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New Beginnings
Buffy Summers flipped her long blonde hair and giggled into the phone. “Oh my gosh, Kimberly, no way! No way. No way!”
For Buffy, life was perfect. She was a popular, bubbly cheerleader at Hemery High. The star player of the football team, Tyler, had asked her to homecoming. Freshman year was one party after another. At least it was, until an eccentric, stuffy old British man named Merrick decided to inform her of her “destiny.” She had assured him that she was destiny-free, but he was relentless. Buffy was a slayer. The Slayer, in fact. The one girl in all the world, chosen to stop the vampires… Buffy knew there was more to that speech, but Merrick’s voice was very monotone, despite the accent, and she couldn’t help but zone out until he finished being pompous. This meant that she had zoned out for quite some time. Lately, he had taken her patrolling through graveyards, training her to fight the undead. Rolling in dirt was never really something that Buffy savored, so she was glad for a break tonight. Now, she could just gossip on the phone with her friend and pretend, at least for thirty minutes, that she was a normal girl with a normal life. Suddenly, she was discovering why she didn’t always appreciate life at home.
“I know something you don’t know! I know something you don’t know!”
“Seriously, Dawn, that’s just about the most annoying thing ever.” Buffy glared at her little sister, covering the mouthpiece on the telephone. But as soon as she continued her conversation with Kimberly, the aggravation began again.
“I know something you don’t know! I know something you don’t know!”
“For God’s sake, Dawn; do you think you can be quiet for five seconds?!”
Taken aback by her sister’s tone, Dawn faltered for a moment, her bottom lip thrust out. Her eyes huge and watering, she attempted to gain eye contact with Buffy, looking for sympathy. Buffy simply rolled her eyes and spun in the opposite direction in an attempt to ignore her. Realizing the sad puppy eyes only worked on her mother, Dawn hopped in front of the barstool Buffy was sitting on and continued her incessant shrieking.
“I know something you don’t know! I know something you don’t know! I know some---”
Buffy clapped her hand firmly over Dawn’s mouth while saying her goodbyes to Kimberly. She slammed the phone back in its cradle angrily, still holding Dawn’s mouth shut. Suddenly, she felt something warm and wet on her hand.
“Ugh!!!” Buffy shouted, yanking her arm back while Dawn grinned, victorious. “You licked my hand, you little freak!”
“You knew the risks,” Dawn informed her sister somberly. Without another pause, she pranced around the kitchen giddily, resuming her chant.
Buffy moaned, lightly pounding her head on the counter. “Don’t you think you’re getting too old for this? Or too annoying?”
Dawn paused, breathless. “I’m nine years old. What do you expect? I know something you don’t know! I know something you don’t know!”
“For the love of God, just tell me what I don’t know!” Buffy finally bellowed.
Dawn was practically in hysterics, rolling all over the tile and holding her sides. “I don’t remember!” she wheezed jovially.
“Mom should have just gotten a puppy.”
~~~
Angel sat down on the beat up orange couch awkwardly, fidgeting. His weary eyes drank in this odd sight: the moose head hanging on the wall, the jukebox in the corner, the pool table, the shag carpeting. He had never felt more out of place.
“I think you’re gonna like it here, Angel,” Whistler called from the kitchen. “It ain’t much to look at, but it’s home.” He appeared in the living room with a grin, holding two beers. “But I think you’ll find it a lot more comfortable than the dumpster, if not more fragrant.”
Angel gave a little half-smile, accepting the beer. He sat next to Whistler for a few silent moments, listening to him gulp down his beer.
“Ahhh. That’s the good stuff.” Whistler said appreciatively, exhaling.
Angel nodded half-heartedly in agreement, nervously picking at his unopened bottle.
Sensing Angel’s uneasiness, Whistler clapped his hand on the vampire’s broad, stooped shoulders. “What are you up for?”
“Up?”
“Yeah, man, what do you feel like doin’?” With a friendly grin, he adjusted his bowler hat. “I’m thinkin’ that you need a new look. I’m not really feelin’ your current ensemble.” Whistler gestured at Angel’s moth-eaten jacket and high waters. “I’m not too confident in how much action you’re getting looking like that.”
Angel pulled his pant legs down self-consciously. “I’m not looking for any action. I’m just trying to stay alive.”
“Well,” the demon replied smartly. “I think it’s a little late for that.”
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