Who - Jo Harvelle and Olivia Vincent What - I'm the Slayer, bitches!!! (With appearances from The First) Where - Sunnydale graveyard, coz that's where Slayers patrol When - Friday Night Rating: 15, with character death warnings Status - In Progress
Jo had realised quite early on that she had to be one of the Slayers. She'd loved Buffy in her teens. Watched every single episode, and for her, that actually wasn't that long ago. Not with those missing 7 years. Since, last thing she remembered, she was nearly 23 and now she was 29, with two kids, that she didn't even remember having. But, even so, she missed her little girls. At least she knew they were safe with her Mother.
After she'd realised that she'd somehow managed to acquire the Slayer powers, she'd spent her evenings patrolling the graveyard. Luckily for her, she already knew how to fight. Being raised in the life, however much her Mum wanted to keep her out of it had helped. So, she knew how to take care of herself against monsters. Each evening had been different. And yet, each one had brought more and more vampires taht had been raised. But, the last few nights had also been accompanied by the First's taunting. It knew that she knew what it was. But, it didn't stop it from trying to get to her, as it switched between her dad, and the Winchesters. And not just the boys, either. But, their dad too.
"He squealed like a pig when I put him out of his misery, you know" The voice of John Winchester taunted, as she tried to ignore him. Although, it wasn't easy. That memory was still fresh in her mind, the demon possessing Sam taunting her, attacking her. Telling her that John had killed her Dad. Not the monster that they'd been hunting. And, even as she thought about it, the First latched onto her thoughts, and it changed visage.
"You'll never get back. Not without my help."
She frowned, "Shut up. You're not Sam." She finally turned to look at the spectre. "You won't get to me. I know what you are."
"Oh, I know you do." He said, towering over her. "I know everything that's in that pretty little head of yours. That head would look so much better removed from your shoulders."
She covered her ears. Not wanting to hear the rest of whatever vile filth was going to come out of her friend's mouth. "Shut up, shut up, shut up. You're not him!"
She closed her eyes briefly. And then, when she opened them, she was looking into the deep brown eyes of Dean Winchester. "I'll only kill you, you know. Like my Daddy killed your Daddy." He drawled, as his eyes turned black, as if he was possessed by a demon.