Chapter Text
Art by Natsuki Minami
"Dude, a panic attack over a pop quiz?" Max adjusted his backpack, trying to appear nonchalant as they navigated the crowded hallway.
PJ wrung his hands. "You know how much I suck at math! X and Y aren't exactly my best buds."
A very, very large shadow loomed over them. Held-back-two-years-Marty grinned at them, revealing a gap where his front tooth used to be. “If it isn't Beavis and Butt-Head," he sneered.
Max rolled his eyes. "Marty, isn't this bullying routine getting a little old? Speaking of old, don't you have a driver's license to study for?"
Marty's grin widened. "Funny, Beavis. But not funny enough to save you from my Trash Toss!"
Before they could react, Marty grabbed them both by their collars. Max found himself airborne, followed by a squeal from PJ. With not-so-surprising accuracy, Marty deposited them, one after another, into the overflowing recycling bin by the cafeteria door.
A chorus of laughter erupted from a group of kids nearby, pointing and snickering. Max untangled himself from a sticky plastic plate, while PJ removed the tuna fish remains from his blue jacket.
"Well," Max sighed, leaning against a half-eaten banana peel, "at least we're eco-friendly."
PJ pulled the noodles from his hair. "Great. Now I'm the recyclable material I hate the most, unwanted."
Later, slumped on a bench in the deserted playground, Max rested his head in his gloved hands. "You know, one day, I just want some respect."
"Max, we just got composted. The only respect we're getting is from the local fruit flies."
"No, seriously," Max insisted. "Imagine walking down the hall and people actually move for us."
PJ pondered this, then nodded. "Like, 'Oh, look at those guys. They're probably on their way to invent cold fusion or something equally terrifying.'"
"Or maybe we become renowned video game developers." Max grinned. "And Marty would be working at the school cafeteria, trying to get us to take extra tater tots."
PJ snickered. "That would be cool!"
"One day, Peej. One day." Max clapped him on the shoulder, leaving a faint smudge of banana peel on PJ's shirt.
"One day," PJ echoed, picking at the smudge. "But first, we probably need to figure out how to get that tuna smell out of our backpacks."
~*~*~*~*~*~
As Max and PJ trudged down the sidewalk, the lingering aroma of recycled goods clung to their clothes. Max spotted a familiar figure in his front yard. A tall form with a cascade of auburn hair was pulling a small duffel bag from the trunk of a car. She was wearing an orange top, a blue jacket, light blue jeans, and brown knee-high laced boots.
Max's eyes widened. "Debbie!" he yelled, breaking into a sprint.
His eighteen-year-old cousin, Debbie, looked up and smiled. He practically launched himself at her.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Are you staying for the night?"
Debbie laughed. "More than one night, actually. My parents had an unexpected trip, so I'm bunking with you for a bit. That is, if you don't mind sharing your double bunk bed?"
Max's grin stretched from ear to ear. "Mind? No way! This is awesome!"
PJ finally caught up, slightly out of breath. "Hi, Debbie!"
She looked them both over, her nose wrinkling slightly. “What's that interesting aroma?"
Max and PJ exchanged a panicked glance. They definitely weren't about to confess their recent encounter with the recycling bin.
"Oh, that?" Max said, trying to sound casual. "We, uh, had a really intense dodgeball game. And, you know, the gym bags. They really retain odors."
Debbie squinted at them, clearly not entirely convinced, but she just chuckled. "Right. Well, I'm sure a good shower will fix that. Now, about that bunk bed, which one's mine?"
Max beamed. "Top bunk's all yours!"
~*~*~*~*~*~
Max's ability to sleep through anything was a superpower forged in the fiery crucible of a trailer park, where his dad's snoring could register on the Richter scale. But tonight, a faint creak, then the soft scuff of a shoe, pulled him from the depths of dreamland. He blinked, groggy, into the moonlit room.
He rubbed his eyes and peered over the edge of the top bunk. His heart nearly jumped into his throat. There, silhouetted against the pale glow of the streetlights, was Debbie. She was halfway out the open window, one leg already dangling outside, her duffel bag clutched in one hand.
Still half-asleep, Max struggled to process what he just saw. Debbie? Sneaking out? He stared, frozen, as she carefully lowered herself, then vanished from view. The silence that followed was deafening.
He pushed himself upright, his jaw hanging open. Where in the world did she go?
~*~*~*~*~*~
The secret meeting in the treehouse was in full swing, which mostly involved Max pacing and PJ nervously picking at a splinter.
"So, where do you think she went?" PJ whispered.
"I don't know," Max grumbled, running a hand through his hair. "But she came back hours later. Her hair was a mess, and her clothes were torn. Like she'd been in a wrestling match."
They peered through the dusty treehouse window. Below, in the front yard, Debbie was laughing with Max's dad, who was happily watering his daisies. She looked normal, not a hair out of place, no visible wounds.
"PJ," Max declared, turning from the window with newfound determination. "We have to follow her tonight."
PJ's eyes went wide. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Are you insane? What if our dads found out we snuck out in the middle of the night? My dad has a sixth sense for rule-breaking. He can smell disobedience."
"Aren't you curious?" Max challenged, eyebrows raised.
"I am, Alice," PJ retorted, crossing his arms, "But I'm not as curious about what kind of creative, soul-crushing punishment my dad will have in store for me if I get caught. Last time, he made me alphabetize his entire spice rack. In metric."
"PJ, you're overreacting," Max scoffed.
"Says the boy who's never been grounded," PJ shot back. "You have nothing to worry about. Your dad's about as scary as a fluffy bunny. Mine, on the other hand, makes actual bunnies tremble."
"Fine," Max huffed. "I'll go alone then." He made a show of stomping towards the ladder, but before he could even reach it, PJ grabbed his arm.
"Wait! You can't go alone! Fine! But if I end up grounded until college, you owe me a lifetime supply of your grandma's chocolate chip cookies."
Max smirked, a triumphant glint in his eye. "That's my boy."
~*~*~*~*~
Under the moonlight, Max and PJ crouched behind a prickly rose bush.
"Are you sure this is the right way?" PJ whispered.
"Yes, I'm sure," Max hissed back, peering through a gap in the fence. "She's going to the cemetery. Why would she go there?"
They slipped through a squeaky iron gate, the chill night air raising goosebumps on their arms. Gravestones stretched out before them like a silent, stony army. Max shivered, not just from the cold.
They crept from behind a large mausoleum, finally spotting Debbie. To their shock, she was perched casually on top of a tombstone, her legs swinging idly. And she was… playing yo-yo. The string whizzed, the plastic spun, catching the faint moonlight in hypnotic arcs.
"She's playing yo-yo on a dead person's house," PJ breathed, his jaw practically on the ground.
"What kind of secret life is this?" Max muttered, his eyes wide. “Is she part of a Goth yo-yo club? Is this how teenagers mourn now?"
Suddenly, a patch of earth near a crumbling headstone began to churn. Dirt shifted, a skeletal hand burst through the soil, followed by another, clawing at the air. A gaunt, pale male-looking figure slowly pulled himself from the grave.
"Oh, sweet mother of all that is holy!" PJ squeaked, nearly tumbling backward into a fresh grave.
Equally terrified, Max grabbed PJ's arm. "It's… it's a zombie! Or a ghoul! Or a very rude late-night gardener!"
The figure, now fully upright, was tall, clad in tattered, ancient clothes, with sharp fangs glinting in its mouth.
"A vampire," Max and PJ whispered in unison.
"Oh, for crying out loud," Debbie sighed, exasperated, as the vampire lunged. She ducked under its grasping claws, then delivered a swift, powerful kick to its knee. The vampire staggered.
"She just roundhoused a vampire!" Max whispered, flabbergasted.
The vampire roared, lunging again. Debbie unwound the yo-yo string, transforming it into a makeshift whip. She cracked it, and the vampire recoiled, momentarily stunned. Then, she reached into her duffel bag and pulled out a finely carved wooden stake.
"Okay, this is getting ridiculous," PJ whimpered, burying his face in Max's shoulder.
As the vampire roared and charged one last time, she met it head-on. With a grunt, she plunged the stake deep into its chest. There was a guttural scream, and then, with a shimmering, whooshing sound, the vampire erupted into a cloud of dust, dissolving into nothingness before their eyes.
Debbie brushed her hands off, a small cloud of grey dust puffing from her clothes. She picked up her yo-yo, still intact, and gave it a test spin.
Max and PJ remained frozen, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, staring at the spot where the vampire had been.
"Well," PJ finally managed, "that explains the torn clothes and messy hair."
Max slowly turned to PJ, his face pale. "You know how yesterday we said we wished we could get some respect?"
PJ nodded, still trembling slightly.
"I think I'm good with just not being eaten by a vampire."
"I just saw a grown man turn into glitter," PJ whispered, his eyes still wide. "And I thought that Math test was the scariest thing I'd face this week."
Before they could fully process what happened, the air shimmered, not with dust, but with green energy. A woman materialized as if stepping out of a ripple in reality. She was impossibly tall, with skin like polished obsidian, eyes that glowed with malevolent amber, and a set of curling ram-like horns sprouting from her temples. Her dress seemed woven from shadow itself.
"Finally," Debbie said. "Took you long enough. What do you want with a small town like Spoonerville? Are you here to audition for the local bake-off? Because I hear Mrs. Henderson's lemon meringue is literally to die for."
The demon woman's glowing eyes narrowed slightly. "Always with the quips, Slayer. And for your information, I was just popping by to visit my Great Aunt Mildred. She makes the most divine demon-soul stew."
Debbie's eyebrow arched. "Hope you said your final goodbyes, then. Because this is your last visit."
Max and PJ watched as a full blown battle was happening before their eyes. Max was in awe, witnessing his cousin delivering punches and kicks with the skill of Jackie Chan, that was until the demon kicked her flying and slamming into a headstone.
Groaning as she slid to the ground, Debbie looked at the demon advancing with a cruel smile twisting her lips.
"This is it, Slayer," the demon said, raising a hand that crackled with dark energy, "the end of the line for your little legacy."
Seeing his cousin in genuine peril, Max launched himself forward, aiming for the demon's leg. The demon didn't even break stride. She merely flicked her wrist, and Max flew backward, landing near a statue of a weeping angel. He lay there, dazed, staring up at the stars.
"Max! No! Get back!" Debbie struggled to push herself up, her gaze darting frantically. Then she spotted PJ, peeking out from behind a bush, his face a mask of terror.
"What have we here?" the demon murmured, her gaze sweeping over all three of them. A malicious smile spread across her face. "A new twist to an old tale. This will be far more entertaining."
Before Debbie could even form a protest, the demon woman raised both hands. A blinding, searing beam of energy shot forth, engulfing Debbie, Max, and PJ in a flash.
When the light subsided, the demon woman chuckled. Debbie stumbled, suddenly feeling as if she'd run a marathon while wearing lead boots. Her limbs felt heavy, sluggish. She tried to summon the familiar surge of power, the Slayer strength that always answered her call, but there was nothing. A hollow, terrifying emptiness.
"What… what did you do?" Debbie gasped, collapsing to her knees.
The demon woman surveyed them with an amused smirk. "Oh, nothing much. Just a little cosmic realignment. You see, this whole 'one Slayer' thing is rather boring. So, I've simply transferred your little 'gift' to your male companions. Divided it, actually. Half for the little Hairball here," she gestured to Max, who was still rubbing his head, "and half for the wonderfully anxious Worrywart over there." She pointed a clawed finger at PJ, who promptly fainted behind the bush.
Debbie stared, horrified. "You… you transferred my Slayer powers? To them? But… but that's impossible! Slayer powers are meant for the girls! There's never been a boy Slayer!"
The demon woman threw back her head and laughed. "Well, there is now, isn't there? Enjoy the patriarchy, boys. And try not to get yourselves killed. Though I don't really care."
With another shimmer, she vanished, leaving behind a couple of powerful boys, and one very powerless Slayer.