Does anyone remember the Vamp!Xander thing that had no ending? It still has no ending, but it has a beginning:

Bargaining, Again
Setting: Late S7, around “First Date.”

Part I

He wished even as he died that he had a better story – but the truth is, Xander Harris became a vampire because he trusted the wrong girl. Again. She looked so harmless, a waif with short auburn hair in a pink slip dress, Doc Martens and heavy-framed glasses, waggling her fingers in a half-wave as she slipped onto the bar stool beside him.

“Do I know you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Nah, this is my first night in Sunnydale. You just looked like a friendlier face than the rest of these-” she gestured around the room, a converted 1930’s diner that where most of the other clients were men with rough hands who pounded the table when they wanted more beer. Xander had started going after work with friends, but he often stayed long after they had made their excuses and headed back to wives and girlfriends and children and lives that did not include up-close-and-personal relationships with the demonic. The men who stayed as late as he did had graying skin and stared at their beer or the sports games on the TV above the bar, but barely looked at each other. “-these characters,” she finished, smiling.

“Thanks for the praise, though the competition isn’t exactly hard to beat. I’m Xander.”

She held out her hand for him to shake. “Louisa.”

“Louisa,” he repeated, tasting her name. There was something familiar about her eyes… “So, what brings you to the ‘Dale?”

She shook her head, waved her hand. This and that, she said. It wasn’t important. She asked him about himself; he bought her a drink. She bought him another drink, licked her lips, said she was new in town. A hand on the leg, a compliment (“You have really pretty eyes,” she said, fingers lightly grazing his thigh) and he was flattered, off-balance.

Pouting over the rim of her rum and coke, she asked him if he knew of a quiet place where she could crash. Said she was low on funds, wouldn’t get paid until tomorrow.

What could he do but ask her to crash at his place?

Louisa devoured him with kisses after they got into his car, taillights blinking and engine running and oh her mouth is so warm and dry, not sloppy-moist like Anya’s … and he doesn’t realize she isn’t breathing until the nibbling on his neck turns into a piercing pain and ow and ow and he thrashes, tries to shove her off, kick her away, but the beers are slowing his reflexes and she has him pinned, firm hands holding him to the seat and he. Is. Dying.

But she pulled back for a second, pricked an index finger on her incisor, shoved it into his mouth. “I must have the slayer’s boy for my pet,” she muttered as he fed.

There is just enough of Xander left for him to shove her into the gear shift. His sire explodes into dust as he slumps over, dead.

He woke up to the loud beeping and flashing lights of a tow truck. Thought he had a hangover, that he had a weird dream; knew that wasn’t it when his hands came away from his neck wet with blood, has his suspicions confirmed when he has to scramble away from the sun through his windshield.

He spent his first day as a vampire cowered under a blanket in the back seat of his car. “Wuss,” he thought as he fell back asleep.

He woke again as the sun set, crawled out of the car, fed on the parking lot guard just for practice. His new face felt strange, tight; he experimentally shifted back and forth.

And then he smiled. Time to find a new playmate.

Next up: vamping Dawn.

wow, sexy. I need a beta who gets the whole "Homicide" thing. I've written some stuff, but I'm not sure if I wanna keep it in. Um, so to speak.

LJ, this is looking very tasty.

erika, e me with it.

OK, I just didn't want to force you into it. I know you do other things. Insent in a minute, then.

Fay, Fay, Fay, Fay. ItS was awesome. I loved it. I stayed at work till 7 pm to finish reading it, b/c I didn't want to interrupt my reading to come home. I don't generally read HP fic, I didn't think anyone could sell me Draco/Harry, I should have known a Buffista would prove me wrong.

I like your beginning, LJ. I have to follow the link and read the other bit, now.

edit: reread, and yes, it is good.

Ok, this is the first part of the scene that I was struggling with earlier
Kay's POV:Thanks Deb, for the beta read.

I'm not the sort of woman who gives much thought to dreams. They are either about my cases Oh, God, what am I missing? as I prowl through a dream crime scene, looking for some little bit of hair or other evidence that I swear I just saw...the Nightmare, veteran detectives call it, cause we all have it sometimes. But when lots of cases are in the black, I sleep better. Or there are the ones about cigars and tunnels...I never talk much about those, to the squad's disappointment.

But this one was a lot more vivid. Especially since I never expected to see more than a pink elephant or two. In the dream, I was in L.A. but also on the squadroom rooftop(You know how dreams do that, move time and space.) And Munch and I had the conversation we had in real life, but I wasn't surprised by the kiss, in fact I was looking forward to it pretty hard. There was more chemistry than in real life, and soon we are making out and he bites my lip. "Ow, hon, be careful, willya?" I say,"I'm not Felicia, into all that rough stuff."

I feel the ridges on his face, and, instead of freaking, like in real life, I want to touch them again, like they are beautiful. He waits and I take my hair off my neck. I know what he is and what he wants it that way for and I do it...I fucking look forward to it, like there's nothing I would rather do. In the dream, I feel the first soft nibble...then I wake up, sweating, heart pounding a mile a minute in my chest. God, that was close...it'd be so easy to give in._more-

And what scares me is, it didn't feel like weakness. It felt like pleasure. I touch the pulse at the base of my neck. My jugular vein, I make myself think, to bring myself back to the ME's office or anything but the thought of teeth ripping flesh as pleasant. But for a moment, it hits me. My life is hard.It felt good to be swept along by something I didn't try to control.Even in the hospital, all I wanted was to beat the odds, show how quickly I could be back and better than ever, and wipe the concerned looks off everybody's faces. It gave me strength, but it wasn't exactly restful.

I put my clothes back on and head back over to Caritas. It's almost deserted, but Lorne is there cleaning up."Didn't expect to see you so soon. Even if you are an undiscovered talent."
He puts chairs on tables and doesn't look at me. Usually, when I show up somewhere unexpected, I've got hardware, to make people look at me, make 'em talk. Here I got nothing, especially if my suspicions about Lorne's preferences are correct...he's not interested in my hair, except to find out if it's natural, or who my colorist is. He's not interested in my chest, except to see if Oxford shirts are back in again, like I care anyway.
I blush, duck my head a little. "It was the liquor, huh? You're here late." I say, giving the last part the standard detective inflection. I look him over, but I may have found the one creature impervious to eyefucking...his appearance is just too distracting, and the usual cues, like blushing or turning pale, are for shit. He is still as green as I felt a few hours ago, and still seems happy and cheerful to a degree I'dve thought not found outside a bottle. "What's your secret, Creature Man?" I'd like to ask. But I'm like interrupting, and I don't have the City of Balmer backing me up. I start to back away discreetly, but to my surprise, the big green guy takes one of the chairs he flipped over and puts it on the floor again. "Lucky for you, my dogs started barking, huh?"
-more-

"Talent? No, I was feeling sloppy and slutty cause I'd had too much to drink. And a little sentimental, maybe. I wouldn't call it talent. Embarrassing, it's more like."
"Nuh uh. Liquor may amplify sensuality, before ruining it in those it captures(fine talk for a bar owner, but I'm nothing if not honest, right, peaches) But it can't give you what you don't have, sweetie. Except, in your portions, a real mother of a headache. But you didn't come here for mothering did you?" His eyes are still friendly, but sharp. Whatever he is, he's not a dumb one. Actually, if he wasn't so green, and, well, flaming, he would remind me of Stanley. He takes up space like the Big Man, anyway. Changes his shirts a lot more often, I'd guess, but you can look at Stan's without wearing sunglasses, huh?

Ooh, Erika, I knew you'd do a dream sequence justice, and I was right. That's wonderful.

I look him over, but I may have found the one creature impervious to eyefucking...his appearance is just too distracting, and the usual cues, like blushing or turning pale, are for shit.

Damn, Erika... I love the way that Kay and Lorne play off each other.