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"HEY!" A voice boomed, loud, from down the street, and all Aly could hear were footsteps clipping across the ground and towards her. She fell to the concrete, suddenly wrenched from the erotic synergy of her chosen death. The blood was still coursing from the mouth of the vampire. "LET HER GO!"
"I am sorry, Master," the vampire whispered, running off the other way. In a minute, Alyson's savior was upon her.
"Oh, God, Aly, oh God." James Marsters bent over her. "You're bleeding. We gotta get you to a doctor, now. Can you stand? I'll take you." His British accent was warm and friendly when they weren't in character, but now it held a ring she'd never heard before. Or was it just delirium? She stared up at him with a blank, eerie smile.
"Master?" she asked, cocking her head woozily. James laughed.
"No, I'm not your master. You're going to be fine, seriously. I've got you," he added, helping her off the sidewalk and putting his arm around her. "Aly, what did he want? Did he take your purse? Money? Did he try to ..." A scowl at the mere thought of it gave her distinct flashes of a question she didn't want to ask him. When he frowned, she thought of someone - or something - else.
Alyson pushed him off. "No, no, I'm fine. It's not that bad, I'll just go back to my trailer and fix it up. Nothing but a surface wound." She giggled nervously, trying to walk the other way. The vampire KNEW him. Not only who he was, but KNEW him. Obeyed him.
"Are you sure?" James wasn't backing down. "I was meeting David for coffee tonight, but Sarah told me where you guys were going. I could drive you there if you want." Aly made no answer. "What," he cried jokingly, wanting her companionship for a moment, "you afraid Spike might bite you?"
"Ha! Ha, ha! No, no, no ---" Aly grabbed him by the sleeve, the wound on her neck closing slowly and no longer dripping onto her stained white shirt. Her wild eyes told him she was not all right. "James, do you believe in vampires?"
"What?" She looked at his mask of disbelief and knew that there was something deeper, something behind this. And she was going to find it out. If there was one thing she knew from her job, it was that if one vampire does exist, there are brothers behind him.
"Vampires. The kind we make up, do you think they could be real?"
He was shocked by the question, but she remained unfazed, which seemed to bother him even more. "Uh, Alyson, I tend to think this is a debate for another day."
Suddenly her expression turned sad, as if containing all the knowledge of some unseen truth that he couldn't comprehend. Remembering what she had been through, thinking about what she must have felt, James reached out to her. But Alyson turned away. "'Cause if there were vampires, don't you think they'd call you Master?"
Sarah Michelle Gellar danced. The last strains of a hyped-up house beat were pumping through her portable stereo, and she flung around the sea green tank dress before putting it over her head, shaking her butt in time with the music. The joys of having your own trailer. Poor Aly and Charisma had to share one, not to mention Robia and Juliet on the days they worked. The years of child acting were definitely worth the privacy factor, she concluded, checking her drop earrings and wiggling her knees seductively for an unseen audience.
Now, with the dress over her head, Sarah paused. She slipped on her black sandals, then stared at the tiny, glistening piece on the cabinet. So pretty, so striking. She was Jewish, but it wasn't about religion. Sarah found herself thinking she'd do anything to own that one item. She'd forgotten to take it off after wardrobe, probably. No matter ... actually, the cross was technically her character's. It wasn't really stealing, it was just borrowing from Buffy. Sarah slipped it over her head gently, feeling the cool silver against her collarbone and smiling. "If only there were Angels in this world," she told herself wistfully.
A knock came on the door as she was trying on her new find.. "Who is it?" Probably someone on the set, for who else would be traipsing around the star's trailers looking for her? Autograph hounds? Detectives looking for the necklace? She looked frantically about the room, wanting to slip away.
"Wardrobe, Miss Gellar. Just checking on today's costume status."
Sarah freaked out now. They couldn't think she'd stolen the necklace! Pulling it off her neck and flinging the silver piece into her pink child's jewelry box, she resolved to confess only if pressed. Otherwise, it was just an accident. Or a crisis of faith. "Come in!" she sang, pulling on her leather jacket over the dress and acting like she was about to leave. "Gee, you caught me just as I was about to" --
A fist hit her in the face. A low roar. Fangs against the light ...
"Hyyyah!" Sarah grunted as she flipped herself back onto her feet and faced off against the intruder. With her martial arts training, she was easily defending herself within seconds. Plus, the tricks she'd learned on the set made it easy to get the man on the floor and panting with exertion in a few short seconds. Sarah dug the heel of her platforms into his chest, grabbing a letter opener from the table and waving it at him with a flourish. The intruder's face was mangled terribly, with a huge, bulbous forehead and large teeth protruding from his jaw. It hurt her to even look at him. "Damn, you're ugly!" she cried exultantly, saving the day again. "Burn victim, mental patient, or what?" All he did was *laugh*. Laugh, when he must have known that she could have him arrested for something like that. This is serious, she wanted to scream. But something in that laugh made her stop and think twice.
"Who are you? What do you want from me?" She stuck the sharp metal closer to his face. But he still chuckled, still breathing hard from the fight. Sarah was pretty proud of herself - no weak woman, she. But his ugly smile was beginning to piss her off royally. "It's not going to be funny anymore, so I wouldn't laugh if I were you." Not nearly threatening enough, Sarah told herself. Trying to come up with Buffy-style quips,she drew a blank.
"Stupid, stupid girl." His face convulsed into something even more awful, now. Moving skin, melting eyes, and the teeth grew even longer. She could have sworn that there were bits of blood hanging from the edge of the criminal's face.
"Ewwwww!" Sarah jumped away, still trying to parry him with her letter opener. But now that the man was back on his feet, he had his confidence back and she was on the run for real.
"They should make Slayers more intelligent, really," he growled with a start, coming towards her, teeth gleaming, "but these days you can never find good kill."
"WHAT?" Sarah dropped the opener with an offensed frown and went to kick the guy in the stomach. It was getting too surreal for her, and the evening's plans were almost at hand. Who did this punk think he --
"Okay, where'd you go?" she asked, exasperated and tired. But no one was there to answer. Her foot hadn't even touched his body before the entire person was gone. Evaporated, into thin air. This was either a really unfunny joke, a cruel trick played by the dorks at Makeup, or something she had never considered and wasn't about to start entertaining now.
Sarah didn't even want to say it, she was so spooked. Were vampires real? Were the things she fought every week more than just a trick of latex and prosthetics? It couldn't be, it shouldn't be, she wouldn't! Sarah didn't know what to believe.
She hurried out of the trailer, locking her door behind her and heading over
to the small enclave shared by the two guys, her best bets in an emergency.
On her way out, Sarah paused. She reopened the door and slipped Angel's
silver crucifix around her neck, gently stroking it. "You can never be too
careful," the Slayer whispered.