head honcho. Actually, Buffy surmised that Mr. Travers was the head honcho because he was the best at giving lectures. All Watchers were good at it, and even the maintenance staff had some talent in speech-giving. It was like a thing for the Watchers; she wondered if they all had to take a class in it for their Watcher training.

 It was a very good thing that Mr. Travers lived in his own house elsehwere and not at the Estate, because Buffy didn’t want to go through that tonight.

In the end, the gist of all the lectures was this: “You’re stupid. How could you think about going out on your own? We were worried to death.” Buffy wanted to remark that they all looked very alive to her and she had been the one close to death, but she figured it wouldn’t do her any good. Besides, when Irma, the cook, was angry at her, Buffy knew it meant she was in for weeks of disgusting healthy foods and no more fairy cakes or Irma’s special bakewell tarts. Really, Buffy would have rated this as her worst punishment if she had already talked to Giles, Lydia and Mr. Travers. Those three still had the potential of outdoing the punishment that was the outlawing of desserts.

She was checked for injuries, because she told them she had met and fought a vampire. She didn’t tell them that said vampire left her alive, and just let them assume that she dusted the creature. Helga, the usually sweet and matronly witch who had given her one of the ten lectures, forced a bitter, healing potion down her throat while sending her stern looks capable of making Buffy wilt.

Then it was Lydia’s turn. In Robin’s language, it was time for Buffy to face the Dungeon Boss. Or maybe Lydia was the mid-boss, because she still had Giles and Mr. Travers to deal with.

In any case, Lydia pulled her aside into her dungeon (office), and Buffy readied herself for yet another lecture. Lydia’s was going to be much more painful, however, because the lady was like an auntie to her and would personally her carry out whatever sentence Mr. Travers would put upon Buffy. She just hoped it had nothing to do with big books about dead languages. The day of her first Latin lesson was the day eminent Oxford Professor Gertrude Patrick doubted her place in the academic world for the first time in her career of 33 years. Besides, who tried to teach nine year olds Latin? The Slayer-ness gave her super strength, not super brains. Not that Buffy Summers was stupid; she was delightfully precocious when she wanted to be. Besides, it was the Watcher’s job to read Latin.

“Buffy,” Lydia sighed, “I can’t stress how utterly inane your actions were tonight.”

Buffy blinked. Wide-eyed confusion. “Insane?”

“Inane.”

Buffy frowned at the new word, and looked at Lydia expectedly to define it for her. Lydia knew the expression well and sighed. “It means idiotic.”

“Oh,” Buffy murmured as she processed it. Once she was done, her face lit up with a satisfied smile. “I like it. It rhymes! With insane, I mean.” Another word in her arsenal. She would use it soon. Probably on Robin, who was on some sort of interview trip with a university. Buffy didn’t know, and honestly didn’t care. College? Pfft…for old people, obviously, and Robin was getting old…not that he acted his age. No doubt he’d tease her to death when he got back.

“Getting off track here Buffy,” Lydia said, sending a warning look at the girl, “Why did you go out?”

Buffy shrugged, bit her lips and made her eyes wide in child-like wonder, hoping to feign some innocence and cuteness. It was tactic that has often served her well, but the success rate with Lydia had always been low. “Cause…I wanted to Patrol.”

“You know you aren’t allowed.”

“But that’s stupid!” Buffy whined, “You know I can do it, Lyddie! Yesterday, I gave Yes-Sensei a black eye and outmaneuvered his maneuver.” (His name was Yasu, and he was a celebrated Karate master and one of the few Non-Anglican Watchers.)

“Buffy—”

“I’m so good. I can fight super well and I’m a lot stronger than everyone here! Why can’t I patrol?”

“Buffy!” Lydia snapped, causing the girl to jump in surprise. She looked at the Watcher with wide, glassy eyes, and Lydia immediately regretted losing her patience and was nearly about to apologize before she caught herself, remembering that she was supposed to be scolding the girl. “You met and fought a vampire, yes?”

Buffy nodded enthusiastically.

“You were able to stake it, yes?”

Buffy hesitated a bit, and then slowly and regretfully shook her head.

Lydia’s eyes widened a bit in surprise. “You didn’t? How—what happened?”

Buffy bit her lips, wondering how to phrase this. She avoided Lydia’s eyes and become interested in the sparkly stars on her sweater, “Um, he sorta got me, nearly bit me, but he let me go.”

Buffy didn’t see it, but Lydia’s eyes nearly bulged at Buffy’s words. Fear and apprehension filled her Watchery eyes, but she quickly shook it away, probably settling on something in her own mentalscape.

“Why did this vampire let you go, Buffy?” Lydia asked carefully.

Buffy now narrowed her eyes, looking very annoyed. “’Cause he’s a big jerk. Poophead vampire.” Lydia raised her eyes, unable to contain her amusement at Buffy’s rather adorable anger. She wanted to point out that being a jerk wasn’t quite in line with a vampire who didn’t murder her, but the girl rambled on like always: “You know, I don’t think I’ve met a vampire with white hair and he isn’t even that old looking. I mean, do vampires not age but their hair turn white like an old man anyways? Unless he dyes his hair! He’s so weird! And he wears makeup! I mean, a grown man wearing eyeliner? Well, he isn’t a man, but that’s not the point. Point is that he wears makeup. Isn’t that weird, Lyddie?”

Lydia, unbeknownst to Buffy, had again had that deer-in-headlights expression. If she looked more shocked, her eyeballs could have popped out of her sockets and squished against her square glasses.

 “W-white hair?” Lydia repeated, alarms going off in her Watcher head. White hair but young, makeup, weird. Oh god, was it—“Spike?” She very much hoped not. Surely there were many other vampires with bleached hair?

Buffy looked up at Lydia in surprise. “Yeah! That was him! Spike. What weird name. Ugh, everything about him is so strange. Wow, you know everything, Lyddie!” The look of pure admiration on Buffy’s face made Lydia uncomfortable.

Of course she knew of Spike. She had written her thesis on him; she knew firsthand (Well, secondhand really. She’s never met him, thank god.) how capricious the vampire was, and how utterly bloodthirsty. The thought of Buffy meeting William the Bloody made her weak in the knees; but what had shocked her most was learning that it was Spike, Slayer of Slayers, who had let Buffy go free. The obvious question, of course, was why? Was he just being his unpredictable self? Had he taken a leaf out of his absent Grandsire’s blood-laden legacy and had let Buffy go with plans to stalk, harass and mentally and eventually physically torture Buffy before he killed her?

“Buffy, please,” Lydia continued, her voice wavering somewhat, “Tell me everything you remember. Why did he let you go?”

Buffy pouted and answered grouchily, “He said ‘cause I was short.”

Lydia blinked several times, uncertain and incredulous. “Because you were short?”

“Yeah. Wasn’t Slayer enough for him. He called me bite-size!” she complained, “Said I should get all train up and get stronger and then he’d come and kill me.” She gave Lydia a hard, serious look. “I’m so going to be ready for him. I’ve decided on my lifelong goal as a Slayer: dust Spike.”

“Oh…” Lydia anxiously pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. William the Bloody had just marked Buffy, and, in a sinisterly amusing twist, ten year old Buffy had marked Spike as well. The vampire was going to wait until Buffy was strong enough, until she was worthy enough of his Slayer of Slayers title—how very…well, she didn’t know what to call it. Buffy’s lack of fear made Lydia very nervous as well.

Her academic mind was twitching with curiosity and excitement at this new insight into the life of her study subject. Her Watchery mind, however, was fraught with fears: a powerful vampire after a tiny girl, and he knew her to be a Slayer! Oh god, it was going to come out to the demon world that there was a tiny Slayer running about in addition to the regular one. This was not good; for five years they were able to keep Buffy contained and protected, and now? Oh dear lord… Lydia shuddered to think about it. She just hoped at least Spike stuck to his plan of letting Buffy grow up first.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the worst part of this whole affair. She looked at the small girl sadly; the greatest danger to the small Slayer didn’t come from the demon world or a vampire with a penchant for Slayer-killing.

“Buffy,” Lydia began, sounding breathless and anxious, “You don’t tell anyone that you met Spike, do you understand?”

Buffy frowned, puzzled. “Why not?”

“I can’t tell you,” Lydia replied, “Not now. But you must not tell anyone, especially Mr. Travers.”

Buffy furrowed her brows in confusion. “What? Why? Why not Mr. Travers?”

“Just promise, okay? It’s for your own good.”

“Okay…” Buffy answered quietly, astonished by the look of fear on Lydia’s face. Was Spike that dangerous? Would Mr. Travers get angrier because she met Spike and not just any vampire?

“When you are asked, you say you met a fledgling, and you dusted him,” continued Lydia, “Do you understand?”

Buffy frowned, irritated at the repeated ‘Do you understand?’ She wasn’t stupid: she understood what Lydia wanted, but not why. “I think so. You want me to lie to Mr. Travers? But Lyddie, that was ruled 39 in List of Buffy No-No’s: don’t lie to your Watchers! Especially Boss Watcher.”

Lydia took a moment to marvel at Buffy for remembering the number of the rule. The girl usually acted like the list didn’t exist. She made point to look it up later to see if it was really number 39.

“Yes. BUT, just for this only.”

She nodded. “Can I tell Giles?”

“No!” Lydia exclaimed, “No one! Understand? No one needs to know that Spike let you go.”

Buffy frowned again. What? This was getting really confusing. Spike letting her go was the problem? Did Lydia want her to get killed? Did Mr. Travers or Giles? No way. Lydia and Giles would never do that to her; though she wasn’t sure about Mr. Travers. He had shifty eyes. “Okaaay. Can I say I staked Spike at least?”

Lydia shook her head. “No, Spike is too high profile of a vampire to lie about. Just don’t mention Spike. It was just some fledgling.”

“Is that poophead vampire really famous?” Buffy asked disappointedly.

“Er, yes, he is. He’s one of the Scourge of Europe.”

“The what?”

The Watcher let out a tired sigh. “Let’s save Vampire history for tomorrow, Buffy. It’s time for bed. You’ll have to meet with Mr. Travers tomorrow.”

Buffy nodded, and hopped off her seat. She was surprised: she expected more lecturing and less ‘lie to everyone, Buffy’ from Lydia, but she was okay. Not that what Lydia wanted from her made any kind of sense, but she trusted Lydia. She didn’t feel right about lying to Giles, but if Lydia insisted, she didn’t have a problem, cause if she had met a fledge, Buffy had confidence that she would have totally dusted it. Besides, it might convince Mr. Travers to let her out if she did say she had. “Night Lyddie!” she called to the Watcher as she sprinted out of the office, barely hearing Lydia’s “Good night, Buffy.”

*

Later that night Lydia checked the list of things Buffy wasn’t allowed to do. It was not number 39 on the list or on the list at all. The girl had made it up, probably on a whim. Lydia didn’t know if she should find it amusing or bothersome.

***************

Spike watched, rapture in his cool blue eyes, as his Dru worked her thrall on a pretty little girl. She didn’t need to, of course—runaway orphans were an easy catch and an easy dump, but Drusilla liked to play before she had her meal. That was his Wicked Plum, a luscious combination of delightful and deadly; magnificently sweet and ruthless, and as insane as they come. Never a dull moment with his lady.

“Sweet thing, she is, Spike,” said Dru, her eyes never leaving the girl. Spike smirked. Yes, she was a sweet thing. Not unlike a bitty Slayer he had left in the cemetery.

“Little girl,” Dru continued, reaching out towards the girl and pulling her into a hug, and gently patted the girl’s curly brown locks, “There there, sweet.” She turned to Spike with a small pout. “She’s not ripe enough, is she? Not yet.”

“She’s sweet and tender, love,” Spike said, stepping towards them and gently running his hand through the hypnotized child’s hair, “Perfectly aged.”

“Not yet,” Dru insisted softly, “So don’t try, my William. Not yet. You’d choke on her.”

Spike frowned slightly. He had a feeling that they were no longer speaking about the kid in her embrace anymore.  “What are you on about, Dru?” he asked, keeping his voice soft.

“The little one,” Dru answered blithely, “Miss Edith tells me the little one is…not ripe enough. You can’t know her…she is defended...”

Spike’s eyes widened. Was she talking about the bite-size Slayer? Had Dru seen the girl? He waited for her to say more. Perhaps she had a vision? Maybe he was wrong to leave the girl alive?

But Dru became interested in her food again. “I want to drink from her insides, Spike.” She sounded as if she merely wanted a lollipop.

“Then let’s take her to go, love,” Spike advised, “We’ll have ourselves a fresh, warm meal in bed.”

“Yes, let us do that,” Dru said softly. She looked at him, a dreamy smile etched at her marble-like face. “Oh, I can hear it Spike…”

“Hear what, pet?”

“I can hear the songs. The universe sings the song to me.”

Spike cocked his head, curious. “The Universe?”

“Hmmm…they say…” Dru let go of the orphan, though she remained fixed in the catatonic state. The vampiress approached Spike, her dark, doll-like eyes shining with amazement and wonder. “Oh, Spike…” she sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck, “My sweet. You are…my honey-man. Sweeten me always, my apple tree.”

Spike raised his eyes at her last words. Well, that was something new. Still, he reveled in her affections; the oddness in the way his Dru expressed herself had become the norm for him, and he enjoyed every barmy word.

“Hmm, love, I’m your…apple tree,” he said gently, “And uh…your honey-man.”

Dru started to speak again, her voice soft and sweet. It took a second for Spike to realize that she was speaking in a foreign tongue, though he had never heard anything like it before.

“What’s that love?”

Drusilla grinned wickedly. “Such wonderful darkness ahead, my Spike. So very wonderful. I see the black and it is…breathtaking…”

“Is that right, pet? Sounds like an awful lot of fun.”

He dipped his head and caught her lips in a hungry kiss.

***********************

When Giles arrived at his corner of the Council Library, he couldn’t help but gape at the little intruder of the blonde persuasion sitting at his usual table. Not that he’s never seen her in there before; their first meeting consisted of him scrambling away from bookshelves went like dominos as half the library collapsed around him, courtesy a four year old trying to use the top of the shelves as a getaway from bumbling Watchers. That was the day she had come unofficially under his care after he was able to contain the little Slayer with only a fractured thumb to show for it. His fellow Watchers did not get a slightly injured as he did.

“Buffy, what are you doing?” The way he said it would have made someone passing by think Buffy was ripping out the pages of the precious, ancient tomes and making origami cranes out of them, and not demurely sitting in front a handful of opened volumes of some demon-y subject. And beginning French.

Giles was sure something was wrong: Buffy Summers studying quietly, by herself, in the library on a beautiful Saturday afternoon? Did he miss a memo? Was she sick? Or was there evil afoot?

Buffy jumped out of her seat happily. “Giles! You’re back!” She attacked Giles in a bear hug, her little arm squeezing the Watcher with more pressure than his frame could handle. The large, aging books he carried in his arms cut painfully into his arms.

“Er…yes…Buffy…bones…fragile…”

“OH! Sorry!” She jumped back, grinning sheepishly, “I’m just so happy you’re here!”

Giles smiled, flattered by the small Slayer’s affections and quickly set his books on the table.

“Whatcha got there Giles?” Buffy asked.

“Oh, these are borrowed books from Council depository in Jerusalem on the Cult of Nergal,” Giles answered, looking on the selected books with a proud smile, “They’ve been active in Kuwait recently, trying to summon Nergal and—” Giles stopped abruptly, and looked down suspiciously at Buffy, who was listening to him with rapt attention. Again, he was bewildered; the girl was never that interested in Demonology unless it involved some gory story about a Slayer killing a great demon.

He looked at the pile of books she was studying when he came in, and back at her. “Buffy, were you studying?”

“Oh, yeah…” Buffy answered, “But go on, Giles. Cult of Nagal?”

“Nergal.”

“Uh-huh. What about it?”

“You don’t have lessons today, did you? It’s a Saturday.”

“Oh gosh, you’re right!” Buffy exclaimed, a little more enthusiastically than it was normal, “It is a Saturday. I shouldn’t be here studying, right Giles? I should be out, playing, sleeping, training like a normal girl..or Slayer…whatever…not cooped up in a library! Good idea, Giles! I’m on it!” She turned to her books and started gathering them as a confused Giles watched.

“What do you think you’re doing, Buffy?” Lydia’s stern voice joined the Watcher and the little Slayer, the intimidating click clack of her Oxford heels approaching them. Buffy froze, and demurely fell back into her seat, becoming suddenly interested in her fingers, searching for a nail to chew on.

“Rupert,” Lydia greeted, “I see you were successful in locating your books.”

“Er, yes, I was,” Giles answered, his eyes still on Buffy and her rather...reserved behavior. He recognized the body language, of course; five years of helping raise the girl had made him privy to all her quirks.

“Giles says that I can go, Lydia…” Buffy tried, a small, sweet smile on her face.

Giles frowned. “Now, I didn’t say anything—what is going on here?”

“Tell Giles what you’re in trouble for, Buffy,” said Lydia, “Go on.”

Buffy pouted, and looked sullenly between the two Watchers. Slowly, she turned to Giles and told him everything about her nighttime escapade from two nights ago, her voice flat and unexcited. Everything sans Spike, of course.

Giles’s reaction was:  “Are you insane, Buffy?! That was bloody dangerous!”

“I’m also inane,” Buffy added cheerfully, “And everyone and their dogs have already told me how dangerous it was, so you’re kinda late to the game, Giles.” She thought of the search dogs barking at her as if they were scolding her too.

“And this is her punishment,” Lydia added sternly, “More book work, less playtime, and physical endurance tests only.”

“All the boring stuff,” Buffy added grouchily, “I’m 10! I should not be studying demonology! Or French! It’s worse than Latin! And the French eats smelly cheeses. Aaaand, Govern Neck demons are sooooo boring!”

“Gavor’nik,” Lydia corrected, “And you’re studying them because Helga is working on the summoning rituals.”

“Am I gonna learn it? Or help her do the summoning?”

“No, it’s purely for your knowledge.”

“Fudge monkey,” Buffy mumbled darkly, “Stupid knowledge.” She slumped back into her seat, opened her books, and started on her demonology and –Er conjugation assignments once again.

Lydia gave Giles an exasperated look. “Can you see she gets it done, Rupert?”

Giles nodded. “Of course, I need to work on translating these books as well. I’ll keep her working.”

“You are researching the Cult of Nergal, am I correct?” Lydia asked, glancing at the volumes that Giles had procured, “Nergal is Babylonian? With Sumerian roots?”

Giles caught Lydia’s eyes. Both Watchers frowned.

“Yes, he is,” he answered tightly.

Buffy looked between them, wondering how anyone could find reading about some stuffy old Gods so interesting. She decided she’ll never understand Watchers.

***

Note: I know it’s an awkward place to stop, but I just need to get this out before I continue with the plot.

 I have to say, writing a ten year old voice is super hard, since my experience with the age group has seen a very wide range of maturity and intelligence. Some time is going to be spent on Buffy growing up with the Council and their attempts to mold her.

Thanks for reading! J

Three

 “Oi, midget!”

Buffy, who was slumbering on her French assignment, shot up like a startled meerkat. When Abby the current Slayer slipped into the seat across from her, Buffy grimaced and pouted.

She made it no secret she disliked Abby, not that Abby had done anything beyond tease her since their first meeting and treat her like a kid. Actually, that was enough for Buffy to not like the Slayer. And perhaps, just perhaps, there might be some jealousy and resentment issues involved with her dislike but that wasn’t the point at all—the point was that Buffy didn’t like Abby because always made it a point to tease her. (Not that Robin never teased her, but she had known Robin since she was seven, so it was obviously very different). And Spike didn’t help the matter: he had acknowledged Abby as the Slayer, the pretty Slayer, while Buffy wasn’t even fit to bite! It was so unfair. And Abby wasn’t that pretty either! The elder Slayer’s eyes were too wide set and she never had full control of her hair, which was dark, thick, and usually spilling out of a loose braid that gave her the look of someone who just rolled out of bed.

Abby snatched the book Buffy was supposed to be reading and looked at the cover.

“Hey, give that back!” Buffy nearly leapt onto the table trying to grab it back, but Abby only turned away. “Don’t lose the spot!”

“Hmmm….Le chat est sur la chaise…ah, le singe est sur la branche?” laughed Abby, “Seriously? Whenever are you gonna need to know how to say that? Blimey Buffy, at least they should punish you with stuff that’s useful, yeah?”

Buffy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Give it back, Abby.”

 “I heard about your little adventure, Buffy,” said Abby, still flipping through the book, “Takes guts to go out there like that. And stupidity. But I’m sure Tweed United ‘ere gave you the full brunt of the ‘you’re stupid speech’ already.” (Buffy rolled her eyes, again). “But you got lucky, didn’t ya? Got yourself a fang-baby.”

“What do you want?” Buffy grumbled, “I’ve got work to do, you know.”

“Pfft…work…” Abby muttered disdainfully, “Been what? A week now? Thought you woulda imploded by now.”

“I’m obviously a lot stronger than that,” said Buffy coldly, “And really, Abby, are you here to just annoy me?”

“Yea,” Abby answered with a wide, sarcastic grin, “S’what I live for, to annoy the Buff. Nothin’ better else to do. No, doofus, thought ya might want to get some ice cream with me.”

Buffy gave her questioning look. “Are you serious? You know I’m like…grounded for a couple of months, right?”

Abby shrugged. “Yeah I do, but that’s a moot point, ‘cause I found this awesome place just ten minutes run from ‘ere,” said Abby in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning in, “How ‘bout we go, enjoy the sun and get some sugar into our system? Georgie is asleep. Giles is out and Lydia is dealin’ with the coven. We can sneak out and have ourselves a bit o’ fun!”

Buffy frowned suspiciously at elder Slayer. Abby was the one slayer she has ever had the most contact with but they weren’t close, at all. “Because you and me are best pals?” asked Buffy dryly.

Abby smiled, undeterred by Buffy’s hostility. “Better late than never, right? I’ve got free time now, so sound good?”

“You’re trying to get me in trouble, aren’t you?” asked Buffy with sudden realization. At Abby’s raised brow, she added, “Well, more trouble. Besides, we never go out for stuff before! I don’t like you, remember?”

“There is that,” Abby mumbled seriously, “Oh well, thought since you’re a real field-experienced Slayer now, we might trade stories, show our battle scars and the like. You know…there has never been two Slayers at once before. This a unique chance, yeah?”

That got Buffy’s attention—to be considered, finally, to be peer to the Slayer. Bonding, with the Slayer, even if it was Abby.

“You really aren’t getting me into trouble?”

“Can’t promise no trouble,” said Abby, shrugging, “We are sneakin’ you out after all. But I’m not conspirin’ against you.”

Buffy gave Abby a long, wary look. Oh how she wanted to go! And ice cream sounded like the Holy Grail at the moment, and getting away from the musty old library would be just beyond fantastic. But it was Abby, who had patted Buffy on the head on their first meeting, called her cute and nicknamed her midget. There had been no acknowledging of a fellow Slayer going on there at all. “Why are you even asking? It’s not like you cared before.”

“Suppose I haven’t. Was just getting the hang of being the Slayer, so I was suuuper busy…” Abby paused and gave Buffy a lingering look. If Buffy looked more carefully and without childish dislike, she might have seen the softness in the elder Slayer’s expression. “Might be a good idea to now. Like I said, this is a unique opportunity. We’re like sisters in this messed up sisterhood.”

“You’re not my sister,” said Buffy petulantly.

“No, I suppose not,” Abby murmured, “But I’m all you’ve got, Buff.”

Buffy frowned and hesitated, wanting to refute that point. But she only looked down at her book, glaring at the French cats and monkeys. There was no way she could go on with her assignments after Abby’s offer. Plus, the sugar ban from Irma had her craving sweets like…someone who craved sweets a lot—gosh, her brain was turning into mush from too much studying…

That was it. She wanted out. “Okay. I’ll go.”

Abby grinned, happily. “Good choice, midge. C’mon.”

*

Mobe’s Iced Cream Parlour

Everything about the small ice cream place was quirky—the artsy paper cups, the small translucent spoons with names of famous British poets on them, and the décor looked like some hastily put together modern art gallery. It was a popular joint, packed and noisy when Abby and Buffy arrived, and they waited a good ten minutes before they could see the ice cream displays.

Buffy, more or less, felt like a kid in a very strange and intimidating candy shop. There were so many other obviously-not-Watchers people, so many other kids around her age, laughing, talking, eating and whining. Nearest to her was a young girl about her age. She smiled at Buffy in some girl-solidarity sort of way that she was not used to, but Buffy returned a sunny smile in return. From her experience, big smiles always made things better and were, nine out of ten times, the best way to respond.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel a little jittery and out of place. It shouldn’t have felt like she was stepping into an unfamiliar world—it wasn’t like the Watchers kept her locked up inside the Estate (not counting the recent punishment). She went out all the time with a Watcher or two escorting her, especially for her birthdays. Helga took her to all sorts of places, like magic shops and coven meetings, though Buffy thought the latter was the epitome of boring. Robin would sometimes allow her to come with him when he’s hanging out with his friends, and her aunt and uncle would take her all over the U.S whenever she was allowed to visit them.

The only difference was that she had permission then—this was sneaking out, and not even to slay or work or learn, but sneaking out to get ice cream. And to do it right after the whole sneaking out fiasco from just last week was probably not very smart. A little voice in her mind told her it was very bad idea and that she would be grounded for life, but it was drowned out by another voice screaming for ice cream. Besides, it was kinda exciting.

When they finally came to the glass display case, Buffy couldn’t contain her giggles as she read the weird ice cream names. Brain Butter. Jellyfish Java. Poached Eggs n’ Sherry. Hemp Hangover. They were so silly and sounded very, well, yuck. Were they even edible? A glance around the shop told her it was, as no one seemed like they were about to throw up or drop dead.

“What’s hemp?” Buffy asked Abby.

“It’s a type of a very useful plant,” the elder Slayer answered, “S’the straight lace cousin of a much more fun plant.”

One of the employees looked up and smirked at Abby. “Well, you two, what would you like?”

“Buff, what would you like?” asked Abby, “I’m payin’, so don’t go quadruple scoop on me.”

“Can I go triple?” asked Buffy, smiling sweetly up at her. It struck Abby how sly the girl was with her manipulative cuteness and smiles. No wonder Giles and Lydia didn’t have her fully reigned in.

“Only if you can finish it.”

“Which I so can! Well, I dunno what any of this is supposed to taste like…”

“You can sample,” said their server, an agreeable looking young man whose name tag announced that he was ‘Gio’, “And I agree, the names are very intimidating.”

“They also sound really gross,” Buffy added enthusiastically, “Can I try Brain Butter?”

Buffy tried fifteen out of the sixteen flavors (worm meal sounded too gross to even try, though their server insisted it did not have real worms in it), providing colorful commentary on each of the names and flavors. Their server seemed more than happy to oblige the little girl, and was completely taken by Buffy’s sprightliness, especially when Buffy gushed about how divine ‘honey bunny’ tasted. Abby grinned affectionately at Buffy’s enthusiasm, and patiently waited as she surveyed all of Mobe’s famous flavors. Finally, the little Slayer decided on chocolate cocoa masquerade, vanilla vice village, and honey bunny. Abby got herself her scoops of chocolate cocoa masquerade and red hot chili butter, and paid for the both of them.

The two Slayers set off towards the nearest park, happily snacking on their sugary purchases. Buffy briefly made a game of eating her three flavors, trying to get different combinations of flavor into one scoop of her spoon while trying not to repeat flavor combinations. The previous distrust and dislike she had for the elder Slayer seemed to have disappeared—and all it took was some ice cream, which led to Abby concluding that a spoonful of sugar did help smooth things out. Or that Buffy Summers was easily won over when presented with sweet things.

“I can get six combinations!” Buffy declared finally. She looked up Abby with a bright smile, “Six combinations of ice cream with three flavors.”

Abby grinned, “That’s good to know, midge. You can count.”

“It’s more than counting!” Buffy insisted, “It requires remembering because you don’t wanna repeated combinations, and problem solving skills.”

“I’ll take your world for it,” said Abby, “I’m not good with numbers.” She paused and looked down at Buffy, who was now mixing all her flavors together. “Buffy, how was your first slaying?”

Buffy looked up at Abby in surprised at the question. “Um…”

“Yeah, not the best segue eh?” said Abby with an awkward smile, “I had this whole speech in my head ‘bout slayin’ that was s’pposed to lead into that question all subtle like.”

“Is that why you bought me ice cream?” Buffy asked curiously, “To ask me about my slaying?”

“Darn, you figured out my dastardly plan,” Abby exclaimed with mock anger, making Buffy giggle. “I’d like know, from one Slayer to another, yeh know.”

Buffy nodded in understanding, but she hesitated with her answer, mostly since she hadn’t actually slain any vampires, and this constant lying to everyone was grating on her a bit. She really needed to talk to Lydia about doing something different.

“It was…fine,” she answered with a shrug, “You know. Found an ugly vamp, and put a stake through his heart.” Almost.

Abby laughed. “I’m impressed, you make it sound so easy. I remember my first time. Just six months ago. Scared outta my skin, I was. S’the only thing I remember, the fear I mean. I even forgot I had super powers even after I dusted the first one.”

Buffy took in Abby’s words thoughtfully. She had never considered before how it might feel to be suddenly called like most Slayers were. Buffy grew up knowing what she was; demons, prophecies and vampires were as normal to her as Sesame Street and birthday parties were to non-slayer kids. It only struck her then how frightening and confusing it must be for a newly called Slayer, to have her entire world turned upside down, to go from being just a girl to being the Girl to fight Evil. She looked up at the elder Slayer with renewed sympathy.

“Well, I guess…I grew up with super powers, so I was used to it…” said Buffy shrugging, “Kinda like Clark Kent you know. Except I’m human and he’s an alien…and he can fly.”

“Is that why you aren’t in school with other kids?” asked Abby, a small frown on her face.

Buffy shrugged again. “Maybe. I know I broke more things than I should have. I mean, I wouldn’t have fit in at school! I’m a Slayer so I hafta be taught like a Slayer.”

“Even Superman went to school,” said Abby, “Aren’t you kinda…sad about it?”

Buffy looked up Abby, puzzled. “Sad? Why would I be?”

“That you don’t go to school with other kids. Don’t have friends your age?”

Buffy blinked; the thought was completely new to her. She realized that she didn’t have any friends her age, maybe except for her cousin Celia who she only saw maybe two or three months a year. She wondered if it should bother her.

“I…dunno,” she answered slowly, “Never thought about it.”

“That’s kind a lonely, don’t you think?”

“Lonely? No…not really. I’ve Giles and Lydia, and Robin and the whole building of Watchers who really can’t leave me alone. I think I get too much attention sometimes. Also, I visit Aunt Darlene, Uncle Robert and my cousin Celia in Los Angeles. And Giles and Lydia keeps me super busy anyways. And I’m always training. And Lydia tells me that I learn a lot more with the tutors than at schools.”

“Getting attention isn’t the same as not being lonely, Buffy,” said Abby, who looked sincerely concerned, “And school’s not just about book learning, y’know. Aren’t you even curious about what other kids do?”

“But other kids aren’t like me,” Buffy replied earnestly, “I’m a Slayer, I’ve got superpowers. I’ve got responsibilities that they don’t. ‘With great power comes great responsibility’ and all that.”

Abby rolled her eyes. “I think you spend way too much time with Robin, midge.”

Buffy giggled. “Robin says I’m like Superman more than Spiderman. Other Slayers are like Spiderman.”

“I like Batman,” said Abby, “I think I’ll be Batman to your Superman. Though I suppose Spiderman would be more accurate of a comparison.”

Buffy noted Abby’s preference with a serious nod. “Batman does have a cooler costume. Why don’t Slayers get costumes anyways? We’re the real superheroes. Robin said he can design one for Slayers.”

Abby laughed and shook her head. “I’ll pass, thank you.”

“I dunno. He suggested a cape. I like capes.”

“They’re a hazard, y’know. If I were fightin’ Superman, I’d stick his cape into an airplane turbine and watch him get torn to pieces. I bet that’ll kill him.”

Buffy made face, “Why would you want to kill Superman? He’s the good guy.”

Abby shrugged, “I dunno. He’s kinda bland. And like I said, the cape—stupid.”

“I still think capes can be cool,” Buffy insisted, “Maybe we can get the Witches to enchant it so that when a vampire touches it, they get burned or something. A cape of flames! That would be really cool!”

Abby grinned at the small Slayer, and looked down at her melting ice cream. Buffy was done with hers.

“I’m feelin’ a bit peckish. Want to go to a chippy?”

“Don’t you think I should get back?” asked Buffy concernedly, “They might know I’ve gone.”

“Just get a bit of chips and I’ll get you back,” said Abby, “How’s that sound? I need to eat before I go on patrol tonight.”

“Okay,” said Buffy, nodding, “I’d like some too.”

*

Buffy had never expected to like Abby as much as she did, not that, if she were being perfectly honest, Abby had done anything to deserve Buffy’s dislike. Whatever prejudices she had about the elder Slayer were undone that day, and all it took was weirdly named ice cream flavors. Abby still teased her, but it wasn’t anything mean-spirited, and Buffy sensed that she was genuine about treating her as an equal Slayer. Besides, it was so nice to be acknowledged as a full-fledged Slayer, especially by another one. That just made it more legit.

Their orders of the haddock and chips came fresh and piping hot from the fryer, at which point Buffy forgot all about going back to the Estate before anyone noticed her gone. She was already in trouble anyways, what were a few more weeks of punishment? Besides, she was actually enjoying talking to Abby, who regaled her with many funny stories of herself in school or the antics of her very Romanian parents. The two of them were actually bonding, Buffy realized, and it felt pretty darn awesome.

“Oh Yearling was bloody pissed at me for tellin’ my parents without his permission,” Abby laughed, “But I couldn’t keep somethin’ like that. Probably help them more than hurt, really.”

“Were they okay with you being a Slayer?” asked Buffy.

“Yeah. Shocked at first, but now they’re super happy and supportive. God’s chosen I am, they say, so it works for them.” Abby shrugged. “As long as they’re happy I suppose. Though they still get all fussy when I have to patrol.”

At the mention of patrol, Buffy couldn’t help but let out a wistful sigh.  “I wish I can come with you on patrol. I think it’s a crime that I am not using my abilities to protect people.”

Abby raised her brows at the girl. “A crime? How’s that?”

“Think about it: for every vampire that I don’t kill, it’s like a dozen innocent people getting killed. Does that make sense?”

Abby stared at her for a moment, an inscrutable expression on her face. Then she burst out laughing, confusing poor Buffy.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Buffy muttered sullenly, pouting.

“No, it’s not that,” Abby said as her mirth dissipated, shaking her head “…I’m just impressed, is all. Just that…only one day on the job and you’ve already developed a savior complex.”

Buffy made a face, feeling like she was being made fun of. “What’s a savior complex?”

“Someone who likes being a hero. You might even have a superiority complex with that, which, fyi, means you think you’re better than everyone else.”

“I do not!” Buffy exclaimed hotly, “I don’t think I’m better!”

“I said ‘might’.”

“Well I don’t,” Buffy said grumpily, stabbing a mushy chip with her fingers, “And what’s wrong with wanting to save people?”

“S’not the saving, midge,” said Abby with a small smile, “It’s the desire to be the hero. Not healthy. We’re not comic books you know.”

“You mean comic book characters?”

Abby rolled her eyes, “Yes, that’s what I meant. Anyways, I was sayin’: we’re human, and we’re young and there’s stuff that’s just hard to handle.”

Buffy took a moment to process what Abby said and found she didn’t understand it one bit. She couldn’t see anything wrong with wanting to be a hero. Abby was weird sometimes. “I still don’t get it. You’re making it up, aren’t you?”

Abby let out an impatient sigh and shook her head, “No, I’m not. But it’s not important now. Food’s getting cold and I need to get goin’. Need to make pit stop at a magic shop.”

“Magic shop?” Buffy repeated, her interest suddenly piqued, “For what?”

“I’m trackin’ a demon,” Abby answered, dousing her chips with even more vinegar. Buffy was sure that by now the chips were so acidic it was toxic. “Need to pick up some ingredients to do a locator spell.”

“You can do magic?” asked Buffy, her face alight with newfound respect for Abby. “Can I help?”

“It’s not big magic, don’t have enough magic in me for the big stuff. And no, you’re not helpin’. I’m pickin’ up the ingredients and taking you back. Travers’ll kill us both if I take you huntin’. And god knows that Giles and Lydia might do.”

Buffy deflated, her lips forming a childish pout. So much for being treated as an equal.

**

The magic shop was on the way back to the Estate, so Buffy was allowed to tag along. The sun was low in the sky, and Buffy wondered, very briefly, how long she had been out with Abby and if the Watchers noticed her gone. But once the magic shop came into view, all thoughts of Giles and Lydia getting really angry at her slipped away—cause really, she figured it was too late worrying at this point. And it was still light out, so it wasn’t like they could assume she went to chase vampires, again.

 Anyways, Buffy was excited by the magic shop, and it wasn’t because she’s never been to a magic shop or been around magic, but going to a magic shop with a real purpose, especially one like getting ingredients to track and kill a demon? This was the exciting stuff, not the baffling mother earth magic Helga always seemed to be spouting.

“So what kind of demon are you hunting?” Buffy asked as she followed Abby into the shop, the bell on top of the door ringing as the stepped in. The elder Slayer halted suddenly, and Buffy ran into her.

“Ow,” Buffy muttered, irritated, and stepped around Abby, “Why’d ya—”

Buffy stopped as well, eyes widening with horror. The entire shop was trashed, shelves broken, glasses shattered and the various magic paraphernalia strewn about—all drenched with—oh god, it was blood.

Buffy clasped her hands to her mouth, the sick, iron-y scent assaulting her senses.

Blood. It was everywhere. Red, red, everywhere, painting the scene crimson.

Buffy let out small sharp cry when she recognized human body parts scattered about in the bloody chaos.

And standing proudly in the middle of the room was a hulking, gray-green creature as tall as the ceiling, with glaring mustard colored eyes and black spikes protruding all over its bent and unsightly body. Around it were half a dozen or so vampires, all in game face.

“That’s the one…” Abby said quietly, her face glazing over suddenly. She let her eyes quickly do a sweep of the massacre, and let out the smallest, tired sigh, closing her eyes and fighting the desire to hurl.

“Hello Slayer,” the demon greeted her, its voice surprisingly silky smooth, “Fancy meeting you here. And is that a little snack you’ve brought for my boys?”

 Abby didn’t answer, her face hardening with quiet rage. Buffy still had her hands over mouth, her green eyes locked on the horrible sight, unable to look away. She felt her legs go weak and fought the urge to become completely undone. She wasn’t unfamiliar with dead bodies, she wasn’t unfamiliar with gore— she was a Slayer for goodness sake! But it all been pictures, books, stories and movies, never this. Never like this.

“What Slayer, don’t have anything to say to me?” the demon taunted, “Thought my work here would elicit some sort of response from you.”

Abby’s eyes flitted momentarily to a stunned Buffy, to the slaughter, and back to the demon. Still, she said nothing.

“Or maybe you’re just at a loss for words?”

Abby let out a slow, measured breath, her dark eyes trained on the demon. “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious…” she muttered suddenly, drawing odd looks from everyone in the shop. Buffy looked up at her with bewildered eyes, wondering if Abby had gone insane from the horrific sight or if it was some sort of magical incantation. A tense, awkward moment of silence followed, with a very puzzled demon wondering the same thing as Buffy. The vampires recognized the word and merely wondered if Abby had gone insane.

The older Slayer took advantage of the momentary pause. She grabbed Buffy and pushed her towards the door, “Go!” The floor boards beneath them suddenly shot up, growing and mutating into a clawed hands that pushed the two Slayers further into the magic shop, right into the mess of vampires. Abby pulled out stake and dusted the first vampire to lunge at her.

Another vampire snatched Buffy around the middle and lifted her up. Buffy let out a yelp and elbowed her attacker, putting all her Slayer strength into the hit. The vampire let out a pained grunt and crumpled with pain, allowing Buffy to slip out of his grip, turn around and throw him a kick that sent him flying across the shop.

The other vampires paused momentarily to stare in shock at Buffy, and the demon’s focus shifted to the small girl.

“Buffy!” Abby shouted, “Catch!” Abby threw the small Slayer a stake, which Buffy deftly caught and faced the vampires in a practiced stance of an immaculate Slayer.

“What is this?” the demon exclaimed excitedly, looking between Abby and Buffy, “Is this little one a Slayer too?”

“That’s right,” snarled Abby, “She is, and she’s very well trained. Don’t underestimate her because she’s small. She’ll kick your arse back to the lowest depths of hell. So, do ya wanna risk fighting the two of us, Gellert?”

Buffy was elated by Abby’s endorsement of her capabilities, and narrowed her eyes menacingly at the vampires to show just how dangerous she was.

Unfortunately, they didn’t find her as menacing as she hoped.

“She’s kind of cute,” one of them said, “Ain’t she? Can I eat her?”

Buffy narrowed her eyes to focus on the vampire that spoke: he was so going to be the first one to dust.

Abby swallowed, looking nervously between Buffy and the vampires. For all the boasting she did for Buffy, the Slayer had no idea what Buffy was like a fight. The little girl was supposedly trained since she arrived at the Council, but that didn’t mean she could handle multiple vampires. God, this was not how the evening was supposed to end.

“How are there two of you?” Gellert the demon wondered at loud, looking at Buffy curiously, “Tiny, you are! Are Slayers grown nowadays? Are there many baby Slayers like you running about? My, the thought of it is just adorable!”

“I’ll show you what a baby Slayer can do,” Buffy spat venomously.

“She’s got bite,” Gellert said with admiration, “Pity. Oh well. Show me them. Go at’em, boys.”

The six vampires attacked, and the two Slayers sprang into action.

Abby fought expertly, with swift kicks and powerful, Slayer-classic punches. The six months she spent training with Yearling and the Council definitely showed in her style, which utilized succession of quick blows and a rapid stake to the heart. Buffy, on the other hand, performed a sort of a slippery dance; fleet-footed and small, she easily zipped between the vampires while they stumbled like idiots, obviously not used to fighting someone so small and fast.

Buffy made beeline towards the vampire who had called her cute. She leapt towards him, flying high into the air like she had springs in her sneakers, and came down on his torso, momentarily crouched on him like a little monkey. She quickly staked him and launched herself off of him before he crumbled, straight at another vampire advancing on her, using the momentum to knock him down. They tumbled together to the ground. Buffy curled herself into a ball and rolled out the fall, away from the vampire and immediately jumped up to her feet, stake still in hand.

The opponent scrambled to his, his monstrous face stunned by the acrobatic little Slayer.

“Do you think I’m cute as well?” she asked, a little smirk on her face, “Cause I gotta say, I’m finally feeling very cute.” Before the vampire could reply, Buffy dashed towards him and kicked out his legs while thrusting her stake upwards to meet his chest. A second later, the vampire exploded into dust, falling around like snow…except that it was black and yucky. Buffy coughed and rushed away from the dust cloud of vampire remains.

“Buffy!”

The little Slayer turned around to see Abby dust the last vampire. Their eyes met momentarily, and Abby gave her a little, incredulous smile.

“Color me impressed, girls!” The silky smooth voice brought the Slayers’ attention back to the demon.

Buffy and Abby both turned on Gellert the demon. Abby dropped her stake and Buffy followed suit.

Abby lunged at him, but he merely flicked his wrist and an invisible force shot the elder Slayer straight across the room. Buffy attacked from behind, aiming for one of his legs but he pretty much just punted her aside.

“Well, ladies, this has been interesting,” said Gellert, “It really has.” He turned to Abby and gave her a crusty smile. “Dear Slayer, we must have a raincheck.” His yellow eyes swiveled menacingly to Buffy. “Some very interesting things have come up I must attend to. You understand, don’t you?” He waved his claw and popped out of existence, leaving the two bewildered Slayers struggling to get back on their feet.

Abby pushed herself off the floor and rushed to Buffy, helping the smaller Slayer to her feet. “Buffy, are you okay?”

Buffy nodded, looked around dazedly, “What happened?”

“He’s gone,” Abby answered hastily, “Come on. We need to get outta here before the coppers come by.”

“But—”

“Buffy, we need to leave. We have to report this to the Council, you understand me?”

She looked around the blood-laden shop, feeling sick when she picked out individual body parts. A hand there. A leg here. A torso just there. She looked away, and nodded. “’Kay,” she answered weakly, “L-let’s go.”

Buffy took Abby’s hand, and allowed the elder Slayer to lead her out of the shop.

********

Note: I hope y’all found Abby at least likeable, since she is going to frequent the story a bit more. I’ve only given a little glance of the Slayer here of course, and there is more to come for her too in relation with Buffy. Anyways, thanks for reading!