Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Shadowed Suspicion Chapter 35

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure/Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU
Chapter Summary: The expected ambush materializes.
Word Count: 1,126
Rating: K
Note: HERE THERE PROBABLY BE BUFFY/JJBA SPOILERS.  READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

 

            It’s starting to darken, a little, clouds skidding over, and by the looks of things it’s probably going to start raining at some point.  The parade-goers are just as excited about the change in weather as she is, seemingly.  They’ve started to mutter quietly and draw jackets around themselves.  Which, okay, so she wasn’t the happiest about the fact that she hadn’t dressed warmer, either, but there’s the slightest hint of threat on the air, and while most vampires didn’t go out during the day, even with the sky clouded over, that didn’t stop the crazy or old or dangerous or all three of the above, sometimes.  Spike was just one example.  Plus there’s just something about the air that’s setting her Slayer blood on edge, and it’s a sense that’s kept her alive so far.  Not a good idea to start ignoring it now.  She’d wondered about that from the very beginning, actually; it seemed far too convenient, too much of a coincidence.  It might have caught her by surprise years ago.  Now?  She had the experience to tell that it was a trap.  Maybe not enough to tell her she should stay out of said trap, but even years of a worried Watcher yelling at her wasn’t enough to beat that stubborn streak out of her.

            She wished, not for the first time, that Xander was back, grinning at her and trading dumb reference-slash-puns with her as she whines about real life.

            No matter how much she complains about it, she enjoys it all the same.  And when he’d been in Africa, it hadn’t really hit her how much she’d missed him.  She makes a promise to herself there and then that she’s going to spend some more time with him, just goofing off like they were teenagers again, once they get him back.

            She notices the sudden attention.  The trap had found her.  Feels the continued attention, the following steps.  She’ll wait for her moment, just as they’re waiting for theirs.  She doesn’t want to let on that she knows about the problem just yet.

            The sky goes dark, the clouds larger, less skittish.  She begins to bring out her stake, only for the scene to be lit up by a light that breaks behind her, flaring for one split second before it extinguishes all light.

            She had been in the middle of a crowd.  Onlookers, those marching in the parade, cars.

            Now the only thing on the streets, besides her, is bodies, some beginning to ooze blood, darkening the concrete.  The cars idle as if the owners are only just taking a nap, not slumped over in death.

            Damn.  Slaypires.  She barely has to look around to see a few moving bodies suddenly there—female, eager, inhuman.  And then she blinks again upon noticing their faces.

            Something’s wrong with them, and in more than just the ‘I Was Turned into a Vampire’ way.  Is it something about the Mask Turning process that I don’t know?  Then again, there’s a ton we don’t know about these things.

            …Willow and Josephine better hurry up.

            Now that she allows herself to look around, there are a few weird things that look like dogs with humans’ heads (female, Slayer, that’s sick) as well as…well, that thing might be a frog, if frogs were a weird pink color with black, soulless eyes, stood on their hind legs, and didn’t actually have front legs.  And perching on that truck, wings curled around the dead couple inside as if lovingly caressing them…

            It’s a weird giant bat-like thing.  I mean, I didn’t even see Dracula pulling something like this.  Then, they better not ruin my boots, though of course the bright side of the equation is that monster attack is always an acceptable excuse to go shopping.  Again.

            It’s hard to make it out through its concealing wings, though she can see what look like spikes pointing out every which way, as well as what looks like a spiky, potentially poisonous tail.  It turns to look at her faster than a human could, head at an angle that’s anything but human.  “Ahhh, Summers,” it breathes, odd amused, excited note in its voice that gives Buffy the shivers.  Seriously, it’d be easier to deal with an angry or threatening monster, particularly one that it’d be easier to fight.  She didn’t accessorize with her crossbow, for instance, because it’s kind of hard to conceal and you don’t particularly want to freak out people you’re trying to get information from unless they’re Willy.  In which case, beating him is not only socially acceptable, it’s kind of expected.  “You promised, didn’t you, Head Slayer?  To protect us all?  To teach us how to save ourselves from the dark?”

            The thing it’s doing is nothing like laughing, but telling the thing that probably isn’t the solution.  “You failed,” it says, and that’s half resentment and half something darker, more intimate, that Buffy wants no part of.

            It hurts, but then, she’s always known.  She can’t save them all.  This is the real world.  She can give them tools to survive, but that’s all.  It’s like going into a fight with the First, the source of all evil, and not expecting casualties.

            It still hurts.  But then, the thing had been trying to distract her from the Slaypires sneaking up on her, hadn’t it?  With unerring years of practice, she slams the stake into the space the heart would be in the dead thing’s chest.

            It, surprisingly for a few seconds, doesn’t die.  But the momentum is enough to throw it backwards, which is something, and Buffy’s remembering the fight with the Slaypires last time and Josephine’s offhand comment.  Destroy the brain, huh?  Easy enough.

            Her next stake up her sleeve goes right through the brain, and this time with a shriek the Slaypire disappears in a cloud of dust like it’s supposed to do.  Buffy carefully doesn’t breathe in.

            She turns just in time to see the monster in charge, with a flap of wings strong enough to break the concrete on either side of the car, take to the sky.  She’s definitely not looking forward to fighting that, especially without equipment.  Where’s Xander with a rocket launcher when you need him?

            She hears the angry, quick footsteps heading in her direction, knows it’s the vampire that she’d knocked away, and turns, stake still in hand, and drives it toward the heart.

            Only to lock eyes with a dying vampire, breathe in dust, and have her wrist caught, firmly and just a touch painfully, in a grip that’s not quite human.  Both the green eyes and the male voice are entirely unamused.  “Is this how you treat all the people who save your life?”