Night of the Living Scooby
A copper tasting film coated the inside of his mouth and he coughed, gagging as he tried to push himself up. Xander blinked, attempting to clear his blurred vision, as the ground beneath him shifted and he gasped, jerking back from the convulsing movement. His eyes widened as the taste in his mouth and the ache in his jaw came together to make horrible sense with the body that had been lying prone beneath him.
“Oh sweet mother…”
He trailed off and coughed, mouth watering as he rolled onto his side to block the vision of Cordelia’s torn and bloody cat-suit as he retched. Bile burned his nose, replacing the scent of blood and meat with an acidic sweetness, as it forced its way out of his body and he threw up pieces of his frenemy.
He scrambled forward, through the small foul smelling puddle, and pushed himself onto shaky legs. The back of his hand was used to rub at damp lashes as Xander took in the sight of the small alley surrounding him and turned, stumbling away from Cordelia and stopped short at the sight of the petite form laying just a few feet away.
Blonde hair was intermingled with brown where the wig had begun to slip and a pretty Victorian gown was covered in dirt. Xander took a halting step forward and then another until he was standing over the body of one of his best friends and he could see the torn skin of her neck and shoulder. The wound was too wide, too messy to be a vampire bite and a fist rose to his mouth as he clamped it shut. His worn jaw protested the harsh movement as he muffled his cry of rage and pain so that only a whimper escaped.
“This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.”
A shuffle came from behind him and Xander turned, eyes widening as the cheerleader pushed herself onto unsteady legs. Her head lulled to one side before she brought it to center and Xander swallowed at the sight of the blood matted hair on the crown of her head before she lifted her face to him. He stared into her milky gaze in confusion as she took a step forward, toward him.
There was sharp pain in Xander’s leg and he gasped, stumbling back from Buffy and her tight grip on his ankle. He fell, elbows cracking against the pavement as he tried to save his head and he watched in growing horror as Buffy’s pale hands clawed at his torn slacks and she dragged herself up him. Her head lifted and Xander’s eyes closed, blocking out the sight of the bite mark—his bite mark—on her cheek and that his best friend’s eyes had the same cloudy film covering them as she stared at him mutely and continued to drag herself up his prone form.
A sob escaped Xander as Cordelia fell to her knees beside him and wrapped her cold arms around his shoulders before her teeth sank sharply into his neck.
“This isn’t happening.”