Knife Play
By Amber Andersen

Notes: Don't ask. I have no clue what I was thinking when I wrote this fic. It's good for a few laughs at least. But send me feedback! cathycprf@aol.com Thanks a bunch!

I walked up the stairs to Buffy's bedroom, intending to wake her for breakfast. It was Saturday, and she was notorious for sleeping late. Or so I thought.

I was about to knock on the door softly when I heard a grunt of anger.

"Damnitt!" Buffy yelled loudly. "What is wrong with my coordination? Just because I'm on my period doesn't mean I should be off my game like this!"

I opened the door quietly, curious to see what my daughter was so mad about. Buffy didn't look up from whatever she was doing.

She was holding a knife in her hand, staring at it angrily. On the wall behind her was a poster of an evil monster thing. Looking closer, I thought it looked vaguely like a vampire. There were several holes in the poster, but none were obviously very satisfactory marks for Buffy.

She's trying to aim for the heart. I thought out of the blue. And did a double take. Where did that thought come from?

I watched in fascination as Buffy sharpened her knife. She was stalling before taking her next throw at the wall.

Wait a second! I thought suddenly. Where did she get a dagger and sharpening stone?

She stood and, without looking at the poster, let out an outraged battle cry and threw the dagger viciously at the wall.

It stuck into the wall up to the hilt right in the vampire's heart. Buffy turned around to admire her handiwork.

"Hmm." she said smugly. "Not bad. Not bad at all. Guess a cramping Slayer can still stake vamps after all."

She grinned, and wiped the sweat off her face. She noticed me for the first time.

"M-mom!" Buffy stuttered nervously. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I, uh, came to offer you breakfast." I said helplessly. I pointed a shaking finger at the knife in the wall. "Don't you want to pull the-"

"Oh, that." she said flippantly, looking at the knife. "Nah. I'll leave it in for awhile. It's taken me 10 tries to get that damned dagger in the right place. You can't imagine how frustrating it is to miss the spot you've been trying to hit for an hour."

"Um, no I guess I can't." I said lamely. "Buffy. . ."

"Yes, Mom?" she asked cheerfully.

"H-how did you do that?"

"That? Nothing to it. You cock back your wrist, summon up your energy, and bang boom, vamp staked."

"Vamp?"

"Oh, that's short for vampire." she said calmly.

"What are you? How are you so strong?"

"I'm a-" she paused to pull the knife out of the wall. "Vampire. . . Slayer." she finished, pulling between words. It popped out with a satisfying twist, and she began to brush the plaster and pieces of wood off it.

"I'll have to sharpen it again." she said thoughtfully.

"What's a Vampire Slayer?"

"I kill-"

At the word "kill" I turned green, and backed away hastily.

"You know what? I don't want to know. Tell me once I've had a few drinks."

I left her bedroom and went for the liquor cabinet, sighing heavily. Why couldn't I have a normal daughter? Why do I get one who throws knives at vampire posters, and says she's a Vampire Slayer?

"My life really sucks." I muttered quietly.

The End