Her heels clicked on the ground with every step, and she stumbled occasionally, from the rush she was in. The ground was still damp; Rain had fallen not an hour ago, and hence her hurry was made all the more difficult. She hitched her long skirt up and moved onwards, glancing behind her as she hurried through the dark streets.
…
The year was 1838, and a terror was roaming the streets of London. Like everyone else in the city, Elizabeth Summers wouldn’t admit to her fear, but that didn’t
mean she felt it any less.
There were a select few woman who claimed it was true. They were, for the most part, regarded as crazy, even by Elizabeth. They would speak together of any strange happenings about town, and link them all back to the terror they felt. Occasionally a self-claimed ‘victim’ would turn up, and the women would fawn over her, picking and peering at her scarred face, and listen endlessly to her tale, as she would repeat it to them, desperate for some comfort. Elizabeth had, until recently, rolled her eyes and exited as soon as these girls got started. But only a fortnight ago something had changed. Dawn, Elizabeth’s sister, had turned up at the home, wrecked and in need of desperate medical attention.
“Yes,” Dawn had told her, a few days prior, a strip of gauze covering the most part of her right cheek, “I do remember but one thing of his appearance. Dreadful beast he was, but not a detail has stuck to my mind other than this one. His eyes, Lizzie! Fearful, they were! They appeared bulging in their sockets, red as blood, and burning like fire! He gazed at me, and he seemed to see right through me. I could feel my heart pounding, and I assure you Lizzie, he could too. He grinned this wicked grin. His teeth… Either pointy like fangs, or lacking and leaving just gums to terrify me, I can remember not. But I remember his eyes, Elizabeth. Yes, them I remember.”
Elizabeth had believed her sister. Poor little Dawnie, her youth by four years, and only just turned sixteen.
Since, Elizabeth and Dawn had been very careful to not stray after dark. They would be home before the sun set, without fail, and Dawn would spend the evenings peering out the windows, eyes fearful, but mouth set in a firm determined line. She would not be scared. She was a strong young girl, and logical to the letter. She could laugh in the face of anything, and walk away, a swish in her hips, and her long brown her flicking behind her. But she was also clever, and she knew now what inhabited the streets of London these nights, and thus, she would not go out.
Elizabeth did not see the night sky for a full fortnight after her sister’s attack, but there was one thing that could break her resolve, and defeat her logic.
William. She’d seen him as he worked in the watch worker’s. Brown hair flopping in front of his spectacled eyes. Fingers fiddling with the intricate insides of the clock before him.
She’d walked up to him and placed her fathers watch on the bench.
“Its broken.” She stated. “You can fix it, cant you? Soon?”
He’d looked up, and smirked.
“What’s the hurry?”
“Father really cant find out I broke it. Well, Dawn broke it. But she made it look like it was my fault, so here I am, and can you fix it before Father gets home at 5:30?”
The boy picked it up, and flipped it round, unscrewing the back and needling around the insides.
He held it up to his ear and listened.
“There you go, luv.” He chuckled, tossing it to her.
She looked at it, and watched as the hand ticked round, on time once more.
“Uh… thankyou.” She laughed, pocketing the watch.
The boys cheeks flushed, and he looked up at her.
“Are you busy?” He asked, and that was how she came to be on the streets after dark.
…
She stopped briefly and tied her hair up into a loose bun, adjusting her belt around her waist as she did so. She sighed in relief as it loosened, and began to hurry again across the dark cobbled road.
A black shape moved before her, and she jumped back, confronted by the face of her nightmares.
Red eyes, like the devil. Hands curled like claws, reaching towards her, grinning like a maniac.
“Hello there.” He greeted, voice surprisingly upper class. “You’re a pretty young maid, aren’t you now?”
She moved back, fingers gripping the cross she wore around her neck.
“…Please--?” She begged.
“Please what, Love? Please who?”
“Please… J-- Jack.” She whimpered, repeating the name that had been hissed and whispered though London of late.
“Jack?” He laughed. “Very good, Love. You know my name, as well it should be.”
“Don’t hurt me…” She pleaded, holding her cross up protectively.
He laughed joyously, quickly developing into an insane cackle.
Elizabeth screamed when she saw a plume of fire grow in the back of his throat.
“That’s right, girl!” He yelled, voice croaking menacingly. “Scream! Scream and Run! I will catch you! Because I’m Spring Heeled Jack!”
Elizabeth paused mid step, and a small smirk crept onto her lips before she snorted.
“Spring Heeled Jack?” She asked, voice cracking as she tried not to burst into laughter.
Jack’s eyes flickered, and he straightened his coat. His moment of wariness did not last long however, as the fire continued to rise in his throat, and within seconds he was screaming, and Elizabeth was faced with a long shoot of flaming death. She stepped to the side however, and was not scathed at all.
“Look, I’m sick of this.” She groaned. “Everyone chattering on about you, over and over, ‘Jack the Devil Man’ ‘Fire breathing Jack’ On and on and on. I’m over it. I’m over you. You nearly killed my little sister, and for that, I’m going to kill you.”
It was Jack’s turn to laugh.
“And how exactly will you be doing that, Love?” He asked, looming above her, eyes piercing hers, green meeting blue.
…
And somewhere in Japan, a young girl gasped her final breath, and her wooden stake fell clattering to the ground, as the beast above her ripped at her throat with his sharp teeth…
…
Elizabeth felt herself come over nauseous, if only for a moment. Once she recovered, she could feel the strength pumping through her. She looked up into Jack’s eyes, and smiled.
“This is how, ‘Love’.” She said cheerily, and hitched up her full dress, spinning to kick him in the gut.
She ran over to where he lay, winded on the dirty street. Making a face, she raised her heel to his temple, and stamped.
She wiped the blood and brains from her shoe, on the tailored coat of the night’s menace, and turned to walk back to her home.
“That was just disgusting.” She muttered to herself.
…
Buffy Summers folded the page and tossed the Watchers Journal to the vampire next to her.
“Read this one Spike.” She ordered. “Its so weird!”
Giles glanced over Spike’s shoulder, at noted the page title.
“Ah, Elizabeth… One of the longest living slayers, you know. She lasted seven years, even had a child. I think the father was mentioned in there somewhere…Shame though… Jack turned up again more than a decade later, and again, and again. They were regarded as copy-cat crimes… but he‘s a demon. And he always comes back.”
Author's Chapter Notes:
Please dont pay too much attention to the fact that the prequel fitting in with the future doesn't make much sense. I acctually started this as a project for my creative writing class, but my teacher wasn't there so I wrote fanfiction.