Clear, emerald green eyes peered through the blinding darkness, searching for the next source of sweet blood to feed from. Scarlet hair flowed freely in the breeze with each step she took, her lithe body moving into an alley behind a club—what she assumed was the local teen hotspot, dubbed, ‘The Bronze’.
Keeping her distance, she spotted her prey, a young male, nose in a book. Her lips slowly formed a predatory smirk, watching him bump into a few teens passing by.
“Watch where you’re going…” he grumbled, picking up the book he had dropped.
Slipping from the shadows, she approached him from behind, grabbing the back of his neck, shoving him against the cold, brick wall. Gasping in surprise, he dropped his book again.
“P-please…don’t hurt me,” The boy begged, his hand covering the one that is firmly planted on his neck.
Her eyes peered into his icy blue ones as her head slowly tilted to the side. He stared right back, his curly, light brown hair falling into his eyes from the breeze. Unhurriedly, her hand slipped away from his neck, her fingers lightly grazing his cheek.
He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and upon reopening them she was gone, nothing but bit of fog in her wake. His eyes searched up and down the alley, seeing nothing but darkness. Forgetting his book, he ran off, as fast as his feet could carry him.
Only after he had gone around the corner did she return from the shadows, kneeling down to pick up the overlooked text.
After shutting and locking the front door, the young male took off his coat, panting softly, hanging it up on the stair railing before moving past the dining room and into the kitchen. Going straight for the second cupboard to the right of the sink, he got down a glass, setting it on the counter top before moving to another cabinet, and directly into his father’s stash of liquor.
“I can’t believe this,” the boy muttered to himself, pouring half a glass of Scotch. “The first time I even get looked at twice by a woman and she attacked me. And what do I do? I cry like the nancy boy I am.”
A dry chuckle left him as he put the glass to his lips, downing the drink, feeling the warm liquid slide down his throat. Letting out a sigh, he lifted a shaky hand and refilled the glass another half of the way to the top.
He hadn’t been this shaken up for a very long time. Feeling so unnerved was certainly bothersome.
Placing the bottle of Scotch back into the cupboard, he moved into the living room with his glass in hand.
“William…” an elder man greeted, sitting up in the chair he occupied. William froze.
“Da’, what are you doing home?”
“Turns out they didn’t need me for tonight’s shift. What were you doing out so late?” His father raised a brow, taking off his glasses as he stands.
“I was at the library, and then I went to The Bronze.” He shrugged, moving farther into the room.
“You were out past curfew.”
His father watched him sit down on the couch, releasing a weary sigh.
William rolled his eyes, putting the glass to his lips with a scoff. He said nothing.
“I don’t feel it’s safe for you or your sister to be out after sunset.” His father narrowed his eyes, noticing the bruise forming on William’s skin. “What happened to your neck?”
Pointedly ignoring his question, William lowered his glass, “That’s right, Rupert Giles…perfect father, always looking out for his family.”
“Don’t take that tone with me young man, and what in the bloody hell are you drinking?” Giles asked, snatching the glass from his son, sniffing its contents.
“What do you think? Something to get me good and snockered. You know, what you call a normal evenin’.” William grabbed the glass back, downing the rest of it before shoving it back into his father’s hand. “I’m going to bed.” He brushed past Giles, going to the stairs.
Climbing up to the second floor, he could hear his father muttering his annoyance as he went past the stair well and into the kitchen to put the glass up. Walking down the hall, William passed by his stepsister’s bedroom, peaking through the door that was slightly left ajar. Seeing his sister’s sleeping form, he felt a little better knowing she was safe in her bed. He gently closed the door then went to his room across from hers. Going into his bathroom, he sighed, looking into the mirror.
Reaching up, he lightly ran his fingers over the bruise the woman had left around his neck. Her strength had startled him, but not nearly as much as the intensity she held when she looked into his eyes. The thought had made him shudder slightly
Opening the medicine cabinet, he took out his contact lens case, and carefully removed the lenses in his eyes. Turning on the faucet, he placed his hands into the cool water, splashing his face, missing a shadow move along the wall from the outside. Taking the towel from the towel rack, he dried his face and switched the light off, moving back into his room.
Picking a pair of flannel pajamas, he slipped them on, and with a sigh, sat down on the edge of his bed, running his hand through his hair. He glanced at his alarm clock and the glasses on his nightstand.
“Green eyes and red hair. Hmm.” He smiled, opening up the drawer to his nightstand, taking out a ragged composition notebook, along with a pen. He slid under the covers, leaning against the headboard. Opening up his journal, he flipped to a blank page toward the middle, and set to writing.
Green eyes flickered from the fire in the fireplace to the book resting on the hearth. Picking it up, she trailed her fingertips over the raised text. 'Vampires: real or fiction?'
So, the young man was interested in the supernatural. People could be so na´ve sometimes. He lives on the Hellmouth for God’s sake. He should know at his age that they’re very real.
A slow, calculating smile formed on her perfect mouth.
Maybe it was time to give the boy proof. Show him not everything that goes bump in the night is fairytale fiction.
Standing up, she placed the book on a coffee table, undressing as she started toward her room. After a quick shower, she crawled into bed just as the sun began to rise. Her eyes closed slowly, both body and mind drifting into a deep slumber, getting rest she needed. After all, she had plans for the blue-eyed boy.
“Will! Come on get up!” A female voice called to him.
William groaned softly, lying on his stomach, the journal under his face, open to the page he had been writing on last night.
“You’re drooling on your notebook,” his sister mentioned, moving it away, making a bit of a face. “What do you write in this thing anyway?” she asked as she began to read it, letting out a soft gasp when his hand shot out, covering the top of it, taking it away.
“It’s personal” William said, placing the book back into the drawer.
“All right, I give. I won’t try to become part of your life anymore.” She frowned, sitting on the edge of his bed.
“Dawn…it’s not that I don’t want you to be part of my life. It’s that I need to have a life, one of my own. I need to have privacy is all.”
“I get that. I do. But you’ve been so, avoidy, ya know? Ever since mom…” she trailed off a little. “Since then, you haven’t been the same. You’re always sneaking out and…”
“And what I do is my business.”
He got out of bed, going to his closet. Her voice stopped his hand mid-reach for his clothes.
“Are you on drugs?”
“What?” He turned around, arching a brow. “No, I’m not on drugs.” He sighed. “Look, how about me and you take time out every day to just talk, hmm? Become close like we used to be.”
“I’d like that.”
“Now...since you had to get me up so early on a Saturday, how about we go to the Espresso Pump for some breakfast?”
“Sounds good.” She smiled, moving past him to his door. “I’ll tell dad where we’re going. You know he’ll spaz if we don’t.”
William nodded, watching her go out into the hallway. Looking back into his closet, he picked out a light blue, long sleeve, button up shirt and blue jeans. He grabbed a quick shower, put in his contacts, and went down the stairs, dressed and ready for the outing.
“No, Dawn, absolutely not…” Giles protested, cleaning his glasses. William slowed his walk on the stairs, eavesdropping.
“Why not? I have my license now. I’m not that bad of a driver.” Dawn said with a pout. “Just tonight?”
Giles sighed, “Fine. One night, and you have to be back before eleven.”
“Deal.” With a wide grin, she placed a kiss on her stepfather’s cheek.
William rolled his eyes, continuing down the stairs, “Ready Lil’ Bit?”
Dawn looked up at her brother with that same triumphant grin. “Yep.”
William opened the front door, holding it as she slipped out before him.
“William,” his father called to him, forcing him to halt his hand on the closing door, “You and I need to have a talk when you return.”
“I won’t be back until later,” he said, walking out of the house before Giles could say anything more. As he closed the door and stepped further out onto the porch, William rubbed the back of his neck, trying to relieve some of the tension he felt. Drawing in a deep breath, he headed for the driveway…and his car. He got into the driver’s side and waited as Dawn loaded into the other side.
“You and dad have been getting into it a lot lately, huh?”
Sighing, he nodded, starting the car, and headed to the coffee shop. “You could say that. I’m 19, and he treats me as if I’m a child. Hell my birthday is next week, even.”
“You both have changed since the accident with mom. He’s still…”
“He still blames me for what happened, Dawn.”
His eyes remained on the road as he paused at a stop sign. His fingers tightened on the wheel beneath them. “I’m not blind. I can see it in his eyes. He favors you, lets you get away with more. Because you remind him of her.”
Silence entered the interior of the car, broken only by the squeal of tires as William finally pulled into the parking lot of the Espresso Pump. He glanced at her after parking the car in a space near the front, frowning when he noticed the moisture in her eyes. “I’m sorry, sis. I didn’t mean—
Dawn looked over and gave him a halfhearted smile. “I know.” Unbuckling her seatbelt, she absently reached for the door handle beside her. He watched as she climbed out, leaving him alone in the car with his thoughts.
William sighed, hanging his head in regret. His eyelids slid shut as he tried to regain control of his emotions; it didn’t work. A second after his lids closed, they raised, a pair of expressive, emerald green eyes firmly embedded onto his brain.
Who the hell was she? And why did she think enough to ever let him go?
End Part 1.