A/N: This was done in response to a prompt (the word 'strength', here, a lack of). I'm not sure if I'll continue it or not, but I wanted to try writing in present tense, since I've never done that before. I realize this is cheesy and predictable. WARNING: Some implied boy-love.
Joshua crosses the room, swirls of dust tracing his ankles from underneath the ancient floorboards. He pauses, looking around. The odor of mold and dust and dead things is almost intolerable. He wonders mutely when the last time something human lived in this house. The ugly gray wallpaper hangs off the wall in droves, exposing the pockmarked wood underneath. He walks over to the old fireplace, thickly covered in dust and smelling by far the most foul. A picture frame lies face down on the mantelpiece. He picks it up, and sets it down straight. Joshua examines it for a few moments. It’s black and white and very old. It shows a girl, a few years older than him, sitting in a chair, wearing an obscenely somber dress and staring expressionlessly at the camera through deep-sunken eyes. It looks like a portrait of someone’s great-grandmother. Joshua supposes she is pretty, but he’s not really sure, having never had an eye for that sort of thing. A floorboard creaks, and with a sudden shock, he remembers what he came for and steps away from the fireplace.
And there, right there in the middle of the sun-spotted room, huddled in the shadows, it’s there, watching him, snarling. He starts. The thing looks drunk almost, holding itself up with one shaking hand while the rest of its body slumps against the wall, threatening to fall down.
“Would you mind explaining to me,” It says in a carefully calculated calm tone, “who the hell you are, and why you’re in my house?”
He opens his mouth, tries to talk, but nothing comes out. He swallows. Despite what he told himself a thousand times in front of the bathroom mirror before he left the house that morning, he’s faltering. He didn’t expect it to find him. Or for it to be awake, for that matter.
Or the fact that it is much, much, better-looking than his uncle warned him. Not at all like the blood-thirsty, nightmarish creature he had been told about. Though the suit it is wearing looks miskept and sports a copious amount of tears, it still manages to highlight the rather languidly handsome body underneath. And the pale, haughty face reflects an aristocratic refinery. That sort of thing, Joshua had more of an eye for.
“Hello? Kid!” It shouts. Through his fear, a small tinge of indignation creeps in. Kid? He is nearly sixteen, after all. “I asked you,” it whispers in a dangerous voice, taking a step forward, “who-” It looks at the fireplace, sees the moved portrait. Its silver eyes narrow to slits. “You have a death wish?” Its voice is dangerous. “Tell me who the hell you are, before I come over there, and force you!” It threatens, but doesn’t move. There is a patch of sunlight directly in front of it. It can’t move forward.
Courage pumps again through Joshua’s blood. He clenches his fist. “I-I’m here to kill you!” He announces, holding up his stake.
It rolls its eyes. “Jesus Christ,” It sighs, turning and leaning its back against the wall, staring exasperatedly at the ceiling. It runs a hand over its face, groaning. Joshua stomps his foot. It looks at him through long fingers, annoyed.
“Don’t u-underestimate me!” He cries. He feels his strength flooding back into him. He can handle this, he can handle this.
It doesn’t look convinced. “Look, Buffy, you’ve caught me in a good mood, so if you just leave now, nothing bad is going to happen to you.”
Joshua smirks, “You should be more worried about yourself.”
“Scary. Did you get that out of a movie?” It straightens up, a little wobbly on its feet. It looks straight at Joshua with intense eyes, “I’ll bet you,” It points with a shaking finger, “are on your first mission. Ha-ha.”
“No! I’ve killed loads of your kind before.”
“Liar. This may have escaped your oh-so-vast attention, but I’ve been around a while. And, as it happens, I’ve killed loads of your type before. So this is the last time I’ll say it: leave,” It whispers, putting extra emphasis on each syllable.
Joshua breathes slowly, letting the air gather in his lungs. He focuses his eyes, and grips the stake so tight it hurts his fist. On the third inhale, he lunges at it. Running across the floor, the dust flying, breathing hard. And it stares back at him with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. It doesn’t even move. You can’t get away, Thinks Joshua, and I’ve got you. He raises his arm to strike. He slashes through the air. Its disappeared. “What?” He says aloud.
Something cold stretches across his neck. He yells, and tries to move, but his arms are held back. It stands behind him, smirking, effortlessly bounding him back, its face hovering just above his neck. “I told you…to leave,” It says. With each word, a puff of chilly breath caresses Joshua’s skin. He shudders.
“L-let me go!” He struggles against its grip, strength once again fading fast. It laughs.
“Don’t think so. Now, let’s see…” It pauses, pulling Joshua closer. Its body is cold, lifeless, but nonetheless an embarrassed flush spreads across his face. “I could kill you, but that’s not much fun, right? Maybe I’ll just eat you instead. I am hungry,” Joshua trembles, it laughs, “and you do look delicious.”
He feels lightheaded. “D-d-don’t!” He struggles, but it holds on tight.
“You got yourself into this one, junior,” It kisses his neck.
Joshua breathes fast. His feet aren’t completely immobile, and his assailant’s legs are spaced apart.... His brain whirrs into life. “I said,” He shifts his legs, “let me GO!” He kicks back, between its legs.
“Ouch,” It says, in mock agony, “That’s harsh. You know, if I didn’t have this tough skin, that would’ve really hurt.”
Joshua feels faint. He tries to tug away again, but the grip on his wrists holds fast, and they start to hurt.
“Now just stay still like a good little boy,” It whispers. Without warning, something sharp pricks his neck, and black streaks across his vision.
