࿐ྂ。𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 ━━━ BUFFY SUMMERS

₀ೄྀ࿐ into the hellfire ˊˎ-

╭┈─────── *ೃ༄ ZERO !

╰┈➤ ❝ AND STILL, I STAND ❞

NORA
SEPTEMBER 12th, 1996

    SHE IS A BEAUTY, I'LL ADMIT.
A small frame and inches shorter than her surrounding friends, the young woman manages to stand apart. Different from the other humans, from the looks of it she might not be aware of why that is. It doesn't stop her from enjoying the attention. Pearly whites gleaming as she throws her head back, a laugh tumbling from pink glossy lips.
The brunette next to her smirks smugly at the other girls. The people here are drawn to her. On some level they must sense it. It's in their need to be close. An electric sort of feeling that they can't resist. All of it, the forceful laughs and rigid smiles—it's all fake.
It's a power held by only one other, unmatched until now.
    Angel.
Liam as I first knew him. Angelus when we were face to face for the first time. Dreadful centuries of mucking about and a gypsy curse set him apart from the people attached to those names. Now, it's just Angel. Someone entirely new. Lost.
    He's captured by her beauty. Leaning close to the haphazardly foiled window, daring the sunlight's wrath for a better look. His chestnut hair is dirty and matted in the back. Somehow, covered in years worth of stink, Angel is still the most beautiful man I have ever seen. A timeless sort of elegance.
    But perhaps, she too invoked a certain appreciation from my otherwise disinterested beast. My admiration for humans didn't expand beyond their looks. I viewed them as one would living breathing art. I can never be sure exactly when that particular habit started, but Angel had always assumed it came with age. An apathy for humans that I couldn't even call them food.
While I am forever, humans and demons alike come and go. The only change after all these years is the endless mirage of faces. As sure as the rising sun, civilizations rose and fell, this too will fall one day. And still, I stand. A witness to the fall.
     Lost in thought, I miss the departures of her friends. She halfheartedly waves goodbye before sitting down on the steps of the school. Crossing a lightly tanned leg over the other, she bounces in her place. A heart-shaped lollipop clinks as it knocks against her teeth. Wincing, she takes it out of her mouth before cautiously going in for another taste.
    Almost a hundred years had passed since I'd taken an interest human fashion. Out were the obnoxiously tight and long dresses of the victorian era. Somewhere between surviving on the streets of the new world and taking care of guilt-ridden Angel—the humans had evolved into a less prudish style of clothing. Scantily clad women donning bright fabrics walk the paved streets. They did so without fear of shame or retaliation.
    Oh, how I adored the abundance of warm flesh bare to my starving eyes. How it feels as you break skin, the first gush of blood, an indescribable pleasure coursing through waking veins.
    "More," Angel whispers. A sentiment I echoed, for a more nefarious reason. "I have to know more, Nora." He turns to me, eyes wide and lively for the first time in years. And though I'm curious, I find a part of me to be hesitant. Call it instinct or higher power, the otherworldly awareness within deafens my thoughts with my biggest fear.
    Lurching forward, my hand cups his hairy cheek with a rare gentleness. "Maybe the halfling is wrong. This doesn't have to be our problem, Angel." It really didn't have to be. She was a stranger to us. A girl heading down a dark road and into the depths of horror is a tale as old as time. Live or die, she is replaceable. Just like the last one. And the one before her.
    Angel turns back to the window, looking skeptical. He opens his mouth, argument on his tongue when suddenly he sighs, "Look."
    I move closer in the cramped two four seater. Chin resting on his dusty shoulder, I sigh at the looming scene. 
    A sharply dressed fellow stands above the straw-blonde haired girl. She looks up with wide doe eyes, thin brows furrowing as he continues to speak to her.
    I have no need to use my refined hearing. I know just as well what this is.
    The next slayer has been called.