Another scrap of vamp!Xander
Because I like it twisted. I posted a middle portion of this story here.
We Become Silhouettes
Author: Elisabeth
Rating: PG-13
Summary: How do you like my darkness now? Set in late S7.
He wished even as he died that he had a better story - but the truth is, Xander Harris became a vampire because he trusted the wrong girl. Again.
She looked so harmless, a waif with short auburn hair in a pink slip dress, doc martens and heavy-framed glasses, waggling her fingers in a half-wave as she slipped onto the bar stool beside him.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nah. It's my first night in town. You just looked like a friendlier face than the rest of these-” she gestured around the room, a converted 1930’s diner that where most of the other clients were men with rough hands who pounded the table when they wanted more beer. Xander had started going after work with friends, but he often stayed long after they had made their excuses and headed back to wives and girlfriends and children and lives that did not include up-close-and-personal relationships with the demonic. The men who stayed as late as he did had graying skin and stared at their beer or the sports games on the TV above the bar, but barely looked at each other. “-these characters,” she finished, smiling.
“Thanks for the praise, though the competition isn’t exactly hard to beat. I’m Xander.”
She held out her hand for him to shake. “Louisa.”
“Louisa,” he repeated, tasting her name. There was something familiar about her eyes… “So, what brings you to the ‘Dale?”
She shook her head, waved her hand. This and that, she said. It wasn’t important. She asked him about himself; he bought her a drink. She bought him another drink, licked her lips, said she was new in town. A hand on the leg, a compliment (“You have really pretty eyes,” she said, fingers lightly grazing his thigh) and he was flattered, off-balance.
Pouting over the rim of her rum and coke, she asked him if he knew of a quiet place where she could crash. Said she was low on funds, wouldn’t get paid until tomorrow.
What could he do but ask her to crash at his place?
Louisa devoured him with kisses after they got into his car, taillights blinking and engine running and oh her mouth is so warm and dry, not sloppy-moist like Anya’s … and he doesn’t realize she isn’t breathing until the nibbling on his neck turns into a piercing pain and ow and ow and he thrashes, tries to shove her off, kick her away, but the beers slowed his reflexes and she had him pinned, firm hands holding him to the seat and he. Is. Dying.
But she pulled back for a second, pricked an index finger on her incisor, shoved it into his mouth. “I must have the slayer’s boy for my pet,” she muttered as he fed..
There was just enough of Xander left for him to shove her into the gear shift. His sire exploded into dust as he slumps over, dead.
He woke up to the loud beeping and flashing lights of a tow truck. Thought he has a hangover, that he had a weird dream; knew that wasn’t it when his hands came away from his neck wet with blood, has his suspicions confirmed when he has to scramble away from the sun through his windshield.
He spent his first day as a vampire cowered under a blanket in the back seat of his car. “Wuss,” he thought as he fell back asleep.
He woke again as the sun sets, crawled out of the car, fed on the parking lot guard, new hunger fiercer than any he'd ever known. His new face felt, strange, tight; he experimentally shifted back and forth.
And then he smiled. Time to find a new playmate.
We Become Silhouettes
Author: Elisabeth
Rating: PG-13
Summary: How do you like my darkness now? Set in late S7.
He wished even as he died that he had a better story - but the truth is, Xander Harris became a vampire because he trusted the wrong girl. Again.
She looked so harmless, a waif with short auburn hair in a pink slip dress, doc martens and heavy-framed glasses, waggling her fingers in a half-wave as she slipped onto the bar stool beside him.
“Do I know you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nah. It's my first night in town. You just looked like a friendlier face than the rest of these-” she gestured around the room, a converted 1930’s diner that where most of the other clients were men with rough hands who pounded the table when they wanted more beer. Xander had started going after work with friends, but he often stayed long after they had made their excuses and headed back to wives and girlfriends and children and lives that did not include up-close-and-personal relationships with the demonic. The men who stayed as late as he did had graying skin and stared at their beer or the sports games on the TV above the bar, but barely looked at each other. “-these characters,” she finished, smiling.
“Thanks for the praise, though the competition isn’t exactly hard to beat. I’m Xander.”
She held out her hand for him to shake. “Louisa.”
“Louisa,” he repeated, tasting her name. There was something familiar about her eyes… “So, what brings you to the ‘Dale?”
She shook her head, waved her hand. This and that, she said. It wasn’t important. She asked him about himself; he bought her a drink. She bought him another drink, licked her lips, said she was new in town. A hand on the leg, a compliment (“You have really pretty eyes,” she said, fingers lightly grazing his thigh) and he was flattered, off-balance.
Pouting over the rim of her rum and coke, she asked him if he knew of a quiet place where she could crash. Said she was low on funds, wouldn’t get paid until tomorrow.
What could he do but ask her to crash at his place?
Louisa devoured him with kisses after they got into his car, taillights blinking and engine running and oh her mouth is so warm and dry, not sloppy-moist like Anya’s … and he doesn’t realize she isn’t breathing until the nibbling on his neck turns into a piercing pain and ow and ow and he thrashes, tries to shove her off, kick her away, but the beers slowed his reflexes and she had him pinned, firm hands holding him to the seat and he. Is. Dying.
But she pulled back for a second, pricked an index finger on her incisor, shoved it into his mouth. “I must have the slayer’s boy for my pet,” she muttered as he fed..
There was just enough of Xander left for him to shove her into the gear shift. His sire exploded into dust as he slumps over, dead.
He woke up to the loud beeping and flashing lights of a tow truck. Thought he has a hangover, that he had a weird dream; knew that wasn’t it when his hands came away from his neck wet with blood, has his suspicions confirmed when he has to scramble away from the sun through his windshield.
He spent his first day as a vampire cowered under a blanket in the back seat of his car. “Wuss,” he thought as he fell back asleep.
He woke again as the sun sets, crawled out of the car, fed on the parking lot guard, new hunger fiercer than any he'd ever known. His new face felt, strange, tight; he experimentally shifted back and forth.
And then he smiled. Time to find a new playmate.