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madimpossibledreamerwhat is a nonspoilery summary for this chapter aaagh
same language warning as from the Liar Liar chapter...
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Buffy is proven right.
Word Count: 1415
Rating: Teen (Buffy|Jojo's level violence)
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
She gets to think about that, about what she’ll do if he makes a move, about what she’ll do to be the leader she truly needs to be, when she gets back. It’s quite the planning session, but her senses are completely attuned to the dark hotel room.
Finally there’s movement. She feels simultaneously readier and relaxed, because she hates patience and waiting even though she did kind of have something to do for once. Montreux doesn’t turn on the lights, which makes sense for someone trying to be stealthy. Maybe he’s done this before; she doesn’t and can’t know.
There’s a moment when he moves to stand above her, silent and still and unnatural. A moment where she wonders whether she needs to act to protect herself. The moment stretches, and breaks, and he moves on, steps near-silent and ominous. Maybe normal humans wouldn’t have heard anything; she hasn’t known how normal humans would experience anything since she was fifteen.
She waits and then follows. As mad as she’d been at Dawn for sneaking off regularly like this all those years ago, it had been good practice. Their shared hotel room is on the third floor (second floor, it’s Europe and they’re weird, whatever), so it makes sense why Severin wouldn’t sneak out the balcony, but it’s easy enough for her to slip outside and slide down the columns. There’s only one exit, which makes it easy enough for her to find an easy spot to watch from and wait. She manages a brilliant, ditzy smile for the slightly startled looking older Italian woman that had apparently witnessed her leaving, moving on before the lady can try to ask her anything, getting out of the line of sight and secreting herself into an alcove (she’d think about one of the bushes, but she doesn’t want to act too suspicious to any other passerby, since they aren’t as likely to just pretend they saw nothing to protect themselves and remain blissfully ignorant). The last thing she needs is to get some random Italian person involved.
Soon enough, Severin walks out, and his stride is purposeful and businesslike. He knows where he’s going. If they’d been in Rome, she would’ve known, too; a year ago, when Giles was still inclined to let her off her leash, she’d acquired a few Slayers from Rome, and they’d even done a patrol or two. As it is, she doesn’t have a clue where they’re going, as Severin stalks along the darkened streets and the Slayer follows, his silent shadow.
She finally has a clue when she feels what they’re heading toward. There’s what feel like a lot of demons clustered in one place. A lot like Willy’s Bar.
Perhaps it would be the perfect place to get information. That’s where she’d go, when she was at a loss and needed to know more about some foe in Sunnydale. The human weasel that owned it knew a lot. Apparently according to Xander who’d mentioned it casually one night when he’d been talking about his past jobs with some of the newer Slayers, it’s because people, even demons, tend to talk to the bartender, like it’s magic or something. One of them had agreed with him but added he didn’t have to deal with harassment since he was a guy, and even at the end when she’d suddenly got strong her boss would’ve chewed her out if she’d slammed some lecherous guy’s head into the counter and it probably would’ve come out of her wages, which were just tips and she couldn’t afford that anyway. He’d just held his hands up in surrender and mumbled something about at least she was here now and didn’t have to put up with that, which—
Hang on, wasn’t she one of the Slayers who they hadn’t been able to get ahold of, was she okay—never mind, not thinking about that.
Spike had said something about a Slayer being a predator, being able to tell another predator, like a vampire. She’d hated the comparison at the time, but it’s useful now. Severin had pinged as weird since the very beginning, not that she’d been surprised, dreams and all. Most of the time, he hadn’t been the predator, though there had been a moment here and there. It’d just been that final fight against the Wolfram & Hart assassin or whatever she was supposed to be. And his step this time. He’s coming off as a hunter, on the prowl for his chosen prey.
He doesn’t hesitate at the door, pushing it open (and Buffy frowns; the strength she’d seen, that he’d tried to hide, he’d be able to kick down the door at the very least, what’s going on?) and making a dramatic entrance. The kind she’d do, sometimes.
“We don’t serve your kind here, except maybe as an antipasto,” the bartender calls out.
She can’t see Severin’s face, but she can hear the wicked grin in his voice. “Oh, I think you’ll serve me, in one way or another.”
They rush him, and he takes a deep breath, letting it out even as his hands begin to crackle with light. A dark doglike form dissolves immediately on contact. A set of fangs sink into his shoulder, but he doesn’t seem to be upset about that. At all. He cackles, delighting in the violence, and, well.
It’s not like they’re probably innocent, at all. In any other situation, she’d be helping destroy them, but it’s probable that they’re not all babyeaters or bloodsuckers, so she’d do her homework first. Some of them might play poker for kittens, but not hurt a single human. If they want to live peacefully alongside humanity, fine, they can take immigrants or refugees along those lines. From the way Severin’s acting, though, the few comments he’s let slip, he doesn’t agree. He grabs a human-looking demon by the face, hand still glowing, and it looks like it melts and crumbles, just like the past couple times.
She moves forward, intending to stop him, only he spins, faster than he’d been, and karate-chops at her neck. That’s almost a Slayer’s speed, but fortunately she’s still faster, getting her arms up to block the blow. He’s not using his full force, she can tell, but at the same time it hurts. She falls to her knees, a silent scream on her lips, and she can’t move, muscles locking up. “You can wait your turn, demon’s bitch. I need to fill up the tank first.” He places a hand on the demon still attached to his shoulder by fangs, and it wails before falling suddenly, like a puppet with its strings cut. The glow grows stronger, and his wound starts healing in a fast forward that makes even a Slayer envious.
The look, feverbright in his eyes, is familiar, and Buffy suddenly gets what’s going on with that. He looks like Willow, when she’d been using too much magic. He’s an addict, seeking out his next hit, though it’s life force he’s getting a high on. Maybe if he’d detoxed, say, at the Coven, he’d be his old, good self again, but as it is he’s on a rampage and he needs to stop. And if she can figure out a way through whatever he’d done to her, she’ll be the one to do it.
“Think you’ve…bitten off…more than you can chew?” she grits out, reaching inside to the core of her powers. It’s weaker, just a little, like something’s missing, and she was probably right about her suspicions this time, but it’s enough to start to fight off whatever he’d done. Her hand twitches.
“I’m impressed, which is rare. Maybe I’ll need a bigger feast first.” He runs, faster than she’d seen from him before, and she can’t find enough strength to follow yet.
same language warning as from the Liar Liar chapter...
Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: Buffy is proven right.
Word Count: 1415
Rating: Teen (Buffy|Jojo's level violence)
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS
It feels like forever, waiting for Severin to make his move, and Buffy even starts wondering whether she’s reading this wrong. She doesn’t think she is. Sure, Sunnydale Syndrome is a thing, but there’s the whole Slayer Senses thing and she’s trained herself to actually look closer because that’s how she stayed alive all these years. She doesn’t think she’s wrong about the suspicion spell, but its very presence could be enough to get her to distrust and him to act so distrustful. But it feels like there’s something dark and something light fighting within him, and whichever wins, she’ll have to clean up after the mess.
She gets to think about that, about what she’ll do if he makes a move, about what she’ll do to be the leader she truly needs to be, when she gets back. It’s quite the planning session, but her senses are completely attuned to the dark hotel room.
Finally there’s movement. She feels simultaneously readier and relaxed, because she hates patience and waiting even though she did kind of have something to do for once. Montreux doesn’t turn on the lights, which makes sense for someone trying to be stealthy. Maybe he’s done this before; she doesn’t and can’t know.
There’s a moment when he moves to stand above her, silent and still and unnatural. A moment where she wonders whether she needs to act to protect herself. The moment stretches, and breaks, and he moves on, steps near-silent and ominous. Maybe normal humans wouldn’t have heard anything; she hasn’t known how normal humans would experience anything since she was fifteen.
She waits and then follows. As mad as she’d been at Dawn for sneaking off regularly like this all those years ago, it had been good practice. Their shared hotel room is on the third floor (second floor, it’s Europe and they’re weird, whatever), so it makes sense why Severin wouldn’t sneak out the balcony, but it’s easy enough for her to slip outside and slide down the columns. There’s only one exit, which makes it easy enough for her to find an easy spot to watch from and wait. She manages a brilliant, ditzy smile for the slightly startled looking older Italian woman that had apparently witnessed her leaving, moving on before the lady can try to ask her anything, getting out of the line of sight and secreting herself into an alcove (she’d think about one of the bushes, but she doesn’t want to act too suspicious to any other passerby, since they aren’t as likely to just pretend they saw nothing to protect themselves and remain blissfully ignorant). The last thing she needs is to get some random Italian person involved.
Soon enough, Severin walks out, and his stride is purposeful and businesslike. He knows where he’s going. If they’d been in Rome, she would’ve known, too; a year ago, when Giles was still inclined to let her off her leash, she’d acquired a few Slayers from Rome, and they’d even done a patrol or two. As it is, she doesn’t have a clue where they’re going, as Severin stalks along the darkened streets and the Slayer follows, his silent shadow.
She finally has a clue when she feels what they’re heading toward. There’s what feel like a lot of demons clustered in one place. A lot like Willy’s Bar.
Perhaps it would be the perfect place to get information. That’s where she’d go, when she was at a loss and needed to know more about some foe in Sunnydale. The human weasel that owned it knew a lot. Apparently according to Xander who’d mentioned it casually one night when he’d been talking about his past jobs with some of the newer Slayers, it’s because people, even demons, tend to talk to the bartender, like it’s magic or something. One of them had agreed with him but added he didn’t have to deal with harassment since he was a guy, and even at the end when she’d suddenly got strong her boss would’ve chewed her out if she’d slammed some lecherous guy’s head into the counter and it probably would’ve come out of her wages, which were just tips and she couldn’t afford that anyway. He’d just held his hands up in surrender and mumbled something about at least she was here now and didn’t have to put up with that, which—
Hang on, wasn’t she one of the Slayers who they hadn’t been able to get ahold of, was she okay—never mind, not thinking about that.
Spike had said something about a Slayer being a predator, being able to tell another predator, like a vampire. She’d hated the comparison at the time, but it’s useful now. Severin had pinged as weird since the very beginning, not that she’d been surprised, dreams and all. Most of the time, he hadn’t been the predator, though there had been a moment here and there. It’d just been that final fight against the Wolfram & Hart assassin or whatever she was supposed to be. And his step this time. He’s coming off as a hunter, on the prowl for his chosen prey.
He doesn’t hesitate at the door, pushing it open (and Buffy frowns; the strength she’d seen, that he’d tried to hide, he’d be able to kick down the door at the very least, what’s going on?) and making a dramatic entrance. The kind she’d do, sometimes.
“We don’t serve your kind here, except maybe as an antipasto,” the bartender calls out.
She can’t see Severin’s face, but she can hear the wicked grin in his voice. “Oh, I think you’ll serve me, in one way or another.”
They rush him, and he takes a deep breath, letting it out even as his hands begin to crackle with light. A dark doglike form dissolves immediately on contact. A set of fangs sink into his shoulder, but he doesn’t seem to be upset about that. At all. He cackles, delighting in the violence, and, well.
It’s not like they’re probably innocent, at all. In any other situation, she’d be helping destroy them, but it’s probable that they’re not all babyeaters or bloodsuckers, so she’d do her homework first. Some of them might play poker for kittens, but not hurt a single human. If they want to live peacefully alongside humanity, fine, they can take immigrants or refugees along those lines. From the way Severin’s acting, though, the few comments he’s let slip, he doesn’t agree. He grabs a human-looking demon by the face, hand still glowing, and it looks like it melts and crumbles, just like the past couple times.
She moves forward, intending to stop him, only he spins, faster than he’d been, and karate-chops at her neck. That’s almost a Slayer’s speed, but fortunately she’s still faster, getting her arms up to block the blow. He’s not using his full force, she can tell, but at the same time it hurts. She falls to her knees, a silent scream on her lips, and she can’t move, muscles locking up. “You can wait your turn, demon’s bitch. I need to fill up the tank first.” He places a hand on the demon still attached to his shoulder by fangs, and it wails before falling suddenly, like a puppet with its strings cut. The glow grows stronger, and his wound starts healing in a fast forward that makes even a Slayer envious.
The look, feverbright in his eyes, is familiar, and Buffy suddenly gets what’s going on with that. He looks like Willow, when she’d been using too much magic. He’s an addict, seeking out his next hit, though it’s life force he’s getting a high on. Maybe if he’d detoxed, say, at the Coven, he’d be his old, good self again, but as it is he’s on a rampage and he needs to stop. And if she can figure out a way through whatever he’d done to her, she’ll be the one to do it.
“Think you’ve…bitten off…more than you can chew?” she grits out, reaching inside to the core of her powers. It’s weaker, just a little, like something’s missing, and she was probably right about her suspicions this time, but it’s enough to start to fight off whatever he’d done. Her hand twitches.
“I’m impressed, which is rare. Maybe I’ll need a bigger feast first.” He runs, faster than she’d seen from him before, and she can’t find enough strength to follow yet.
