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Different Sorts

Two strangers come to Forks, Washington to investigate rumors about vampires and werewolves. What they discover changes everything ... for them, and the people they meet. But is there really such a thing as "happily ever after" when death is involved?

ATTENTION READERS: DO NOT STEAL MY STORIES. Someone has stolen some of my stories from this website and posted them as their own on fanfiction.net. It is plaigarism, it is stealing and it is illegal. Read, enjoy -- but don't steal. Buffy/Twilight series crossover Takes place after New Moon and post-series for Buffy. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

16. Chapter 16

Rating 4/5   Word Count 504   Review this Chapter

The white house tucked back from the road was cloaked in gloom. The windows were dark and strange shadows from the surrounding trees cast a murkiness across the property. But from the driveway, Jacob Black could see the faint orange glow of tiny embers on the porch. And as he stepped closer – carefully, using his wolf stealth – he could make out the faint wisps of smoke. It swirled in the air, upwards, before disappearing.

Jacob’s nostrils flared. Perhaps it had been a mistake – coming here, alone. But he missed her and he needed to feel some connection. He couldn’t go to her house … she wouldn’t be there. All traces of her had been washed away, as her father worked through the grieving process. No, the last remains of his dead friend were here – at this place. This was where she’d really died – where her heart had finally stopped beating.

But the spirals of smoke on the porch made him wary. He didn’t like their presence. It smelled wrong, too. And it wasn’t just the lingering scent of the home’s previous occupants – there was another smell; a stronger smell. Something new; something present.

“I won’t bite,” came a lilting voice from the porch. From the shadows. From the spirals of smoke. “Hard.” The voice chuckled, laughing at its own words. “Not that you’ve got anything to worry about – I don’t like the taste of werewolves.”

Jacob straightened, pulling his shoulders back and emphasizing his full height and size. “Who are you?”

The voice laughed again and this time the smoke was less delicate – more of a clump, as if it had been forced out too quickly. “I’m one of those bloody vampires you hate so much. You know, one of the good ones – with a soul.”

“Bloodsucker,” Jacob said, clenching his fists.

“Now, now,” said the voice. It was British. “No need to go getting all furry on us … I’m one of your friends. Remember? I helped teach you how to fight the demon vampires. The ones that turn to dust.”

“The Slayer taught us.”

The voice chuckled, and Jacob heard heavy footfalls on the wooden porch. The owner of the voice was stepping closer – out of the darkest shadows and into the dim moonlight that broke through the trees on the dirt ground. “I helped,” he said.

Now Jacob could see as the other creature brought the cigarette to his lips, saw the orange glow on its tip as he sucked in, and then saw the smoke spiral upwards again as he blew the smoke from between his lips.

“Don’t you remember?” he said. “Buffy said she’d be keeping an eye on you lot. I stayed here to help her out. Keep an eye on things. Make sure you don’t start snacking on the people.”

He stepped closer to Jacob, and as his eyes adjusted he finally realized who he was talking to – the owner of the voice.

It was Spike.