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Just knocked this out on the laptop and thought I'd share it here. The usual disclaimers apply, obviously. Feedback is always welcome. - MEL
Xander Harris woke up to the sound of metal crashing against metal. Blearily, he realized that he had fallen asleep in front of the television again. An infomercial promised him a surefire way to lose excess weight. Xander scowled and pawed at his face with his hand. He found the remote and shut off the tube.
From outside came the sound of metal garbage cans rattling. Xander scowled and levered himself up from his chair. The room spun crazily for a minute, but he steadied himself and things settled down. Forgotten, the empty beer can tumbled to the floor, a fallen soldier joining its brothers.
He staggered to the door of his little bungalow, undid the locks and pulled it open. He was expecting to find his damned neighbor’s damned cats getting into the garbage cans again. The sight that met his eyes, however, was a complete shock.
A young woman with black hair was fighting off three men in leather jackets.
No, Xander realized. Not men. Vampires. The vamps had their game-faces on, all fanged mouths and ridged brows, beady eyes gleaming like yellow headlamps shining out of hell itself.
As Xander absorbed all this through the alcoholic haze clouding his brain, he saw the girl spin on one booted heel and jam a wooden stake into a vampire’s chest. The vamp collapsed into a pile of dust. His pals surged forward, but the girl was ready for them. She slammed one in the jaw with bone-breaking force and kicked out at the other’s knee. The first vamp reeled back, clutching his chin. His companion skittered away with roach-like dexterity, dodging the knee-strike, but getting the stake. As he disintegrated, the girl spun for the third who chose the better part of valor. He ran. The girl gave chase.
Xander had watched all this take place in only a few moments. He blinked, the realization sinking into his brain: there was a new slayer in town.
* * * * *
“It’s been seven years,” said Tara. “Why would a new slayer show up now?”
It was a bright, cloudless day in downtown Sunnydale. Xander’s head throbbed with a beer-induced hangover. He clutched the coffee cup before him like a drowning man with a life preserver.
“I don’t know. Maybe the Hellmouth is getting active again?”
It was more a question than a comment that Xander lobbed at Tara. The pale young woman frowned and got a faraway look in her eyes.
“No more so than usual,” she said.
Xander nodded. If anyone would know the Hellmouth’s moods, it would be Tara. He watched her sip her herbal tea.
“We could call Giles,” suggested Tara. “He might know what’s going on.”
“I don’t think so,” said Xander. “He’s been out of favor with the Watchers’ Council since Buffy died.”
Tara nodded. That was true enough. Following the defeat of Glory and the death of Buffy, Giles had slowly disintegrated. Eventually, he’d formally resigned his post with the Watchers’ Council and gone into retirement. The last Tara had heard he was managing a small college library in the south of England. His occasional e-mails to Tara were pleasant, if not exactly intimate.
“Maybe Wesley would know,” suggested Tara.
“You know where he is?”
“I’ve still got an old e-mail he used. I could try that.”
Xander shook his head. “Don’t bother. I mean, what are we getting worked up about? If there’s a slayer in town, she’s probably just passing through.”
“What if she isn’t?” said Tara. “What if something bad is in the works?”
“What if there is?” Xander asked, blandly. “What can we do about it?”
“We could help.”
Xander’s answering laughter was bitter. He settled back in his chair and fiddled with his coffee. It was cooling rapidly, but he had no desire to drink it any longer. What he really wanted was a beer, but it was too early in the day.
“If you didn’t want to do something, Xander,” said Tara, softly, “why did you want to meet?”
He looked away, staring into traffic rolling past on Main Street. “I thought you should know.”
“You could have told me on the phone,” said Tara.
“Maybe I wanted to see you,” said Xander. “After all, there isn’t anyone else from the old gang still around.”
“Xander . . . ”
She touched his hand with her cool, slim fingers. He pulled away as if he had been burnt.
“If there’s a slayer in town that means there’s trouble,” said Xander. “I just wanted you to know, so you could take some precautions. Stay safe.”
“Thank you,” she said.
He looked embarrassed, looking anywhere but at her. His watch beeped and he started to rise. “I have to go. Work.”
She nodded. “How is the job these days?”
“Good,” said Xander. He was standing now, fidgeting. She smiled at him and he wondered what she was seeing. The Xander in front of her, lank haired and starting to get a beer belly, or the boy he’d been? The wisecracking smart ass who hadn’t managed to save anyone he loved?
“I’ll call you if I hear anything,” said Tara.
Xander nodded and turned away. He stepped into the sunlight, head lowered and shoulders rounded, and vanished into the lunch time crowds. Tara watched him go and sighed.
“So that’s Xander Harris. I thought he’d be taller.”
Wearily, Tara turned to confront the speaker. “He wasn’t always so beaten down.”
The young woman seated at the next table seemed unimpressed. She was tan and slender, wearing oversized sunglasses and a brown wig.
“How long’s he been a drunk?”
Tara wanted to bridle at the question, but she honestly didn’t have the energy. “It’s gotten worse in the last few years.”
The other woman joined her. “You should knock some sense into him.”
“I’m not the knocking around type of person,” said Tara, wanly. “He’s a good person. He just got overwhelmed. First we lost Buffy, then Dawn and Willow.” Tara hesitated for a moment, her eyes misting at the memory of Willow. She blinked them clear and pushed on. “Then there was that whole mess with Spike. . . .”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories.”
Belatedly, Tara realized that tears had spilt down her cheeks. She dabbed at them with a napkin and laughed. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I wish I could still cry.”
Tara looked at her. “You’re so young to say something like that.”
“I can’t afford the luxury.”
“You should meet him,” said Tara. “Xander could help.”
“He had his opportunity last night and he didn’t do anything.”
“You overwhelmed him,” said Tara. “Give him another chance.”
“Maybe,” said the slayer.
But she didn’t sound convinced.
Xander Harris woke up to the sound of metal crashing against metal. Blearily, he realized that he had fallen asleep in front of the television again. An infomercial promised him a surefire way to lose excess weight. Xander scowled and pawed at his face with his hand. He found the remote and shut off the tube.
From outside came the sound of metal garbage cans rattling. Xander scowled and levered himself up from his chair. The room spun crazily for a minute, but he steadied himself and things settled down. Forgotten, the empty beer can tumbled to the floor, a fallen soldier joining its brothers.
He staggered to the door of his little bungalow, undid the locks and pulled it open. He was expecting to find his damned neighbor’s damned cats getting into the garbage cans again. The sight that met his eyes, however, was a complete shock.
A young woman with black hair was fighting off three men in leather jackets.
No, Xander realized. Not men. Vampires. The vamps had their game-faces on, all fanged mouths and ridged brows, beady eyes gleaming like yellow headlamps shining out of hell itself.
As Xander absorbed all this through the alcoholic haze clouding his brain, he saw the girl spin on one booted heel and jam a wooden stake into a vampire’s chest. The vamp collapsed into a pile of dust. His pals surged forward, but the girl was ready for them. She slammed one in the jaw with bone-breaking force and kicked out at the other’s knee. The first vamp reeled back, clutching his chin. His companion skittered away with roach-like dexterity, dodging the knee-strike, but getting the stake. As he disintegrated, the girl spun for the third who chose the better part of valor. He ran. The girl gave chase.
Xander had watched all this take place in only a few moments. He blinked, the realization sinking into his brain: there was a new slayer in town.
* * * * *
“It’s been seven years,” said Tara. “Why would a new slayer show up now?”
It was a bright, cloudless day in downtown Sunnydale. Xander’s head throbbed with a beer-induced hangover. He clutched the coffee cup before him like a drowning man with a life preserver.
“I don’t know. Maybe the Hellmouth is getting active again?”
It was more a question than a comment that Xander lobbed at Tara. The pale young woman frowned and got a faraway look in her eyes.
“No more so than usual,” she said.
Xander nodded. If anyone would know the Hellmouth’s moods, it would be Tara. He watched her sip her herbal tea.
“We could call Giles,” suggested Tara. “He might know what’s going on.”
“I don’t think so,” said Xander. “He’s been out of favor with the Watchers’ Council since Buffy died.”
Tara nodded. That was true enough. Following the defeat of Glory and the death of Buffy, Giles had slowly disintegrated. Eventually, he’d formally resigned his post with the Watchers’ Council and gone into retirement. The last Tara had heard he was managing a small college library in the south of England. His occasional e-mails to Tara were pleasant, if not exactly intimate.
“Maybe Wesley would know,” suggested Tara.
“You know where he is?”
“I’ve still got an old e-mail he used. I could try that.”
Xander shook his head. “Don’t bother. I mean, what are we getting worked up about? If there’s a slayer in town, she’s probably just passing through.”
“What if she isn’t?” said Tara. “What if something bad is in the works?”
“What if there is?” Xander asked, blandly. “What can we do about it?”
“We could help.”
Xander’s answering laughter was bitter. He settled back in his chair and fiddled with his coffee. It was cooling rapidly, but he had no desire to drink it any longer. What he really wanted was a beer, but it was too early in the day.
“If you didn’t want to do something, Xander,” said Tara, softly, “why did you want to meet?”
He looked away, staring into traffic rolling past on Main Street. “I thought you should know.”
“You could have told me on the phone,” said Tara.
“Maybe I wanted to see you,” said Xander. “After all, there isn’t anyone else from the old gang still around.”
“Xander . . . ”
She touched his hand with her cool, slim fingers. He pulled away as if he had been burnt.
“If there’s a slayer in town that means there’s trouble,” said Xander. “I just wanted you to know, so you could take some precautions. Stay safe.”
“Thank you,” she said.
He looked embarrassed, looking anywhere but at her. His watch beeped and he started to rise. “I have to go. Work.”
She nodded. “How is the job these days?”
“Good,” said Xander. He was standing now, fidgeting. She smiled at him and he wondered what she was seeing. The Xander in front of her, lank haired and starting to get a beer belly, or the boy he’d been? The wisecracking smart ass who hadn’t managed to save anyone he loved?
“I’ll call you if I hear anything,” said Tara.
Xander nodded and turned away. He stepped into the sunlight, head lowered and shoulders rounded, and vanished into the lunch time crowds. Tara watched him go and sighed.
“So that’s Xander Harris. I thought he’d be taller.”
Wearily, Tara turned to confront the speaker. “He wasn’t always so beaten down.”
The young woman seated at the next table seemed unimpressed. She was tan and slender, wearing oversized sunglasses and a brown wig.
“How long’s he been a drunk?”
Tara wanted to bridle at the question, but she honestly didn’t have the energy. “It’s gotten worse in the last few years.”
The other woman joined her. “You should knock some sense into him.”
“I’m not the knocking around type of person,” said Tara, wanly. “He’s a good person. He just got overwhelmed. First we lost Buffy, then Dawn and Willow.” Tara hesitated for a moment, her eyes misting at the memory of Willow. She blinked them clear and pushed on. “Then there was that whole mess with Spike. . . .”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories.”
Belatedly, Tara realized that tears had spilt down her cheeks. She dabbed at them with a napkin and laughed. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I wish I could still cry.”
Tara looked at her. “You’re so young to say something like that.”
“I can’t afford the luxury.”
“You should meet him,” said Tara. “Xander could help.”
“He had his opportunity last night and he didn’t do anything.”
“You overwhelmed him,” said Tara. “Give him another chance.”
“Maybe,” said the slayer.
But she didn’t sound convinced.
