It is dark. Here in the playground, far back from the road, the light of the streetlamp barely reaches. Although I could see by the light of the half-moon overhead, barely a trickle of moonlight finds its way through the branches of the trees to cast light upon the park. The chains of the swing on which I sit are silent, for a change; must have been repainted recently. I can barely see the outline of the stake I hold in my hands, can barely hear the soft whisper of wind as I swing back and forth.
The playgroud is oddly beautiful; here in the near-darkness, in the silence, the cool and fresh air, all is stillness and peace. The slight motion of the swing is a cradle; my mother rocks me, keeping me safe from all harm.
It is deceiving. I'm here to kill vampires. I'm here to do my duty. Even as I swing slightly, my eyes search every shadow, every low-hanging branch, for some betraying movement. My ears, inhumanly keen, can hear anyone trying to move quietly through the overgrown grass. Even my nose is on the alert, carefully testing the slight breeze for the slight change that is all some of the monsters will make, when they approach me, a seemingly weak girl outside at night, alone. Helpless. Prey.
But it is I who am the predator. Even this night, with its unusual beauty, cannot distract me from my hunt. Some sixth sense, that which sets me apart from other girls, tells me that the serene darkness hides a vampire. I know he is there, and I know he is watching me. I do nothing. I sit where I am, swinging slightly, and wait. He will come to me. They always do.
He comes from behind, charging almost as silently as he stalked. To my ears, though, he sounds as loud as a train. I wait for another second, and then I leap forward off the swing. Off balance, I hear him stumble as he falls upon empty air. I am already turning, stake held in full view.
The vampire backs off slightly, and even on his distorted ridges and demonic visage, I can read the sudden nervous tension; he's reconsidering the wisdom of choosing this victim. Not particularly wanting to run after him, I fall back on taunts.
"Do you need a push?" I ask sardonically. "God, you look like something the cat dragged in after the dog dug it up." The wisecracks loosen me up a bit, even if they are a waste of air. I feel better, readier to fight.
He's game, too, and comes in again, though slower, more warily. I leap towards him, and he jumps back, easily avoiding such a simple move. I'm not aiming for him, though. Instead, I grab the swing and shove it at him. Surprise holds him in place long enough for it to reach him, and he's tangled in the chain. It won't hold him very long, but then, it doesn't have to.
I'm on top of him before he can fully free himself. He's already off balance, and my weight is enough to carry us both to the ground. He takes most of the impact, and I'm on my feet in a second, bringing my stake around. He staggers upright, but I spin, lash out, and kick him to the ground again.
It feels so good, knowing that he hasn't got a chance. Sweet adrenaline pounds in my blood, and every move feels so easy, it's like he's moving in slow motion. As he tries to scramble up again, but I sweep his legs out from under him. My stake ensures he won't get up again.
He screams, that unearthly, high-pitched scream of the final death, and I manage to hop backwards in time to avoid the dust that explodes from where his undead body was lying, that glitters for an instant in the faint light before vanishing into the grass.
I smile. That's my second one tonight, and I don't think there will be any more. I've done my rounds, the graveyards seem to be clear; I can go home.
I can go home, but I don't.... not right away. I know when I do I will have to sneak into my window, or I'll have to talk to my mom, and explain what I was doing out so late. My post-Slaying glow dims slightly at the thought of the brightly lit house, and my mother, never knowing, asking so many questions...
Why does it bother me? The dust has settled; I pick up the stake and examine it. There's a very slight crack running down the middle, almost invisible; the weapon is useless. I toss it aside and walk back to the swing set.
I've spent so much time in this playground, like the graveyards, it feels like a second home. So much time fighting. Waiting. Thinking. The swing I tangled the vampire in is still moving, rocking back and forth. I stop to watch it, for a few moments. The dim light is coming from the front. When the swing comes forward, it moves into the light, but when it goes back again, it falls into shadow.
How appropriate. I reach out to stop it, and sit down for a moment. The rush of excitement is fading, and I feel suddenly weak. I know it will pass soon. It always does. But it's worth it.
I stop to ponder that last thought, pushing gently against the ground and swinging a little bit forward, then back. I've always hated being the Slayer. I've often thought I'd give anything to be a normal girl. But when I slay, I feel so powerful, like nothing can stop me. I'm so strong, and I know what I'm doing is right, I don't regret using it, I don't feel ashamed to feel so good. Before I knew I was the Slayer, I never felt that way... I never knew I could. Everything's changed since then. Ever since I learned that vampires are real, and I was the one who had to kill them, I couldn't close my eyes again. Now I always worry about the people who are close to me... but I know, that unlike all the other girls, who are so popular, so pretty, so bright and shining, that I can protect the ones I love.
And there are some things I get out of being a Slayer, that I never would get otherwise... I think of a certain tall, dark and handsome lurker, and I smile. I always do, when I think of him. I'm swinging a little bit harder, now. I think of Willow and Xander. I think of them as my 'day' friends, but would I ever have really met them, if it hadn't been for my duties as a Slayer? And Giles. He's like a father to me sometimes. Shadows cover me, and I wonder if being the Chosen One is all that bad.
I think I'm trying to convince myself of that, as the streetlight hits my eyes again. Yes, it's fun to kill the big bad monsters, except when they hit back, and it hurts. Yes, it feels good to know I can protect my friends, until I think about how many times they have put their lives in danger. For me. Yes, my boyfriend is cute, but he's also a vampire, who's more than two hundred years older than me. And yes, it's fun to be the Slayer. It's fun to kill, it always will be, until the day it kills me.
Would things be easier if I wasn't Buffy Summers, if I was just the Chosen One? Maybe if I trained instead of going to school, I'd have more of an edge. Maybe if I spent time researching with Giles, instead of socializing, I'd know more about what I'm up against. Maybe if I didn't have to worry about my mother, I could patrol more completely.
But then I'd really be dead. I'm glad of the darkness that covers my face as my vision begins to blur, even though there's nobody around to see me cry. The light springs into rainbow prisms through my tears. I rock back and forth, into the light, and back into darkness, back and forth. Light and dark. I'm riding a swing, caught between the day I can't have and the night I won't accept. Please, God, never make me choose between them! Never make me choose!
I can't believe I'm doing this. I'm sitting on a goddamn swing-set, a six-year-old toy, in the middle of a playground in the dead of night, and I'm crying. Still, I don't get off right away. I stop myself from swinging, but I sit there for a moment, and I wish I could balance my life so easily.
I have to go now. I have to go home, and go to bed, or I won't get enough sleep. And tomorrow, when I meet my friends, they'll be worried about me. Willow will make some timid, hesitant comment about how I'm feeling, and Xander will try to lighten the mood with a joke about my boyfriend. And I'll smile tiredly, and laugh with them, and walk through school with my two best friends as if I don't have a care in the world. When we get to the library, Giles will get a funny wrinkle on his forehead, but he won't say anything about it as he asks me how patrol was. And I'll tell them, about the vampires I killed, and it'll be shop talk, like any other day. I'll sit in the sunlight like I'm sitting in the darkness now, and I know I'll make some vague comment about how much I hate my life. But I won't say which one.
I have to go home. I'll sneak in through the window, through the tree where a certain vampire I know likes to sit, and I'll go to bed, and I'll try to forget about vampires for awhile. And I know I can't. They'll be in my dreams. All night, the nightmares will be with me, until morning comes, and the sunlight comes and chases them away.
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