The Slaying Hour

The Slaying Hour

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WpMetadataReadOngoing1h 30m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Jul 3, 2017
I was 15 when I learned about the baddies that go bump in the night. I have died twice and flat-lined once when I was shot by this guy named Warren, but here I am. Still kicking. I am a vampire slayer. The oldest surviving slayer too. It's been seven years since the last big baddie decide to pick a fight with me. All things were going well. Dawns at college in Atlanta on scholarships at Emory University. Xander and Giles are the new leaders of the Watchers Council. Willow works at some witch boarding school. And me? I don't know. I move from town to town. Dusting the vamps and killing demons. Sometimes Faith and I collaborate but not very often. Today I packed up my things in Charlottesville, Virginia and got back on the road in my silver Volvo. The car was a gift from a nice couple I saved a few months back in Mississippi. Thanks to them I travel a lot faster now. Which is why I am back on the road. I have heard of some suspicious "animal attacks" nearby and my slayer instincts are going off like crazy. I can feel it. There is something strange going on in Mystic Falls.....
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#515
buffythevampireslayer
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Hell Hall

High School. A virtual hell to every pimple covered, greasy haired, knowledge loving kid who walks the halls of the institution. Only a very proud few manage to rise among the ranks to become "the cool kids," snagging the lucky fate of living the best years of their lives up through the twelfth grade. We'll just not tell them what happens after they graduate. In ten years, when the kid the football team swirlied is their boss, they'll realize that it probably would have been better to not be cool when they were teens. But that doesn't matter now. Why you ask? I'll tell you. My name is Bridge, which isn't short for Bridgette, if you were wondering. My parents were assholes when they were younger, I guess. It could have been worse; at least I'm not a piece of fruit or an airline. Unique names can kiss my little undead butt. Oh yeah, that. I'm also dead. No need to apologize—it's not your fault, unless you're the pile of crap who murdered me. If so, could you fill me in on what happened? I'd really like to know how my life ended. The last thing I remember is going out for a milkshake and then, poof! I was here. Where is here, you ask? If you ask any of the adults, it's Harrison's Preparatory Institution for the Gifted and Unknown. If you ask any of the students, it's Hell Hall. That's right, bitches; high school is now back in session.

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