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[Stefan Badenhorst]

“I’m like the Damned’s magnet,” he murmured. Bloody self-pity screwing with his top hatted head. “I meet someone… They die - by my fist or an external one.”

Who was next?

Stefan Badenhorst slumped against a café window which overlooked the setting sun - a plane paused mid-crash and burn. Its sharp ruddy shadows striped his lightweight plastic table. In luminous green letters, the rubbery cover bragged: All furniture one hundred percent biodegradable! A pity vampires weren’t. He wondered how many would fling back their coffins tonight… Three… Four… Five hundred?

A spiky buzz answered him.

He scowled at a brass teapot. A fly crawled on the tip of its sprout. Disgusting. There was absolutely no way that he would pour himself another cup - despite the fact that there were two servings of fair-trade organic green tepee coffee left bubbling.

Tossing back his head, he gulped down his cup's untainted contents. The floating bits provoked a wince - which he drove away with more frowning. God! He wished the busty fourteen year old waitresses had warned him about the bleeding nettles. No tips today. There hadn't been any yesterday - and the weeks previously.

“Filthy bastard,” he snarled at the fly. It had since scuttled onto the teapot’s rotund hip where the spindly engraving proclaimed: One hundred percent recyclable! “You’re next.”

The creak of bones and seats provoked gritted teeth. He resisted the urge to glare at the tables and tables of jam-packed gawpers. Just his luck to pick a busy evening eh? At least they were human - or so his nose and hackles claimed.

Though he hadn't gobbled up any of this eco-friendly crap, a fork lounged beside his plate. Not even steel, but one of those naff wooden ones. Our cardboard packaging made from sustainable forests!

Badenhorst shoved it through the fly’s fat black body. He wondered - hoped - they felt pain. Absolute agony.

The pest’s monotonous buzz rose into an alarmed wail.

“Welcome to Hell. Prick.”

[Demetrius Bane]

[[Let's try this again lol]]

The mall was not a vampire hot spot, nor was it really somewhere Demetrius had ever ventured. He wasn't much of a big time shopper and tended to get his clothes from a private tailor though said tailor was only alive for as long as Bane enjoyed the clothes he made for him. As soon as the man failed to produce something Bane liked he would be killed, and not in a particularly pleasant way either.

The vampire had decided before venturing out in to the streets of Sunnydale that tonight he would only make one kill, he would kill the human he was going to feed from and that was it. No others would die until he had spoken with The Master and ensured that he was not going to end up the prey in anyone's game. So the mall of course seemed like a very intelligent place to search for humans, without the watchful eye of The Master's brood. Bane found that should he be being watched he might feel awkward feeding, he had never much liked being observed while he ate. It made the hairs on his neck stand on end, much like when you're doing a test and someone is umming and aahing over your shoulder.

Stepping through the large double doors that signaled the entrance to Sunnydale's only shopping centre the vampire tested the air. It was rife with the scent of humans, hormones swam in the stale air flavoured by coffee and other human foods. His grey eyes shifted to explore his surroundings, there were countless shops thriving despite the very real danger that pressed on the town. If the mall were the only part of Sunnydale you ever saw you might think there was nothing wrong with the town. There was none of the stagnant depression, in fact teenage laughter filled the air. Demetrius watched as girls gossiped to one another and boys made crude references that had he been a few hundred years younger he would have understood, their meaning of course was very clear to him. It seemed that with the passing years the actions of hormonal teenagers have not changed they've merely become more acceptable.

The click of $200 worth of black leather shoes echoed in his ears as he walked through the mall. It was strange that had he been a human he wouldn't have been able to distinguish the sound of his heels against the chaos of general conversation. Demetrius slipped his hands in to the pockets of his pinstripe trousers and let his gaze wander to the many faces, each telling its own lie. Desperately pretending that everything was okay, that death did not wait around every corner.

What should have been a sharp jab hit the vampire's shoulder and he glanced to his left. A ballsy teenage boy had collided with him and not got the effect he had hoped for, instead Demetrius stood unphased by the pathetic assault and the boy looked embarrassed. It was clear the teenager would have to think up someway to regain the respect he had just now lost. Before the boy had a chance to move Bane raised his hand and lightly shoved the juvenile to the floor, continuing on his increasingly wasteful journey.

Demetrius was beginning to think the mall was a let down when a new scent crept up his nostrils. It was a scent thats origin he recognised by the individual possessing the smell was new to him. Twisting his body the vampire made in the direction of the new scent, interested as to what exactly this werewolf was up to.

The vampire made no sound as he shifted through the crowd, nor did the humans seem to notice his presence. The light fabric of his shirt barely touched the humans skin as he brushed past them, probably an aid to their not noticing him. Had he been wearing something heavy he might draw a few stares. Coming to a halt behind the werewolf Demetrius' grey eyes took in the strange attire, one he had not seen for many years. "So, what century did they drag you from then lad?"

[Stefan Badenhorst]

He glared at the fly which refused to stop writhing around on the fork. Stubborn bastard. They were harder to kill than the blooming vampires - though not quite as teeth grindingly irritating. He recalled last night’s fiasco, a ruddy rage prickling his nape and back. Badenhorst better not remember anymore - unless he wanted to scuff his fists on the window or a passing mug.

Stick to the fly eh? He plucked off its filmy wings, its single continuous whine tumultuous in the room. Curse his hyper-sensitive hearing. The chortling diners and crashing cutlery were amplified to excruciating levels. He’d get more relief out of trying to sleep away a hangover beside a loud speaker system. The werewolf had managed to shake off today’s by mid-morning - his fastest yet. Now he only wanted to vomit - or hang himself. Fifty-six percent of corpses dumped on landfill sites!

Hang himself? Hardly peaceful in this turbulent-

A voice provoked his jump. Bollocks!

Badenhorst dropped his fork, which clattered to the ground. That fall must have killed the fly - surely. He would have checked - had a disembodied voice not irked his curiosity.

Armed with his best scowl, he swivelled towards the gentleman. Classy clothes. They looked more expensive than his. Wait a second… That was possible? Jesus. He must have robbed a bank - or a small country. The werewolf found it surprising that his sallow skin hadn’t turned envious green. Or red from being called lad. He was bleeding thirty-five.

“What century?” he growled. “More like what gutter. Any particular reason why you’re bothering random blokes at the mall? I ain’t got any spare change mate. Even if I did, I wouldn’t bloody give it to you. I work too hard. Go sell one of your fancy suits or sports cars you-”

An acrid scent stung his throat more cuttingly than that shite brew. Ugh vampire.

“For your sake, I hope it’s money you want,” he whispered in a confidential rush. “Because my blood comes with a Surgeon General’s Warning.”

[Demetrius Bane]

[[Still a little lame, I have writers block]]

The werewolf didn't seem pleased to see him and Bane allowed a look of false hurt to cross his face. The wolf thought him a human, how quaint. It was interesting how a creature with such good senses could be so stupid. Scuffing an expensive shoe on the dirt ridden floor the vampire pouted at his unwitting companion. Looking hurt he shifted to move closer and caught the scent of liquor on the man's breath. "An alcoholic. How... typical." Letting his frown subside the vampire allowed an unnecessary breath escape his lips. "I find," his grey eyes shifted to the mass of humans around them, "the smell of liquor'll drive any young lass away."

Turning away from the werewolf his mind not on anything in particular the vampire took in his surroundings. It was a small cafe in the middle of a mass of human infested shops. He wasn't sure how the werewolf could stand it, to be surrounded by dinner. There was little reason to associate with humans, not even for a werewolf..

Demetrius ran his fingers along the railing around the cafe as the werewolf acknowledged his presence. It spoke as if it could frighten him, and he had to smile at the prospect. Werewolves in their primal form were not very intelligent and apparently, this one wasn't too bright in his human form either. Walking around the table so that he was at the seat opposite the werewolf Demetrius pulled the chair out and made himself comfortable.

Leaning back and letting a smile creep across his lips, the vampire titled his head to one side. How many werewolves had the gall to speak to a vampire in such a way? He'd killed werewolves countless times in the past. What made this one think itself so special. In fact the real question was what made it think he wanted to feed off of it? What self-respecting vampire drinks off a werewolf? Certainly not any Bane had ever come across.

The threat hung in the air and Demetrius laughed, it was a dry laugh. His grey eyes shifted from the werewolf's face to the ground where the fly lay staked and lifeless. He considered commenting, practicing on flies was not an effect method of preparing oneself to do battle with vampires. "Tell me. D'ya think yourself special?" The vampire leaned forward and raised a brow at the werewolf. "I think meself a man of finer taste."

[Stefan Badenhorst]

The vampire smirked at his gritted toothed glares and snarled threats. What a typical leech - so effing supercilious and self-assured. Goddamn him. You couldn’t instil any fear or respect into these bastards - unless you punched away their patronising pouts and sanctimonious grins.

He scrunched up his fists - which blanched as the vampire mocked his alcoholism.

“Pity it doesn’t drive your sort away,” he growled.

It’d give him an excuse to knock back more pints. Badenhorst shoved a hand in his breast pocket, but couldn’t locate his canteen. Bollocks. He needed something strong to blank out the taste of scummy coffee and stagnant undead. Or his vision - so he could pretend that last thing didn’t exist.

Would have been useful - especially with the leech sat at his table. Jesus Christ. Did he have any motives? Or just got his kicks out of goading the masses? The werewolf refused to take any of that shit. He arched up in his seat, intending to glare down at his unwanted tenant. That was difficult when they were taller than you.

Did he think himself special? God. The lofty bastard was taking the piss.

“Depends on your definition of special,” Badenhorst glowered. “If you mean… Cursed… Damned… And corrupted… Then certainly. But I guess that makes you special and all.”

How could he compare himself to this parasite? His self-esteem wasn’t that low. The vampire leaned towards him, his throat unbearably close and exposed. One… Quick… Slash… But the werewolf faltered - he didn’t have any proof that this gobby git was the murdering type. He just needed to bog off - and he would given the proper encouragement.

With deliberate slowness, Badenhorst shoved a gold stake down his shirt sleeve. It twinkled and glittered in the café’s gloom.

“You don't want a drink, why then are you wasting my time?” he rumbled. “I’m out on Neighbourhood Watch soon you know…”

[Demetrius Bane]

Demetrius wasn't really sure why he had been drawn in by the wolf, he knew he enjoyed toying with their kind. They were nothing before the full moon, no strength, no speed, no stamina. All a werewolf could claim in human form was a heightened sense of smell, it was pathetic. Maybe to another human this waste of space might be intimidating, but to a vampire the idea was laughable.

The English prick could threaten until the cows came home and Demetrius still wouldn't take him seriously. Did he really think he could out wit, or out maneuver a creature so superior to himself? And okay, it's a totally arrogant thought, but honestly where was the challenge?

He could have laughed at the werewolf's idea of his own gift and how he choose to relate it to Bane's. He could have but he didn't. Instead he just stared, his grey eyes looking in to the werewolf's. It was always amusing how half of the werewolf population loved their crazy moonlit romps and the other half tried to pretend it didn't happen. Hiding away from a part of them it would be easier to accept. Fortunately, vampires didn't have this problem. Maybe it came with having a soul and conscience for the better part of the month., but then how did this explain human women? It was easy to say that if you chose to they could do a whole thesis on werewolves, and he supposed some human, somewhere probably had. Then again, what self respecting scientist would believe the thesis to be true, I mean after all humans are funny like that. Throw them into the middle of an apocalypse and the next day they've forgotten all about it. Werewolves seem to maintain this human trait.

Letting a low growl rumble in his throat the vampire leaned back in his seat, lifting his legs and resting his expensive shoes on the table. Neighbourhood watch eh? Interesting term of phrase. Not exactly what Bane would have called it, more like pointless death wish but still, if he wanted to make it seem somehow heroic then that was his prerogative. "Can't a dead man just be lookin' for a bit o' company?" The vampire shifted his gaze, the sound of human heart beats echoed in his ears. "After all, not a lot in this town that can't be considered dinner," Demetrius gave the wolf a meaningful look, "Don't ya agree?"