Chapter 28: In the Beginning…
“We have to try the spell immediately,” Eustacia Collins murmured, still shaken at the repetition of the nightmare from half a century before.
“We need to get Dawn,” Siggy agreed. The red light that glowed from the lodge didn’t look like a good sign to her, either.
Eustacia Collins merely nodded, and together the two women bravely approached the building, surrounded by its eerie light. “There’s a light in the yard as well,” the elderly woman commented.
Siggy glanced in the direction she was pointing to see a red illuminated square in the center of the lawn. “The temple,” she murmured to herself. “We must see what is happening.”
“We’re going in there?!” Mr. Collins repeated in alarm when Siggy began trudging through the snow.
“I just need to see-” Siggy’s voice cut off abruptly when she reached the edge of the hole and saw what lay beneath. “Dawn!” she cried out in alarm.
Dawn and Rick looked up in surprise at the voice to see Siggy peering down at them. “Don’t come down!” Dawn shouted back in immediate alarm.
Siggy frowned at the green light that surrounded Rick and Dawn, protecting them from the battering red force. “What is happening?” she asked in alarm.
“Cast you spell!” Rick shouted back. “There is little time. We are safe for the moment.”
“We need Dawn’s help,” Siggy pointed out.
Dawn frowned at that. “I’m trapped down here,” she insisted. “Do it without me.”
Siggy moved to complain, but then bit her lip. She doubted Dawn would be exaggerating in such dire circumstances. “I will find a way,” she promised before running off again.
“What was that all about?” Eustacia Collins demanded.
“We must hurry,” Siggy insisted. “Do you think that the two of us can handle this spell by ourselves?”
Ms. Collins shook her head ruefully. “Not a chance,” she insisted vehemently.
“Then, perhaps Buffy or Spike will be well enough to help,” Siggy countered, dashing through the crimson-lit glass doors of the lobby, the older woman struggling to keep her in sight.
When she reached the bedroom that had housed the bleached pair, however, she found it completely empty. One look at the bed and a quick whiff of the distinctive smell were all it took to figure out exactly what the Vampire and Slayer had been doing that afternoon.
“Buffy?” Siggy called out hesitantly. “Spike?”
Eustacia Collins arrived at just that moment and quickly came to the same conclusion Siggy had. She shook her head sadly. “They will not come,” she explained softly.
Siggy turned to look at her, confused.
“It is the Shur-Ashk-Um-Ur-Abi’s favorite ploy,” Ms. Collins clarified. “It chooses young lovers as its prey and then turns them against each other. Your friends are probably off killing each other as we speak. If nothing else, they will remain tormented for life until they finally end their existences. It is our foe’s way.”
“We have to explain that to them,” Siggy insisted. She brushed by the old witch and looked helplessly down the hall both ways, desperately trying to determine where Buffy and Spike could have gone.
A heavy hand came to rest on her shoulder. “There is no reasoning with them now,” Ms. Collins insisted softly. “They are under that monster’s control, trapped within their pain and grief. If you attempt to interfere, they will merely kill you in their attempts to destroy each other.”
Siggy opened her mouth to protest.
“I have seen this all before,” Ms. Collins reminded her apologetically.
Tears formed at the corners of Siggy’s eyes. “We can’t do anything to help them?” she pleaded.
“We can attempt to destroy the source of their misery,” the old woman reminded her. “It may save their lives, if not their hearts.”
Siggy nodded numbly. “But we have no one else to-” She cut off abruptly. “Unless.”
“What?” Eustacia Collins frowned confusedly at the look on Siggy’s face.
“Perhaps we have one last ally that can offer us hope,” Siggy began. “If only we can reach her.”
* * *
Danvers/Haunting chuckled as her two captives turned back to face her, new hope shining in their eyes. “You think the spell will save you?” she shook her head chidingly. “Your friends are insignificant to us. They cannot hurt us now.”
“A little overconfident, are we?” Dawn retorted. “That spell will send you back off to the oblivion you came from.”
Red-hot anger flashed in the old woman’s eyes for an instant. “We will never go back!” she hissed. “That emptiness, the nothingness.” She seemed to shake visibly at the thought. “We are free now, free forever.”
“You see,” Dawn continued to taunt their captor, “the way I see it, you’re stretched pretty thin right about now. You’re here, holding us prisoner and doing the crazed villain thing. And, at the same time, you’re trying to screw Buffy and Spike over. And I’ll bet all this red glowy special effect stuff takes up a lot of energy, too. So, I’m thinking that you don’t have the strength to keep it all up and stop Siggy from casting that spell. That means that even if you do succeed in everything else, you’re still going back to that nothingness. Which means we will still win.”
“Which means shut up already,” Rick felt obliged to add, the older woman’s ravings starting to get on his nerves.
A disturbingly low laugh erupted from Laura Danvers’ lips. “You believe that, do you? You truly don’t see the genius of our plan.”
“What-?” Dawn began.
“We’ve had years to reflect upon this problem, little girl,” she/they retorted with a hiss. “Years to plan our comeback, our immortality. Did you honestly think we’d leave such an obvious flaw in our plans?”
“You will be destroyed,” Rick retorted vehemently.
“You see, that’s where you’re wrong.” Danvers/Haunting hopped on top of one of the statues that surrounded the temple with a spryness that belied her elderly appearance. She leaned back against the massive wooden head of the creature, her thin, bony limbs looking eerily spider-like in the red light that illuminated the room. “See, we don’t even need to worry about your little spell.”
“We have it right this time,” Dawn insisted. “No more half-destructions.”
Danvers/Haunting laughed. “You can cast that spell twelve ways from next Tuesday for all we care. It won’t do any of you a bit of good.”
Dawn and Rick both frowned. Either the creature before them was trying to cause them to lose hope, or there was something they hadn’t accounted for.
“And they still don’t see it,” Danvers/Haunting murmured to themselves. “Mortals have such simple minds.” She turned to look at them once more. “Here, we’ll give you a hint: Think of some special talents vampires have.”
“Just spit it out,” Dawn retorted with a roll of her eyes.
Danvers/Haunting looked put out that her prey wouldn’t play her little game. “We’re very disappointed in you,” she huffed slightly. “We’d figure that after working with a vampire for all these years, the answer would be obvious to you. A little intelligent competition would be nice, you know?”
“This is no game,” Rick hissed back, his own eyes glowing red in helpless rage.
“We suppose to you silly creatures it isn’t,” Danvers/Haunting agreed, looking bored now. “How’s this, then? The vampire mind is immune to all invasive telepathic magic. Is that clear enough for you?”
Dawn frowned, remembering incidents from the past – Buffy’s casual mention that during her brief telepathic stint that she couldn’t read Angel’s mind, Spike’s immunity to Glory’s memory tricks, Willow’s odd comments that when she tried to communicate with Spike telepathically that it was like speaking into a void for her and that he could only receive her messages if he was willing. So, yes, she had known that vampires had some special telepathic defenses, but she could think of similar examples where Spike had been affected just like any normal human.
“Not entirely,” she countered.
“Yes, entirely,” Danvers/Haunting argued. “Your friend’s mind is undisciplined, but we can show him.” A cackle. “Once we’ve taken over his mind, nothing will ever be able to force us out again. Your spell will be completely worthless, and your friends.” A feral grin. “We can hardly wait to sink our fangs into them for daring to try to force us back into that prison.”
* * *
“Everything we will need for the spell is gathered here.” Siggy flung open the door to the room Dawn had taken the night before and quickly began handing supplies to Eustacia Collins.
“We’ll need to do this someplace where we’ve got a good amount of space,” the old witch pointed out.
Siggy nodded. “The recreation room will work, I believe,” she offered.
Ms. Collins nodded. “I’ll take everything down there,” she offered. “You get us our third caster.”
Siggy merely grimaced and watched her go before turning to the other occupant of the room. “Veronica?” she asked softly.
The other woman remained wrapped in that blanket that surrounded her, blinking blankly off into space and her face still a ghastly pale for the horrors that had been inflicted upon her.
“We need your help.” Siggy ventured to rest a comforting hand on the other woman’s shoulder.
Veronica instantly shook it off, the confident predatory manner she’d exhibited in the past completely gone now and a shell-shocked husk in its place.
“It is vital,” Siggy insisted. “We must destroy the Haunting, but we cannot do it unless you help us to cast the spell.”
She got no reaction, not even a look to acknowledge that Veronica had registered her presence.
“I know it has caused you great pain,” Siggy pleaded. “I-I saw what happened as well.” The memory of Xel’s blood splattered across Veronica’s body was a horrible one and not something she was ever likely to forget, no matter how much she might want to. “It was horrible,” Siggy whispered softly. “But if you do not help us, then the Haunting has won.”
A sound at the door. “How are we doing?” Eustacia Collins asked, having just returned from the recreation room.
Siggy sighed. “Not well,” she admitted. “She does not even seem to hear me.”
Collins shook her head wearily. “It is clever as ever, striking magic casters.”
“Quite clever,” Siggy agreed, becoming mildly annoyed. “Now help me.” She knelt down before Veronica. “This is serious,” she repeated, shaking the young woman’s shoulders. “You wish to repay this demon for what it has done to you? This is your chance.”
“She’s not going to respond,” Ms. Collins’ shoulders slumped. “Just.give it up.”
“And what? We just sit here and wait for the Haunting to make us kill each other?” Siggy demanded angrily.
“What’s the use?” Ms. Collins countered. “We tried this all decades ago-“
“With a different spell,” Siggy interjected.
“-And just look where that got us,” Collins finished stubbornly.
“So, we let the Haunting escape?” Siggy retorted. “And we.what? Run away from it? You honestly do not believe that it will be able to track us down and kill us?”
“Maybe,” Collins sighed wearily. “But at least then it would be over.”
Siggy looked heavenward for inspiration. “You shall just drop your linens, then?” she demanded in exasperation.
“Huh?” Eustacia Collins looked puzzled.
“Throw in the towel.” The correction came from the corner of the room, where the third member of their party had gone unnoticed as the argument had heated up between Siggy and Ms. Collins. “The expression is ‘throw in the towel’,” Veronica repeated to Siggy after both of the women had finally registered that she was the one speaking.
“Yes, throw in the towel,” Siggy agreed in delight, as if the misplaced metaphor were the solution to all their problems. “You will help us?” she demanded of Veronica.
“Just tell me how to kill that bastard,” Veronica agreed, shakily rising to her feet. There was a hint of the old arrogance in her voice, however.
“Not all of those the Haunting has hurt are afraid to fight it,” Siggy said, turning back to Eustacia Collins with grim determination.
The older woman sighed. “Right, then,” she agreed. “Let’s hurry before it discovers what we’re up to and finds some way to kill us.”
* * *
“You know,” the thing in Laura Danvers’ body commented off-handedly as she continued to watch her – literally – captive audience, “we’re actually starting to like this world.”
“Oh, do tell,” the uncharacteristic sarcasm practically dripped from Rick’s voice.
“When that fool Danvers first brought us here, we were furious at having been kept locked up for all those millennia, but this time isn’t so different, you know? Three thousands years and you humans are still as miserable a lot as ever.”
“Enjoy the sight-seeing while you can,” Dawn advised, refusing to be convinced by the Haunting’s bravado.
“Mmm, I do,” Danvers/Haunting agreed. “No irritating Kassite mages to lock us away. No more idiots trying to use us in their own personal wars. Did you ever manage to pick up on that fact?” they inquired curiously. “Just how we got stuck in the out-of-the-way place, so far from our ancient home?”
“That book contained the summoning spell for you,” Dawn replied matter-of-factly.
“Ah, yes, the book,” Haunting/Danvers replied wistfully. “Our salvation and our warden. Too bad we had to destroy it, but we couldn’t have you casting that spell before our newest host was ready, could we?”
“From what I’ve heard, you still haven’t fully taken your ‘host’,” Dawn shuddered slightly at applying the word to Spike. “With the book gone-“
“You never wondered who was foolish enough to cast that summoning spell?” Haunting/Danvers cut back to their favored subject. “Or why?”
“Are you always so in love with the sound of your own voice?” Rick countered.
Haunting/Danvers gave him an annoyed look. “See how you feel after being trapped in non-corporeal form for millennia. We weren’t even strong enough to speak through this host body until that lovely demon pair decided to gorge us with their suicide banquet.”
“You’re really fucking sick, you know that?” Dawn retorted. “I’d try to appeal to whatever humanity’s left in you if I weren’t so sure it’d be a waste of time.”
“Silence!” The Haunting obviously didn’t like having its rants interrupted. “We were speaking.”
“Oh, how rude of us,” Rick said in the least contrite voice he could manage.
“You humans are ever the fools,” Haunting/Danvers retorted with a scowl, red eyes darkening to the color of blood. “That’s why Michael Danvers first brought us here, you know. He thought he could control us, use us as a weapon against his enemies. Poor Michael Danvers, trapped working in a rich hunting club, scrubbing dishes and busing trays. And with only an ancient book that he’d picked up in an odd bookstore, he found the perfect method of taking the lodge for himself. Oh, we drove out his betters, to be sure, forced them to turn everything over to him before we sentenced them to cold deaths. Repayment for our freedom was in order. But Danvers had the foolish notion that we were working for him, then. As if we would allow him to rule us, we who have witnessed eons of death and destruction.”
“He’s the one who gave the old witches the book,” Rick commented.
“The traitor!” Haunting/Danvers spat. “We finished him off, destroyed the witches, half-lived in starvation attached to his son for nearly fifty years, and then with his granddaughter after his son had passed on.” An empty smile crossed the crimson entity’s face then. “So, you see, no matter what you do, how hard you or anyone else works, it all comes to that. All of this boiled down to one moment of human stupidity – of simple jealousy and rage. Thus, your kind will always bring us life, even if you,” they cast Dawn a scathing look, “are able to resist us.”
“So we’ll kill you, and the next time someone makes a mistake, we’ll kill that monster, too,” Dawn retorted. “Another thing you forgot to mention about humans: We don’t give up easily.”
“And it’s gotten you so far,” Haunting/Danvers retorted sarcastically. “The hatred and despair now is just as filling as it was three thousand years ago. Your kind’s not improving in the slightest.”
“Perhaps not,” Rick countered, “but you are no less flawed.”
The Haunting light flickered for a moment in offense. “How do you mean?” they insisted.
“The first rule of villainy,” Rick retorted. “Do not spend hours outlining your plan to the heroes. It has undone many before you.”
Haunting/Danvers snickered. “I waste no time,” they assured their captives. “You two are merely an entertaining diversion. Even now, my final move is set in motion.” Laura Danvers closed her red, fiery eyes once more and smiled at the scene playing before them.
* * *
Buffy’s blind search for Spike ended in an abrupt halt right outside the lobby. In retrospect, she realized that it was the first place she should have looked for him, the only place she knew for certain that he went when something was troubling him.
She clenched her hands tightly to stop their shaking as she approached the sitting room. The melodic strains from the piano continued to weave around her, forming the song she’d learned by heart over the past two weeks.
Only this time there was something different about it. What had once seemed ineffably beautiful now seemed to be a faded shadow of itself. The notes were all correct, but the feeling behind them. She almost couldn’t believe it was Spike at the keys. The soothing comfort she’d once received from his playing was now gone, and in its place.nothing but pain.
She approached the door and slowly allowed it to creak open, exposing him to her view. God, even in this state, he was so incredibly beautiful to her. Her heart ached at his pain, and she wanted nothing more but to reach out to him, to tell him how much he meant to her and right the wrongs that monster had forced her to commit earlier that afternoon.
“S-Spike.” Her voice sounded hoarse, partly in relief that he hadn’t found some way to dust himself before she could reach him and partly from the tears that were streaming down her face.
The music stopped at her words, and he slowly rose from the bench, his movements cold and sinuous like a serpent’s. Buffy had seen Spike on the prowl before, and there was an element of that predator in his movements now, but there was something beyond that, something alien and out of place in his body.
“Well now, luv,” a voice that both was Spike’s and wasn’t purred in a seductive tone, “looks like the party’s finally ready to begin.”