so i get bored and write up plots for my characters. for this one, I need two humans (or good witches) one male, one female. If you're interested, let me know!



"Oh, hell" murmured the witch as he came upon a woman who looked to be about his age. She was slumped against the brick wall of an alley, shirt half of the way unbuttoned, eyes shut tightly, and mumbling to herself about god knew what. Kneeling down beside her, a concerned look crept across his face as he quietly asked, "Um, are you alright?"

"Mum?" The slur of that single word was enough to tip the witch off to the fact that this woman was terribly intoxicated. Besides, he didn't really think that she sounded that much like anyone's mum, especially not some...wait, this wasn't a woman. This was a vampire, and one that looked like she could do quite a bit of damage. Unsure of what to do and debating walking swiftly away, guilt got the better of him as he reached out tentatively and poked the the her in the forehead. "I'm not your mum."

"Then what the hell do you want!?" Taken aback by her sudden snap, he pulled back suddenly, but not far enough back because the the woman yacked all over him three seconds later. Slightly disgusted, the witch climbed to his feet looking at his now barf covered shirt with an awful expression. Despite the fact that he'd like to go off on this girl, his guilt once again kicked in. He turned his gaze back on her only to see that she didn't look so well. "Maybe we should get you someplace else, you look kinda rough."

The only response from her was an obligatory nod and he pulled her up, draping one of her arms around his shoulder. Supporting both of them as she stumbled as only a drunk could he made his way to the nearest bathroom grimacing at the smell that emanated from his shirt. Once in the bathroom, he set her in one of the stalls to make sure she'd finished barfing while he tried his best to clean off his shirt.

Half an hour later, she emerged from the bathroom stall, looking slightly less likely to throw up again and a bit more sober. As she washed his face off, the witch watched in silence. After she finished she glanced up at him with a cold expression, "Just for the record, no one saw this." it was his turn to nod, "Yeah, of course."

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That wasn't the end of it though. Again and again, the witch found Cordelia on the ground of alleyways drunk off her ass. Every single time he happened upon her, he took care of her for reasons unbeknownst to him (he should just leave her, she was a killing machine, after all), learning more and more about her as she held her alcohol better and better. An odd sort of friendship formed, a bond that no one else knew of. He took care of her while she spilled her guts when he should have been as far away from her as possible, and by day they pretended not to know that one another existed. He was the only one who knew of her night time escapades and the fact that she was a raging alcoholic.

He was falling for her, it was only a matter of time before it came out. But it was impossible. They stood for completely different things. She was the devil and he was the angel, at any moment she could turn around and try to kill him. It also didn't help matters that he already had a girlfriend, a very nice one at that. Feeling like this for a monster was something he hated himself for.

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"I love you."
"You're a regular comedian when you're drunk, Sloane."
"No, no, no. I mean it."
"Yeah, uh-huh. I'm sure your blood sucking fiends would love to hear that."
"They aren't fiends"
"May as well be."

Cordelia made this confession late one September night. He just passed if off as the ramblings of an alcoholic vampire, because when you were a monster, what the hell would you want with someone like him?

But did Cordelia really mean what she said? Does a drunk mind not speak a sober heart? Perhaps it really was the alcohol talking. But even if something more than an odd friendship does stem from this, what about the girlfriend? If she gets wind of something like this she's sure to tell the world.