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Authors Chapter Notes:
Okay, this is my first attempt at writing something vaguely set in BTVS universe, so bare with me.
Big thank you to Mabel Masters who very kindly offered to beta for me!


To every generation there is a slayer born. The one who has the strength and skill to fight the forces of evil. It’s a thankless job and the majority of slayers die before their twentieth birthdays, but one slayer was the exception to the rule - three years ago that slayer died. Not for very long, only for about a minute, but she died all the same and when a slayer dies another is called because that’s the way it is.

The slayer that died came from a little Californian town called Sunnydale. Sunnydale wasn’t your average one Starbucks town; it had been built over a hell-mouth so it was pretty much the holiday spot of choice for all the things that go bump in the night. Apocalypses are almost a weekly occurrence in Sunnydale. The slayer fought the evil in Sunnydale because that was what she did, she was the Chosen One and she tried really hard not to remember dying, but it was never far from her mind.

She was different to the slayers before her; most slayers had been cut off from the world around them. They were encouraged to focus their all in the fight against evil, no friends, no family, and no ties to this world that could prevent the slayer’s single handed fight against the demons and vampires that prey on mankind. The only help a slayer should have is their watcher. For a millennium the watchers have helped the slayers, teaching them the ways of the demon world, training them to fight, and ultimately leading them to their death. This slayer was different she broke the rules; she had friends that helped, she had family that cared, ties that kept her connected to this world. Maybe that’s why when she died she didn’t stay dead, or maybe it’s because of something else, a higher purpose?

Either way the slayer not dying changed everything.

The slayer didn’t like to think about the other slayer, it always struck her as kind of creepy and morbid. She never asked her watcher who it was or what they were like, in her mind it was always the other slayer. She sometimes dreamt about the other one. With the slayers tendency to have prophetic dreams, it was only a matter of time before their paths would cross.



***



Somewhere in America, nowhere near California...



In a dark alley way, just after three in the morning, two people faced up to each. One a tall man, at least he was shaped like man, was dressed in dark brown robes obscuring his face, a wicked sharp curved blade was clutched in its right hand, gleaming in the moonlight. Its edge coated in a thin sheen of blood that dripped steadily onto the street, the little drips looked like the beginnings of a Jackson Pollock painting.

The second figure was younger; his left hand covered a bleeding wound on his right arm, blood seeping through his fingers. He was breathing hard, holding himself in a fighter’s stance waiting for the robed figured to make the next move. Dressed simply in black jeans and a dark t-shirt, he looked like any other young man in America, except the look in his eyes. His eyes had a hard look to them, like you get in police officer and soldiers not in the average young man, his lips curled into a sneer.

“Honest, I have no bloody idea what you’re talking ‘bout!” the young man said as he pulled his hand away from the wound on his arm to inspect the damage that the knife had done.

“You must have the key!”

“Well I have a key,” the wound on his arm wasn’t something to worry about now, what he needed to do was to distract the man with the knife and get out of there.

“What does it open?” the robed man asked curiously.

“Locks,” the young man’s eyes darted around the alley looking for escape routes. It wasn’t running away it was a reassessment of his situation he told himself.

“If you do not reveal the location of the real key I will kill you!” The robed figure demanded, raising the knife.

“What were you trying to do just now? Teach me to knit?” There was a fire escape over to the left, if he could get to that without being noticed there was a definite possibility of escape.

“Well you are the slayer... The slayer is supposed to have the key” The robed man snarled in rage and lunged towards the young man jabbing the knife.

“Maybe you got the wrong slayer,” the young man slowly inched towards the fire escape, still clutching his arm.

“There is more than one?” The knife slowly dropped down, until it barely griped in the robed man’s hand.

“Yeah,”

Three more feet and he was at the fire escape.

“That is not possible”

“Believe it or not mate; the other slayer probably has your key,”

Two feet.

“Where is this slayer?”The robed figure tilted his covered head with interest.

“You’re trying to kill me and you want me to tell you where the other slayer is, so you can do what? Take them out for dinner and a movie?”

Nearly there, all he had to do was grab the ladder and escape.

“If you do not reveal the location of the other slayer I will kill you!” The knife was raised again, getting ready to be brought down to slit the young man’s throat. The robed man had grown bored of this dialogue, he needed the key and he was prepared to do anything to get it.

“Maybe if you offered me a better incentive than death I’d be more helpful,”

His fingers brushed against the metal of the ladder.




Sunnydale, California




“Is it me or is it really quiet tonight?”

Buffy Summers, the slayer or she who hangs out in cemeteries, sat on freshly put in grave marker bouncing a wooden stake against her knee. The marble still glinted in the light of the moon, making the name of the person who had died still visible. A red-headed young woman sat on a picnic blanket and flicked through a thickly bound leather book.

“Maybe they went on holiday?” the red-head suggested.

“Vamps don’t really do holidays, Willow, generally they just kill people.”

“Maybe they had a revelation and discovered the delights of skiing?” Willow said with a grin.

“Or they’re just coming up with some lame plan to bring forth the apocalypse?” Buffy twirled the neatly carved stake in her hand. “Either way, I’m missing my beauty sleep.”

“I thought you were staying at Riley’s tonight? Not much chance for beauty sleep, Buff”

“Well then, the vamps are ruining my fun.”

“They’re evil; it’s pretty much what they do.” Willow said closing her book.

“I say we call it night, go for a little Bronzing and hang out with the living,” Buffy stuck the stake in her jacket pocket. “I’m sure Tara won’t say no to a night out at the Bronze.”

“It sounds like a plan to me.” Willow grinned.

With that the two girls got up and packed up their belongings. Willow carefully folded the picnic blanket and tucked it in her shoulder bag with the book, following Buffy; she headed towards the exit of Restfield cemetery. Neither of them noticed the robed figure which stood in the shadows of the mausoleum watching the girls laugh and joke with each other.

“You have no idea what is to come, Slayer,” the robed man muttered to no one in particular, his voice practically a growl.




To be continued...


Chapter End Notes:
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