POV Buffy

I don't know how we got here. I don't know how the world I died for (twice) turned out this way. Maybe it was bound to happen. Maybe the world just wasn't ready for all these strong women at once. Or maybe I can just blame Harmony Kendall and Reality TV.

I hardly recognize this world anymore. A world where vampires have "come out of the coffin" – where they're famous or some ultra-hip minority group. And sure even I once was young and innocent and got caught up in the gestalt of the living dead. Sure, maybe you could have called me a 'fangbanger' back in the day. But I was doing it way before it got trendy.

Sometimes I find myself reading through the Watcher's Diaries and wondering if they would have ever suspected that we'd ever live in a world where Vampires are celebrities and Slayers are to be reviled and feared. So what did we do about it? No, we didn't stay and fight. You can't fight the entire world. No, instead we hid. And we gave up our Powers. Just kind of let them…slip away into the earth. Including me.

And it didn't work. Twilight and the military are still after us.

So now I'm standing on the side of a deserted Louisiana road, and Faith is kicking at the tires of our borrowed car and cursing like a sailor. As if any of it's going to magically make the vehicle work again.

We were on our way to New Orleans when the car broke down. One of Giles' still-reliable resources instructed us that there's a woman in the Big Easy who can help us with this Twilight madness. I'm sure I could have sent anybody else to retrieve this woman, but even without my Powers, I'm still the Leader.

Not to mention I needed a valid reason to get away from the disarming event that has become the Dawn and Xander smooch-fest.

Because we're trying to do this as incognito as possible, and plus with the whole nixing of the magic mojo, Faith and I took a small charter plane from the closest city to Oz's farm in the Himalayas. For the past week, we've been country-hopping until we found our way to the United States, leaving a complicated trail in our wake.

One of the new Potential's families lives in the D.C. area, so we took a train from Pennsylvania to the nation's capital to borrow her family's Honda Civic. I'm sure we could have just as easily gotten a rental car or taken a train or plane straight to New Orleans, but Giles reasoned it would be harder for Twilight to track us down this way.

When I first suggested the trip to the group, Satsu had insisted she should come along with me. But with our...uhm…past, I didn't really feel comfortable going on the King of all Road Trips with her. We've really tried to stay out of each other's way the past few months, anyway. I could tell she was hurt when I said no, but she seemed to perk up when I noted that she was my strongest warrior, and I needed her to stay behind and keep everyone safe.

I have to admit that I was more than a little surprised when Faith volunteered to come along, however. Since she's been back, we've been spending a lot of time together. And, surprisingly, we haven't hurt each other, yet. We even had a nice moment on Oz's farm, trying to move a giant boulder with sticks. Some kind of 'get used to being weak' activity that Oz and his wife thought up.

I admitted to her that I was tired of being the leader. Tired of standing over people. Her hand found its way to my shoulder in a consoling way, and it dawned on me that she had never touched me like that…never. It was a welcomed surprise to discover that her hands could do things besides strangle me under water.

We're still the only Originals out of this vast army of now-powerless women, and even though we still get crazy around each other once in a while, she's the only one who truly knows how this feels. Plus she's strong. Even without her Powers, she's still a trained warrior. And who knows what we'll find in New Orleans when we actually arrive there.

Correction. If we ever get there.

"Yo, B!" she calls out, rattling me out of my silent musings. "I think I see headlights!"

My head perks up at the prospect. Maybe the trip's not a total waste just yet.

When the borrowed compact had started making noises about ten miles down the road, I had begged Faith to pull over. She had insisted though with a dismissing wave of her hand that everything was fine.

"Trust me, B," she said with a lazy grin. "I know my car sounds, and this isn't anything to worry about."

She was convincing, so I squirmed back into the passenger seat and tried to get comfortable again. After all, Faith certainly is the tomboy type. I was sure she'd probably helped her guy friends in Boston fix up old cars. Besides, I reasoned, wasn't it also one of the many trades they taught you in Prison?

About fifteen minutes later she had the flashers on and the hood up. I didn't want to say 'I told you so' because that wasn't going to help out situation at all. But I did tell her so.

A big black pickup truck pulls to a squeaky stop, close to our broken car. The truck's engine shuts off and the driver climbs out. He's by himself, so I'm not too worried about our safety. I mean, we might not have our slayer powers, but we still know how to do stuff to protect ourselves.

The driver is about average height, probably in his mid-twenties – maybe a little younger than me. Even in the dark, I can tell his body is tan and tightly built as though he works outside all day. Landscaping, I think as I regard him. Or maybe construction.

"You girls alright?" he drawls as he slowly makes his way over to us. His leather boots crunch against the loose gravel on the shoulder of the road.

Faith looks exasperated as she fumbles around with the innards of our borrowed car. "This piece of shit car just broke down," she loudly complains. I can hear the sounds of her tinkering under the hood as she continues. "I'm thinking it might be the fuel pump cause I can't get the engine to turn over."

The man looks thoughtfully between Faith and the car. I could almost see the words 'Girls-Can't-Fix-Cars' scrawled on his forehead. He has a handsome face. His eyes look tight and his mouth drawn. It's the kind of face that could look mean if he wanted to. But right now he just looks mildly amused.

"You sure it ain't the battery or the alternator?" he suggests.

Faith sighs with disgust and slams the hood closed. "Listen, buddy –,"

"The name's Jason," the truck-owner smiles smoothly. "Jason Stackhouse."

"Well then, Jason…" Faith struggles to contain her anger between clenched teeth. "It couldn't possibly be either of those cause our emergency flashers and headlights still work."

Jason scratches at his scruffy blonde hair. "I recon you got a point there," he nods slowly.

Faith pushes out a long breath. "Could you just give us a ride to the closest town?"

Neither of us had a cell phone. Xander was worried the military would use the GPS to find us. And the idea of having a big homing beacon in my purse had been all the convincing I needed to keep the technology at home.

"Why sure thing!" the Southerner exclaims. "We're just a stones throw from Bon Temps. Gotta warn you though, she ain't much to look at."

"Does this Bon Temps place at least have a mechanic?" Faith sighs, running her fingers through her long brunette hair.

Jason nods enthusiastically. "Sure thing. And there's even talk of a Walmart gettin' built."

I gotta give Faith credit. She hasn't started to laugh yet. She merely rolls her eyes and thickly states, "Well isn't that just progressive."

"I'm Buffy!" I squeak out from my spot, sick of being left out of the conversation for so long. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I must look like a nightmare. We'd been driving all day.

Jason looks momentarily startled as if he hadn't noticed me standing there. But he recovers quickly. "Well, hi there, Buffy. Glad to make your acquaintance."

The sandy-haired man looks back at my disgruntled friend. "And who might you be?" he asks with a wide grin.

My brunette partner-in-slayage frowns. I forgot we were supposed to be using our cover names on the road. I'm supposed to be Molly Hefpepper and she's Ginger Rackhouse. Don't ask me where the names came from. Andrew just blurted them out when we were planning the trip.

"I'm Faith."

The oversized pickup slows down and pulls into a crowded, unpaved parking lot. I look around, trying to get my bearings. A trailer park seems to pop up in the distance. In the foreground is a tin and wood building whose giant neon sign proudly proclaims: 'Merlotte's.'

"Where are we?" I ask the driver. I got stuck in sitting in the middle because I'm the smallest of the three.

"Merlotte's is our local bar," he informs us as he puts his truck in park. "I know the owner, Sam, so I'll call ya'll a tow from his office, and you two can get something to eat. You girls look like you could use some meat on your bones."

Jason unsnaps his seat belt and goes to unfasten mine as well. Faith slaps his hands away before they can get too close to me, however. "She's got hands of her own, stud-muffin," she snaps. "I think she can handle it herself." Jason only grins and shrugs, not offended by Faith's curt demeanor.

As we follow Jason up to the bar's main entrance, I grab onto Faith's elbow. "Why do you have to be so mean?" I hiss, low enough for only her to hear.

I can feel her arms go rigid. "I just don't like that cocky S.O.B., that's all," she complains.

I narrow my eyes at her. "Well I think he's sweet, so leave him alone."

"Yeah," Faith snorts. "I bet he's real sweet. Right up until you spread your thighs for him."

I slap at her arm hard, wishing I still had the physical strength to make it sting a little. "What is with you?" I demand. "I'm not looking to start anything. He was nice to give us a ride, that's all. So stop it."

Faith rolls her eyes at me. "Yeah, I'll bet he wants to give you a ride."

I bite down on my tongue to keep from saying something scathing and hurtful. We'd been doing so well the entire trip. I didn't understand why she had to ruin it now.

Jason opens the door for us, which only makes Faith's scowl even deeper. We walk through the door, and I quickly take in my surroundings. The bar is modestly sized. A jukebox stands untouched in a far corner along with a single pool table. The rest of the space is filled with small wooden tables and restaurant booths. The chairs are all covered in a green vinyl that reminds me of the bowling alley my parents used to take me to when I was much younger.

In the center of the space is the bar itself, where a beautiful woman with dark, flawless skin serves up beer and mixed drinks for the clientele. Her long, black hair is pulled back from her face in tiny, skinny braids. Her high cheekbones are well-defined, and when she wipes down the countertop with a bar rag, I can see the strength of her slender body in the way her upper arms slightly ripple. Some women have a flawless kind of beauty, and this bartender certainly has it.

"You two go on and take a load off." Jason's voice startles me momentarily. I had forgotten he was standing behind me.

I dutifully follow Faith back towards a corner booth and give a nervous smile to everyone who looks our way. It's obvious that Bon Temps doesn't receive too many visitors. That or I've suddenly just grown horns.

Our roadside savior gives us a quick wave as Faith and I sit down opposite each other. "I won't be long," he promises with a wink. "Just gonna go call that tow truck." Jason turns to walk away, and I find myself staring at the tightest ass in the world's tightest pair of faded jeans.

"That boy's not too bright, but he certainly wears the hell outta jeans."

I look up quickly to see a bright red-haired woman with heavy make-up standing over our table. Her cheeks are blushed pink and her eyelids are teal-blue. She's wearing the same outfit as the other bar employees – a thin, white t-shirt with Merlotte's scrawled in green ink, and short, black cotton shorts.

"Oh, I-I was just," I stammer with embarrassment. Leave it to me to get busted the one time I indulge myself. "I wasn't, I mean..."

The waitress gives me a sly wink and clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Don't worry about it, Sugar," she reassures me. "Even the locals like to visit the zoo sometimes."

I flick my eyes over to Faith's face. What is this woman talking about? My brunette friend just gives me a shrug, but the devilish smile on her face lets me know I wasn't the only one ogling the local scenery.

"Arlene," a high-pitched female voice calls out, "are you fixin' to steal another one of my tables?"

A girl a little younger than me with light blonde hair walks over to Arlene, and gives her a gentle bump with her hip. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she's curled the ends giving her a kind of 1950s bobby-sox look. Her make-up is light, but her pink lip-gloss shines against her bronzed face. She's wearing the same uniform as everyone else, but seems to fill it out a little more. Her breasts are a little larger than the other waitress's, making her top tight across her chest. Her hips are a little fuller, pulling the drab cotton shorts higher up her tanned thighs.

Arlene grins at the younger woman. "Don't you worry, girl," she drawls. "I've got a full-plate tonight. Your tables are safe from me." The red-haired waitress's teeth shine down on us before she saunters away. "I'd suggest you stay away from the chili," she warns us. "It's a little spicy tonight."

When Arlene has moved on to another section of the bar, the blonde girl sets two napkins down and two waters in tall plastic glasses. "Welcome to Merlotte's," she beams, looking the two of us over. "Let me tell you about our specials tonight."

My attention is taken away from the laminated menu in front of me when that familiar itch at the base of my spine alerts me. I look up and catch Faith's eyes. She felt it too. Vampire. Apparently even though we're physically powerless, our Vampire alert-system still works just fine.

I look toward the entrance of the bar and bristle when a broad-shouldered man strolls easily into the bar as though he'd done in a hundred times before. His skin is eerily pale and his nose and chin strong like a marble Roman or Greek statue. His dark hair is thick and pushed across his forehead in a style that looks both modern and old at the same time. His face is clean-shaven except for a pair of long mutton-chops that fall further south than is currently fashionable. Vampire, indeed.

I flick my eyes away from the vampire and back towards Faith. I can tell she's thinking the same thing as me. Could the two of us together take on a single vampire? I honestly can't remember the last time I dusted a vampire. I've been so busy running and fighting humans lately that I haven't had time to enjoy the simpler things in life.

I watch suspiciously as the vampire takes a seat at a booth not too far from ours. He nods and gives a surprisingly warm smile to our waitress. She in turn waves at him. "I'll be right over, Bill," she chirps. "Just gotta take these girls' order."

I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone. There's no way that everyone in this bar doesn't know that 'Bill' is a vampire. And yet, no one seems alarmed or uneasy that he's here. In fact, the longer I sit here, the more I notice people waving and saying hello to him. Sure I'd seen more vampires on the TV ever since Harmony's freak-show reality series, but I had no idea that they were so…so integrated.

The blonde waitress's eyes go real big, and she stares at the two of us like we've just suddenly grown horns.

"What?" Faith barks. Miss I've-spent-time-in-the-Big-House has never been very subtle.

The girl's voice gets really low. "You two are some of those vampire killers I've heard about on the TV." It's not a question. It's as if she knew exactly what I was thinking.

Faith's mouth twists into an ugly grimace. "We're Slayers," she snarls quietly. "Not killers. But don't worry about us," she breezes, "we're off-duty tonight."

I grab at Faith's hand under the table and give it a quick, reassuring squeeze. Her dark eyes meet mine, and I can see the strained anger behind her thick eyelashes. I know that the word "killer" has always been a tender spot for her.

I look at the waitress with renewed interest. "How did you know who we are?" I ask, the suspicion thick in my voice.

The bar employee looks momentarily flustered and her pretty bronzed face turns a slight shade of pink. "I-I'm just good at pickin' up on people's energies, ya know? Like, I'm real good at reading body language and facial expressions."

I take a sip from my glass of water and nod slowly, my eyes not leaving her face. I don't believe her for a second.

I want to find out more about this blonde waitress, so I try to strike up a conversation with her as she tries to take our food order. "Kinda busy in here isn't it?"

She looks around the crowded bar and nods absently. "Yeah, there was a rodeo down in Shreveport, so we're getting the crowd comin' home from that. Normally it's not like this on a Thursday night."

In the distance I hear a familiar electric guitar rift coming from the jukebox. Someone in the bar picked, "You Shook Me All Night Long" by AC/DC. When the single gets further into its intro and more people recognize the song, a few hoots and hollers fill the bar. Everyone's got a grin plastered on their face as they take long pulls from their beer bottles and a couple of guys in tight jeans twirl their girls around on a make-shift dance floor.

Were things ever this carefree and easy in my entire life?

Jason takes this moment to return to our table. He slides into the booth next to me with a big grin across his tan face. His actions make our waitress upset, however. The blonde girl rests her hands on her hips. "Jason," she states crossly, "what are you doing? Stop bothering these girls."

Faith looks back and forth between the two locals. "You guys know each other?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.

The bar employee smirks prettily. "Well, number one," she points out, "Bon Temps ain't some huge city, so pretty much everyone here knows everyone else's business. And number two," she continues matter-of-factly, "he's my brother."

I look quickly between the two and try to pick up the resemblance. Maybe it's the eyes.

"Aww shucks, Sook," Jason lightly complains, "they was stranded up on County W and I gave 'em a ride into town." He gives his sister a brilliant, yet innocent smile. "Nothing wrong with that now, is there?"

'Sook' looks warily between the three of us. I'm betting she doesn't want her brother getting wrapped up with "killers" like us.

Jason turns away from his sister and looks at me. "Called that tow truck for y'all," he smoothly drawls. "They're gonna drag your ride over to McFarlens to get fixed up."

"Great!" I chirp, scooting my backside across the green vinyl seat like I want to get out of the booth. Jason doesn't take the hint though and is still in my way. "Faith and I should probably get over there," I add, hoping he'll take the hint.

"What's the hurry?" Jason grins. His arm snakes out and casually rests on the back of the booth so his fingertips just barely brush against the top of shoulder. "McFarlens won't be open until the morning," he notes with a yawn. "Your car'll just be sittin' out front of the shop. Might as well take a load off until then."

"Well, we should at least be looking for some place to stay the night then," I point out.

He gives me a devilish smile. "I've got plenty of room at my place," he offers.

A small cough drags me away from Jason's boyish face. His sister is still standing there with her hands on her curvy hips. "Or Sam, the bar owner," she offers, her voice dripping with disapproval, "has a motel right out back." She tears her sharp eyes away from Jason and flashes Faith and me a quick grin. "Why don't you two come with me, and I'll set ya up with a nice clean room for the night?"

I look over at Faith, but she only gives me another patented shrug.

"I'll go," I offer. "Faith," I give her a warning look, "stay out of trouble."

She gives me that infamous dimpled grin and a quick wink. "Sure thing, Sugar."

"Sorry if I was a little short with y'all back there," the blonde girl apologizes as she brings me out the staff entrance and into the back parking lot. "Jason just doesn't know when to quit with the charm, and I didn't want ya'll to get the wrong impression of Bon Temps on your first night here."

"Oh!" I exclaim, suddenly feeling relief flush through my body. "You were protecting us from him? I thought you didn't want Jason involved with us because…" I look around to make sure no one can overhear our conversation, "because we're Slayers."

I know I should be more secret-identity girl, especially with Twilight hunting us, but there's something about this Southern blonde that makes me want to trust her.

The waitress waves a hand, dismissing my worries. "Heck," she laughs, "you two look harmless enough. I've seen enough this past year to know that not all vampires are Saints. And for dead sure there's some out there that deserve killin'."

I squint my eyes at the waitress. "What about Bill?" I question, not able to completely push his existence out of my mind. "Is he a Saint?"

Her eyes go wide when I bring up the vampire from the bar. "Bill? Oh, you don't have to worry about him," she breezes. "He's as harmless as a fly." She gives me a proud grin. "Ever since we started datin' about a year back, he hasn't fed off a single human. Just drinks that synthetic Japanese True Blood." Her skin goes pink suddenly. "I mean, sometimes he'll take a nip at me, but that's just when we're uh…wrestling."

Wrestling. Uh-huh.

She laughs and it's a nervous bubble. "Here I go ramblin' on and on about my business, and we haven't even been properly introduced." She wipes her hands on the front of her apron and sticks a smooth hand in my direction, giving me a beaming smile. "I'm Sookie. Sookie Stackhouse."

I take her warm hand in mine and give it a firm shake. "Buffy," I grin. "Buffy Summers."