idk I guess I still play this dumb asshole

[flammatory]

Tag me or something. Let me know if you have a preference for canon point (I usually default to post-show with some comics inspo). Also feel free to comment blank and I'll make a prompt.

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[amadaman]

Not a lot of things made sense, but this state of confusion was nothing new. After being shuffled around from relative to relative in the first year since his mother's death, he had finally been settled at a distant uncle and his wife's house for the last few months. However with the recent events, he couldn't say with any amount of certainty how much longer this arrangement will last. He wasn't too broken up about it; his uncle was never home enough for him to get attached to, and nothing felt right since his mother's death anyway. It was only frustrating, feeling out of control and left at the mercy of adults who waved around paperwork and talked about convenience and childcare and never talked to him about what he wanted.

Not a lot of things made sense, but what made the least sense at the moment was what happened yesterday on the way back from school. His uncle had been furious, although he did his best to hide it (not very effective, nevertheless), and his aunt nearly fainted when she heard. The police officers who got involved had a thousand and one questions too, but he had just as many questions and answers to none. What was he thinking? How did he do it? How was it possible? He didn't know. He saw a car roaring down the street, he saw an old man making his way down the street right in its way, and with a feeling like a punch in the gut was some instinctive, irresistible urge to go over there and stop it, so he did.

So he might've stolen a steel pipe from a nearby construction zone. So he might've damaged the pavement when he stabbed one end of the pole into it. So he might've totaled somebody's car (it was a guy on the run anyway). So he might've caused a minor pile-up because of it. He couldn't explain to himself, let alone anybody else, how he was capable of doing any of that, but at least the old grandpa was okay and even thanked him for saving him.

That was a day ago. Right now it was the night after, and he wasn't at the house because he didn't want to deal with the questions. But maybe he should've stayed inside anyway, because running into a shifty, scary looking guy attacking someone was not unheard of in this part of town but also nothing close to how he wanted to end the night. He has no idea, at this point, if the girl is okay, but he does know that he might not be coming out of this okay with how crappy his luck usually is and with said guy chasing after him with what is unmistakably what the manga writers like to call 'murderous intent'. Why did he intervene? Why did he decide to run up there and kick the guy in the head like that's a good idea? He liked superhero shows but he had no dreams about being one?

That matters very little now, he guesses, compared to the question of how should I take care of this guy? that's running through his head as he leaps over a few garbage cans and wooden crates lining the alleyway next to a grocery store, crashing through a pile of cardboard boxes, and rolls out onto the side street on the other side, right in the way of some guy in a suit. Crap crap crap.

He unceremoniously slaps a banana peel from one of the garbage cans out of his hair as he gets to his feet and turns to anticipate the weirdo he knows is chasing him. And if someone asked him later why he yelled to the second man, "Run!" -- well, he doesn't think he can give a very satisfying answer to that, either. It just felt like the right thing to say.

[paternally]

Well, that solves his worries about how to introduce himself. He'd run right into him. There's no real question of who this is-- Giles has a whole file, picture included-- and then a vampire in its demonic visage barrels right after him, and Giles yelps in a very undignified way and stumbles back.

"Wait!" he calls out futilely, frantically digging into his bag and unearthing a stake, fumbling it into a defensive position. "Come back, you-- you need this--"

The fact that Giles hasn't run and is instead dawdling around makes him a prime target for the vampire, who slows, then jerks to a halt, conflicted between his revenge and this seemingly soft target of an old man. Giles isn't quite that helpless but he's only the Slayer's trainer, not the Slayer her-- err, himself. It's hardly the same.

[amadaman]

The vampire -- not that he has the knowledge to recognize it as such -- may halt, but Ken wastes no time. His body, already moving to lunge anyway, moves faster and with more force the moment the monster's eyes turn to the man. He's not going to give it time to change targets.

Ken's no real fighter. He's never been in a brawl in his short life, and the only reference he has for combat are the Sunday morning shows he watched back when his mother was still alive. He knew the fighting techniques from those shows were bullshit, but it's enough to make him duck when necessary and kick out when he sees the chance. And no matter how small, the force of an entire human body barreling right into it is enough to knock the monster on its back and daze it. Enough time for Ken to place himself between it and the man.

"You should really run, mister, I don't know what this guy's problem is but he's really really mad. What's with the stick?"

[paternally]

What's with the stick? indeed. That explains how much he's figured out about vampires on his own-- not much, if anything.

Thank God he hadn't just run off and left him here, although Giles hadn't really expected that; there's never been a recorded Slayer who didn't have a strong instinct to save civilians, and he doesn't expect that to change just because this one's male. He tosses the stake over to him in a quick, snappy throw, not underhanded, before pulling out another.

He thinks this will go fine, but that doesn't mean he'll be stupid enough to stay unarmed.

"This stick is a stake," he informs him tightly, as the vampire lurches to its feet and approaches again-- this time in its demonic visage, face contorted and bestial around a mouth full of fangs. "And I suggest you use it! Stop thinking-- just react!"

[amadaman]

"Ugh." Ken's listening. He hears all of the man's words, but most of his attention is on the monster now. "Gross."

Now that it's in his hands and he can feel its weight and make out the shape of it, he doesn't need to be told twice about using it. He doesn't need an explanation either. After that final word, Ken falls quiet, breath slowing, deepening -- an inhale through his nose, filling his lungs, an exhale through barely parted lips. His shoulders rise and fall which each breath as his dark eyes observe and follow the monster's movements. Every twitch. Every breath. Every--

As the man told him, Ken isn't thinking deeply about what he's doing. He only reacts, jumping into action the moment he catches the monster tensing for another attack, and from there it's momentous. He opens his mouth to let out a yell that's surprisingly deep for a boy his size, and he rams that small body into the monster without hesitation. The stick -- the stake -- he gripped in his hand sinks into the monster's chest a lot easier than he expected. It's over before he truly realizes what he's doing, rolling off the body below him after it falls to the ground and stops moving.