Speaker-to-Customers (speakr2customrs) wrote,

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Fic: Kiss Me, Deadly

Half of my F-List are at WriterCon and won’t see this, but there’s nothing that I can do about that. Perhaps I should have been getting on with one of the WIPs today, but no, instead I’ve written a sequel to yesterday’s twisted version of ‘Fool For Love’ and ‘School Hard’. Just Not Cricket was exactly 500 words; this one is exactly 5,000. What comes immediately after ‘School Hard’? Why, it is ‘Inca Mummy Girl’, of course…

Kiss Me, Deadly

Drusilla’s hips swayed as she walked into the warehouse. “My George has been a very naughty boy,” she announced.

“Of course I have, Dru, old girl,” George said. “I’m not the Messiah. Hah, hah.”

Colin frowned at him. “No, you are not the Messiah. That would be me.”

“Yes, quite, my boy,” George said. “The Anointed One, vampire Messiah. Good show, keep it up.” Dru giggled.

Colin’s frown grew deeper. “Your attitude is disrespectful.”

“Sorry, old chap,” George said. “Well, not ‘old chap’, of course.”

The Anointed One decided to let it pass. “You have done well in killing the Slayer, but you didn’t do it in an honourable way.”

“Honourable?” George frowned down at the boy vampire. “We’re vampires, dear boy. Evil. Untrustworthy. I’m a cad, and a bounder, and I like it that way. You said ‘kill the Slayer’, and so I did. I think this calls for brandy and cigars.” He glanced at Drusilla. “And then, the oral sex.”

Drusilla giggled again. “Naughty George. Yes, there shall be oral sex, and party games, and you can spank me.”

“Stop it,” the Anointed One ordered, rolling his eyes. “Yes, the Slayer is dead, but there will be another.”

“And I’ll shoot her too,” George declared. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh!” Drusilla yelped. She put her hands to her temples and rocked back and forth. “Oh, George, the pixies say there is danger.”

“A vision?” George frowned. “What do you see, Drusilla my dear?”

“Trouble comes,” Drusilla told him. “The Slayer’s mummy is going to be very angry. She’ll hurt you, George.”

George laughed and pulled out one of his pistols. He twirled the Colt Python on his forefinger. “Don’t worry about it, Dru, old girl,” he said. “I’m quite sure I can deal with Mrs Summers.”

- - - - -

“You are most kind, señora,” Ampata said, “but I would not intrude upon you at a time of such grief. I will find another place to stay.”

Xander held back a groan. If only he could invite this raven-haired princess to stay with him! But there was no way that his parents would go for it. He bent to pick up Ampata’s trunk once more.

“No, please stay,” Joyce said. “I – the house is so empty without Buffy.” Xander released the trunk and stepped back.

“If you are sure…” Ampata said hesitantly. She looked around the room and her gaze fell upon a picture of a smiling blonde girl. “Your daughter? She was beautiful. I can tell that she was special. I am so sad for you.”

“Yes, she was special,” Joyce agreed. An edge of bitterness crept into her voice. “Very special. Chosen. I’d rather she’d been less special and was still alive.”

“Chosen?” Ampata’s forehead wrinkled.

“Oh, nothing. Just something the school librarian said to me,” Joyce said. “Come on, bring your cases upstairs and we’ll get you settled in.”

Xander advanced to take hold of the trunk again but Ampata pre-empted him. She swept it up from the floor and followed Joyce up the stairs. Xander stood and stared. The trunk was heavy, very heavy, and it had taken him two hands and every bit of his strength to carry it. The Peruvian girl was holding the trunk with one hand, her suitcase in the other, and moving as if they were weightless.

“One Slayer dies, the next is called,” Xander muttered under his breath. “Could she be? I gotta tell Giles.”

- - - - -

“I am not a Slayer,” Ampata said. She clasped her hands together and clenched her teeth. “I am sorry. I would like to help you. I like the señora Joyce Summers very much and I am sad for her loss. But you have made the mistake.”

“Ah,” Giles said. He fidgeted with his glasses. “Xander was so certain. Oh well. Perhaps you could still be of assistance to us. We have a piece of an ancient Incan artefact with an inscription. I thought that, perhaps, you might be able to translate it for us?”

Ampata’s eyes grew wide as she looked at the seal. “I cannot help you,” she said. “I must go. I am sorry.” She spun on her heel and walked out.

“She’s kinda weird,” Willow said.

“Hey, things here would wig anybody out,” Xander defended Ampata. “Maybe I can talk her round. I was gonna show her how to eat Twinkies.”

“It’s pretty easy,” said Willow. “You just put them in your mouth and chew.”

“Very well, you do that. Xander,” Giles said. “Willow and I will stay here and try to decipher this clue to whatever it was that killed Rodney.”

“I don’t care what killed Rodney,” Xander said. “He was a jerk. I just want to dust that vampire George who killed Buffy.”

Giles took off his glasses and sucked on the end of an earpiece. “We all want that, Xander.” He donned the glasses again as he sensed movement. Ampata had re-entered the room. He looked at her over the lenses. “Well?”

“It is the seal from the tomb of an Incan princess,” the Peruvian girl told him. “She was sacrificed to the mountain god Sebancaya. The seal is to ensure that she remains neither dead nor alive. Lost in the dark for all eternity.”

“We kinda knew that much already,” Willow muttered.

“Fascinating,” said Giles. “Do you know what this figure represents?”

Ampata hardly glanced at the symbol of a man with a knife. “Her guardian,” she told him. “A bodyguard – I think that is the word – or perhaps jailor. He guards her against those who would harm her – and those who would free her.” She lowered her eyes. “That is all that I know. I go now. Señora Summers will expect me to return and eat with her.”

“Hey, it’s not that late,” Xander protested. “I thought maybe you might like a Twinkie.”

“Another time,” Ampata said. A smile suddenly lit up her face. “You are very beautiful, Alejandro.” She turned and walked out while Xander was too stunned to react. This time she did not return.

- - - - -

“Do not kill me,” Ampata pleaded. “I beg you.”

“You are already dead,” the warrior reminded her. “For five hundred years.”

“That was a mistake!” Ampata snarled. “The priests were fools. I suffered death and torment for nothing!”

“You were the Chosen One. There was no mistake.”

“I was Chosen to protect our people from the forces of the nether world,” Ampata told him, “but by fighting, not as a sacrifice. I am a Slayer, as was Buffy Summers. I was sixteen, and I was innocent, and they killed me.”

“The people you have killed to preserve your life were innocent too,” the warrior said implacably. “You must die.” He raised his knife. “You have no choice.”

Ampata moved so fast she was almost a blur. She seized his wrist, twisted with inhuman strength, and forced him to drop the weapon. “Yes I do.”

The guardian struggled to free himself but to no avail. “And now you will kill me,” he said in a tone of resignation.

“If I have to,” Ampata said. “But I do not wish it. It was not you that did me this wrong. Help me find a way to survive without killing and I shall spare you. Even forgive you.”

“There is no way, Princess,” the warrior told her. “You must drain the life force from others or you will become a corpse once more. Dead as you have been since before the Spanish came to Peru.”

Ampata’s shoulders slumped. The guardian tugged hard and freed his hand from her grip as it slackened. He dived for the knife but she was there before him and kicked it away. Her hands fastened upon his shoulders. “I do not wish to do this,” she said, as she pulled him towards her mouth, “but it seems that I have no choice.”

- - - - -

“I like your costume,” Ampata told Willow. “It is very authentic.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was going for,” Willow said. Her Inuit parka was hot, and uncomfortable, and hampered her movements. “Your costume’s pretty.”

“Pretty? It’s gorgeous,” Xander said.

“To be authentic it should have gold,” Ampata said. “I am glad you like it. Your costume is nice also.” Xander was dressed as Clint Eastwood’s ‘Man with no name’ Spaghetti Western character. “You are very handsome and dashing.”

“Thanks. I’m from the country of Leone. It’s in Italy pretending to be Montana,” Xander said. Ampata’s brows lowered in a puzzled frown. “Uh, if I could speak Spanish maybe I could have put that better,” Xander went on, “only my vocabulary pretty much ends with ‘Ay caramba’ and ‘vaya con dios’.”

“My Spanish is not so much more good than my English,” Ampata admitted. “I speak Quechua. I learn Spanish only when I go to Lima.”

“So you’re an actual Inca?” Willow asked.

“I am,” Ampata confirmed.

“Uh, ‘Gutierrez’ isn’t all that Inca a name, is it?” Willow stared hard at Ampata as she spoke.

“It was not always the name of my family.” Ampata met Willow’s stare. “Why do you not like me? I like you. You are clever and funny and I would like you to be my friend.”

Willow’s face went pink. She didn’t want to admit to her jealousy over Xander. “I’m just on edge,” she said. “Uh, sorry. It’s just with that big guy with the knife running around it’s kinda got to me.”

Ampata smiled. “The bodyguard with the knife will cause no more trouble. I promise you that.” She jerked her head to point at the stage with her chin. “Look, one of the charango players watch you. He is cute. I think he like you.”

“What?” Willow turned her head and met the gaze of the guitarist of Dingoes Ate My Baby. Yes, he was cute, and he was watching her. Her cheeks reddened even more and she lowered her eyes. Maybe he was some kind of creepy demon guy ‘cause hey, it wasn’t like a cute guitarist could be interested in her for any reason other than maybe wanting to eat her. She turned back to Ampata, but the Peruvian girl had taken advantage of the distraction to move onto the dance floor with Xander. Willow sniffed and walked away. She wanted to consult with Giles.

- - - - -

“I don’t trust her,” Willow said. “She’s all with the making nice but hey, the seal really wigged her out, and she turned up just after the mummy escaped, and now she says that the guard guy with the knife won’t cause any trouble. And she’s super strong but she says that she isn’t a Slayer.”

“I fear that you may have good reason for your distrust,” Giles agreed. “I have deciphered some more of the inscription on the seal. It implies that the mummy may be capable of feeding upon the life force of others. If Ampata is the mummy then she would be extremely dangerous.”

“Yeah,” Willow said. “Only, how could we fight her without Buffy? Oh! Xander might be in danger.”

“I suspect that Xander is safe,” Giles said consolingly. “She obviously feels great affection towards him.”

Willow pouted. “So not making me feel better. Oh! I know! Her trunk. We should take a look at it. If she’s a real exchange student then it will be full of, like, normal things. If she’s an evil mummy…”

“Then it won’t,” Giles finished her sentence. “I concur. She seems to be fairly occupied with Xander for the moment. Perhaps we should take advantage of that and investigate her belongings. I’ll get my car.”

- - - - -

Joyce closed and locked the door behind her. She hesitated briefly as she was struck by a sudden worry that she had neglected to give her Peruvian house-guest a key. She had been in a slight daze ever since that dreadful night when Buffy had been murdered and such details had been slipping her mind. Things had improved a little lately, however, and she was feeling much more in control of herself and able to get through the day without mishaps. Ampata’s presence seemed to have helped. Having a teenage girl in the house had made everything seem more normal; in fact Joyce thought that it was a shame that it would only be for two weeks. She pursed her lips as she searched her memory. Yes, she had given Ampata a key, she was almost certain, and anyway she should be back home long before the student returned from the dance. She turned away from the door and went to her SUV.

George peered out from the car that was parked across the street. “Ah, good, she’s going out,” he said. “That should make things easier. Blasted invite rule.” He reached out with his cricket bat and tapped the driver on the head. “Follow that car, Brian, and don’t spare the horses.”

“My name’s not Brian,” protested the vampire, who claimed to have been present at the Crucifixion. “And what horses?”

George tapped him somewhat harder and brought a grunt of pain from the other vampire. “Your name is whatever I say it is,” George said. “And I’m talking about horsepower, you ignoramus. Shut up and drive.”

From further down the street a shadowy figure watched from behind a tree. As George’s car drove off in pursuit of Joyce’s SUV the watcher slipped away and made for the High School at a run.

- - - - -

“It’s just as well Mrs Summers is out,” Giles remarked. “It avoids the necessity for any explanations.”

“I guess,” Willow said. She picked something up from the top of the dresser that had been Buffy’s. “Hey, I think I found the trunk key.” She passed it to Giles and he opened the lock.

“Let’s see what we have here,” he said as he raised the lid. “Dear Lord!”

“Not of the good,” Willow agreed. “I guess that’s the real Ampata Gutierrez, huh?”

“Indeed.” Giles gazed down at the mummified corpse. “Most disturbing. Mrs Summers has been allowing a monster to live in her house. She is in terrible danger.”

Willow’s forehead wrinkled up. “Uh, I’m not so sure,” she said. “Okay, Ampata’s an evil Inca Mummy Girl, but she seems to really like Mrs Summers. I got a feeling that she wouldn’t hurt her.”

“Perhaps,” Giles said, “but eventually the hunger for life force would prevail. Monsters are always evil, Willow.”

“Hey, that’s not what you said when I was worried about Xander,” Willow pointed out.

Giles averted his eyes. “I may have underestimated his peril,” he confessed. “I didn’t want you to worry when we knew nothing for certain. Still, he should be safe enough. It’s a public place. I doubt if she will do anything in the presence of so many people.”

“Uh, Giles, school dance? Dark corners, people sneaking away to make out? We have to get back and save Xander!”

“Oh, dear Lord, you may be right. I was rather, ah, remiss. I should have told Ms. Calendar about our suspicions and asked her to keep an eye on Ampata. Indeed we must hasten back to the school. But how do we stop her?” Giles wondered. “Angel seems to have disappeared. I haven’t seen him since Buffy’s funeral and he’s the only one of us who could have fought a mummy on level terms. Let me think. Hmm. Fire works against mummies in Dungeons and Dragons. It might be a viable tactic, I suppose, but we can hardly set fire to her in the middle of the dance.”

“We’ll think of something,” Willow said. Her gaze settled on Giles’ face and her eyebrows climbed. “You play Dungeons and Dragons?”

- - - - -

“Hey!” Cordelia was bumped aside by a man pushing his way through the crowd of students. “Watch it, buster.”

“I am sorry, señorita. Forgive me,” the man said, and moved on. His skin was sallow, almost olive, and his hair was jet black. He wore a white shirt with a sash at his waist and he blended in well with the students in their costumes.

“Rude much?” Cordelia said. A frown marred her smooth forehead. “Hey, who is that guy? He looks a little old to be an exchange student and I don’t recollect seeing him around.”

“He’s kinda good looking,” Harmony remarked. “I think I’d have noticed him.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “I just bet you would,” she said, and the conversation moved on to a general discussion of boys. The intruder was forgotten.

He made his way to where Ampata and Xander were dancing. Xander saw him first. “Hey! I thought you said that bodyguard guy wasn’t going to be any more trouble.”

Ampata turned and saw the new arrival. Her eyes widened. “Munanki?” she asked.

The warrior bowed his head and answered her in a rapid stream of words that were completely incomprehensible to Xander. Ampata replied in the same language and then turned back to Xander and switched to English. “I must go. There is danger.”

“Uh, that would be a pretty good reason for not going,” Xander said. “Unless you mean danger here, in which case maybe we should all leave.”

“If you stay here you will be safe, Alejandro,” Ampata said. “The danger, it is for me to face. I lie to you before. I am a Slayer.”

“I kinda guessed, what with the super strength thing,” Xander said. “Hey, I’m coming with you.”

“That would be not good,” Ampata said. “Stay here and be safe. I go. I come back. I see you then.” She leaned towards him, kissed him quickly on the cheek, and then spun around and walked off at great speed with her bodyguard at her heels.

Xander raised his hand to his cheek and stood stock still for a moment before coming to his senses. “Hey, wait up!” He set off after Ampata but couldn’t catch up with her before she left the building. Once outside she broke into a run and disappeared into the distance in moments. Xander swore but then realised that the bodyguard was running in her wake at a more human pace. Xander took a deep breath and then set off in pursuit.

- - - - -

George chewed on the end of his cigar. “Far too many people around, blast it,” he said. “I don’t think this is going to work. It’s time for a change of plan. We go back to her house and ambush her when she comes home.” He tapped the driver with his cricket bat once again. “Home, Brian.”

“I know, I know,” the driver sighed. “And don’t spare the horses.”

“By Jove, I think he’s got it,” George chortled. “Jolly good show! We’ll make an Englishman of you yet.”

The driver groaned as he put the car in gear and pulled away.

- - - - -

“That’s Ampata!” Willow yelped.

Giles flinched at the sudden shriek and he accidentally jerked on the steering wheel. The old Citroen swerved and it took him a moment to get it back under control. “Where?” he asked.

“Back thataway,” Willow told him. “Heading back the way we came. Towards Buffy’s house.” She craned her neck and stared out of the back window. “She was running very fast. I can’t see her any more.”

“Do you think that we should follow her?”

Willow twisted around to face forwards again. “No, let’s get back to the school. I want to know if she’s done anything to Xander. Can’t you get this car to go any faster?”

A couple of minutes later another running figure caught Willow’s eye. “Hey! It’s that Inca warrior guy who was running around with a knife. Ampata said he wasn’t going to cause any more trouble. Hey, I thought that she must have killed him.”

“Obviously not,” Giles said, “unless he had a twin.” He slowed the car down. “Perhaps we should turn around.”

“No, I’m still worried about – Xander!”

“There is need to shout, Willow,” Giles reproved her gently.

“No, I mean I see Xander. There. Chasing after the bodyguard guy.” Willow pointed to the approaching figure.

“Ah, yes. Well, I think that you can stop worrying,” Giles said. He pulled in to the kerb.

Xander staggered up to the car and pulled off his hat. He was sweating and breathing hard. “Hey, nice timing,” he said as he climbed in. “Follow that Inca.”

- - - - -

Ampata ran faster than the wind. She was travelling fast enough to have been in contention for an Olympic two hundred metres Gold and she had been running at that speed all the way from the school. Even so she was convinced that she would be too late. She did not know where Joyce Summers had been going; her plan was to return to the house and see if there were any clues there. She saw Joyce’s vehicle pulling up in front of the house and slackened her pace. Relief flooded through her. Then movement nearby caught her eye and she accelerated again, faster than before, sprinting in desperate haste.

Joyce climbed out of the SUV and went to open the tailgate. She heard something nearby and looked up, frowning. Two men had stepped out from behind the trees in her garden.

“You don’t look much of a threat,” one said. His accent was English, like that of the librarian at Buffy’s school, but his manner was very different. She couldn’t imagine Mr Giles pointing a large revolver at her. “I still don’t understand why Drusilla thinks that you’re a threat to me. Mine not to reason why, however, mine just to shoot the guy. Or woman, in this case, hah hah.”

“What on…?” Joyce began, and then realisation struck. “You’re that man who was at the school. The one who shot my daughter.”

“Give the woman a cigar,” George grinned.

“Uh, you’re the one with the cigars,” the vampire who had been dubbed ‘Brian’ pointed out.

George rolled his eyes. “I was speaking metaphorically, you blithering idiot,” he said. “It’s just an expression – oh, the hell with it.” He lifted the Colt Python and aimed it at Joyce. “This is only a .357 Magnum,” he said. “Not the most powerful handgun in the world. It won’t quite blow your head clean off. But ‘tis enough, ‘twill serve.”

“Uh, Mister George, why don’t we just eat her?” Brian asked.

“I haven’t survived for a hundred and seventeen years as a vampire by taking any chances at all,” George said. “Drusilla says she’s dangerous. That’s enough for me.”

“You get away from her, qaritukoq!” Ampata yelled. She raced towards them at eye-baffling speed. “Señora Summers, run!”

“A Slayer!” George hissed. He swung the Python around and fired. His first shot missed. His second caught Ampata in the centre of the chest. She staggered but kept on coming. George fired again and Ampata fell. She tried to raise herself on her hands, rolled onto her back, and lay still ten feet short of the vampire.

“Nice shooting, Mister George,” Brian praised.

“I missed with the first one. Dashed bad show,” George grumbled. “I say! I wonder if that was what Drusilla meant. Not that the Slayer’s mother would hurt me herself, but that she’d lure me into danger.” He twirled the Python on his finger and then slipped it back into his shoulder-holster. “I think that I’ll just eat this one.”

“Uh, is it okay if I eat the Slayer?” Brian asked. “She’s dead, but I think I could still get some blood out of her.”

“Oh, very well,” George said. “I’ll stick to the live one.” His face twisted and transformed into its demonic form and he advanced towards Joyce Summers.

Brian extended his fangs as he knelt beside Ampata’s body and lowered his head towards her throat. Suddenly her eyes opened wide. Her arms shot up and her hands clamped on Brian’s shoulders. She pulled him down, diverting him from his intended target, and their lips met. Frantically he tried to push her away but it was to no avail. He had no chance even to scream as he shrivelled up and turned to dust.

Joyce tried to dodge away around the car. George vaulted over the hood and seized her by the arms. “Resistance is useless, old girl.” He flinched briefly as Joyce struck out at him, but there was little force behind the blows, and he chuckled as he dragged her towards his fangs. “I say, do you realise that I’m the only vampire in history to have killed four Slayers?”

“Three,” a voice said behind him. A hand took hold of the collar of George’s tweed suit and jerked him backwards with irresistible force.

“What the hell?” George gasped. He slipped his hand into his jacket to draw his gun. Ampata smashed the heel of her other hand down onto his collar-bone and shattered it. “Aargh! Bitch! Unhand me, you dago trollop. You can’t treat me like this! I’m George Mandeville, the Slayer of Slayers.”

“Close your eyes, Señora Summers,” Ampata said gently. “You should not see this.” She pulled George towards her and her lips fastened on his.

Joyce did not obey Ampata’s suggestion. She watched in horror as the vampire withered away in Ampata’s grasp, shrivelled up until he resembled a shrunken mummy, and then disintegrated into powder and blew away. Two guns fell from the dust and clattered onto the road.

Seconds later a man ran up. He called out to Ampata in her own language and then in English. “Princess! Are you all right?”

“I am now, Wamanpoma,” Ampata replied. “He shot me but I am healed.”

“How did you do that?” Joyce gasped.

Before Ampata could reply Giles’ car screeched to a halt behind Joyce’s SUV. The doors flew open and Giles, Willow, and Xander piled out. “Mrs Summers! Are you all right?” Giles called.

Willow glared at Ampata. “You’d better not have hurt her or you’ll be sorry,” she threatened, in the most menacing voice that she could summon up, hoping that Ampata wouldn’t call her bluff and reveal the hollowness of the threat.

“Willow Rosenberg!” Joyce snapped. “You will not speak to Ampata like that. She saved my life.”

Xander saw the two holes in Ampata’s Inca Princess costume and the bloody blotches surrounding them. “Ampata, are you hurt?”

“He shot me,” Ampata repeated, “but I am fine.” She smiled at Xander. “I told you that the danger was for me to face, beautiful Alejandro.”

“I don’t understand how you survived, Ampata,” Joyce said, “or how you killed those monsters, but I’m certainly glad that you did.” She felt suddenly weak as reaction to the experience struck her and she swayed slightly on her feet. “I think,” she said slowly, “that we had all better go into the house.”

- - - - -

Drusilla clasped her hands to her head and keened. “I warned him. I told George that the Slayer’s mummy would hurt him,” she wailed. “He wouldn’t listen, and now she has turned him to dust. She’s a horrible, nasty, girl.”

“Buffy Summers’ mother has killed George?” Colin the Anointed One stared at Drusilla with his eyebrows raised high. “I don’t understand. He was the Slayer of Slayers. How could a Soccer Mom defeat him?”

“Not the mother of that dead Buffy girl, you stupid boy,” Drusilla hissed. “The Slayer’s mummy. She is dead but walks. She will come here and kill us all. Miss Edith says that I should go to Cleveland.”

“Don’t call me stupid,” the Anointed One scolded. His eyebrows descended. Drusilla was a valuable Seer. Should he force her to stay? No, she was too unstable. Better to let her go. “Very well. Take your doll and depart.”

“I need a new playmate,” Drusilla mused. “I shall seek out the wisest and bravest knight in all the land. Or should I do what I did the last time, like Grandmother told me, and just take the first drooling idiot who comes along?”

- - - - -

“I still think that you ought to stake them once in a while,” Giles grumbled. “The way you do it might be efficient but it does rather give me the creeps.”

“It gives Alejandro the creep too,” Ampata admitted. “I use a stake if there are many.” She dragged Colin, who was kicking and screaming, to her mouth and drained his energy. “But this way I feed and Slay at the same time.” She brushed away the dust of the Anointed One and moved on to search for other surviving vampires.

“How will you cope once all the vampires are destroyed?” Giles wondered.

“I think more come,” Ampata said. “This is Boca del Infierno. There will always be the vampire and the demon. But if there are so few that they cannot give me enough life then I will feed on the sheep and the goat.”

“Ah, like the Chupacabra,” Giles said. “You’ve found a very ingenious solution to your problem, I must say.”

“Wamanpoma suggested it,” Ampata told him. She grinned. “I told him I would kill him if he could not find a way for me to stay alive without feeding on humans. He had good incentive.”

“And now you’re probably the first Slayer in history with your own personal bodyguard,” Giles said. “Not that you need him. And you seem to be settling into your new life very well.”

“Señora Summers is like my mother,” Ampata said, “and she like me. I like the school, I like the music American, and I love Alejandro. Willow is not so unfriendly now. I think I will be happy here. It is good that the Council arrange for me to stay.”

“I doubt if they were being altruistic,” Giles told her. “I don’t know why-”

Ampata interrupted him mid-sentence. “’Scuse me while I kiss this guy.”

“Good lord, you’re becoming a typical American teenager,” Giles said. He looked up at the ceiling and completely missed Ampata catching a vampire and sucking it dry of demonic energy. “Hardly in the country five minutes and you’re misquoting classic Hendrix lyrics already. It’s really ‘’Scuse me while I kiss the sky.”

The End

The characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only and all rights remain with Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the writers of the original episodes, and the TV and production companies responsible for the original television shows. BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER ©2002 Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation. All Rights Reserved. The Buffy the Vampire Slayer trademark is used without express permission from Fox.

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