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Independent, mutuals only Hayley Marshall from the TVD/TO universe, penned by Liz. Mun is 27, CST timezone, this blog will feature mature themes such as violence, gore, sexual content, etc. Please make sure to check out the following links if you’ve found yourself on this blog! Please, please make sure you read by rules before following. 

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Endless nightmares get swallowed back as Buffy forces herself forward to Hayley’s self-inflicted bite wound. No argument this time, not when the world is counting on her to be battle-ready. 

Her stomach churns but her wound heals so fast she barely catches a view of it again before all that’s left is dried blood on her skin. She makes a face- “blech”- then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “…In… Southern California that’s how we say… thank you.” 

When her hand comes down on the couch it lands with her fingertips mere millimeters from Hayley’s leg, angled toward her. She is grateful, really. It’s not every day the same woman who saves you from days of suffering and active blood loss also offers you the pack of werewolves that she rules over. “I won’t order anyone to get involved when I keep going in blind. I’m going to need numbers and strength when it comes down to the final battle. Last time I had one of those it wiped the whole town off the map.” And if vengeful, power hungry Amy is anything like the evil, heartbroken version of her best friend, then maybe it’s not such a dramatic statement to reference the crater back home. Not looking at Hayley, Buffy smiles to herself after a moment’s thought, noticing the stillness, all things considered. “You know, I had a boyfriend once. Vampire. He could barely control himself around me when I bled.”

❛ So I’ve heard —❜ She’s not the jealous type, and so the off-comment doesn’t come from a place of bitterness of disscontempt, but rather, just a simple acknowledgement. Her friends like to run their mouths, and in a house full of vampires, Hayley’s not so sure they’ve completely realized just how much is overheard through the walls of the abattoir. With a sly smile, she opens the nightstand, pulls out a handkerchief to wipe her wrist with. The wound’s already closed, but the excess blood sticks to the linen. 

@stakedthat​ con’t from here

Hayley’s hand immediately comes up to Buffy’s shoulder as she tries to sit up with a gashing, bleeding wound. The smell of blood is pungent, but it does little to make Hayley flinch. She’s had the rather pleasant experience of tasting The Slayer’s blood, but she also has an extraordinary grip on her self control. ❛ Unlucky for that witch bitch, the people of the French Quarter like doing things a little differently. ❜

         Even though she’s had her mother back by her side for almost three weeks, there were still old habits that Hope fell back on. One of them was disappearing into the woods by herself so she could romp around as a wolf and let out some extra energy. However, she forgot that now she had someone to be accountable to, someone whose opinion she cared about far more than Alaric’s. A part of her was ready to throw down as soon as she felt someone yank on her hoodie, but she deflated as soon as she registered who it was. “Uh… out?” Her mother had died a vampire and was resurrected as a vampire, her wolf side still bound by Greta’s spell, and Hope wasn’t exactly sure how to broach that topic. How to get past the guilt of it despite how long it had been. “I was just going to go for a run, patrol a bit to see if I could see anything. Wanna come with?” 

She doesn’t have to strain her ears to hear what Hayley’s telling the guy, thanks to her newfound super hearing. ‘Hot girl’ especially stands out and Buffy smiles at Hayley, despite the utter failure of her first attempt at compulsion. The nonchalance and slight impatience written in Hayley’s expression certainly give her the good tingles. She’s watching a pro at work, and using her powers in the best way that she’s able. “Well see, no one told me it had to be all sexy. Therein lies my problem.”

Buffy follows Hayley’s gaze and spots a brunette woman in a fashionable dress making her way through the crowd. She reminds her of one Cordelia Chase and suddenly, Buffy’s off. Like riding a smooth… something something… straight. Got it. 

“Hi.” She probably doesn’t need the introduction every time, does she? She takes the girl’s arm to draw her attention in… then she has her. “Don’t struggle. Don’t scream. You’re having a–” Out of the corner of her eye, she spots an ever so slight pulse in the girl’s neck, triggering an itch in the back of Buffy’s throat that catches her words. She tries to swallow it away and brings her eyes back to the woman. “–You’re having a great time. When I’m gone, you’re going to find a bandage for your neck, get a glass of water at the bar, then return to the party. But for now, just… don’t move.” She practically breathes out the last bit in a whisper as she gets distracted again by the girl’s pulse. She’s drawn to it and it makes her waver just as much as it makes her crave what’s just underneath her skin. Her eyes flicker back and forth between the girl’s neck and the blank, hypnotized stare, then finally to Hayley. 

Will it really quench her thirst as well as Hayley says? Will it taste better than the bags? Will she be able to control herself once she starts? Her lips hover over the long stretch of bare skin. She can smell the perfume the girl put on hours ago down to the concentration. Marc Jacobs Perfect. EDP. 

Though Buffy mumbles it, she knows Hayley will hear: “Stop me if I….” And before she can finish her sentence, she surges forward. In seconds, the burn at the back of her throat is soothed over as her grip on the girl’s shoulder tightens. 

Oh yeah. Way, massively way better than the bags.

It takes her a minute, but Buffy gets there eventually. Hayley watches again, shoving her former victim back into the crowd of people and pushing her way through the mass of humans on the dance floor, once Buffy’s sunk her teeth into the woman’s neck. She can see it in Buffy’s stance, the way human blood fulfills a part of her that animal blood in a bag never could — and she remembers the first time she went on the hunt too: total euphoria. 

Then, she stands behind Buffy for a minute, letting it all carefully sink in and simmer, watching the woman slowly relax as her blood is drained, and when she knows she’s taken just enough, Hayley carefully slides her fingers through Buffy’s hair, tucking it behind her ear. ❛ Okay. Now let her go —❜

@triguilt​

@bayouroyalty​

“Stop. Don’t panic.” She should be telling herself that, honestly, not the very human man in the club who falls under her hypnotic gaze, and not just because her eyeshadow is on point tonight. It’s unnerving- the vamp powers, not the power of makeup- but Hayley’s given her plenty of reasons why she needs to learn these types of skills sooner rather than later. But she’s taking away a human’s free will! They can’t choose not to do this, they can’t fight her! She’s supposed to protect- and there goes the runaway thoughts again. Okay, Buffy. You can do this. 

“Relax. You’re not even here right now, about to be bit, you’re… oh! You’re on a beach. Not Santa Monica. I’m thinking Malibu. Are you a margarita guy or something more macho? I like the… the little umbrellas….” She clears her throat and looks over her shoulder back at Hayley, second guessing herself. “Is this right? It feels kinda in the realm of stage magician or pseudo-shrink and not really… vamp-y.”

Open up my eyes a — I’m thinking Malibu — tell me who i am let me in on a— something more macho? — tion no sin how deep is your lo —

Disaster. She’s the shadow on the wall watching, manning a beer with cautious curiosity. All she’s gotta do is focus, eyes on Buffy across the crowded club, and listen. She only hears the sound of the Slayer’s voice, the loud, loud music just a thump in the background. Hayley’s only at fault here. She’d promised she’d teach Buffy the ropes, everything that she needed to exercise control, authority, and most importantly, get a grip on her newly found and potentially most-lethal powers. Buffy’s stronger than her now, positively so, but Hayley’s not sure she’s grasped just how much. 

When Buffy looks to her for guidance, Hayley quirks her eyebrow, rolls her eyes, unnoticeable in the darkness of the club to anyone but a supernatural creature, and she leaves her empty beer on top of a moving tray carried by an oblivious waiter towards the VIP area — and she’s next to Buffy in a blink. 

The stranger’s chin is in her hands and he momentarily attempts to struggle, before she captures his gaze, pupils dilating. “Don’t move. Don’t scream. You’re having a great time, a hot girl just asked you to dance. After she’s gone, you’ll forget everything about this. You’ll go home, have a couple of aspirin, some water — all you’ll know is you had the time of your life tonight”. 

“Aha! Thirsty for more––?” Then… face, you remember cage? Except this time it’s more like an overzealous reverse hug and Hayley’s got a cocky-sounding smile in her voice. From her, she’ll take it as a compliment. And a major incentive to prove that the showing off is only going to be a one time thing by their next training session. 

When Hayley’s hand leaves her hip and her thigh disappears, she feels the absence of both immediately. Exhaling a stream of breath that puffs out her cheeks, she tries to block out any words of eloquent wisdom regarding the effects of slaying à la an eighteen year old Faith. She catches the towel that’s thrown to her and listens to Hayley’s line of reasoning. …To room and board with the original vampire family, of all things.

“….And if he wants to rip my throat out at the suggestion? Or my friends’ throats?” All she’s seen of Klaus Mikaelson so far has been unpredictability and a festering rage unlike most of what she’s seen, and she’s been around anger all of her life. Trusting Hayley that there’s more than that to him when Buffy’s not in the room means taking a pretty big risk with the lives she’s brought here. The other Mikaelsons are large presences in any given room themselves, but they don’t send Buffy’s Slayer senses tingling in a dozen different directions. “’Cause if that’s the safest place to be- Klaus notwithstanding- then my friends are coming with. They’re a part of the Slayer package deal, and our best bet at foiling Amy’s plan with minimal bloodbath and losses.”

❛ Klaus has his... history. But he’s not an idiot. ❜ Like Hayley, he’s willing to do whatever it takes to save his family. Now, with Amy’s plan on the forefront and Hope’s liability on the line, having The Slayer in the Abbatoir might not be such a bad idea after all, accompanying party be damned. ❛ He’ll do anything for his family. So would I. Everything we do is for Hope...❜ 

She opens the cage, steps out; her shoes comically squeak against the wooden floor. A month or so ago, she would be damned to turn her back to Buffy Summers. Hybrid senses or not, she could’ve driven a stake through her chest any time — but she hadn’t. That was just the thing, the thing she sees that they all don’t see. If The Slayer wanted any of them dead, they would be dead. Klaus and the rest of his family included. And extendedly, likewise. If they wanted Buffy and her friends dead, they would be. 

She knows what this pattern of landing on her ass means. Death. No monologues, no chattiness, no banter. Just a swift death in the face of what could just be a single vampire at this rate. But she didn’t leave Sunnydale just to not make it in any other town. She’s no one-hit wonder. That god mentioned before? The misogynistic preacher? The demon-robot-human hybrid? All had one thing in common: they all feared her in the end. 

And, hey, Hayley making sure she makes it through the week is thoughtful and all, but the water break in the middle of a fight is just plain disrespectful. She suspects that’s the point, and it does work in lighting a hotter fire under her feet. It’s time to cut her floor time way down. 

Buffy rolls back halfway and does a kip-up like a warning to Hayley that her taunts are working. They all feared her in the end. She doesn’t inch forward this time, pre-planning her moves. It’s all lowered brow and angry pout and rapidly closing the distance as a force to be reckoned with. The force to be reckoned with. She comes in hot with a flurry of Slayer-fast punches, forearm blocks, and flying elbows, staying close to the cage’s perimeter on one side and retracting her strikes rapidly back to her body. Every part of her is moving constantly, with practiced footwork that she can do in her sleep. Then she ducks behind Hayley, snatches up the water bottle she finds by her toe and flings it at her face before she can fully turn around- here’s your water break- then launches forward for the rear chokehold to twist and yank Hayley to the floor face first.

Now that’s a start. It’s unexpected, and quick, and distracting — she has a harder time blocking Buffy’s punches, the jabs, the quicker strikes. So much so, that by the time Buffy chucks the water bottle at her and Hayley catches the hydro flask in her hands, she’s eating the floor. She thinks of this in a larger scale; three angry vampires and one slayer with a killer axe. One swing, three heads. Buffy can’t rely much on brutality as she has to rely on efficiency, but maybe, just maybe, she should teach her how to put her fist through a grown man’s chest. It might come in handy sooner rather than later.

Hayley grunts, but she’s back on her feet quicker than she fell, and pushing Buffy at blinding speed against the cage. But it’s not exactly an aggressive hold — she’s got a hand on her hip, an arm around her neck, and her thigh keeping her in place between them, but she’s not tightening her hold. She’s just holding her; if Buffy were to turn around, she’d see the wicked grin on Hayley’s face. ❛ Better. ❜ 

And she lets her go again. A little slower this time, taking a careful step back and pushing her hair away from her face. ❛ Word’s gonna get out. The longer you’re here, the more vampires are going to find out you’re in town, and they’ll be first in line to get their hands on your throat. Marcel only controls a small faction of vampires who pass through — The French Quarter’s popular with travelers.❜

Can she go back to punching gods in the face? At least her attacks connected with Glory. Caleb. Adam. They were freakishly strong and a touch on the side of invincible- at least for a moment- but they weren’t Hayley Marshall fast. (And are neither of them going to bring up the symbolism of them doing this in a church? There has to be some symbolism there.)

But she keeps at it, no matter how many times Hayley technically wins the fight and either sends her body smacking against the floor or gets her fingers around her neck. Hayley’s abilities are more or less the norm here, and Buffy’s not ‘Buffy, Slayer of the Slower, Dusty Variety of Vampire’. It’s all vampires. It’s all in the big book she has– or, Giles has. Somewhere. 

Buffy rubs her jaw and faces Hayley with a bend in her knees and her fists looser than before, prepared to smack away attacks or grapple rather than start on the offensive. Instinct first, fatal strike second. “You say ‘no thinking’ then throw me that visual? You’re a tough sensei.” At least her bones are sturdier than the aforementioned watcher. She rolls the frustration from her shoulders and approaches Hayley again, watching for that split second twitch before the supermodel becomes a blur. Focus, Buffy. Not supermodel. Very deadly demon melting pot of a woman who could kill you before you can say ‘hey, I might be bi-curious’. She throws a back kick in an attempt to drive Hayley towards a certain direction that would keep her at an advantage. 

She sees the kick almost as soon as Buffy throws it — and she’s got a grip on her ankle before it manages to connect with her abdomen. Granted, Hayley’s not your average foe, as far as giving The Slayer a run for her money goes; she’s faced off with an army of vampires and come out unscathed before. Some vampires don’t make it past their first month. 

❛ I’m not here to give you a philosophical talk about killing vampires —❜ And she pulls forward. Hard, promptly making Buffy fall on her ass on the mat right by her feet. ❛ — I’m here to make sure you make it through the week. ❜ 

And she’s trying to incentivize Buffy to try harder, taunting her, by leaving her on the floor and turning her back on her, picking up the water bottle from the side of the ring and taking a sip. No, she doesn’t need the water. She’s anything but parched, but showing disinterest to Buffy’s presence as a potential threat might just be the push she needs. 

The cage rattles, bends, and with it, Buffy’s body thumps on the matted ground. Hayley circles the makeshift ring in the old church, with the stained glass that gives this temporary gym an early century-gothic aura. She stops in front of her, offers her hand to help her off the ground — this is what she asked for, to learn how to fight vampires like them. The ones who don’t pick theatrics and disappear in a blink. And Buffy’s got the reflexes. Hayley knows she does. But she doesn’t have the training, not for this. 

Especially Hayley. Stronger, faster, better trained in combat and much more ruthless than your run of the mill vampire. 

Once she pulls Buffy off the ground, Hayley twists her arm, spins her around; she’s got her neck between her fingers, but with no intention of actually hurting her beyond the momentary soreness of a good tussle. ❛ Try it again — ❜ Hayley all but growls in Buffy’s ear. Then, she lets go, releasing her from her hold, from the grip on her jaw. 

If Hayley wasn’t around, then this would just be another job that she’s been doing for years: wood goes in, vamp goes poof. Nothing special about it. But throw in a vampire-werewolf alpha lady with a jaw that could cut rocks and a smile that could banish darkness- and who can easily keep up with her to boot- and Buffy goes mach 9 with the full body tingles. 

“–– Looking up? Did you even see my off-the-wall spinny kick back there?” Her eyes follow the thumb that disappear into Hayley’s mouth. Woo, boy. Is it strange that she gets a big head about her blood being tastier than other blood? Jury says yes, and to not ask questions she doesn’t want to hear the answer to. That’s a big oh well as Buffy squeezes Hayley’s waist with her thighs and raises herself up until she’s looking down at Hayley and nearly flush with her body. She hums through a smile as she admires hazel irises. “And hardly. Besides my perfectly good lipstick job being ruined, this doesn’t even qualify as roughed up. I’m a tough girl. Lot tougher than you think.” She rakes her fingers through Hayley’s hair like the other woman didn’t just execute multiple beheadings with her bare hands a minute ago. “Yep. I knew it. I see sweat. Y’know next time, you can always ask for help. It’s not something you need to be ashamed of.”

She knows exactly how tough Buffy is — and she’s not speaking in innuendos. She’s seen it, her, survive Klaus, survive a carnage, dust vampires like sport, and kill demons like a past time. Buffy is dangerous. Lethal. And Hayley should be doing everything but cozying up to her. Everyone has made their opinion clear: Klaus with his less than tasteful speeches, Rebekah with her nagging comments, Elijah with his strange intuition and careful words — she can’t imagine Buffy’s having it any better on the other end of the line. 

Buffy runs and Hayley catches, with her hands holding her thighs even though he knows, logically, that Buffy doesn’t need help holding on. She laughs, with a playful eye roll that says nothing but ‘typical’ and a quick glance at the carnage behind her. Buffy’s very clinical. Hayley’s well — a hybrid. Brutal. Merciless. ❛ Sure, ‘cause baby vamps really make me work up a sweat. ❜ Spoiler: they really, really don’t. 

Sheesh, no time for Buffy around here, huh? “I’ll talk fast, but you might want to free up your night.” She follows Hayley, keeping close to the woman who already had the sense to save her life once in a strange new city. The tension between them doesn’t go by unnoticed. It’s strange, going to all these new places in the world only to find people who know her and have already formed an impression of her. At least they can skip the awkward introductory phase. Aside from the fact that she had to find out from Vincent what Hayley’s name even was. 

“I don’t trust any of them. Not that I trust you either, but I think I can afford to put you further up the list right now.” There was so much anger and insecurity in that room. It’s not unlike trying to keep a bunch of super powered teenage girls living under one roof from killing each other. Or pulling hair. “Vincent gave me full permission to patrol Lafayette Cemetery. Not that that’s something I need, but it helps with the… not pissing people off so much. Anyway, I saw something last night. Looked like the remains of a ritual. My friend Willow did some investigating and she recognizes the spell that was cast. She thinks the mastermind behind all of this weird magic mojo is someone we knew back in Sunnydale. It’s… not good.”

❛ Magic’s not really my forte —❜ Now if things were to get a little physical, she might be able to lend a hand. However, despite Hayley’s reluctance, she can’t help but understand why Buffy had chosen her, out of all the people who could help her get to the bottom of this much more quickly. ❛ — But I’ll help, if you need someone to watch your back. I don’t know what kind of magic your people liked to perform, but the witches of the French Quarter will not take kindly to a stranger tainting the home of their ancestors. The Cemetery’s holy ground, so if your theory’s right, its only a matter of time before they find her.❜

@bayouroyalty​

The meeting with the factions went well enough. She thinks. There are too many motivations in a single room to know for sure. But so far, none of them seem too keen about the news that strange magic is what attracted the Slayer to their city. Hopefully a common threat keeps them working together until it’s handled. 

And handle it, Buffy intends to. She mutters something to Willow and breaks off from the group as witches, vampires, werewolves and humans split off and go their separate ways. In a light jog, she catches up to Hayley and touches her elbow. Is that socially acceptable to do with an alpha? Her experience with Oz’s transformations never gave her much of a glimpse into pack hierarchy. Or werewolves with that vampire flavor going for them. Hybrids, so they’re called. Ah well. They’ll live with it. “Hey. Is there somewhere we can speak in private? If that exists with all the super-hearing going around these days. I-it’s kinda important.”

You could cut the tension in the room like a knife in butter. They’re all displeased, one way or the other — Klaus, angry about having to work with his assailant, Vincent and involving himself with another breed of witches he barely has experience with, and Marcel, about getting mixed up with The Slayer herself, in the flesh. They’re a different breed, their vampires. The original kind, not the mockery demons have made their mythos to be; they carry daylight rings, and have moral ties to the human world. 

Even so, Buffy Summers is responsible for killing numbers in what she assumes are the thousands. So of course she’s wary. Diplomatic, but wary.

Willow and Giles will help her out with the history portion when they arrive in the city. It might be a Hellmouth bust, but there’s still plenty going on that’s out of the ordinary and could use a Slayer’s touch. 

Buffy drops her arms by her side and walks over to her discarded scythe, picking it up with a sense of revitalized determination. The woman offers no answer that’s useful and it sets off all kinds of warning bells. She wants the Slayer gone. 

Task list: Step 1, have Willow and Giles do the brushing up on local history. Step 2, get some beignets on Royal. Step 3, patrol and seek out informants. Klaus and mystery bayou stranger make it sound like there are multiple factions in the city and its surrounding areas. A lot of demons are territorial. But where there are competing factions, there are those disgruntled members who will talk if given the chance. Or if punched a lot. 

When she makes her way back to the woman she stops just in front of her for effect, and stares up into striking hazel eyes. “Not to sound unappreciative of you saving my life, but I still have a job to do. Any trouble I stir up? Will happen if I find it necessary. So if you’re not going to answer any of my questions, then I’m calling it a night. The first of many until I am good and done here.”

It immediately sets her on alert. Buffy gets a little too close for comfort, steps up and stares her down — so Hayley stands, threatened, with her arms crossed over her chest. On the porch steps, she’s got even a couple more inches on The Slayer and she’d be a little more menacing for effect — she’d flash her eyes, and show her fangs — but something tells her it will do nothing more than push all the wrong buttons in all the wrong places.

Hayley really doesn’t wanna hurt her, but she grabs her arm, before The Slayer can turn and disappear, leaving her alone on the steps of her cabin.

❛ You’re way in over your head.❜ She’s deadly serious, staring her down just the same. Buffy’s got some pretty set of eyes, but Hayley means nothing but business tonight.