Chapter 27: Seeing Red
“Seriously, though,” Dawn said with an annoyed roll of her eyes. Her captor’s megalomania was starting to grate on her nerves. “You know you’re gonna die, right?”
“This vessel’s life is irrelevant,” the otherworldly voice hissed from Laura Danvers’ mouth.
“Not just the vessel,” Dawn retorted confidently. “You. The glowy, assholic Shur-Askh-whatever. You’re dead.”
A peel of deranged laughter escaped the old woman’s lips. “You’re going to wave a magic wand and banish me again, I suppose?” she countered sarcastically.
Dawn’s eyes narrowed. “We’ve got the spell. You’re not leaving this inn alive.”
Laura Danvers’ brow furrowed at this. “That filthy book,” she shuddered. “I’d thought I was through with it when I burned it.” A wicked smile curled at the edges of her lips. “Although it was fun watching you all accuse each other of stealing it. Honestly, it never once occurred to you that I have the master keys for the entire lodge?”
Dawn managed to flash Rick an apologetic smile. He merely nodded.
“A pity you two didn’t kill each other over it, though,” Laura Danvers continued with a wistful sigh. “But I suppose it won’t matter much longer,” she added disinterestedly.
Dawn and Rick exchanged a nervous look. They hadn’t expected their foe to just roll over and play dead, but they’d thought she’d at least be concerned about the spell that would be cast to destroy the Haunting.
Laura Danvers snickered at their reaction. “Don’t you know?” she teased maliciously. “Your little spell will come too late. Why, already I can feel my new host preparing.” She closed her eyes for a second and breathed in deeply. “Such power. We had tasted it before, but. Yes, this vessel is strong. Not even the magic of the Kassite priests will be able to pull it from our clutches.” An almost awestruck smile lit up her face as her eyes opened once more. “It is begun,” she announced in delight, “and rivers of blood will soon flow in our wake.”
* * *
Spike woke up with a little sigh, a smile curling the edges of his lips as he turned to face the woman beside him. A slight frown marred his brow when he felt the bed next to him and found it empty. One startlingly blue eye opened to search the room for his love.
The answer presented itself to him in the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. A leer curved the edges of his lips as he imagined his Slayer, naked skin flushed and wet hair clinging to her round breasts like a nymph as the hot water caressed her flesh. The image alone had him immediately hard, and he debated the pros and cons of joining her in the shower.
The number one pro, of course, was having a naked, wet, slippery, writhing Buffy in his arms that he could do all sorts of wicked things to. The number one con was having to leave this warm bed that still smelled of her sweet perfume and the heady aroma of their lovemaking. A moment’s hesitation and several deep, unnecessary breaths of air led him to his decision. He pulled Buffy’s pillow over to him and curled around it, savoring the lingering warmth in the linen. He wasn’t going to sacrifice this comfortable-and-warm-in-bed time for the world; plus, his naked Slayer would return to him any minute.
He closed his eyes once more and smiled when he heard something drop on the porcelain and Buffy’s muffled curse. However, he remained confident that she could take on the slippery soap all on her own.
He listened with growing anticipation – in more ways than one – as the shower shut off and Buffy’s bare feet could be heard padding around in bathroom, obviously doing all sorts of girly things that were completely alien to him. He rolled over onto his side and propped his head up on one elbow so that he could see the bathroom door clearly.
Dozens of innuendoes and clever remarks ran through his head about what to say to her when she emerged, all to be just as quickly discarded. He’d never had a really morning after with Buffy, and as a result his current circumstances were leaving him a bit giddy.
Before he’d managed to come to any decision about what to say or do, the question became moot because Buffy emerged from the steam of the bathroom, hair wrapped in one of the hotel’s white towels and body encased in a fuzzy blue bathrobe.
His brief disappointment that she hadn’t appeared to him naked like Venus rising from the sea – no, more like the deadly huntress Diana, and really where was all this poncy poetry stuff coming from anyway? – faded at her beauty. God, this woman looked sexy no matter what she wore. She could have a canvas sack on, and he’d been just as aroused as he was by the sight of her perfect nude body. He was rapidly remembering just how out of control being in love could make him, but he didn’t have to be afraid this time because finally his Slayer loved him back.
“Come back to bed, luv,” he purred softly, caressing the empty spot on the mattress beside him and letting out a colossal yawn.
She pulled the towel from her hair, using it to rub the blond locks dry, and shook her head at him. “We’ve got work to do, remember? Haunting?”
He groaned. “Can wait another hour.or day,” he added enticingly. “Now, c’mon.” He patted the mattress matter-of-factly as if he just expected her to jump in bed beside him.
“I just finished my shower,” she protested, “and you’re all sticky and sweaty.”
“Seem to remember you makin’ me that way,” he agreed with a thrust of hips. “But if ‘s a problem, we’ll just hafta take a shower together afterwards.”
Buffy merely rolled her eyes at what was fast becoming an endless stream of innuendoes and moved to get dressed. “God, I should’ve known you’d be like this,” she muttered to herself, finding a clean pair of blue jeans in her bag and pulling them on.
A small crease furrowed his brow. “Like what?” he demanded.
“All.cocky and arrogant,” she explained, waving one hand in his direction dismissively. “Not to mention completely obsessed with sex.”
“I just thought.” he gasped out in protest, baffled at the way this conversation seemed to be turning. He heard the neediness in his own voice then and fought for control of himself, letting the Big Bad image slip neatly into place. “Don’t recall you complainin’ about my talents earlier,” he countered with a lascivious smirk.
Buffy rolled her eyes. “God’s gift much?”
“God’s got nothin’ to do with it,” he retorted with narrowed eyes.
She shrugged and ducked back into the bathroom with the rest of her clothes, shutting the door behind her.
Spike groaned, facing the grim fact that he wasn’t going to get the Slayer again after all. His erection was still throbbing uncomfortably, and he hated the thought that he’d have to resort to wanking off to relieve himself. Even more disturbing was how cold Buffy seemed to be acting towards him now. He’d had the brief notion that things between them would always be like that morning. He’d felt her love and desire for them through their union, and he’d just assumed.
“Maybe the chit just always is grumpy the mornin’ after,” he muttered to himself as he flopped back down onto the bed. The mattress bounced a couple of times, and the headboard wavered precariously. Maybe it was a good idea to leave this bed be; one of their old marathon sessions, and it would undoubtedly break in two. Actually, it was a theory Spike wanted to test.
With a determined sigh, he sat up and got to his feet, stretching his lean body as sensuously as a giant cat. Yawn thoroughly out of the way and mind made up, he padded over to the bathroom and slipped inside.
Buffy had her back to him, focusing intently on the mirror as she applied her lipstick. Grin widening at the opportunity given him, he snuck right up behind her before slipping his arms around her waist and burying his nose in her still-damp hair.
Buffy squealed in surprise, realizing only belatedly why she hadn’t seen the intruder in the mirror. She squirmed against him for an instant before pushing his arms aside and spinning around to face him, annoyed. “Are you still here?” she demanded angrily.
The grin of Spike’s face faded. “Don’t be mad, pet,” he soothed. “Just got lonely out there, and-“
“And what? Decided to bother me in your free time?” She ran her brush through her hair before pushing by him to escape the close confines of the bathroom.
Spike felt the anger begin to build up within himself at that. “Oi now,” he practically growled, catching her arm roughly and turning her back to face him, “we don’t play like that anymore.”
She blinked up at him deliberately. “Right,” she agreed, shaking him off, “we don’t play at all.”
“Buffy, what’s wrong?” he demanded, half furious at the distance she was putting up between them and half desperate to find out what he’d done wrong and make it right again.
She let out a bark of laughter at that. “‘Wrong’?” she repeated in disbelief. “You honestly want me to answer that. You really do like being hit when you’re down, don’t you?” she retorted nastily.
A gasp of outrage escaped his lips at her implication. “You said we-” he began.
She looked at him like he was a complete idiot. “And you actually believed all that?” she retorted incredulously. “Look, I had fun and everything, but-“
“Fun?” Spike’s eyes flashed yellow with pain and anger. “You don’t watch yourself, Slayer,” he hissed out the title, “and ‘ll.”
“You’ll what?” she retorted. “Scold me?”
“‘m not your neutered puppy-dog anymore,” he insisted vehemently.
“No,” she agreed with a nasty grin, “and it’s horribly inconvenient. You were easier before, you know. You’re almost not worth the effort anymore.”
He caught her to him at that, shaking her roughly, hoping beyond all hope that the woman who had whispered sweet words of love to him mere hours ago would return to her senses. “You love me.” He tried to sound confident, but his voice wavered, insecurity slipping through.
Buffy merely laughed. “You honestly think I could ever love a soulless vampire?” she retorted incredulously. “You’re nothing to me, William. Just a pretty body to satisfy my urges. I could never love you.”
He could feel his world shattering around him again, a desperate whimper in his voice. “W-We made love.”
“We fucked,” she countered, shoving his hands away from her and stepping back. “C’mon, you had to know it was all an act. You’ve always been my cheap whore. A convenient replacement ever since Angel left. Only now the price I have to pay for your services is a few pretty words and some well-placed lies. You should be grateful you got at least that much.”
“No.” It was a whispered plea, as close to begging as he had ever gotten. This was every nightmare he’d ever had magnified a thousand-fold. He kept hoping in vain that he would wake up, but the pain was too great for this to still be a dream.
“God, you’re pathetic,” Buffy exclaimed in exasperation. “If you weren’t such a good lay, I wouldn’t even put up with you.” She pushed past him and headed for the door. “Now, I’ve got a monster to go kill. Lucky for you it’s not you. You should be glad I’ve found a better use for you.” She picked up a stake from the dresser and eyed him evilly before slipping it into the waistband of her pants and leaving the room, the door slamming shut with an extra sashay of her hips.
“B-Buffy?” Spike managed the one last word before he finally broke down in the middle of the room, naked, alone, and shivering uncontrollably with the cold.
* * *
“I never realized before just how frail the human body was,” the being within Laura Danvers commented casually, turning her wrinkled old hand before her and studying like it were some sort of strange and grotesque artifact. “And this mortal.” She tisked. “Her life withered away in a matter of years. She was weak, worthless.”
“Yeah, well humans have a nasty tendency of dying when you slowly poison them from within,” Dawn retorted sarcastically, her helplessness to do anything in this situation making her irritable. “It’s one of those unfortunate side-effects of being mortal and all.”
“Hmm, yes,” Haunting/Danvers agreed disinterestedly. “Did you know that until seven years ago we weren’t even aware that we could feed from demons? Your vampire friend showed us just how wrong we were. We had never imagined just how revitalizing a demon’s despair could be.”
A shiver of worry ran through Dawn’s body at that. “You leave him alone,” she snapped angrily. God, Spike was emotionally fragile enough as it was. If this thing had. She shook off the thought; it was too horrible to contemplate.
“But we need him,” Haunting/Danvers’ cackle echoed through the room. “Don’t you see? He is perfect for us. A host vessel that will not decay, that cannot age. Through him, we will remain strong forever.”
“You can’t have him!” Dawn was white-eyed with panic now. With all her strength, she tried to step forward, outside of the barrier of the Key that protected them. It felt as though she were trying to move through thick molasses, though, and her limbs wouldn’t obey.
“Do not let her get to you,” Rick’s soothing voice murmured in her ear, and he managed to move his hand enough to rest it comfortingly on her shoulder. “Spike knows how to defend against possession.”
Dawn tried to reassure herself with that thought.
Haunting/Danvers merely chided them softly. “What do you think we’ve been doing, children?” she inquired condescendingly. “All those deaths.powerful, painful deaths. We are strong now, no longer reduced to playing the weak, starving spook. And our power is beyond anything your vampire or his little Slayer can even begin to fight against.” The red glow intensified around her eyes for a second, and a victorious smile lit up her lips. “And right about now, our new host is shattered, ready to welcome us with open arms.”
* * *
Bloody bitches. They always use you. They lie to you, and they fuck you, and they beat you, but they never love you. No one ever loves you.
The thought, inspired by pure rage, shot through Spike’s head as he still lay collapsed on the floor of his love’s room, fighting back the waves of agony that overcame him.
You are strong, the voice within insisted. Stop crying and wallowing in your misery like a weakling, and be the demon you were meant to be.
The last line he practically knew by heart. He was the Big Bad. He didn’t cry over a Slayer’s rejection. He didn’t let himself feel pain. And he didn’t let himself feel love. Not anymore.
That’s right, the inner voice sounded delighted at this turn of thought. You never loved the bitch. You just wanted to show her up for the way she treated you before. Got her to let you take a good, long poke – with both fangs and cock.
“B-Bitch.” The word was the first to have escaped his lips since he had broken down into sobbing despair.
Thinks she’s better than you, too. All high and mighty. Thinks you’re domesticated, that she can just have her fun with you and toss you aside. But we know better, don’t we? We’ll show her who the whore is.
The strength the voice offered him was so tempting – a rejection of all his pain and the means to seek revenge. It had all been so much easier when his life had been like this. He was a vampire. He took whatever he wanted, and if anything didn’t go his way, he just left a trail of death and destruction in his wake.
Yes, blood, the voice agreed eagerly. Blood will sustain us all. And then all these foolish mortals will pay for their arrogance.
“What do you want me to do?” Spike’s voice sounded hollow in the motel room, like it echoed out into infinity.
We will help you, the voice insisted. You will be your own man – your own DEMON – once more. You will be free from that little bitch and all the pain she’s forced upon you.
“I-“
You hate her, the voice countered the thought even as it tried to form in his mind. You will make her suffer for what she has done to you. You’ll make her pay, and at the same time you’ll finally bag your third Slayer.
Images flashed through Spike’s mind. Blood red images of him inflicting excruciating pain on Buffy to repay her for every moment of suffering she’d ever given to him. Somewhere deep inside, it sickened him that such images were so enticing, so alluring, but that voice.
You are angry, as well you should be. Show that insignificant little girl what a vampire’s rage is all about. Give in to the bloodlust. It’s so easy.
The voice was right. It was easy. So very easy. Spike’s eyes glowed a deep gold as his demon’s rage fully took over him, and he rose to his feet with a snarl. He grabbed for his clothes and pulled them back on, all while his sensitized nose traced down the sweet scent of his next prey.
And if the red rage that lined his sight actually existed in physical reality, he paid it no heed. Furious, violent, and deadly, he emerged from the bedroom, and the fiery glow of the Haunting trailed behind, unconcealed glee shimmering in the light that surrounded it as it followed its latest pawn to his ultimate destiny.
* * *
With a gasp, Buffy collapsed to a heap in the hallway, tears streaming down her face as she realized that she finally controlled her body once more. Her entire body shook with sobs of relief and despair before she finally ventured to look up.
Oh god, she really was out in the hotel somewhere, in an abandoned hallway. She shakily rose to her feet, hoping beyond hope that it had all been a dream, just another of the nightmares that had plagued her since she’d arrived at this vile place. Maybe she’d just been sleepwalking the entire time, and the Haunting hadn’t.
She couldn’t even bear to think of what that thing had said while it controlled her body. She’d woken up happily enough in the arms of the man she loved. But she’d only managed to get in a few gentle kisses to his sleeping brow when a strange doubt had started to take over her. Whispered words at first, telling her that he was a killer and not to be trusted. That, like all the others, he’d turn against her, and she’d have to break her heart once more to destroy him.
They’d only been a minor buzzing at first, but then they’d grown and grown and before she’d known it she was trapped within her own mind, helpless against the fears and insecurities that had taken over her. It wasn’t until then that she’d truly realized that it had been the Haunting all along. If nothing else, it at least knew how to sneak up on its victims, making them believe that the dark thoughts were their own until it was too late and the insidious creature had taken them over.
And, god, that was exactly what it had done to Spike. If the Haunting had turned nasty too fast, maybe Spike would’ve caught on, but it had played its part perfectly, whittling away at the fragile relationship they’d built and.
She had to get to him, fast before it was too late. Filled with her sudden purpose, Buffy ran back to her room, hoping against all odds that she’d still find Spike there so that she could plead with him to listen to her, to hear the truth.
But the room was empty. And a horrible dread filled Buffy. Because there was no doubt in her mind that the Haunting was destroying her love’s mind at that moment.
* * *
With a screech of tires, the beat-up old Chevy came to an abrupt halt in the parking lot of the Cascade Mountain Lodge. The two women within froze for a minute at the sight before them before slowly daring to exit the vehicle.
“W-What.?” Siggy began, stunned speechless by the sight before her.
The building before her ebbed and flowed with an eerie red light, almost as if thousands of red firecrackers were illuminating it from behind. The very woodwork itself seemed to pulse and throb with the light, making the building appear like a living thing, the slow beating of an inhuman diseased heart.
“What is happening?” Siggy asked in an uncharacteristically meek voice, for the first time fearing that maybe they had bit off more than they could chew.
“Goddess,” Eustacia Collins prayed futily. The elderly woman shook visibly.
Siggy quickly caught hold of her companion’s deceptively frail form.
“It’s happening again,” Eustacia Collins whispered in a frightened voice, “just like fifty years ago. May the Goddess save us all.”
A/N: OK, I can already pretty much guarantee I’m going to get flamed for this chapter but, please, before you e-mail me telling me how much you hate me, consider this: 1) This chapter was nearly impossible for me to write. I don’t like this turn of events any more than you all do, but I do have a plot in this story that I refuse to sacrifice just because it’s not always happy; 2) I did warn that this story would have dark parts. Well, this is obviously one of them; 3) It’s not over yet. Remember, I said ‘dark parts’, not ‘complete angst fic’. Please, try to have just a little faith in me. None of my other Spuffy sagas have gone all angsty, so at least believe in the pattern. I’m sorry I couldn’t give more timely warning on this chapter, but it would have spoiled the plot events.