Pulled Along -- PG-13

[Wind Fish]

Last one for a while, I think. I haven't done that much writing (the five short stories posted here, and a couple not Buffy related) but I'm all typed out.

This is an idea I've had for quite a while. I finally wrote it today while the Brewers game was under a rain delay. It originally was just a general post-NFA fic, but the idea shifted on me after I read The Vampire Slayer. Although I should warn you that while this does take place in TNP universe, it doesn't really center on the series. You'll see what I mean.

I'm curious to see the response to this -- good, bad, or in between. I think it turned out alright, myself.


Summary: A bored demon tells its brief story. Let's put this after Memento Mori.

Rating: PG-13 for strong language and violent themes

Words: 1092

[Wind Fish]

Shit it's hot tonight. Nights like these make me wish my species had developed a natural cooling system.

Usually I don't have time to think about trivial things like temperature, but things have been different lately. By different I mean fucking boring! I think these people have realized that it isn't safe to be out after dark. If someone doesn't come by soon I'm just going to have to force myself into someone's nice, safe home.

That wouldn't be smart though. There's too much of a chance of attracting unwanted attention. I've only survived this long because I haven't done that.

You know, I should back up a bit. The one thing you need to know about me is that I like to travel. It's what I do. I stick around in one place long enough to fill up a town's graveyard, then I bolt for the next sorry excuse for civilization.

I prefer small communities. It's much easier to find my work printed in the papers. I especially love the Midwest, but that's mainly because the Muskie fishing is usually good. Hey, a demon has to relax somehow.

But I digress. About five years or so ago I couldn't resist the pull that had been leading me toward California. I didn't want to go, the whole state seemed too populated. That's not to say I don't enjoy a large city from time to time. It's nice to be able to make a public appearance every once in a while and spend some time with those who share my beliefs.

I'm talking about demon bars in case you haven't figured it out. They just don't exist in those rural places. For good reason, I suppose.

So anyway, after a couple of slow fishing days in Hayward, Wisconsin, I decided to make the trek to Sunnydale, California. Some of the weirdest shit I had ever seen took place there. I'm sure you know all about that.

I forgot why I started talking about this. Oh yeah, I wanted to point out how, unlike my mentally challenged peers, I kept a low profile during my stay. Not only were there commandos kidnaping any and all things not human when I first showed up, and just let me thank Satan that those guys didn't over stay their welcome, but there was that Slayer running around too. Okay, fine, sometimes there were two, and don't get me started on what I thought of that, but the brunette wasn't around all that much.

While I realize the Slayer is going to make some kills, that's what she does, I could never understand why some of those idiots would want to seek out a fight with her. Sure, it'd be nice to be the one to take her out, but at some point the risk versus reward has to be weighed.

I stayed in Sunnydale about three years without having a confrontation with the infamous one. I had the chance to off her sister once, but that would have gone against my 'keep a low profile' philosophy. Staying away from Buffy was pretty easy. I just had to make sure I knew where'd she be at all times. She didn't exactly cover a lot of ground on her patrols.

It's funny. Despite being careful I knew that each night could be my last if I slipped up just once. I really should have left long before I did, but I just couldn't do it. I think I was addicted to the vibes the hellmouth was giving off. Besides, that mansion I was squatting in was pretty sweet.

I first started to seriously consider moving on when all those girls started showing up at the Slayer's house. It was obvious something big was going down. The brunette arriving again got me to pack my things. The whole town fleeing? That's what finally got me to leave. I mean, there was no point in staying anymore, hellmouth be damned.

I got a kick out of hearing that the town had swallowed itself. What I found hilarious was the news of what the Slayer had decided to do before the town's collapse. Giving all that power to anyone who can wield it?

Yeah, like that won't go horribly wrong.

As for me? I went back to what I do best, hitting the road and suppling my controlled chaos. That was until recently, when I felt the damn pull again. I tried to resist, but my work was getting sloppy so here I am in Palo Alto.

Let me say that I hate this place. Not only is there never anyone around, but how ridiculous is it to have an anti-violence spell placed on a bar? It's probably not in my best interest to smash a chair into the head of the bartender, but I want to have the ability to do it! Before I leave, maybe I'll send in a Molotov cocktail or ten just to prove a point.

And then there's this guy. They call him The Destroyer. What the hell kind of nickname is that? For his sake I hope he didn't use it when trying to pick up women.

He's supposed to be this town's Slayer, although not literally because of the whole being a male thing. Who knows, maybe he's really just a flat-chested chick.

The problem is that I haven't gotten a handle on how he operates yet. I've never seen him. From what I can gather, whether he's out alone or with his demon broad, he always covers a lot of space. I never can be sure where he'll be. He has his hangouts, the shitty bar the girlfriend works is one -- man there are a lot of reasons to hate that place -- but I've been told he doesn't stick around long.

It probably isn't a good idea being out and about like this, but I've been alright the past two nights. Not that it's done me any good; I can't find anyone. But, to come full circle, I'm not about to go out of my way to draw attention to myself. I can wait this out.

Boy did I pick a bad time to quit smoking. I need a cigarette, but those things are bad for anyone with working lungs, me included.

Hey, wait. There's someone. I think she's alone too. Yeah, this is perfect. It's about time things went my way. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got...

Oof!

Son of a bitch! Did I just get hit by a semi? And where the fuck did this axe wielding, feral looking, Davy Jones wannabe that's smiling down at me come from?

Oh shit. This must be the Destroyer.

[Emcee]

This was really interesting. A random demon POV fic is very cool. I like it.

I have to say I LOVE calling Connor a "Davy Jones" wannabe. One of my friends saw one of my Vincent icons and thought it was Davy Jones at first.

[Buffy8Fan]

I am not a huge fan of fanfic from a random person's POV. However, you managed to get me interested and pulled the story off nicely. The only complaint I have is that in the story it says that the POV character had a chance to off Buffy's sister once. Too many demons have done that on the show but the complaint is that I was hopig that somewhere in the story the POV demon's identity would be discovered. I was disappointed when it wasn't. Other than that, Wonderful!!!

[Wind Fish]

I'm pleased to hear that you guys were interested and not bored.

I have to say I LOVE calling Connor a "Davy Jones" wannabe. One of my friends saw one of my Vincent icons and thought it was Davy Jones at first.

I would have never seen the resemblance but a while ago I saw this icon and now it's burned into my brain:



I wish I could remember who made it, if I ever even knew.

the complaint is that I was hopig that somewhere in the story the POV demon's identity would be discovered. I was disappointed when it wasn't.

I was worried about this happening. Sorry about that. The demon was never meant to be someone we've seen before. I just figured that since everyone else had the chance to kill Dawn, this guy probably did to, only not on screen.