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  • Reborn

    Title: Reborn
    Disclamer:I have no rights whatsoever on anything Joss & co came up with first
    Setting: hmm, lets say somewhere around season 3.


    It Was.
    That was all it knew; of its nature and purpose it was unaware, but it existed; it was.
    And it hungered.
    It sent out questing tendrils, as insubstantial as thought and found that it was trapped; caged within dead matter, encased in flesh and bone. Desperately it sought escape, but found every avenue barred to it, every doorway blocked. As it searched it found something else though, something that it could use, something that it could control. All it needed was a way to take that control. All it needed was a way in.



    The vampire that had been Dan Madison opened his eyes and saw nothing, the inky darkness inside the coffin too complete even for the heightened vision he now possessed. As blind as he was though, he could still sense the limits of his confines. The sides and lid of the casket, less than a scant inch from his body, seemed to press in on him; squeezing the space around him, suffocating him with their presence. Panic took his confused mind and he lashed out wildly, kicking and punching, tearing fabric that padded hard wood, desperate to escape these morbid bonds.

    Gradually though his threshing lessened and ceased, as he slowly began to realise where he was and just how he got there. The memory was hazy. A leering face, sharp white teeth and the strange, delicious taste of blood. He tried to put the unbidden thoughts aside, forcing himself to calm and think for a few seconds, trying to ignore the strange new sensations that coursed through him whilst he thought through his current situation.

    He felt strong, he knew that. A new vitality seemed to flow and buzz through every molecule in his body and that new found strength would help him in the difficult task that faced him. Along with that power though there came a need, a desperate thirst that seemed to fill his entire being making escape from his grim prison a matter of growing urgency.

    He turned his attention once more to the coffin considering his options. It must have a vulnerable spot somewhere he felt, some point where his strength could be applied to the best effect.

    Lifting his arms above him he ran his hands over the smooth cold lining of the lid, feeling nothing but unyielding wood weighted with six feet of damp, heavy earth. His questing fingers moved slowly out and down, his right hand finding the slight indentation that marked the point where lid met side. Here was the weak point; it was here that he should concentrate his efforts.

    Fingers like steel forced themselves slowly into the small gap, gaining purchase, forcing it to open by the tiniest of fractions. A few particles of dirt fell in through the small chink, a trickling warning of the flood that could follow.

    Still he continued on, feeling the flat surface of the coffins edge under his fingertips, easing them gradually further and further into the growing crack. The dirt now started to pour in on him in a thin steady stream filling the hollows where his arms had lain, seeping beneath him. He felt a wet tickle on his right forearm as a small amount fell down his sleeve, nestling into the crook of his elbow.

    One more push though and he would be there, one more effort and his captivity would be a step closer to ending.

    Finally his probing fingers hit the damp soil surrounding the casket. He savoured the pain as the weight of the coffin lid bore down on his hand and the sharp edge of the casket ripped into the skin of his knuckles. His fingers curled, gripping the side of the confining wooden wall and he started to pull.
    Inwards that was the key. The weight of the surrounding earth would make it all but impossible to break through the hard wood, but by pulling inwards that same weight would be working for him.

    He gave the coffins side a hard yank and was rewarded with the sound of agonised splintering and a fresh torrent of dank soil. The upper half of the coffin's side now sagged steeply inwards but it would not be enough room to afford him escape. He turned his efforts to the casket's lid, finding it already bowing under the weight of the soil now that it had been robbed of its support. One hard pull was all it took for the whole thing to cave in, drowning him in dirt and roots and sharp shards of wood.

    He was covered now; the fine funereal suit he had worn for his burial filthy, a large rip decorating the jacket's right sleeve. He was nearly there though, nearly free of his earthy tomb.

    Elation rushed through him at the thought of being back in the world, of sampling the new pleasures that beckoned. He felt the soil pressing down on him but the pressure was loose and uneven; the earth less compact now that it had taken the space the coffin had filled. The wooden box had represented a solid barrier to his escape, whilst the earth, although still an obstacle, was one that he could defeat.

    He started to burrow through the damp mass clawing plant roots and clods of soil from before him as he slowly ascended. Managing to get his legs behind him he gained some purchase with his feet, allowing him more impetus, making the progress a little easier, but it was still a hard, laborious task.

    The nagging hunger rose once more within him as he settled in to his rhythmic tunnelling, a hollow emptiness of which he sensed he could never truly be free. He pressed on, eager to gain the surface, desperate to feed.

    Dirt was falling all around him now spilling down his shirt, clinging to his hair, blinding his eyes. A worm, disturbed from its own burrowing, fell past him nestling in the back of his collar, making him flinch instinctively.

    Time seemed to slow every second stretching into an eternity but he sensed the surface was within reach. The darkness took on a different quality, the atmosphere changing from the claustrophobic mustiness he had battled through, becoming clearer, fresher. The faint scent of freshly mown grass seemed to play tauntingly at the edge of his senses.

    Then, with one final push, his hands hit the cool night air.

    He spread his hands on the dry, close trimmed turf, pulling himself upwards, his head and shoulders forcing the small opening ever larger as he emerged victorious into the night. He savoured the feeling of the cool air on his face, drinking in the sights and sounds of the graveyard. He knew that he was dead but he had never felt so alive, so vital.

    Taking his full weight on his hands he heaved himself out of the remnants of his grave and stood erect shoulders back, head raised, ready to take on the world anew, ready to hunt, ready to feed.

    "Well about time sleepyhead"

    He spun in the direction of the voice and saw a small blonde girl in a powder blue coat sitting casually on a squat tomb that stood just behind his own. She caught his puzzled stare and gave him a broad, friendly smile her hands not stopping whittling a point on what looked like a thick wooden stick.

    "Hi," she said brightly. Sightig down the stake, appraising her work "Just give me one sec and I'll be right with you"

    He knew that his was not the way it should be. His instincts told him that she should be terrified; she should be running away from him in abject terror, screaming for help, begging for salvation.

    Instead she folded her pen knife, jumped lightly from her seat and brushed a few stray wood shavings from her legs.

    "O.k. lets make this quick shall we? ?Cos between you and me I kinda gotta pee"
    All he could do was stare at her totally bemused by this strange turn of events.

    She let out a heavy sigh and gave him an impatient look "well are you gonna rush me or not?" she demanded testily.

    That was it. If this girl didn't realise what she was facing then she would become his and he would have his first meal. Letting out a bellowing roar of frustrated rage he charged towards her, fangs bared, arms outstretched, ready to engulf his prey.

    Who suddenly wasn't there.

    He felt a painful blow in the small of his back and tried to turn to face his assailant but his legs were swept from under him before he could move and he fell heavily landing face down in a crumpled heap on the manicured grass. He rolled attempting to right himself as he did so but a foot came whirling from his left and he collapsed once more to the ground, feeling a sudden pressure on his chest.

    Dazed, he raised his head and saw the blonde girl was astride him pinning his arms to the ground with remarkable strength, her face all grim business.

    "Sorry, ordinarily I'd love to play, but you know, circumstances" she said with a small shrug.

    And then the stake descended.


    It rushed forward eagerly as the prison of matter disintegrated around it into a million particles of dust, finally finding the escape route it sought.

    It was free; finally free of the mortal restraints that had tied it down. Free to roam as it would, free to feed.Too late the realisation dawned within its ephemeral awareness of the cost of its liberty, of the price demanded of its sweet, terrible freedom.

    It drifted away on the night breeze diminishing as it went until it was just an echo of tortured fury, a faint horrible cry that faded away finally into nothingness.


    ~The End~

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