Creative Works   

The Beginning
By Allison
Miae(at)aol.com

Summary: Buffy learns that she is The Slayer.
Disclaimer: The characters and concept of Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon, WB, Mutant, et al.

. . .

It was a dark rainy night the night that Whistler came to town. Clad in a maroon suit, yellow shirt, and blue striped tie, he was searching for someone. He had found him. Laying next to a trash can and an old car tire, Angel the Vampire with a soul didn’t move an inch, just staring into the darkness. At first Whistler thought he was dead, but he caught himself. He was a demon- and he obviously hadn’t been slayed. So he was alive all right.

"Hey Angel, get up." Whistler told the 240 year old homeless man living in the alleys of Manhattan.

"Who are you?" Angel asked as he slowly got to his feet.

"Don’t worry, buddy. I’m on your side, just come with me. I got something I want you to see, then you can decide for yourself who I am." Whistler straightened the collar of his suit coat and sniffed the stench in the air. "But first of all, lets get out of this place. Its starting to make me gag." Angel walked slowly towards the parked car at the end of the alley. It was old, and painted black inside the windows. Protection against daylight. "You a vampire?" Angel inquired.

"Nope. A demon, technically. I mean, I’m not a bad guy. Not all demons are dedicated to the destruction of all life. In fact, I am totally for life. Which is why I am here to take you to Los Angeles. Lets go."

Figuring any place would be better than the streets, Angel reluctantly followed Whistler as he got into the car.

"You’ll see. It’ll be worth it."

"Call Me, Call Me, Call me Jenny!, Call me!" Buffy called to her departing friends.

"Buffy Summers?" A large man shadowed Buffy where she was sitting on the curb.

"Huh, What?" Obviously absorbed in her own self, Buffy looked up, shading her clear, blue- green eyes against the sun.

"You are the chosen one. You will rid the earth of demons and vampires."

"Excuse much? Where are you from? And hello, one usually introduces oneself before giving physic predictions or whatever you’re trying to reveal tome." Buffy quipped.

"There isn’t much time. Your destiny awaits. Meet me in the graveyard tonight." The man disappeared into a dust cloud, almost magically.

"Okay, like the graveyard is so not my hangout. I might as well go, or else he might start going stalker on me. And what is a slayer? I hope the vampires look like Brad Pitt!" Buffy said aloud as she walked off, seemingly unaffected as she stuck her cherry sucker back in her mouth.

From across the street, Angel sat in a tinted car with Whistler. "So, Angel. Whaddyathink?" Whistler adjusted his hat as he spoke from the driver’s seat. Angel said nothing.

"What’s the matter? Don’t you remember how to talk?"

"Of course I do. Take me to her house. I want to see where she lives."

"Angel, ya gotta wait till night, or else you’ll be a fried egg. The daytime ain’t when a vampire is supposed to be out. Or any hell-like demon."

"Fine .We’ll wait." They drove off.

As Buffy walked into her front yard, she realized something weird was going on. Both her mother’s car and father’s car were in the driveway. She walked cautiously inside and leaned against the kitchen doorway, listening, not knowing what to expect.

"I cannot believe you said that to Dr. Hanson. She was trying to help us!"

"Yeah, well, Joyce, maybe you, but she wasn’t helping me much! All she did was attack and you sat and watched. Blaming me for all of the problems in our marriage. A marriage is two people, it goes both ways. What kind of a wife are you?"

"Maybe you should go. Get your things and get out now!"

"Fine !But what are you going to tell Buffy? What lie are you going to make up this time?"

Buffy ran up to her room as fast as she could so her parents wouldn’t know that she was home. She slammed the door, took off her stilettos, and lay down on her bed crying. How could they say those things? How could Dad leave? She laid and wept. After about 10 minutes she pulled herself together, shakily slid on her shoes, grabbed her credit card, opened the window, and brushed her hair. She climbed out so as not to be seen, and headed toward the mall.

"This is the place?"

"Angel, a good demon always does his homework. Of course it’s her house."

"All you would have had to do is follow her home." Angel stated, anxiously awaiting the presence of the newest slayer.

"This new slayer must be prettier than the other ones or something. Cuz I never seen a vamp this excited to see someone that’s out to kill ‘em . Speak of the devil. Here she comes, Ms. America."

Angel’s eyes followed Buffy as she walked painfully down the sidewalk with several bags in her hands. It looked as though she had a broken heart, or a broken heel, or both. Suddenly, she stopped, as if remembering something very important, and started to hobble very quickly in the opposite direction.

"Whistler, lets follow her. Turn off the headlights- I think I know where she’s going."

Buffy tried to run, but her feet were painful. "Cheap 50 dollar shoes," she muttered. She had forgotten entirely about meeting that creepy guy at the cemetery. She knew it was crazy to go, but she wasn’t thinking straight. She had run into Tyler at the mall, along with some of his horny football pals. Tyler had tried to touch her, but she pulled away and walked off in the other direction. He yelled insults at her and as she started to run away, she heard her shoe crack. All he did was laugh. Tyler had never apologized for that night a month ago, when they were in his bedroom all alone. He had tried to take advantage of her. Buffy had a feeling that he never would ask for forgiveness. She had him almost completely out of her mind until tonight. Buffy was so deep in thought, she ran right into a black iron fence. "Ooofff!" Her bags came tumbling out of her hands, and clothes spilled all over the sidewalk.

"Whistler, stop. I’m gonna help her."

Whistler shut off the engine. The car was so old, it kept going for another 10 yards or so. "Its dark, you look awful, and you smell like you came out of a high school locker room. You’ll just scare her."

Angel looked down at his ripped dirty jeans, his tattered coat, and looked in the side mirror at his unshaved face. Whistler’s right, he thought, I can’t go over there and help her, much as I’d like to. But she needs a friend. Someone has to guide her through the times that lie ahead for her. "Ok . I won’t go up to her. But I’ll follow her in there, just to make sure nothing happens."

"It’s your call, bat boy." Whistler leaned back and pulled his fedora over his eyes, trying to get a rest.

Angel opened the door and got out, just in time to see Buffy walk up to the man she thought she had met that afternoon. Angel knew better.

. . .

To be continued . . .?

. . .

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