He blinked, furrowing his brow.
Everything was a blur.
"Check this out—I didn't know they still put these things in cars."
The Watcher glanced over at his Slayer, who was fiddling with the eight track player.
"Not even a cassette?" She glanced over at him. "Tell me you didn't buy this new."
"It was the height of technology when I purchased this car. Quite a step up from the AM/FM radio, if you ask me."
"You really are a dinosaur."
"Now, that's not fair."
Rolling her eyes, she began to dig through the box of eight tracks. "So, what kind of dinosaur music you got?"
He groaned; the world was crimson with pain...or perhaps that was blood.
The Slayer entered the training room, plunking a box into his lap. He frowned dubiously at the garish green-and-purple-polka-doted paper.
"Well, go on, open it!" She was nearly bouncing in her excitement.
As much as he wanted to be annoyed in the disruption in their training regimen, he couldn't help but be amused.
Carefully, he unwrapped the package and opened the box.
It was full of eight tracks.
"I bought you dinosaur music!"
A figure loomed in his sight, once-coffee-colored eyes were stained amber, a beautiful smile stretched into a sharp-fanged parody of itself.
As he stared into the eyes of his death, he had only one thought: He'd failed her.
After she left, he began to sort through the box.
It was the first birthday present he'd received in fifteen years that didn't contain alcohol.
The stench of dirt and death clung to her body as she leaned over his chest, lapping at the blood that flowed from his neck—his life, spilling onto the pavement.
He felt…empty…and so tired, but he managed to lift his arm, tangling his fingers in the brunette curls of his Slayer.
He'd always taught her to wear a pencil in her hair, just in case; funny how the habit would mean her death…and her salvation, now.
"So did you like it?" She bounced into his office, a hopeful expression on her face.
"Yes. It was…lovely." He smiled. "Thank you."
"You're welcome!" Grinning, she turned and skipped away.
He clenched his fist—ashes slipping through his fingers—as he shut his eyes and the world faded to black.
Originally archived here.