Disclaimers: I don't own these people. Joss and his mutants do. I lay no claims. I also do not want them, which is a critical factor.
Author: Miss K, aka -MK-
Rating: 15 for violence to the undead.
Summary: Faith and Buffy visit the House on the Hill.
Email: kitty_licks@yahoo.com
Dedications: Two, in no order but with equal, though differing, thanks. The faceless should always remain nameless.

1] to my favourite little tease and her ever softening hands. You never fail to amuse.
2] to the person who intro'd me to VNV. You never fail to make me think.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
VNV Nation: Epicentre

… I've become an anathema of my soul.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

Standing Watch

There's a lot to be said for sitting in your own motel room, with your own self, doing your own stuff that doesn't include stalking, staking then shaking out the dust from various members of the undead.

Obviously I'm not in my own motel room. I'm halfway up an almost mountain, in the almost dark and it's almost raining. Add it all together and the equation gets me more than almost pissed off.

I stare up at the proverbial deserted house on top of the proverbial dark and lonesome hill, sighing, because it's not like I haven't been here before. I gotta say, I stopped watching repeats of "The Lost Boys" a few years back. Make believe dramas don't appeal when I get the "Cops" version every night.

"Hey."

I glance over my shoulder at a familiar voice. I flick my cigarette butt now I have company.

"B."

She stops next to me, doubled over, hands on knees, puffing due to the journey up this incline.

"Where do you find these places, Faith. A deserted house on a hill? Did a Wizard of Oz tornado drop us in Amityville?"

"Lookin' that way."

I double-take her choice of footwear: platform Sketchers Britney would be proud of.

"I can see you being able to pull a lay in those, but a slay?"

"Hey, leave my Cuban heels out of this. I'll keep up."

We start climbing up the rest of the hill. I concentrate on this steepness keeping my abs carved.

"But will you stay up? I'm here to be The Slayer, not the Babysitter."

"That belongs to me, Faith. I'm 'The' you're just 'a'."

We reach the top.

"What are you talking about, Short Stuff?"

"Buffy Summers is 'The,' capital 'T', 'Slayer,' capital 'S'. Faith Knight is 'a slayer' no capitals at all. You're my Tonto, my Robin. You are Lois Lane."

I snort a laugh, holding my hand up.

"Hold it, I'm not Lois Lane, and if I was who does that make you, Superman? If you want to be some idiot in a pair of tights then go ahead."

The proverbial creaky door on the proverbial haunted house, opens. A vamp sticks his head out, tuting.

"I'm trying to sleep!"

We stare at him, then each other, then back at him. B shrugs, answering, "we'll keep it down?"

He rolls his eyes.

"Good. A little consideration goes a long way."

The proverbial door creaks shut. I click my heels together, three times.

"East, west, home is best…"

"You're not getting out of here that easy, Faith."

"Tell me about it, " I scoop up a handful of stones. "You ready for Mr Rogers and his perky, chirpy requests, Buffy 'The Slayer' Summers?"

"Yup. And you can just call me Buffy, it's ok."

She jogs to the door. Risky, because if she breaks a leg in those sneakers I'm not carrying her down this hill. My shirt is new and I'm not stretching it.

"Hey, B, don't stand so close to the door because…"

"The. Slayer," she taps a finger to her chest, "I know what I'm doing. I'm fine here."

"Ok. Don't say Lois didn't warn you."

I throw a stone at the door and it bangs, rolling along the decking noisily. Ten seconds later and the door open outwards--which I knew it would because I was paying attention the first time it did. It smashes B in the face with such force she falls backwards, those steeple sneakers not helping. She lands in a puff of dirty dust. Me? I turn away, trying to keep a cool front and not spray a laugh. After a few deep breaths I turn back, cocking my head as I watch.

The vamp stares at the little patch of B's blood on the door.

"A snack pour moi?"

His tongue flicks out, tasting it. He shrieks like a girl and recoils.

"A Slayer!"

B groans and sits up. She blows a breath out, shaking her head.

"I'm 'The', she's 'a'. What's so hard to understand?"

He pauses and stares at her, blinking rapidly. I can't figure out half the shit she comes out with, I don't know why he'd think he had a chance.

B holds her face. His dirty finger taps the top of her head.

"You're not invited in! You have to stay out here."

"Umm… we don't need to be invited in. That's you. Vampires need to have permission."

He straightens up as I pull my stake out, climbing the stairs. It's time to end this.

"But I own this house. It's private property. I'll call the police…"

B crooks her neck 'round his leg, staring at me. She taps her head and then goes back to looking up at him.

"You can't call the police. How are you going to explain your severe case of deadness?"

"I… won't tell them?"

"A lack of a beating heart could give it away so… are you wearing foundation?"

His hands sit on his hips. B's hand sits on her nose.

"It's too dark for my skin, I know, but I looked dead."

B shakes her head, grimacing at the movement. She stares at him.

"You are dead."

"Well, I might be, Missy, but I don't have to play it up. I'm not a natural blonde either, but say hello to Britney's exact colour."

He runs a hand through his short bleached hair. B glares at me, making a stabbing movement with her hand. I wave her off and look down at my stake, then at his back clad in a black leather jacket. He's about the same size as me. Fortunate.

I take a moment to butt in.

"I know you're having a Will and Grace moment but what size jacket is that?"

He turns and taps a finger on his lips.

"Medium. I prefer them tight."

"Same as me."

I slam the stake into his stomach, stepping in so we're pushed together. He smells like… yeah, well, like he died. He also needs his roots done.

"His heart, Faith. Not his bowels."

"I'm having some fun. Relax, Bruiser."

Thick nails tear through my shirt, into my skin. I put my mouth near his ear and shout.

"This is new!"

My legs try to buckle at the intense pain but no vamp is bringing Faith Knight to her knees. This undead mess isn't a pure life form and doesn't get my respect, especially since he trashed my new shirt.

I pull my stake out and slam it into his face. He drops to the floor like a dead weight. My knuckles swell.

"God damn it!"

I shake my hand, the pain burns: like dipping my hand into a kettle. Then I notice what the problem is. I pull out a fang from the ripped skin between my fingers. I hold it up. It glitters like a silver bullet.

"You want, B? I'll make it into a vamp-tooth necklace for you."

She stands, shaking her head, not taking her bloodied hand from her face.

I slip it into my pocket and stare down at him. Out cold. I grab an arm of his jacket and pull. He rolls onto his side, one arm flopping out. I pull again. He rolls a full three-sixty, coming out of the jacket completely. I fold my new prize up and put it to the side, I don't want to get it dirty. I pull off one of his boots. His socks are, strangely, very clean.

B stares at me.

"What are you doing? If you need footwear so badly I'll buy you some. Stake him."

"You buy me boots?" I glance down at her monster Sketchers. "Umm… don't think so. Listen, don't interfere with my work. I respected your need to get batted in the face with a door."

The point of my stake lays over his heart. I get to my knees, holding the boot high over the flat end of the wood. Then I remember. His other fang.

My fingers slip in the blood and saliva of his mouth. I take hold and with a quick snap, this one's mine, too.

Vamp wakes up, screaming, spraying me with blood and spit. I bang his boot down on the stake. Dust floats around us. I cuff the moisture off my face and mouth.

B sneezes with an, "Achoo--ouch!"

I pick the jacket up, shaking the stray ash off.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a psychopath, Faith?"

I slip my arms into the leather. Fits like a glove.

"Lucky I'm on your side, then, B."

"I'd hate to see what happens when you get bored of that."

I throw an arm around her shoulder. Squeezing her close.

"Nah. Never happen."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>
VNV Nation: Epicentre
I can't say that you're losing me,
but I must be that which I am,
though I know where this could take me.
No tears, no sympathy.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>