Vampire Journal

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel and all related characters Copyright Joss Whedon. I'm just borrowing, thanks!



It’s tough being an undead. Really it is. I mean, you wake up, in the dark, its cramped, it smells like dirt, and well, you’ve got a velvet cushion holding you in place in your little box. So what do you have to do? Smash through the wood, then pull yourself up through six feet of disgusting dirt. Fortunately it’s dark out when you break the surface. Weird how that works huh?

I mean you’d think that there would be reports of vampires like myself pulling themselves up and instantly bursting into flame, right? Maybe just the stupid ones do so, or the horribly unlucky. But I think its more along the lines of the demon inside of us keeping us still, so we can’t go “poof” before even once sampling the nectar that is blood.

Ah, blood. That smell, that taste. It’s the first thing I remember after rising from my grave. There was a slight southeasterly breeze blowing over the graveyard. I was relieved, I mean, I hate being dirty, and clawing my way up out of my own grave? It was enough to drive a person mad. So here I am, 28 years old, 3 days dead, frantically shaking my clothes to get the dirt, mud, worms, and bugs out when I notice a scent I’ve never smelled before. It was golden and sweet and tangy and…well, there just aren’t any human words to describe it. I ran to find out what it was. And boy, let me tell you, I RAN. There isn’t an Olympic runner alive, or dead for that matter, that could keep up with my moves. Startled me, but then, hey, I’m a demon now, right? I should expect it.

I get close to the scent. There’s a convenient oak tree nearby, so I jump up and hide among the branches. I look down, over the graveyard wall, and what do I see? A teenager. The guy looks ripped, the kind of guy I hated when I was back in high school. He’s the one who beat up the skinny kids for fun. He’s the one who all the good-looking girls just swooned over. He’s the one who didn’t study, didn’t do the work, didn’t even show up to class, and still got passing grades. I didn’t even know this kid, and I hated him. I wanted to tear him apart.

That’s when this weird feeling took over my face. I felt up, and I had a Cro-Magnon brow, and my teeth felt funny. That’s when I knew, stone cold KNEW, that I was a vampire. Rising from the dead, super speed and strength? No indicator there. But when my teeth change? Yep, I’m a vampire. Oh well.

I leapt down from the tree, landing right in front of the guy. He jumps back a step, and I chuckle. He then throws down an attitude, how dare I, what did I think this was, Halloween, etc, etc, ad infinitum. I grinned, and that’s when I saw his composure start to crack. This was fun. Scaring a jock by standing there. I could get used to this.

As I expected, the reject couldn’t stand even a small slight to his courage. I was something to be feared, so he attacked it. He attacked ME. I just stood there. He swung with all his might, smashed me right in the nose…and I didn’t feel a thing. My head rocked back slightly.

He reacted much worse. He held his hand, crying out in agony. By now, the scent was pouring off him in waves, and I knew then that it was his blood. The scent increased as his heart started pounding.

I wanted it.

I craved it.

I had it.

When he was dead, arms still twitching ineffectually at my back, last spasms of his now deceased muscles, I felt a burning rush through my limbs. His blood had awoken me, taught me so much about myself.

I am vampire. I am undead. I am immortal. Only sun, fire, and Slayer could stop me. Slayer? The hell is that? I didn’t know then, but I sure as shit do now.