Come Out, Come Out
***Begin Adult Content: Violence***



Samantha couldn’t stop crying.

Why, she didn’t know. For months now, the Slayer had been nothing more than a vehicle of destruction, killing without prejudice and leaving as much blood and pain in her wake as possible. It was only right, considering the things taken from her. They took her son, then they took her freedom.

Now, Samantha was nothing more than the monstrous essence of the Slayer, stripped of its humanity and left feeding on hatred and blood. Cory was gone, and that anger now inexplicably mixed with grief. The Slayer mourned, not for the children she just murdered at Child Protective Services, but for her own son.

Cory might not be dead, but as far as Samantha was concerned, he might as well have been. Because she was never going to see him again. Her crusade would go incomplete, her thirst for vengeance unquenched.

The Slayer curled up against herself in one of the many dark alleys in Las Vegas, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay. They tasted of salty humanity, and Samantha didn’t care for that burden anymore. Blond locks lay on the ground beside her, her scalp red with blood from where the Slayer had torn them out. Her pale face was swollen and red from crying, the caked blood on her flesh no longer just a trophy from her victims, but a reminder of what she truly had become.

Maybe what she had been all along.

The only thing Grace liked better than sex was murder.

She'd killed hundreds of people during the course of her unlife. Some she knew, some she didn't. Some for food, some for fun, and there had been a point when a good kill had become very much like a good fuck. The splattering of blood, the snap of a neck, the sound of a heart thudding to a slow, agonizing stop as she watched the life drain out of whoever she'd been after. An orgasm of violence.

This, though?

This was going to be special.

The vampire was clad all in black, prowling the alleys of Vegas like a shadow, smelling for fresh blood. The condition Drew Starnes had been left in meant Samantha must be reeking of it right now, and she had a sensitive nose. Kill the slut, kill the bitch, kill her, kill her, kill her!

"Where are you, baby?" she muttered, her voice flat and mechanical-sounding. "I'm gonna make it all better, just as soon as I find you."

Samantha heard the voice in the distance, maybe even recognized it, but for the moment, the Slayer didn’t pay any mind to it, too consumed in her own unexpected pain to do much more than wallow in herself. Cory Blanchard was gone, and all the killing and maiming and torture had been for naught.

Drew Starnes probably died for nothing. Because everything had been with the intent of getting her son back, and he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Her son was gone, and Samantha had nothing left. Nothing except a dull ache that throbbed in her chest and the burning desire to bring suffering to every living being on the planet.

If she could no longer find joy, she wanted to make sure no one else did, either.

Padding along on almost silent feet, Grace listened to the noises of a city night and trolled. I am Samantha Blanchard, she thought. I am a murderer and an escaped convict. I am most likely clinically insane. Given that all these things are true, where would I hide?

"Come out, come out, wherever you are ..."

It was seemingly random, this process of trolling, and yet there was a method to it. The city wasn't that big. Not big enough for a woman like the Slayer to hide for long.

Suddenly, the voice registered. It was louder now, and Samantha knew exactly who it was. She snarled to herself, a shaky hand wiping away a few tears as she slowly rose to her feet. Killing Grace might not bring Cory back, but damn if the Slayer wasn’t itching for a heap of vengeance.

A hollow victory, to be sure, but to have this slut’s dust in her fingernails would be a victory nonetheless. Especially a traitorous vampire like Grace.

“Well, well,” the Slayer mocked. “Vampire done got herself a badge … didn’t know Uncle Sam favored the V8 crowd.”

"It’s a whole new world, girly girl," Grace said, turning when she heard the voice and picking out the other woman's form in the dimly lit alley. "A reversal of fortune, ya might say, when the ones like me come out of the shadows and the ones like you go into them."

The vampire thought about telling the Slayer a few things about herself, then decided not to bother. The time for words had come and gone, and she had made a promise to a good woman about what she was going to do. What no one else was capable of doing, clearly.

She charged straight at the blonde, hoping that stab wound to the leg she'd gifted the bitch with was still troubling her. The land of insanity had a tendency to lend strength to its residents, which meant she'd need every unfair advantage she could get. Their bodies thudded against the brick wall, slamming against the solid surface as the brawling started.
Samantha’s leg was fully healed, the benefits of both time and enhances healing powers. She grunted as she felt her back bang into the wall, gritting her teeth and clawing at the vampire. The sudden rush caught the Slayer off-guard, and she almost let Grace get the best of her right off the bat.

But with a swift duck to the left, Samantha got out of the vampire’s clutches and spun herself around, slamming her elbow against the back of Grace’s head. It probably wouldn’t do much to her, but it bought Samantha time to come up with a plan of attack.

It wasn’t every night people came into the alley looking to brawl with her. Mostly because lately, the Slayer had been too busy torturing and maiming.

“Government tell you to do this?” the Slayer mused, cracking her knuckles before producing a jagged blade, swiping at Grace’s neck with it.

Grace caught the Slayer's arm by the wrist, stopping the blade in mid-arc, punched her in the face with the hand she'd held that cross with earlier. "Nope," she said shortly. "Me, I'm off the clock right now. Might not be on it much longer, either."

She belted Samantha again, right on the bridge of her nose where it would be guaranteed to make her eyes water. "Besides, I'd hardly call this work. A girl's gotta have fun sometimes, right?"

Her boot lifted, made contact with the human's solar plexus to send her flying backwards, further into the alley where they couldn't be spotted. "You're wearin' out," she said, closing the distance like a pitbull chasing an injured stray cat. "That'll make it easier."

Samantha grunted as she fell back to the damp pavement beneath her, wiping blood from her nose. Why the feel of blood on her skin suddenly bothered her was beyond the Slayer, but it was all she could do to back up as Grace approached. Time, Samantha needed more time.

Her nose throbbed, and though she didn’t want to admit it, Grace was right. The Slayer was starting to lose it. She wasn’t physically tired, but the weight of the past several months was finally starting to catch up with her. That hatred, that desire to make others suffer, was still there, but it was starting to fade.

Emotionally, the Slayer was worn out. And though she kept fighting, rising to her feet and shoving the pointed end of her metal cross into Grace’s left shoulder, Samantha knew this probably wasn’t going to end well.

“You should buy a vibrator then,” the Slayer spit, dropping to her knees and sweeping the vampire off her feet.

Grace went down hard and landed on her left side with a grunt, then kicked out again and caught Samantha high on her right arm, the sole of her boot striking her bicep with punishing force. "Did that, got bored," she retorted. "I don't have a big interest in machinery down there."

She got up, pulling herself into an animal's crouch, looking for an opening. "Fuck, you're a wreck. I thought this would be more difficult."

Samantha smirked, spitting blood onto the pavement. “I woulda thought,” she began, stopping to catch her breath as pain coursed through her right side. “I woulda thought you’d be proud. You know, the things I’ve done.

“Torture, ritual murder, burning down Child Protective Services with the children still inside. Thought you monsters were into that sort of shit. “ Samantha rose to her feet again, grabbing a tuft of Grace’s hair and pulling the vampire until her jaw collided with the Slayer’s knee.

Samantha followed Grace as she stumbled backward, grabbing her left arm and pulling until the shoulder popped out of joint. “Since when are you gonna get all moral high ground?”

Grace shook her head to clear it, her eyes going yellow as her forehead ridged. Monster that she was, she did have her own peculiar sense of what was okay and what wasn't, and nothing about this was okay. She drove several punches into Samantha's belly in quick succession, one unnaturally strong arm working like a piston.

"I'm not moral," she snarled, "Not unless I feel like it. Most of the time, I could give a fuck. But you knew that." The blade the Slayer had been holding had fallen to the dirty pavement, and the vampire picked it up in a loose, firm grip.

"This is about the brat, isn't it? The pup you squirted out?"

Samantha growled when Grace mentioned Cory, even if not by name. Now finding herself on the ground, the Slayer pushed her feet into the vampire’s stomach, kicking with enough force to shoot Grace airborne before getting back to her feet and reaching into her back pocket for her stake …

… Only to realize she’d used that stake to start the fire that killed 12 children and destroyed the Child Protective Services building. The Slayer silently cursed herself, searching the alley for anything she could use as a weapon. Now that Grace had her blade, simple fists weren’t going to do the trick.

Then again, Samantha wasn’t really sure she wanted to do the trick. Sure, there was still revenge in killing Grace – especially since it was finally dawning on her the vampire was the reason Cory wasn’t in that building.

That stupid bitch used her badge to pluck Cory out.

“Where did you take him?” the Slayer barked, keeping her distance for the moment. The once-aggressive Samantha was suddenly tentative, trying to plan her attacks and defenses rather than out-and-out brawling.

“You gave him to the Order of Zeus, didn’t you?”

"You think I care about some vampire cult that wants to end the world?" Grace asked sarcastically, picking herself up from the concrete. "A bunch of douchebags who want to use the kid like a Muppet?" The vampire offered up a headshake of negation, still thinking about the best place to stick the knife she held.

"I mean, I thought about it," she added conversationally, circling to her right to get the Slayer under the light of the streetlamp. "Vampires with ambitions beyond eatin' and fuckin' are hard to come by, maybe I was a little bit intrigued. But then I figured, y'know, why help them? This planet is an armpit, but I like it like an armpit. Makes my existence easier, that's all I care about."

She feinted to the left, swiping out with the serrated edge of the knife, catching the Slayer's ragged shirt with the tip of the blade and ripping the fabric further. Waiting for even the smallest opportunity to get it between her ribs, and then her fangs in her throat.

"So I ate him instead."

Ignoring the further damage done to her already-ripped shirt, Samantha growled from a place so deep she didn’t know it existed, lunging toward Grace and tackling her to the ground. Pinning her legs, the Slayer pounded her fist into the vampire’s nose repeatedly, smashing flesh and breaking who knew how many blood vessels waiting to hear the tell-tale crack, as her other hand worked the blade free.

Samantha might not be able to stake Grace, but she could at least cut her head off.

“You dirty. Little. CUNT!” the Slayer bellowed, jamming the blade through Grace’s heart. Yeah, it wouldn’t kill Grace, and there was still the matter of cutting her head off, but the Slayer wasn’t nearly done yet.

There were no tears in Samantha’s eyes, only a dark rage she hadn’t before experienced. It was bad enough she would never see her son again, but to know his blood was coursing through this bitch’s veins? To know that the blood on Samantha’s knuckles was probably that of her son’s?

That was beyond words. All that was left was rage, and the Slayer did what she knew best to do – beat the ever-loving shit out of the vampire.

And that had been what Grace wanted, to drive the caution out of the other woman with a single emotional hammerblow, and it was as if she could hear glass shattering as the two of them hit the ground with a fleshy thud. She took the first punches right in the face, then lashed out with a fist and caught the Slayer in the throat just above her collarbone.

"S'matter?" she asked, wiping blood from her face with an indifferent hand. "You thought you could go scorched-earth and not get payback? Doesn't work like that."

She reached for the knife's hilt with the same bloodstained hand, started to work it free of the wound. "You should've heard how he cried," she said in a detached, thoughtful voice, fighting down a grimace with an effort. "Sounded like a puppy with somebody standin' on its tail." Blood trickled down her chest inside her shirt, staining the white fabric. What was it with these fuckers who liked to stab her?

"Thing about kids is, they're like Chinese food. You eat one, you're hungry again in an hour." Grace touched the tip of her tongue to the end of one sharp fang in an suggestive fashion. "Figure to fill my stomach in a few minutes."

Samantha coughed and hacked, falling off Grace as she grabbed her throat. Her entire neck throbbed with the pain, and the Slayer barely heard any of what the vampire was saying. The words still resonated, though, and Samantha got back onto her feet, still fighting the cough as she waited for breath to return to her.

Oh, how she wished that blade had been made of wood. Then vengeance would’ve been hers – such that it was.

“Why?” the Slayer asked once her voice returned. “I understand that cop taking the kid, but you?”

Then it dawned on the Slayer. Grace killed Gerald Watkins, then framed Samantha for the murder. This whole shitfest started because the vampire decided she was going to play games with a police officer.

"Everybody says why," Grace's voice was still thoughtful, the way a lunatic's voice might sound thoughtful if they were discussing the price of real estate on Jupiter. "Me, I usually say why not. Usually there is no why, it’s usually just because I can." Her shoulders went up and down. More blood went trickling down her torso.

"You're tired, aren't you, baby? You must be. I can make it all stop if you want."

Samantha was tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally … she was spent on so many levels. Her life had turned into a whirlwind the moment Michaela put the cuffs on her and Cory wound up in CPS, and it went downhill from there as Atia broke her out and “taught” her the way things truly were.

No longer did Samantha care about a vampire cult after her son. All she knew now was that she would never see Cory again, and it was at least in part because of this vampire standing across from her, grinning with her fangs and her badge and – did Uncle Sam give her a gun?

The Slayer could think of nothing to say, so with every ounce of strength she had, Samantha lunged at Grace, punching the vampire in the throat before dragging her to the ground by her hair, reaching for a piece of driftwood. The Slayer shoved it in Grace’s chest with a growl, only to back away stunned when she realized she’d missed about two inches to the left.

She hadn't anticipated that, and she had seriously thought that was it when the makeshift stake entered her chest. When she realized she was still intact and not a pile of dust, she made a fist and slammed it into Sam's sternum with such force that she heard the bone break.

"Oh, you stupid bitch."

The punch was followed up with a kick to the other woman's stomach, and the vampire grated, "I was gonna make it easy for ya, but I think after that, I'm gonna make it hurt. A lot."

She waded in, fists striking whatever they could reach. Chest, stomach, face, the Slayer got a thorough beating. The palm of Grace's hand was bleeding again, the splits in the flesh the cross had made causing thin rivulets of crimson fluid to patter to the ground. My stigmata, Grace thought randomly, and laughed like a lunatic.

She ended up with her hands around the Slayer's throat, smacking the back of her head on the filthy pavement. This ended now, and for the first time in a long time Grace knew that this was the right thing, even if it was the right thing for reasons that were entirely her own.

Samantha gasped when her sternum broke, falling to the ground and barely gathering the strength to get to her knees. Her movements were violently interrupted by Grace’s non-stop assault, and her arms merely cowered over her stomach as she felt her flesh bruise.

The Slayer started to cough, blood pouring from her mouth and onto the pavement, and it was clear the sternum punctured her heart when it snapped. No matter how long the vampire wanted to drag this out, Samantha would likely be dead in a matter of minutes. Even with Slayer strength, Samantha couldn’t survive a chunk of bone sticking out of her heart.

And even as the blood flowed and she lost strength, Samantha couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony.

Everything ached, and between that and all the blood she’d been coughing up, Samantha couldn’t say anything in return. Two inches … two inches and this would’ve all been over. Grace would’ve been dust and Samantha would’ve been just one step away from complete and total revenge.

As it stood now, revenge would never come. Only death, and the Slayer couldn’t deny that some part of her welcomed that.

Grace kept her hands where they were, the knuckles gone white, and she didn't care if she squeezed until the slut's head popped open like a Pez dispenser. Her chest burned like fire where the wood had gone in, and she was going to have to be careful when she pulled it out because one slip would likely have someone sweeping her up into a dustpan. She could smell blood and despair and defeat, and she slammed the Slayer's head into the pavement so hard that her skull split.

When she was certain that the job was done, she leaned down and sank her fangs into the still-warm flesh. She was going to need that blood to heal, and she was so hungry ...

Blood poured hot and coppery into her mouth, and the vampire swallowed a big mouthful of it, pressing down on the Slayer's broken sternum with one hand to hold her in place. This was hers, this fight, this victory, this life. Her first Slayer. Swallowing the liquid that poured from the wound she'd made was like drinking a Molotov cocktail, and she moaned with the delight of it.

Better than sex.

She could hear the heart slowing down, the telltale stuttering of the organ, and she drank faster. Obscene noises, wet and sloppy, emerged from the alley, and a homeless man who'd considered using a cardboard box he'd found there to sleep in hurriedly picked up his half-full bottle of wine and departed, not wanting to have nightmares.

With one final gulp, Grace pulled back, retracting her fangs and studied the mangled throat. Blood drooled out of her mouth, and she wiped it off with her fingers, then licked them clean. Her belch was explosive.

"There's for ya ..."

Samantha was actually amazed the splitting of her skull wasn’t what killed her. It stunner her, even injured her worse than she’d ever been, but still, the Slayer felt the sharp sting of it. Just as she felt the break of her flesh when Grace finally bit into her neck, and the Slayer was so weak at this point she couldn’t even gasp.

If she’d had her strength, Samantha would’ve grabbed at the wood chunk in Grace’s chest, turning it and twisting it until she hit pay dirt. That would’ve gotten the vampire off of her and she would’ve lived to see another night. But at this point, not only could Sam not move, she really couldn’t care as she felt life begin to slip away.

So this was what it was like to die. Slowly, knowing the end was near, yet helpless to avoid or speed it up. Samantha could feel her heart slow, heard it deep in her ear drums until she finally passed out.

Then, in a matter of seconds, it was over. Samantha Blanchard – Slayer, homicide detective and single mother – was dead.

When she knew it was done, Grace sagged back against the wall and looked down at the shard of wood protruding from her chest. Maybe she could go to Deanna's and get it taken care of. The redhead was never going to believe this shit.

The vampire sat there for a few minutes, just looking up at what she could see of the sky, then regarded Samantha's corpse. Her insides still buzzed from the infusion of Slayer blood, and she leaned over and spat a portion of it onto the blonde's face in a spray of red dots. "Want some of me, trash? I don't think so."

She pulled herself up on her knees, then swayed to her feet. It was like being drunk, having imbibed so much and so quickly, and she let out a slurry chuckle as she tried to point her feet towards the mouth of the alley.

"I feel so vivid," she said to no one at all.

Souvenir. She'd need a souvenir. No one would believe she'd taken down a Slayer on her own without proof. Grace paused mid-sway, noticing the knife she'd dropped during the fight. The knife ... and Sam's blood-matted hair.

I'll mail you her scalp.

What the fuck, right? She could wash it, make it look decent. It'd be a nice trophy. She'd worked hard enough for it.

The vampire grinned, picking up the knife. First this, then off to get the splinters out. This had been the best night ever.



***End Adult Content: Violence***