Deacon was really very thankful for the very very expendable Vampire Cult that worshiped the Slayer and seemed to listen to him as her...ugh...consort. But also as something different, wood didn't dust him like it did every other vampire here.
And Silver didn't dust them annoyingly, he'd checked, several times, various places in the city. Luckily they didn't know it worked on him.
So he was happy when they stepped in front of the hideous thing screaming at him.
"Your pissed at me, Friend of the Slayer. Or Blade or...actually there's a lot of reasons you could be pissed. I'd ask if you were Creed but somehow I don't think he'd have listened this long. So can I help you?"