A/N: The usual. Stephen King owns Rose Red and all, Joss owns Giles and
Sunnydale, whomever owns Duncan MacLeod from Highlander: the Series, and I
own Laurel. Woo, yay for me. Cheesy title, deal with it. And if you don't
like the story, well, then listen to Thumper's mom. And if you do, great.
Basically, I was watching Rose Red last weekend on USA while at Myrtle
Beach on vacation, and I was going out of my mind with boredom, cuz I had
mono and couldn't do much as far as nightlife, so I wrote. So this story
was born. There's the background. And the details are becoming a little
fuzzy, and there's some holes, and the story isn't finished yet, but here's
what I have so far. Enjoy! Review if you like it!
I jabbed my sword forward and sidestepped the oncoming blow.
"Mac, can we please take a break now?" I panted.
"Oh, come on, Laurel," Mac complained lightly. He dropped his sword. "Am I too much for you?"
"Surely you jest," I shot back.
"Not hardly. And don't call me 'Shirley.'"
I groaned and brushed my hair out of my face. Mac grinned.
"All right. We're done for today. Need to talk to you before you rush out, though."
"Where am I going to go? Finals are over, thank God." I pulled up a chair. MacLeod took a seat by me. "Anyway, what's up?"
"How've Dawn and Jessica been doing? I know Methos has been working overtime with Jess training."
"Jess is fine. Loving the part of a slayer, if you can believe. And Dawn, well..." Since Buffy, and then Joyce, had died a few months ago, Dawn had been rather withdrawn. She was very distant to both Giles and myself. And he and I were still blaming ourselves for what happened with her older sister. Dawn only added to that. She hung out constantly with Jessica and practically worshiped Willow. Dawn and Jess and I were living in the Summers' home. Willow had moved in at the beginning of second semester.
"Dawn's okay, I guess," I finished.
"Still not speaking with you much?"
"No, not really. I guess she still blames me for Buffy's death. I mean, well, maybe she's right. I knew beforehand. I should have been able to stop her. To save her..."
"What happened, happened," Giles said from the doorway. "There was nothing more any of us could have done. We can only pray that Buffy will rest in peace now." Mac and I looked at each other. We both knew that if Willow had her way, the original slayer would be resurrected as soon as possible.
It'd been almost six months since Buffy's death and the Scooby Gang was only now returning to some sense of normalcy. Giles felt her absence the deepest, next to Dawn, of course. It killed me to see him so, but what could I do? She was his slayer. Sure, Jess and I were here, but we both knew we were no replacement for Buffy.
"Could you two come in her please?" Giles asked. We followed him to the infamous research table.
"Something wrong, G?" I moved my chair closer to his.
"I've just received a telephone call from a professor friend up in Seattle, Washington. She's provided me with a rather interesting offer."
"Offer?" I repeated, alarmed. "You're not leaving Sunnydale, are you?"
"Only for a weekend, and only if you join for this...adventure," Giles replied.
"Adventure? Details, please."
"It seems she, Dr. Joyce Reardon, is organizing a small group of psychic personalities to explore a dead cell of sorts, a house called Rose Red, over this Memorial Day weekend," Giles explained.
"Psychics...dead cell...sounds kind of fishy. So this is like a haunted house expedition? We're going ghost hunting?"
"I've not given Joyce my word yet. Besides, there is plenty else to consider," Giles warned.
"Like what?"
"Like the twenty-three people that have either died or disappeared there, including the original owners, John and Ellen Rimbauer and their six- year-old daughter, April," Mac said dryly.
"Oh, big deal," I scoffed. "It's like the missing persons list in Sunnydale for just one month."
"Not to mention the house's ability to grow and build on its own," Giles continued. "Among the many other strange occurrences."
"Strange occurrences? We live in Sunnydale, Rupert," I reminded him. "You two talk like this all should put me off. Hello! Remember who you are talking to here! If anything, it's just making me more desperate to go! And I don't even know what we'd be doing up there yet!"
"Okay," Giles said. "I'd be there for research purposes, helping Joyce with documentation. What she wants is to gather hard data of the supernatural. To prove that there is more to life than what we can see, more than just the physical realm."
I cocked an eyebrow. "Why not just send her to Sunnydale, then? Worked for Riley's group. At least Spike plays nice now."
"Let's see...man-eating house or man-eating vampires..." Mac pretended to deliberate. "What does this Dr. Reardon want Laurel for?"
"She needs a pre-cog. The man that was originally supposed to go cancelled due to heart problems," Giles explained.
"So only because I have visions and stuff? Not because I'm a slayer, an Immortal, et cetera?"
"Not at all," Giles reassured me. "If I have my way, she'll be none the wiser of any of that. She asked if I could put her in touch with any such mentally gifted persons. I said I might."
"Well, great! So when do we leave?" I exclaimed.
"Hold it!" Giles held up his hand. I sighed loudly. "I'm not your Watcher. And we have to think of Dawn and Jessica as well."
"It is only three days, Giles," MacLeod said. "Methos and I can handle things with Jessica. And I'm sure Willow and Xander won't mind keeping an eye on Dawn for you. Go to Seattle. Enjoy the weekend...if the ghosts will let you."
*************************************************************
By the time the plane touched down in Seattle, I was bursting with excitement. The last time I had gone on such an outing, I had been with my real father from Kokomo. We'd gone to Chicago and were on a ghost hunting trip. It was odd, listening to the different stories, going to the places, looking for any signs. The part that sticks out the most in my mind still was on a dark road on the outskirts of the city, where two girls had been killed and their bodies dumped. The feeling of being crushed and the darkness pressing in on all sides was suffocating. I can remember almost blacking out, and freaking out beyond reason. I'd barely managed to keep my cool. I prayed nothing of the sort would happen here.
"Rupert Giles?" a young man asked, coming up to us. Giles nodded. "Hi, I'm Steve Rimbauer. Dr. Reardon sent me." He stuck out his hand.
Giles shook it.
"Yes, thanks for picking us up. I'm Giles, this is Laurel Summers."
"Hi," I said.
"Great to meet you both. Shall we?"
Giles and I followed him to the parking lot. He and Steve talked extensively about Rose Red during the forty-five minute drive to the university. I, on the other hand, remained uncharacteristically quiet. Giles noticed but chose not to comment at the time.
Once Steve parked the car, he led us to where the group would be meeting. While Giles checked in with Dr. Reardon, I turned to Steve.
"Why'd you agree to open the house?"
"Wow, she speaks." Steve grinned. "Why'd I open it? Easy. Dee's paying."
"But you hate that place," I stated.
"Well, wouldn't you if it ate your relatives?" I shrugged. "Besides, like I told Giles, the place is being torn down this fall."
"If I knew more about Rose Red, I'd probably hate you for that."
"If you knew more about Rose Red, you wouldn't blame me for it," Steve shot back. "But if you want to know every single gory detail, ask Joyce. She's quite a fanatic of the ol' homestead. Or, in the opinion of some, obsessed beyond all reason..."
We walked around the corner to find most of the group assembled. Giles was standing by a van with a woman I guessed to be Dr. Reardon.
A pretty blonde stepped forward. She couldn't have been more than five or six years older than I.
"Hi, I'm Pam Asbury," she introduced herself. "This is Cathy Kramer and Nick Hardaway."
I shook their hands.
"Laurel Summers."
"And this strapping young lad," Nick said, clapping his hand on the man's shoulder, "is Emery Waterman."
The pudgy redhead glared at him, then pushed his glasses up his nose, muttering. Bad vibes coming from this puppy.
Dr. Reardon checked her watch. "Oh, good, we didn't miss you. Traffic was terrible!" Two small brunettes joined us. "I'm Rachel Wheaton, but call me Sister or Sissy. Everyone does. This is Annie." In response to this intro, the tires on some nearby bicycles began to spin wildly.
"Annie!" Rachel reprimanded. The wheels stopped abruptly. Annie continued stroking her doll's yarn hair. Steve nudged Dr. Reardon, who was staring at Annie as if she were a priceless treasure.
"Right," she said, clapping her hands. "I think we're all ready then." We introduced ourselves to the newcomers, then piled into the van. Steve and Nick took the front seats, while Giles and I sat in the middle.
I spent the next forty minutes listening to Dr. Reardon relate her expectations of and desires for the weekend. I was dying to talk to Giles, though. So I remained silent yet again, until Steve pulled up in front of the monstrosity that is Rose Red. We exited the van.
Steve stood frozen, staring at the tower window, where a single red rose was portrayed in the stained glass. Nick studied him carefully.
"Steve? Are you all right?" Pam asked.
"Yeah, fine," he said after a moment.
"He remembers something," I muttered. "Bad mojo."
"What was that?" Giles murmured.
"Nothing."
"Pam, could you come here, please?" Dr. Reardon requested. Pam followed the professor to the front door. "Would you?"
Pam placed her hands lightly on the door, running them across the surface. Her eyes glazed over. I looked at Giles, brow creased.
"Come in, sir. You've been expected," the young blonde said, her voice almost robotic. She drew her hands back, gasping as tears rolled down her cheeks.
"What? What was it?" Dr. Reardon demanded.
"I, uh, nothing. It was nothing. I just didn't like what I felt, that's all." Joyce didn't seem satisfied but proceeded anyway. We continued inside to a large equipment-laden table in the grand entrance hall.
"Where's Annie?" Rachel asked frantically. We all turned to the door to see the fifteen-year-old standing. A wind came up and the doors slammed shut behind her.
"She's wonderful," Dr. Reardon murmured.
"Well, obviously, not everything here is as it appears," Nick commented, glancing first from Steve to Pam and then to me.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I whispered to him.
"You know as well as I do, Laurel, that this house is not dead. Nor did Steve and Pam experience 'nothing' mere moments ago," he said. "And we both know that you are not merely pre-cognitive. No, there's much more to you than meets the physical eye."
"The same could be said for everyone here this weekend, Mr. Hardaway, " Giles returned crossly.
"Nick, please," Nick requested. Giles nodded. I turned away with a polite smile. This house was giving me the wiggins, majorly.
Dr. Reardon touched my shoulder.
"I wanted to thank you for coming on such short notice, Laurel," she said.
"Hey, it's no problem. Happy to do it. Always up for a ghost hunt. I used to want to go into parapsychology. I mean, no matter what anyone says, Dr. Reardon, it is a very legitimate field of science."
"Call me Joyce." She looked pleased as she moved to the table of flashlights and began handing them out. "You'll want to keep this with you wherever you go in the house, day or night. The power has a tendency to cut out at any time."
"And I suppose hunting for the circuit breaker does no good, either," Nick said.
Steve smiled.
"No, it doesn't."
"So, why didn't you stick with parapsychology, Laurel?" Cathy questioned me. Nick watched me closely.
"Too much like real life for me," I answered truthfully. "That and I was sick of everyone telling me ghosts and such don't exist."
"Why not be like Joyce and set out to prove otherwise?" Steve asked.
"You can't force people to believe in things they don't want to. All hell can break loose under a person's nose, but if they don't want to see it, they won't. Sound familiar, Giles?"
"Quite right," he replied.
The group followed Joyce through the kitchen to a huge indoor garden room.
"Ellen Rimbauer called this the health room. Today, we call it a solarium. It's said that-" Joyce was cut off.
"Hey, what's that?" Pam asked, pointing to a cell phone on the ground. Steve picked it up.
"I wonder whose it is..." he said.
"Press SEND and see who answers," Nick suggested. Steve did so. After a second, he nodded.
"Hello, Dr. Miller," he spoke into the phone. Joyce made a grab for the cell. "It's looks like we've stumbled upon your reporter friend's phone...except no reporter. This'll make a great story. Guess who'll be the cover boy in next week's paper?"
"Steve, that was brilliant," Nick told him. Steve put the phone in his pocket and we proceeded into the kitchen.
"I assume that we're stopping here because Joyce wants to tell you about my Great-Aunt April," Steve explained. Joyce nodded. "Go ahead."
"April was John and Ellen's second child. Due to Ellen's illness, she was born with a withered arm. One day, when April was six, she was playing tea in here. Now, Sukeena swears that she was in the pantry with her back turned for what couldn't have been more than thirty seconds. When she came back, April had disappeared. Thirteen men searched the house for hours, but not a trace of the young girl was found."
"Great grandfather suspected Sukeena and had her hauled down to the police station. Ellen fought it, but John succeeded," Steve continued. "She was questioned for fifty hours straight; no food, water, or even bathroom breaks. Finally, she was allowed to come home."
I knew this story already. I knew pretty much everything that Joyce had told us so far, thanks to Giles. He had filled me in on the plane ride here. Still, hearing the tales in daylight on the safety of an airplane was quite different than hearing them while standing in the midst of the scene. I shivered and stepped closer to Giles.
"So, when are we going upstairs?" Emery asked. "I hear that's where all the cool stuff is."
"How about now?" Joyce led us to a winding staircase. "Rupert, could you fasten that rope on this bannister, please?"
"Rope? What for? I mean, wouldn't a map of the house work?" Pam wondered.
"The rope is just a precaution. Maps aren't very useful around here, as I said earlier," Steve told her. We started up the staircase. We ended up in a long hallway that seemed to go on forever. I stared down it, my fear rising to almost a panic stage. My slayer sense was off the charts. I forced myself to breathe normally.
"This is the Perspective Hallway. Ellen had it built to Sukeena's specifications, since she is the one that drew up the original plans for such a corridor," Joyce went on. Pam continued down the hallway.
"Whoa. This is so neat." She ducked under the low ceiling. "The doors...even the doors are just for looks."
"That was Great-grandmother's idea. Camouflaging the doorways," Steve explained, stepping in front of her. He pressed a panel on the wall, and it swung open. We peered inside. A wind blew up and loud growling could be heard from inside. Annie stepped up to it.
"No!" she shouted. "You be quiet!" The noise stopped and the door slammed shut.
I decided I wanted to go back downstairs while everyone checked out the rest of the house.
"Giles," I began, "this...this doesn't feel right...I need some air, or something. But..." I leaned in closer to whisper. "My slayer sense is going off the charts. Like right before some huge demon-y gang pops up in SunnyD or we're neck-deep in vamps. It's more than that, though...Giles..."
He nodded quickly.
"All right." He turned to Joyce. "Joyce, if you don't mind, we're going to head back downstairs, following the rope, of course, to check on the equipment."
"Sure, sure. Just...be careful," Joyce said. She was focusing more on Annie.
"Are you okay, Laurel?" Nick asked.
I gave him a weak smile. Giles and I hurried down the hallway, daring not to speak until we were safely downstairs. It took us some time, but we managed to find the parlor without too much house intervention.
"Tell me more of what you're feeling, Laurel," Giles said once we were seated on the sofa. I shook my head. "It's...it's hard to describe. Like I said, it's just this sense, knowing something huge is going down. Or about to. Here, right here. Not in Sunnydale. And every time I close my eyes, the darkness presses in and I want to scream." I stood and went over to the window, wanting to be in the sunlight. Giles followed. "It's insane, isn't it?"
"What is?" Giles wanted to know.
"Me, being so scared. I'm a slayer. I should be used to all this. But...not this. It's different. I've felt evil before, Rupert." He put his hands on my shoulders and made me face him. "This is worse than...than...worse even than Glory," I whispered. Tears welled up in my eyes. "I feel like I'm suffocating." Giles pulled me close to him.
"It's okay. But it's our first evening here. We'll stick with the group. It'll be okay," he tried to reassure me.
"Giles, they know something is up. I mean, with me. You heard Nick. And Steve knows, too. They all know. Annie especially. And...Annie's brilliant. She is. But she terrifies me. Giles, I need to tell them what I am, who I am...before it's too late. Before the house...before it..."
"Before the house what? Honey, the house...you're a slayer. But that's not why you're here this weekend."
"You're half right. I'm here because you brought me here. But also because the house wants me here. Annie's gifted way beyond Joyce's wildest dreams. Steve, well, he may not believe it, but in here, in Rose Red, he's almost as powerful as Annie. And me, throw me into the mix. A slayer, super- human strength, one that has visions of the future...and Immortal, destined to live forever...the power I have in me...I hate to admit it, Rupert, but...I'm scared of what this house wants me to do. Of what it could force me to do. It sounds nuts I know, but..."
Giles looked distraught. He turned away and began pacing.
"It was stupid, I know," he began. "To bring you here. I should have known better...I suppose we could leave now. Getting out of Sunnydale seemed like a good idea at the time..."
"No, no. It's okay. We'll stay," I said. "It'll be okay. But, Giles? Do me a favor. Next time you want to get away from Sunnydale, let's just go to Disneyland."
**************************************************************
The room Joyce had put me in was rather nice, if not a bit dusty. Giles stayed with me while I settled in. As I was pulling out my pajamas from my bag, he turned to leave.
"Uh-uh. Where do you think you're going?" I demanded. He stopped.
"To my room, if that's all right with you," he said.
"This is your room, G. There is no way you're leaving me alone in here. I don't care how safe Joyce says we'll be. I slay vampires and demons, not ghosts and bogey-men. See, 'cause ghosts, they're dead. Can't stake them. Axes don't work. Nope, you're sleeping in here." I'd never been afraid of the dark, pre- and post-slayerage. But Rose Red gave me the creeps. Whatever was in here, I wasn't sure I was capable of taking it on, at least not alone.
"And what about what everyone else will think, you and I sharing a bedroom?" Giles asked.
"Who cares?" I knew that wasn't the only reason he was hesitating to stay. Since Buffy's death, our relationship, whatever stage it had been at early last fall, had cooled considerably. Basically come to a screeching halt. These days, I really had no idea what Giles was thinking or feeling. I only knew he was still in tremendous pain and unwilling to open up again. Oh, we got along all right. Giles was closer to me than to any of the Scoobies. And none of them were aware of what had almost developed between Giles and I. Only Mac knew, and he was the one I vented things to, on how frustrated I was with Giles.
Giles sighed and set his bag back down. I gave a silent cheer. I changed into my pjs and climbed into the huge bed. Giles undressed and seemed torn as to where to sleep.
"I'm not planning on seducing you in the Addams' family mansion," I told him, settling back against the pillows. "It's just...I'd feel safer if you slept here..."
"You're a slayer," he replied. "I think you can handle it." He threw a blanket on the chaise. I rolled my eyes.
"Being a slayer isn't everything, Rupert. You know that. Besides," I continued, "super-human strength is no replacement for a man to hold you." I stopped, realizing what I'd said. "I mean, um..."
"Okay," Giles relented. "If it'll make you feel better. But this isn't...isn't anything." He lay down next to me and I switched off the light. I snuggled into his arms and felt his heartbeat quicken.
"If you say so. It's never anything anymore," I muttered.
"What does that mean?" he said into my ear. I hadn't been this close to Giles in months, and it was driving me crazy. "It means...means that you've blown me off since...well, since Buffy died. Like, she died and there's reason for you to go on living." He tensed, but he knew I was right.
"I'm still alive, though, aren't I? And still in Sunnydale. With you." His nearness was making me nuts. I moved away from him and sat cross- legged, switching on a flashlight. Giles sighed and sat up as well.
"Yeah, well, you'd barely notice. Before...before that bitch Glory came around, things between you and I were...developing. Then Buffy died and you closed me off completely. Building walls helps no one. Especially not your slayer."
"You are not my slayer," Giles bit back at me. I glared at him. I knew part of our anger was because we really hadn't talked about this in the past six months. I also realized that a lot of it was the house. Our emotions were feeding the house, especially mine. I took a deep breath and made a decision. I placed my hands on Giles's chest and kissed him, hard. He was taken aback at first, but responded eagerly after a moment. I pulled away and looked into his gorgeous green eyes. They glittered in the moonlight.
"Okay, fighting gets us nowhere," Giles agreed. "Especially in this house."
"So let's save the discussion and try and get some sleep, okay?" I suggested. Giles gave a sly grin.
"I'm not exactly sure how much sleep I want...it has been awhile..."
"Now, now, Mr. Stuffy British Guy," I teased. "Behave." I nestled closer to him and his arms went around me. He switched off the flashlight. I rolled over and switched it back on. Giles groaned.
"What now?" he asked, sounding slightly miffed.
"Did you really mean what you said?" I sat back up. "About me not being your slayer...you sounded so angry..."
"Forgive me," he said. "I shouldn't have been so cross...but it is true. Technically, you are not my slayer. Which is a good thing, now." I glanced at him, confused. "If I were, I couldn't do this." He pushed me back down on the bed and began softly kissing my neck and chest.
"Well...okay," I murmured, closing my eyes and turning the flashlight off again. "That'll do. For now..."
*************************************************************
When I woke up in the morning, the first thing I noticed was that Giles was gone. I knew he wouldn't have gone far without telling me first, so I immediately began to worry. I hastily dressed and went out to find him. Unfortunately, the house had other plans. I walked down hallway after hallway, recognizing nothing. When I opened a door into the Perspective Hallway, instead of growing scared, I merely began to get rather pissed.
"Look, House, I know you want to scare me. But you need me, and the others, to help you out here. So why don't you help me out, okay? Let me get back downstairs." I continued walking. Then I realized how nuts I must sound. Here I was, all alone, talking to myself and some psycho house. And I still had no idea of Giles's whereabouts.
"Giles?" I called. "Steve?" I tried another door, and found myself in the Mirror Library. Beautiful...until I looked up. I screamed and backed out of the room. The body of a young man hung from the ceiling. I knew right away this was the reporter, Bolinger. "Oh, God...oh, God..."
I reached the door, wrenched it open, and took off down the hallway. Bolinger was dead...Giles was missing...I couldn't find any of the others. As soon as I saw the main staircase, I bolted down it and into the parlor. It seemed that plenty had already been taking place while I'd slept in. I didn't bother to glance at the clock, just followed the screams and shouts to the billiard room. There were more shrieks coming from the massive yard outside the house. When I reached the room, I found Nick and Steve pounding on the windows.
"What's going on?" I demanded. The two men exchanged a look as they paused their pounding.
"The windows, the doors...they're being held shut," Steve told me.
"And what's out there? Why are you trying to get the windows open?" I kept on. I tried to get past Nick, but he held me back. "Let me by." I forced my way to the window, and screamed yet again.
Giles lay on the flagstones below the window, either dead or unconscious. I summoned all my strength, psychic and physical, and began tearing at the window. Nick and Steve attempted to calm me. Dr. Reardon chose this moment to walk in. I turned my fury on her.
"You bitch!" I shrieked, my eyes blazing. "You knew this could happen! And you let us come anyway!" The men couldn't hold me any longer, and I barely realized that Nick was beginning to put two and two together.
"The window...it's stuck, is all," Joyce floundered. "Maybe the others aren't. Have you tried the doors?" Steve and Rachel left the room quickly to try the doors to the solarium and kitchen.
"Calm down, Laurel," Nick said. "Look, Rupert is still breathing." I ran to the window to check. He was. I breathed a small sigh of relief. "Besides," Nick continued, "it was Emery here that Giles came to for help. Emery who turned his back-"
I gave him no chance to finish the sentence before I attacked Emery.
"You'd better pray Giles is all right," I hissed. "You absolute piece of-" My hands tightened around his neck.
"Now, now," Nick admonished. "A slayer is not to take human lives. Only those of the undead and demonized." I barely flinched at his statement.
"I lost my parents...my cousin...the best damn slayer ever, and the best friend I ever had, next to Rupert Giles. My aunt...I lost her...and if Giles dies..." I trailed off, my voice threatening enough, leaving the rest up to Emery's imagination. I threw him down on the ground in disgust. Just then, we heard Rachel cry out, then the sound of doors and windows unlocking, and the creaks of the doors opening. I gave a last glare at Emery, then raced outside to Giles. Nick followed, hot on my heels.
"I'll help you get him inside," he offered.
"I can get him," I growled. Giles was beginning to come around. I practically carried him to his feet, then Nick and I put our arms around him and dragged him inside. "And when he's settled, you can explain why you felt it necessary to speak up about the slayerage."
I jabbed my sword forward and sidestepped the oncoming blow.
"Mac, can we please take a break now?" I panted.
"Oh, come on, Laurel," Mac complained lightly. He dropped his sword. "Am I too much for you?"
"Surely you jest," I shot back.
"Not hardly. And don't call me 'Shirley.'"
I groaned and brushed my hair out of my face. Mac grinned.
"All right. We're done for today. Need to talk to you before you rush out, though."
"Where am I going to go? Finals are over, thank God." I pulled up a chair. MacLeod took a seat by me. "Anyway, what's up?"
"How've Dawn and Jessica been doing? I know Methos has been working overtime with Jess training."
"Jess is fine. Loving the part of a slayer, if you can believe. And Dawn, well..." Since Buffy, and then Joyce, had died a few months ago, Dawn had been rather withdrawn. She was very distant to both Giles and myself. And he and I were still blaming ourselves for what happened with her older sister. Dawn only added to that. She hung out constantly with Jessica and practically worshiped Willow. Dawn and Jess and I were living in the Summers' home. Willow had moved in at the beginning of second semester.
"Dawn's okay, I guess," I finished.
"Still not speaking with you much?"
"No, not really. I guess she still blames me for Buffy's death. I mean, well, maybe she's right. I knew beforehand. I should have been able to stop her. To save her..."
"What happened, happened," Giles said from the doorway. "There was nothing more any of us could have done. We can only pray that Buffy will rest in peace now." Mac and I looked at each other. We both knew that if Willow had her way, the original slayer would be resurrected as soon as possible.
It'd been almost six months since Buffy's death and the Scooby Gang was only now returning to some sense of normalcy. Giles felt her absence the deepest, next to Dawn, of course. It killed me to see him so, but what could I do? She was his slayer. Sure, Jess and I were here, but we both knew we were no replacement for Buffy.
"Could you two come in her please?" Giles asked. We followed him to the infamous research table.
"Something wrong, G?" I moved my chair closer to his.
"I've just received a telephone call from a professor friend up in Seattle, Washington. She's provided me with a rather interesting offer."
"Offer?" I repeated, alarmed. "You're not leaving Sunnydale, are you?"
"Only for a weekend, and only if you join for this...adventure," Giles replied.
"Adventure? Details, please."
"It seems she, Dr. Joyce Reardon, is organizing a small group of psychic personalities to explore a dead cell of sorts, a house called Rose Red, over this Memorial Day weekend," Giles explained.
"Psychics...dead cell...sounds kind of fishy. So this is like a haunted house expedition? We're going ghost hunting?"
"I've not given Joyce my word yet. Besides, there is plenty else to consider," Giles warned.
"Like what?"
"Like the twenty-three people that have either died or disappeared there, including the original owners, John and Ellen Rimbauer and their six- year-old daughter, April," Mac said dryly.
"Oh, big deal," I scoffed. "It's like the missing persons list in Sunnydale for just one month."
"Not to mention the house's ability to grow and build on its own," Giles continued. "Among the many other strange occurrences."
"Strange occurrences? We live in Sunnydale, Rupert," I reminded him. "You two talk like this all should put me off. Hello! Remember who you are talking to here! If anything, it's just making me more desperate to go! And I don't even know what we'd be doing up there yet!"
"Okay," Giles said. "I'd be there for research purposes, helping Joyce with documentation. What she wants is to gather hard data of the supernatural. To prove that there is more to life than what we can see, more than just the physical realm."
I cocked an eyebrow. "Why not just send her to Sunnydale, then? Worked for Riley's group. At least Spike plays nice now."
"Let's see...man-eating house or man-eating vampires..." Mac pretended to deliberate. "What does this Dr. Reardon want Laurel for?"
"She needs a pre-cog. The man that was originally supposed to go cancelled due to heart problems," Giles explained.
"So only because I have visions and stuff? Not because I'm a slayer, an Immortal, et cetera?"
"Not at all," Giles reassured me. "If I have my way, she'll be none the wiser of any of that. She asked if I could put her in touch with any such mentally gifted persons. I said I might."
"Well, great! So when do we leave?" I exclaimed.
"Hold it!" Giles held up his hand. I sighed loudly. "I'm not your Watcher. And we have to think of Dawn and Jessica as well."
"It is only three days, Giles," MacLeod said. "Methos and I can handle things with Jessica. And I'm sure Willow and Xander won't mind keeping an eye on Dawn for you. Go to Seattle. Enjoy the weekend...if the ghosts will let you."
*************************************************************
By the time the plane touched down in Seattle, I was bursting with excitement. The last time I had gone on such an outing, I had been with my real father from Kokomo. We'd gone to Chicago and were on a ghost hunting trip. It was odd, listening to the different stories, going to the places, looking for any signs. The part that sticks out the most in my mind still was on a dark road on the outskirts of the city, where two girls had been killed and their bodies dumped. The feeling of being crushed and the darkness pressing in on all sides was suffocating. I can remember almost blacking out, and freaking out beyond reason. I'd barely managed to keep my cool. I prayed nothing of the sort would happen here.
"Rupert Giles?" a young man asked, coming up to us. Giles nodded. "Hi, I'm Steve Rimbauer. Dr. Reardon sent me." He stuck out his hand.
Giles shook it.
"Yes, thanks for picking us up. I'm Giles, this is Laurel Summers."
"Hi," I said.
"Great to meet you both. Shall we?"
Giles and I followed him to the parking lot. He and Steve talked extensively about Rose Red during the forty-five minute drive to the university. I, on the other hand, remained uncharacteristically quiet. Giles noticed but chose not to comment at the time.
Once Steve parked the car, he led us to where the group would be meeting. While Giles checked in with Dr. Reardon, I turned to Steve.
"Why'd you agree to open the house?"
"Wow, she speaks." Steve grinned. "Why'd I open it? Easy. Dee's paying."
"But you hate that place," I stated.
"Well, wouldn't you if it ate your relatives?" I shrugged. "Besides, like I told Giles, the place is being torn down this fall."
"If I knew more about Rose Red, I'd probably hate you for that."
"If you knew more about Rose Red, you wouldn't blame me for it," Steve shot back. "But if you want to know every single gory detail, ask Joyce. She's quite a fanatic of the ol' homestead. Or, in the opinion of some, obsessed beyond all reason..."
We walked around the corner to find most of the group assembled. Giles was standing by a van with a woman I guessed to be Dr. Reardon.
A pretty blonde stepped forward. She couldn't have been more than five or six years older than I.
"Hi, I'm Pam Asbury," she introduced herself. "This is Cathy Kramer and Nick Hardaway."
I shook their hands.
"Laurel Summers."
"And this strapping young lad," Nick said, clapping his hand on the man's shoulder, "is Emery Waterman."
The pudgy redhead glared at him, then pushed his glasses up his nose, muttering. Bad vibes coming from this puppy.
Dr. Reardon checked her watch. "Oh, good, we didn't miss you. Traffic was terrible!" Two small brunettes joined us. "I'm Rachel Wheaton, but call me Sister or Sissy. Everyone does. This is Annie." In response to this intro, the tires on some nearby bicycles began to spin wildly.
"Annie!" Rachel reprimanded. The wheels stopped abruptly. Annie continued stroking her doll's yarn hair. Steve nudged Dr. Reardon, who was staring at Annie as if she were a priceless treasure.
"Right," she said, clapping her hands. "I think we're all ready then." We introduced ourselves to the newcomers, then piled into the van. Steve and Nick took the front seats, while Giles and I sat in the middle.
I spent the next forty minutes listening to Dr. Reardon relate her expectations of and desires for the weekend. I was dying to talk to Giles, though. So I remained silent yet again, until Steve pulled up in front of the monstrosity that is Rose Red. We exited the van.
Steve stood frozen, staring at the tower window, where a single red rose was portrayed in the stained glass. Nick studied him carefully.
"Steve? Are you all right?" Pam asked.
"Yeah, fine," he said after a moment.
"He remembers something," I muttered. "Bad mojo."
"What was that?" Giles murmured.
"Nothing."
"Pam, could you come here, please?" Dr. Reardon requested. Pam followed the professor to the front door. "Would you?"
Pam placed her hands lightly on the door, running them across the surface. Her eyes glazed over. I looked at Giles, brow creased.
"Come in, sir. You've been expected," the young blonde said, her voice almost robotic. She drew her hands back, gasping as tears rolled down her cheeks.
"What? What was it?" Dr. Reardon demanded.
"I, uh, nothing. It was nothing. I just didn't like what I felt, that's all." Joyce didn't seem satisfied but proceeded anyway. We continued inside to a large equipment-laden table in the grand entrance hall.
"Where's Annie?" Rachel asked frantically. We all turned to the door to see the fifteen-year-old standing. A wind came up and the doors slammed shut behind her.
"She's wonderful," Dr. Reardon murmured.
"Well, obviously, not everything here is as it appears," Nick commented, glancing first from Steve to Pam and then to me.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I whispered to him.
"You know as well as I do, Laurel, that this house is not dead. Nor did Steve and Pam experience 'nothing' mere moments ago," he said. "And we both know that you are not merely pre-cognitive. No, there's much more to you than meets the physical eye."
"The same could be said for everyone here this weekend, Mr. Hardaway, " Giles returned crossly.
"Nick, please," Nick requested. Giles nodded. I turned away with a polite smile. This house was giving me the wiggins, majorly.
Dr. Reardon touched my shoulder.
"I wanted to thank you for coming on such short notice, Laurel," she said.
"Hey, it's no problem. Happy to do it. Always up for a ghost hunt. I used to want to go into parapsychology. I mean, no matter what anyone says, Dr. Reardon, it is a very legitimate field of science."
"Call me Joyce." She looked pleased as she moved to the table of flashlights and began handing them out. "You'll want to keep this with you wherever you go in the house, day or night. The power has a tendency to cut out at any time."
"And I suppose hunting for the circuit breaker does no good, either," Nick said.
Steve smiled.
"No, it doesn't."
"So, why didn't you stick with parapsychology, Laurel?" Cathy questioned me. Nick watched me closely.
"Too much like real life for me," I answered truthfully. "That and I was sick of everyone telling me ghosts and such don't exist."
"Why not be like Joyce and set out to prove otherwise?" Steve asked.
"You can't force people to believe in things they don't want to. All hell can break loose under a person's nose, but if they don't want to see it, they won't. Sound familiar, Giles?"
"Quite right," he replied.
The group followed Joyce through the kitchen to a huge indoor garden room.
"Ellen Rimbauer called this the health room. Today, we call it a solarium. It's said that-" Joyce was cut off.
"Hey, what's that?" Pam asked, pointing to a cell phone on the ground. Steve picked it up.
"I wonder whose it is..." he said.
"Press SEND and see who answers," Nick suggested. Steve did so. After a second, he nodded.
"Hello, Dr. Miller," he spoke into the phone. Joyce made a grab for the cell. "It's looks like we've stumbled upon your reporter friend's phone...except no reporter. This'll make a great story. Guess who'll be the cover boy in next week's paper?"
"Steve, that was brilliant," Nick told him. Steve put the phone in his pocket and we proceeded into the kitchen.
"I assume that we're stopping here because Joyce wants to tell you about my Great-Aunt April," Steve explained. Joyce nodded. "Go ahead."
"April was John and Ellen's second child. Due to Ellen's illness, she was born with a withered arm. One day, when April was six, she was playing tea in here. Now, Sukeena swears that she was in the pantry with her back turned for what couldn't have been more than thirty seconds. When she came back, April had disappeared. Thirteen men searched the house for hours, but not a trace of the young girl was found."
"Great grandfather suspected Sukeena and had her hauled down to the police station. Ellen fought it, but John succeeded," Steve continued. "She was questioned for fifty hours straight; no food, water, or even bathroom breaks. Finally, she was allowed to come home."
I knew this story already. I knew pretty much everything that Joyce had told us so far, thanks to Giles. He had filled me in on the plane ride here. Still, hearing the tales in daylight on the safety of an airplane was quite different than hearing them while standing in the midst of the scene. I shivered and stepped closer to Giles.
"So, when are we going upstairs?" Emery asked. "I hear that's where all the cool stuff is."
"How about now?" Joyce led us to a winding staircase. "Rupert, could you fasten that rope on this bannister, please?"
"Rope? What for? I mean, wouldn't a map of the house work?" Pam wondered.
"The rope is just a precaution. Maps aren't very useful around here, as I said earlier," Steve told her. We started up the staircase. We ended up in a long hallway that seemed to go on forever. I stared down it, my fear rising to almost a panic stage. My slayer sense was off the charts. I forced myself to breathe normally.
"This is the Perspective Hallway. Ellen had it built to Sukeena's specifications, since she is the one that drew up the original plans for such a corridor," Joyce went on. Pam continued down the hallway.
"Whoa. This is so neat." She ducked under the low ceiling. "The doors...even the doors are just for looks."
"That was Great-grandmother's idea. Camouflaging the doorways," Steve explained, stepping in front of her. He pressed a panel on the wall, and it swung open. We peered inside. A wind blew up and loud growling could be heard from inside. Annie stepped up to it.
"No!" she shouted. "You be quiet!" The noise stopped and the door slammed shut.
I decided I wanted to go back downstairs while everyone checked out the rest of the house.
"Giles," I began, "this...this doesn't feel right...I need some air, or something. But..." I leaned in closer to whisper. "My slayer sense is going off the charts. Like right before some huge demon-y gang pops up in SunnyD or we're neck-deep in vamps. It's more than that, though...Giles..."
He nodded quickly.
"All right." He turned to Joyce. "Joyce, if you don't mind, we're going to head back downstairs, following the rope, of course, to check on the equipment."
"Sure, sure. Just...be careful," Joyce said. She was focusing more on Annie.
"Are you okay, Laurel?" Nick asked.
I gave him a weak smile. Giles and I hurried down the hallway, daring not to speak until we were safely downstairs. It took us some time, but we managed to find the parlor without too much house intervention.
"Tell me more of what you're feeling, Laurel," Giles said once we were seated on the sofa. I shook my head. "It's...it's hard to describe. Like I said, it's just this sense, knowing something huge is going down. Or about to. Here, right here. Not in Sunnydale. And every time I close my eyes, the darkness presses in and I want to scream." I stood and went over to the window, wanting to be in the sunlight. Giles followed. "It's insane, isn't it?"
"What is?" Giles wanted to know.
"Me, being so scared. I'm a slayer. I should be used to all this. But...not this. It's different. I've felt evil before, Rupert." He put his hands on my shoulders and made me face him. "This is worse than...than...worse even than Glory," I whispered. Tears welled up in my eyes. "I feel like I'm suffocating." Giles pulled me close to him.
"It's okay. But it's our first evening here. We'll stick with the group. It'll be okay," he tried to reassure me.
"Giles, they know something is up. I mean, with me. You heard Nick. And Steve knows, too. They all know. Annie especially. And...Annie's brilliant. She is. But she terrifies me. Giles, I need to tell them what I am, who I am...before it's too late. Before the house...before it..."
"Before the house what? Honey, the house...you're a slayer. But that's not why you're here this weekend."
"You're half right. I'm here because you brought me here. But also because the house wants me here. Annie's gifted way beyond Joyce's wildest dreams. Steve, well, he may not believe it, but in here, in Rose Red, he's almost as powerful as Annie. And me, throw me into the mix. A slayer, super- human strength, one that has visions of the future...and Immortal, destined to live forever...the power I have in me...I hate to admit it, Rupert, but...I'm scared of what this house wants me to do. Of what it could force me to do. It sounds nuts I know, but..."
Giles looked distraught. He turned away and began pacing.
"It was stupid, I know," he began. "To bring you here. I should have known better...I suppose we could leave now. Getting out of Sunnydale seemed like a good idea at the time..."
"No, no. It's okay. We'll stay," I said. "It'll be okay. But, Giles? Do me a favor. Next time you want to get away from Sunnydale, let's just go to Disneyland."
**************************************************************
The room Joyce had put me in was rather nice, if not a bit dusty. Giles stayed with me while I settled in. As I was pulling out my pajamas from my bag, he turned to leave.
"Uh-uh. Where do you think you're going?" I demanded. He stopped.
"To my room, if that's all right with you," he said.
"This is your room, G. There is no way you're leaving me alone in here. I don't care how safe Joyce says we'll be. I slay vampires and demons, not ghosts and bogey-men. See, 'cause ghosts, they're dead. Can't stake them. Axes don't work. Nope, you're sleeping in here." I'd never been afraid of the dark, pre- and post-slayerage. But Rose Red gave me the creeps. Whatever was in here, I wasn't sure I was capable of taking it on, at least not alone.
"And what about what everyone else will think, you and I sharing a bedroom?" Giles asked.
"Who cares?" I knew that wasn't the only reason he was hesitating to stay. Since Buffy's death, our relationship, whatever stage it had been at early last fall, had cooled considerably. Basically come to a screeching halt. These days, I really had no idea what Giles was thinking or feeling. I only knew he was still in tremendous pain and unwilling to open up again. Oh, we got along all right. Giles was closer to me than to any of the Scoobies. And none of them were aware of what had almost developed between Giles and I. Only Mac knew, and he was the one I vented things to, on how frustrated I was with Giles.
Giles sighed and set his bag back down. I gave a silent cheer. I changed into my pjs and climbed into the huge bed. Giles undressed and seemed torn as to where to sleep.
"I'm not planning on seducing you in the Addams' family mansion," I told him, settling back against the pillows. "It's just...I'd feel safer if you slept here..."
"You're a slayer," he replied. "I think you can handle it." He threw a blanket on the chaise. I rolled my eyes.
"Being a slayer isn't everything, Rupert. You know that. Besides," I continued, "super-human strength is no replacement for a man to hold you." I stopped, realizing what I'd said. "I mean, um..."
"Okay," Giles relented. "If it'll make you feel better. But this isn't...isn't anything." He lay down next to me and I switched off the light. I snuggled into his arms and felt his heartbeat quicken.
"If you say so. It's never anything anymore," I muttered.
"What does that mean?" he said into my ear. I hadn't been this close to Giles in months, and it was driving me crazy. "It means...means that you've blown me off since...well, since Buffy died. Like, she died and there's reason for you to go on living." He tensed, but he knew I was right.
"I'm still alive, though, aren't I? And still in Sunnydale. With you." His nearness was making me nuts. I moved away from him and sat cross- legged, switching on a flashlight. Giles sighed and sat up as well.
"Yeah, well, you'd barely notice. Before...before that bitch Glory came around, things between you and I were...developing. Then Buffy died and you closed me off completely. Building walls helps no one. Especially not your slayer."
"You are not my slayer," Giles bit back at me. I glared at him. I knew part of our anger was because we really hadn't talked about this in the past six months. I also realized that a lot of it was the house. Our emotions were feeding the house, especially mine. I took a deep breath and made a decision. I placed my hands on Giles's chest and kissed him, hard. He was taken aback at first, but responded eagerly after a moment. I pulled away and looked into his gorgeous green eyes. They glittered in the moonlight.
"Okay, fighting gets us nowhere," Giles agreed. "Especially in this house."
"So let's save the discussion and try and get some sleep, okay?" I suggested. Giles gave a sly grin.
"I'm not exactly sure how much sleep I want...it has been awhile..."
"Now, now, Mr. Stuffy British Guy," I teased. "Behave." I nestled closer to him and his arms went around me. He switched off the flashlight. I rolled over and switched it back on. Giles groaned.
"What now?" he asked, sounding slightly miffed.
"Did you really mean what you said?" I sat back up. "About me not being your slayer...you sounded so angry..."
"Forgive me," he said. "I shouldn't have been so cross...but it is true. Technically, you are not my slayer. Which is a good thing, now." I glanced at him, confused. "If I were, I couldn't do this." He pushed me back down on the bed and began softly kissing my neck and chest.
"Well...okay," I murmured, closing my eyes and turning the flashlight off again. "That'll do. For now..."
*************************************************************
When I woke up in the morning, the first thing I noticed was that Giles was gone. I knew he wouldn't have gone far without telling me first, so I immediately began to worry. I hastily dressed and went out to find him. Unfortunately, the house had other plans. I walked down hallway after hallway, recognizing nothing. When I opened a door into the Perspective Hallway, instead of growing scared, I merely began to get rather pissed.
"Look, House, I know you want to scare me. But you need me, and the others, to help you out here. So why don't you help me out, okay? Let me get back downstairs." I continued walking. Then I realized how nuts I must sound. Here I was, all alone, talking to myself and some psycho house. And I still had no idea of Giles's whereabouts.
"Giles?" I called. "Steve?" I tried another door, and found myself in the Mirror Library. Beautiful...until I looked up. I screamed and backed out of the room. The body of a young man hung from the ceiling. I knew right away this was the reporter, Bolinger. "Oh, God...oh, God..."
I reached the door, wrenched it open, and took off down the hallway. Bolinger was dead...Giles was missing...I couldn't find any of the others. As soon as I saw the main staircase, I bolted down it and into the parlor. It seemed that plenty had already been taking place while I'd slept in. I didn't bother to glance at the clock, just followed the screams and shouts to the billiard room. There were more shrieks coming from the massive yard outside the house. When I reached the room, I found Nick and Steve pounding on the windows.
"What's going on?" I demanded. The two men exchanged a look as they paused their pounding.
"The windows, the doors...they're being held shut," Steve told me.
"And what's out there? Why are you trying to get the windows open?" I kept on. I tried to get past Nick, but he held me back. "Let me by." I forced my way to the window, and screamed yet again.
Giles lay on the flagstones below the window, either dead or unconscious. I summoned all my strength, psychic and physical, and began tearing at the window. Nick and Steve attempted to calm me. Dr. Reardon chose this moment to walk in. I turned my fury on her.
"You bitch!" I shrieked, my eyes blazing. "You knew this could happen! And you let us come anyway!" The men couldn't hold me any longer, and I barely realized that Nick was beginning to put two and two together.
"The window...it's stuck, is all," Joyce floundered. "Maybe the others aren't. Have you tried the doors?" Steve and Rachel left the room quickly to try the doors to the solarium and kitchen.
"Calm down, Laurel," Nick said. "Look, Rupert is still breathing." I ran to the window to check. He was. I breathed a small sigh of relief. "Besides," Nick continued, "it was Emery here that Giles came to for help. Emery who turned his back-"
I gave him no chance to finish the sentence before I attacked Emery.
"You'd better pray Giles is all right," I hissed. "You absolute piece of-" My hands tightened around his neck.
"Now, now," Nick admonished. "A slayer is not to take human lives. Only those of the undead and demonized." I barely flinched at his statement.
"I lost my parents...my cousin...the best damn slayer ever, and the best friend I ever had, next to Rupert Giles. My aunt...I lost her...and if Giles dies..." I trailed off, my voice threatening enough, leaving the rest up to Emery's imagination. I threw him down on the ground in disgust. Just then, we heard Rachel cry out, then the sound of doors and windows unlocking, and the creaks of the doors opening. I gave a last glare at Emery, then raced outside to Giles. Nick followed, hot on my heels.
"I'll help you get him inside," he offered.
"I can get him," I growled. Giles was beginning to come around. I practically carried him to his feet, then Nick and I put our arms around him and dragged him inside. "And when he's settled, you can explain why you felt it necessary to speak up about the slayerage."