"In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the demons, vampires and forces of darkness ... she is the Slayer."

 

The Exception to the Rule

Heather Sinclair

 

Friday, October 31, 1986

Chapter 1

It was only a week ago when I officially moved out of my foster parents house and began this record of my adult life. I was a ward of the state for ten of my last eighteen years; a little pawn to be moved back and forth between homes. It wasn't all bad. I met some really nice and thoughtful people that were trying to give a little goodwill back to the world, however, I also met the sponges of society that want nothing but another tax dodge to add to their end of the year statement.

My parents were killed when I was only eight years old. The only information I could get from the police was given to me on my eighteenth birthday. There was something about not being able to access the info until I was legally an adult. Until that time I had thought my parents were victims of a street-gang slaying. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Life is full of bad breaks. I understood that phrase more than anyone in existence.

Now that I was, in the eyes of the court, an adult I could pull the file on my parents; that and the freedom of information act.

After checking out the file I noticed the reason why I wasn't allowed to see it until now. I wouldn't have been able to cope with the brutality of the murder. The crime scene photos, which were photocopies of the original and in very poor quality, showed my parents throats, or should I say lack of throats. They had died quite violently at the hands of a very sick and twisted individual.

I say individual because the only clues at the scene were a single set of footprints and a blood trail leading away from the bodies. The murder weapon was the killer's own hands aided by his abnormally long fingernails. Don't ask me how they know that part. I wasn't particularly interested, myself.

The gist of the situation was: they were celebrating their ten year wedding anniversary. I was at the neighbor's house spending the night with a friend. After dinner at a new upscale restaurant, they took a walk in the park. The police speculate from the state of their dress, or in this case undress, that they were caught in the middle of doing it in the bushes.

There it was. The big secret. Sex and murder. And the killer was never found. I was left with no family. Mom and Dad's parents had been dead for a long time and there were no other relatives I could live with. The house was sold, the life insurance collected and after the funerals, and other bills were paid for I had a whopping nice trust fund set up for me. Of course I couldn't touch a dime of it except for living expenses which included clothes, food, and shelter. You know, the usual crap.

The state set the whole thing up for me. Mom and Dad didn't have a will and the courts took it upon themselves to look out for my financial security until I was of age. In other words I didn't have squat growing up unless my step-parents bought it for me.

Well, there is my sad story. I finally knew what had been kept from me and now I could go on with my life. I had considerable more access to my trust fund. Granted, I wouldn't have full access until my 21st birthday. But with just cause the trust would allow me to withdraw large amounts. I petitioned for money, enough for a house with furnishings, and to pay my way through college without having to work. It was granted and I was finally on my own, not having to answer to anybody but myself.

I was home one dusky evening with nothing to do. I had finished my studies for the week and looked forward to the weekend unencumbered by any responsibility.

"I see your true colors, and that's why I love you. So don't be afraid to let it show ..."

I sang along to Cyndi Lauper's newest and set out my clothes for the night. It was Halloween and this year, as every year for the last five, I was going to a costume party as a girl. Yeah, I like dressing as a girl. I was cursed, or in some instances blessed, with a petite body, for a guy. In bare feet I reached 5'9 in height; taller than some, shorter than most.

I only had trouble with my height in junior high gym class. Some of the in-crown boys would pick on me, snapping towels and such until the day I went off on one of them. Defending myself was never a problem. Fighting came naturally, and I was always the victor. After a few altercations I was finally left alone, literally. It was like I had A.I.D.S or something. I don't say that because I was effeminate, and they thought I was gay or something. It's because A.I.D.S was the deadly disease of the decade. I digress.

Anyway, I like dressing like a girl. I can't really explain the reason. Sometimes ... most of the time I spent my alone time in girls clothes. I had started quite the wardrobe about a month ago. It consisted mostly of lounging clothes that rest of the girls would wear: jeans, skirts, etc. But for this evening's party I would be a little daring.

The local mall supplied me with a high-waist leather miniskirt that reached just above mid-thigh. It was my new pride and joy. That and the royal blue silk blouse with razzin' shoulder pads.

After completing my pre-dressing ritual of showing, shaving and scenting I put on my bathing robe and sat to do my make-up. This was one part of my routine that I had mastered over the last few years for it took a lot of effort to make my face passable. I wasn't a raging beauty, but at least I wasn't the Alpo spokes-girl. Luckily long hair on boys was all the rage and I pulled mine back and up into a ponytail held with a black banana clip, after the tail was crimped real good with my new iron. Then my bangs were curled big and prominent with about four cans of hair spray.

An hour later I was done. The finishing touches included my Cloisonné earrings and the black three-inch heels. I looked fine. I'd do me.

It wasn't too cool outside and I decided against a coat, which was good because I didn't want to bruise the silk. I grabbed my clutch purse and popped in my I.D., credit card and mobile make-up repair kit. Everything would just fit.

Chapter 2

The party was two block over, past the cemetery, and I really enjoyed the walk over. The night was settling and the traffic was easing down for the trick-or-treaters, so I felt safe enough and courageous enough to traipse along swinging my hips to the silent musical beat that only I could hear. The little tikes were out in full force. The girls in their Madonna outfits and the boys all dressed like their favorite glam rock stars. It was almost funny considering almost everyone had on girl's make-up on, in one fashion or another. I fit right in.

When I reached the front door of my destination I double checked my blouse and hair to make sure everything was where it should be, then knocked.

"Jerry! You made it." Kathy clapped with glee as she opened the door.

Damn. "I knew I wouldn't pass."

She reached out her hand for mine. "Nonsense, I knew what you would look like is all." She eyed the outfit. "Someone's getting laid tonight."

I smiled. It's nice to be appreciated.

"Come on in. Let me show you off."

She pulled me along to the living room which was done up in black light and streamers. The music was loud and the punch was flowing.

"You guys start early?" I asked.

Kathy nodded. "We've been at it since about four." She waved her hand around. "Had to get the party mood going so the guys would decorate."

I nodded. "Had to lube them up."

"Exactly."

I won't bore you with the party details. Once everyone had gotten there it was wall to wall freaks: vampires, Freddie's, Jason's and the like were scattered about with me the only normal looking person in attendance. Well sorta normal.

It got to be late and I wanted to head out before the drunks started hitting the road. Since I was on foot I didn't want to be a statistic bleeding on the side of the road from the guy that rolled up on the sidewalk.

Kathy escorted me to the driveway and I started to thread my way through the parked cars.

"Are you sure you don't want me to get Phillip to drive you home?"

I waved her off. "I'm good."

She waved. " 'kay, be good." Kathy turned around and headed back inside.

Before I had reached the end of the driveway a wave of dizziness washed over me and I stumbled against the car next to me.

"Whoa. Did someone have a little too much to drink tonight, Jerry." I said to myself jokingly.

My head cleared and moved on. The trick-or-treaters were long gone. That left only the eggers. Kids on bikes that zipped by the houses where people gave out crappy candy, tossing eggs at the front doors and such. I laughed here and there at the old guys trying to run after them screaming "You damn kids!"

My feet were starting to hurt after being in the heels all night so I slipped them off and decided to cut through the graveyard to save time. I was beat and I knew I still had to clean up before hitting the sack. My tummy grumbled it's protest to the nine-layer-dip that Kathy had prepared. Beans, jalapenos and cheese don't mix well with rum and Coke, no matter what they tell you.

I was listening to the teenagers laughing in the background when I heard something else. If I didn't know any better I'd have thought it was a yelp of surprise. I spun to my right and couldn't see much past the line of very tall bushes about ten feet away. I waited for a second to see if I could hear it again. Probably some kids screwing in the bushes. That brought back memories of my parents and their death.

I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Is there anyone there?"

I don't think it clicked in my overly dense head that there was something wrong when a female body fell out of the bushes like a limp rag-doll.

"What the hell?"

Then something followed right after. I say something because I didn't know what the hell it was. Maybe a really bad Halloween costume or something. The guy was wearing a extraordinarily bad 70's disco rip-off neon orange polyester dance outfit. It was so bad it made my teeth hurt. The only thing that made it worse was the mask he was wearing. His forehead was all crumpled up making his eyes look particularly evil and there were some nasty poky teeth extending from his mouth.

"Are you supposed to be Disco Vamp or something?"

His slurped his lips and started walking toward me. "That was just an aperitif. I'm still a bit thirsty."

I looked left and right then back at the girl on the ground. There was something there I hadn't noticed before. Her neck. I thought I was going to pass out right there. It was almost like the awful pictures I saw of my parents. A good portion of her neck looked like it had been chewed on.

"Holy shit!"

I turned to run, but before I got three steps the disco freak was on me. We fell to the ground and my clutch and shoes went flying. I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die! He spun me around and bared his teeth once again. A look of pure joy swept his features and I did the only think I could against my attacker. I hit him.

Even I freaked out when he flew back nearly ten feet away screaming the whole way. In a second he was on his feet and so was I.

"Slayer." He spat with increased venom.

I looked from side to side. Yep he was talking to me. "Nope, just Jerry."

His brow furrowed like he didn't couldn't understand the situation. Never let it be said that I didn't take advantage of a good thing. I ran straight at him and took him in a tackle to the large oak tree about five feet behind him. I heard his ribs crack with the effort and pressed my attack repeatedly punching him in the very same ribs. He roared with pain, but still held his ground; still stood on his own two feet.

"Crap. What the hell are you?"

He was pissed by this point and lashed out with a roundhouse that I didn't see coming. It was my turn to go flying. I thought he had broken my neck for sure, but I got up off of the ground and shook it off like the massive punch he threw was nothing more than a slap in the face.

 

This guy is gonna kill me if I let him.

I felt a cool draft down the front of my blouse and looked down to find the silk had been shredded in four places, like claws from a bear.

 

When the hell did he do that?

I had to end this before I got seriously hurt. He charged once more and I popped him twice in the face and dropped to my knees sweeping out with my left foot. He started to go down, but caught himself effectively dropping down on top of me. However, this time I wasn't on my back. I encircled his neck with my arm and abruptly stood letting his body continue it's fall I lifted up on his head with a resounding crack.

I nearly shit when he turned to dust.

Chapter 3

I went to the nearest house and had them call the police then spent the rest of the night at the station giving my statement. No, I did not tell them that the bad guy went poof in my arms. Yeah, he attacked me but I said he must have gotten spooked off by some passers-by. I was just really lucky he didn't kill me too.

A couple of officers dropped me off in front of my house the next morning. They were nice and checked out my house just in case the guy knew who I was. It was clear.

"Thanks guys." I waved.

"No problem ma'am. Give us a call if you see this guy around, okay."

I smiled at his 'ma'am' comment. It's nice that I still passed after last night. "Will do." And I closed the door.

I didn't know what to do first: clean up or get something to eat. I was starving and they didn't have anything down at the station but stale coffee and even staler donuts. Blech!

I unbuttoned the ruined blouse on the way to the kitchen and threw it on the breakfast table. The glue that I was using to adhere the false breasts had been bugging me since last night and I was itching to get these things off, but not as much as I wanted to stuff my face. But no sooner had I got the refrigerator door open than the freakin' doorbell rang.

"I'm never gonna to get to eat."

The blouse was ruined and I was still in my femme get-up so I chose to grab the bathrobe instead. That would cover up the miniskirt. There was nothing so gouache as to wear a leather mini in the morning. Once I had the sash secured I went for the door. The bell had rang twice more and I was getting quite cranky.

"Keep your shirt on already!"

I checked out the peephole and it wasn't the guy from last night. Instead it was some tweedy looking book guy with horn-rimmed glasses. Okay. He didn't look all that threatening, so I opened up.

"Leanin' on the bell a little hard this morning?" I said sarcastically. I wanted the sales guy to go away so I could eat already.

"Ms. Gerri Hamilton?"

My eyes fluttered in exasperation . "Sorta. What's up, Jeeves."

I don't think my humor was impressing him, but I really wasn't in the mood to be impressing anyone.

"Ms. Hamilton, I've come from Council."

I looked behind him and to the side. "Good for you."

He wasn't getting the message.

"I'm here about your incident last night."

Great. The freak from last night must be from overseas and 'The Council' must be another word for Scotland Yard or something.

"Look ... "

He took the prompt. "Yates, Archibald Yates."

"Great, look Archie, I told the police everything about last night. Perhaps you could go bother them. I just got in. I haven't slept or eaten anything all night except for bad bean dip."

His face retreated into a smug look. "Did you tell him the fiend burst into a cloud of dust when you killed him?"

Okay, I wasn't expecting that. "Uh ... no."

I must have looked like I was going to close the door because he held up his hand to prevent it.

"Ms. Hamilton, if you would allow me entrance into your quaint abode perhaps I might explain myself."

I thought it over. Apparently way too long.

"Or I could go to the police and explain that you left out a few facts from your statement."

Crap. "Fine, come in."

He entered and took off his overcoat, looking at me expectantly. I gave him my best don't screw with me stare and took the proffered coat and threw it on the couch.

"I'm going to eat breakfast. You've got until I finish then you're out of here."

He nodded. "Plenty of time, Ms. Hamilton."

"Please don't call me that." I replied.

His eyebrows lifted in response. "Would you prefer, Gerri."

"Yes, but not for the reason you suspect."

Now his brow furrowed.

"I'm not a Ms., I'm a Mr."

That took him off guard. I held up a strand of hair. "I haven't had a chance to get out of my Halloween costume from last night."

The look on his face was far from happy. He shuffled through his jacket pockets and withdrew and small notebook. After flipping a couple of pages he seemed even more not happy.

"There must be some mistake. Are you not Ms. Gerri Hamilton of 1506 Maple."

I nodded, "That's the address, but without the Ms." I turned and left to the kitchen. "Do you want any coffee?"

I turned my head and saw him nearly falling to the couch in astonishment. Hell, I know I'm good looking, but not that good. The offer of coffee seem to bring him out of his self-imposed stupor.

"Do you have any tea?"

I nodded, "Earl Grey okay? I know it's hokey, but I'm a Star Trek fan and I hear the new captain is going to be drink it."

I have no idea why I said that. He just nodded dumbly.

I started the percolator perking and set the kettle on the stove to heat some water for the tea. I was thinking a bagel with cream cheese and a nice long and hot bath to follow. While I was daydreaming of the sudsy water Archie entered the kitchen.

"Are you sure?"

Once I climbed back into my skin after he scared the daylights out of me I answered. "Sure of what?"

"That you are ... "

This guy can't be serious. "Look, Archie, don't let the high heels fool you," I kicked them off, "It's just a costume."

"But ... "

I grabbed a hold of my fake breasts. "These are silicone. The same as cancer patients use." Except something wasn't right. When I squeezed the breasts, I felt the squeeze. I felt my hands cupping them. My eyes went wide. "Oh my God!"

I pushed past him and ran to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door.

"Ms. Hamilton, er, Mr. Hamilton are all right," he called from behind the door.

I ripped open the robe and reached behind to undo the black lace bra. "Give me a minute!"

He sounded embarrassed, "Oh, of course. Sorry."

The bra came away and I laid eyes upon my breasts. My very real breasts. I knew they were real because they had my nipples on them. The false ones were smooth, no nips. Knowing this was a totally screwed situation and there was no way I could have real breasts, I looked for the seams. My luck was holding firm --- all bad.

The next thought that came out of my addled brain was what would go through every male's head after such a revelation. I reached to the back of the miniskirt and unzipped it, letting it fall to the floor soon followed by the black panties and the resulting scream.

"FUCK! FUCK!"

It was gone.

"FUCK! FUCK!"

Chapter 4

It only took me about an half-hour to come out of the bathroom. Archie was very insistent that I let him help me with whatever it was that was wrong. Unless he had a magic wand I was screwed.

I finally relented and told him to get his tea and my coffee ready I needed to change. Once I was sure he had really left for the kitchen I made a mad dash to my bedroom. My adrenaline high was wearing off and I was feeling even more tired than ever. Enough so to pull out my flair jeans and a oversized college sweatshirt. I didn't bother with a bra or panties just yet. Maybe this guy can help me. I was seriously preying he could.

"Mr. Hamilton, your coffee is ready."

I exited my room and headed to the breakfast room. Archie sat at the table sipping at his tea.

"Is everything okay, Mr. Hamilton."

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "Apparently, I'm a Ms. after all."

He cleared his head with a shake. "Pardon?"

I pulled out a chair and sat abruptly. "Archie, I left this house last night a man in drag, and now I seem to have ..."

I just couldn't say the words.

He finished it for me. "Transformed?"

I nodded.

Of all of the different expressions he could have wore he chose relief. Was this a good thing?

"Then the line remains true."

I was suddenly very curious. "Line, what line?"

He drew himself up straight in the chair. "Ms. Hamilton, in every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the demons, vampires and forces of darkness ... she is the Slayer."

"Pardon?" What the hell was that about. It even looked rehearsed.

"The powers-that-be have chosen you to be the Slayer."

Wait a minute. "That's what that guy called me last night."

"Exactly," He paused, "now I am not sure why you have been chosen, seeing as you were a man and the Slayer lineage is solely and entirely female."

My eyes fluttered closed. I knew why. How do I know? Because I've known almost all of my life. The aching in my heart, deep enough to taint my soul. The thing that has taunted me for most of my existence. That one little genetic malfunction that made me male in my mother's womb has been corrected by some heavenly power.

"I think I understand."

His eyes lit up. "Indeed? Pray tell me how."

I looked down at my clothes and back up at him. He followed my eyes and then took a moment to check me out. Then it finally clicked.

"This is not the first time you have dressed en femme, so to speak."

I shook my head.

The revelation didn't seem to sway his features.

"Then it is true. Gender lies within one's soul and is not a product of society or one's upbringing."

I nodded. "Apparently so."

We sat for a few minutes in silence, each sipping from our cups.

"Ms. Hamilton, I must inform you of your destiny and your duties from this day forth."

I sat, numbed quiet, listening to what he had to say, mourning my lost masculinity and not knowing what to do with my new found femininity. My life had changed drastically in more ways than you can imagine. I only hope that I can learn to be a good a woman as I am a Slayer. If I can do that then I know I'll be okay.

Signed-

Gerri Hamilton, The Vampire Slayer

This story was meant to stand on it's own however if you are interest in seeing a sequel let me know.

The following was a work of Fan Fiction of the book "Tales of The Slayer" in reference to the T.V. show Buffy the Vampire Slayer. No infringement is intended and all rights are reserved by the creators of the series.

 

 

 

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© 2003 by Heather Sinclair. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.