Reflex

ITLE: Reflex
AUTHOR: cHeWtOy with encouragement from Cecil the monochrome duck.
DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere that wants it - if you're that sick I'm not gonna
stop you...
DISCLAIMER: Joss' stuff is Joss', the rest of it is mine.
NOTES: The POV jumps between 'Black' and Buffy - sorry if I make anyone
seasick...
DEDICATION: This instalment is brought to you by the letters 'S' and 'K'
and by the number 'six hundred three score and six'
FEEDBACK: If you don't like it then tell me and I'll stop.

---

The demon that created vampires is definitely not on my Christmas list.
Why do they have to dust? Why not vaporise? Or better still they could
just vanish, that's what a considerate demon would do. But no, and I'll
tell you why, because then they wouldn't have the last laugh when I get
the dry-cleaning bill. Time to grab that do-hickey that Giles was on
about and then grab a shower. It's still early, maybe tonight isn't a
total write-off after all... hold that thought. There's something...

---

"You're late"

The comment bit deeper than it should have. She's defensive.
Apparently she had other plans for tonight before Giles figured out the
clue I left. Any other Watcher would have turned her into an emotionless
robot, or at least tried, but she has been allowed latitude. She has
been forged in pain, there are certainly times over the past few years
where she would have appreciated that detachment, but she would have died
long ago if not for the fire of emotion burning within her.

"I wondered when you'd turn up again. I'd ask if you spent the time
working on your tan, but I'm guessing you don't get out in the sun much
these days."

Always she jokes, it is all a game to her. It has been too long since she
faced a true challenge and she is getting over confident. I am no threat
in her eyes, she probably thinks I have spent the time since last we met
wandering the sewers and preying on down and outs. That is what a newborn
full-blood would have been doing certainly. But I am better than that.

As I close with the Slayer for the opening round of blows my mind drifts
elsewhere - my body left to reflex.

The citadel. Amusing how easy it is to hide my heritage. To the
watchers I was fully human. To the elders I am fully vampire. Watchers.
Hah! Their "watch" passed right over me when I was amongst them. The
elders were a trickier matter. The need for deception was just as great,
as my kind is despised amongst the full-bloods even more so than amongst
the humans, but it is so long since one of us with power last walked the
earth that they have relaxed their vigil. Many of them have direct
memories of my kind at full strength, but they have seen the botched
results of recent activations and it has convinced them that our day has
passed, that we are no longer a threat.

Their teachings were intriguing, but also disappointing. I had expected
to study there for years, but I had seen enough within a few short months.
The watchers try to keep the past alive, but the elders are the living
past. Both groups try to hide simple truths under layers of needless
ritual.

As with all full-bloods they tended to revel in the physical, leaving the
mystical in the background, but even so the lessons were far in advance of
anything I ever heard tell of during my mortal years. So much power, yet
they are bound to inaction by their prophecies. Their day will come, and
until that day they will sit in their dank council chamber with a patience
only the immortal can know.

I shake off the reminiscence and return to the now. She has broken a sweat,
but I smell no fear on her. Everything is going to plan. Time to end it.

---

Owww, my head. Great - the bit where I wake up in a cellar someplace.
Demons are so predictable. He gloats, I slay, yadda yadda. I hope my hair
isn't too icky.

Something doesn't add up about this one. That blow came out of nowhere -
he's quick. Very quick. He held that speed back until the end though. Was
he playing with me? I am so gonna tear him a new hole for that.

---

I watch as she recovers. Her return to consciousness flickers in her aura.
The full-bloods have centuries to learn such tricks, but so few bother.
Outside of the council of Elders many of them don't even realise the
possiblities, but even those who do know put it off. After all, they have
so much time, so many tomorrows, there is no rush. An apathy brought about
by excesses of the flesh.

She is good. From the diary reports of Slayers past I would have expected
a rash leap into action. A frenzied, panicked attack while still dizzy.
But she waits for her head to clear. Her breathing unchanged. To all
appearances she is dead to the world. I wonder what thoughts are slipping
through that pretty little head.

Her eyes open. Her icy glare shows a moment of confusion when she realises
I am not there, but she stays focused. If you knock this one down she
comes back stronger. Excellent. I can use that.

---

So he wants to play hide and seek, huh? OK, I'm game. I can feel the
creep watching me from somewhere and it's wigging me totally. I really
don't like him.

---

Her search is thorough. Could it be that she knows I am watching? I know
that past Slayers were able to sense a physical observer, but apparently
this one's abilities extend to sensing a scrying. Interesting. I have
held her long enough, let her return to her mentor and puzzle on why I left
her alive. She will find out soon enough. I throw salt onto the water's
surface and watch as the image ripples and then fades. Yes, this is all
most interesting indeed.