Part 2

"You're sure everything is ready in my room?" Darla asked as she held the cellphone to one ear, her other hand on the steering wheel.

"Just like you instructed," a male voice garbles out on the other end.

"And you realize that if even one thing is missing or one item not finished on that list I gave you that I'll find you, rip out your larynx and beat your head with it until you explode into a thousand miserable ashes?"

The pause on the other end is quite pregnant. "Of course. It's all been taken care of."

Darla allows herself a dry smile as she sneaks a look at her sleeping passenger. "Good. Thank you, Marvin. Lock up after you leave. You'll find the money in the account I set up for you this morning. Come back tomorrow around 7. There's a few errands I need to run and I'll need to keep certain things running in the house while I'm away. Call when you get to the gate."

She dismissively hits the call end button on the phone as the line goes dead before she puts the phone back in her pocket. Vampires might not be the best house servants, but they would do in a pinch and knew their place, she mused as the car pulled up to their destination, Buffy Summers still sleeping in the side of the car.

It hadn't been easy to secure a hiding place, led alone one for something that suited Darla's tastes.

And that taste for sure had not included anymore crappy low-rent motels and holes-in-the-wall like the common vampire rabble. Darla gave that up long ago when she left The Master's side. That old fossil might have loved living underground like a sewer rat, but Darla had long come to love the finer things in life – particularly large things. With a great view.

Which led her to discovering one lovely little gem on the outskirts of this quaint little town of Sunnydale, only about a mile from the town limits - The Chateau D'Le Monde, a now-abandoned hotel that once thrived during the town's early years before it shut down in the 1950s amid a spike of Hellmouth activity that saw its guests fall victim to the town's nocturnal demon woes. It was once one of the most beautiful places in Sunnydale, but now, it had been condemned for decades, not a single realtor able to sell the property with such a sinister reputation. It was a shame; the hotel was more in the way of a castle, and with the right touches, it could be made into quite the living space.

Fortunately, that worked perfectly for Darla. After learning about the place in the weeks between her arrival to town and tonight, she had quietly began work to secure the property for herself. Paying off a powerful warlock, she had managed to have him cloak the property with several protective spells. One spell hid the building under a cloak of invisibility, while another acted as a ward for uninvited guests, casting a memory loss spell that would direct them away from the property if they got too close to the gates without the password. Next, she paid off a few newbie vampires – eager to make a buck – to clean the place top to bottom; that meant dusting, sweeping, painting, new sheets, new carpets, cleaning the windows and making sure Darla's favorite areas were spotless. They weren't perfect, but they got the job done; the place looked magnificent now, resembling more of a well-lit, posh estate rather than a dank, dusty old haunt.

It wasn't cheap, but again, Darla's hidden vaults of wealth were able to bankroll the whole thing. After all, she had learned long ago that if one wanted the finer things in life, they didn't come cheap.

It had been about a half hour since Darla had pulled up into the property, a drugged Buffy still slumbering in the side seat without a care in the world. As she gently cradled the Slayer into her arms, she was still careful about slamming doors as she made her way into the castle-like hotel, candle lights illuminating many of the hallways as they cast a beautiful, almost haunting glow. Darla could barely contain her excitement of having this beautiful warrior swaying bonelessly in her grasp, but she was not going to rush. She wanted to plant the seeds of success first, make it easier to sway this Slayer. Buffy and Darla didn't exactly have the best history, after all. Darla had tried to kill her several times the last time they had met. She had also targeted the Slayer's friends, gone after Angel, whom the Slayer had loved for some time, and even had fed from the Slayer's mother, perhaps her most personal attack. Winning over Buffy Summers would not be easy.

For that reason, Darla concluded that she needed to start tinkering with the Slayer's mind first before they had their first official talk. Planting a few subliminal seeds that would make it harder for The Slayer to resist what she had to offer. And Darla knew of just the thing for that – Calynthia powder.

It was a bright purple powder that Darla had once used before, to manipulate Angel's dreams shortly after her first resurrection at the hands of Wolfram & Hart. She knew of its effects well. If ingested via food or liquid, it was able to produce suggestive effects on a user's mind, especially when sleeping. Their synapses would be augmented, making it easier for semi-hypnotic suggestions to be planted into their mind, making the sleep deeper in the process.

However, when burned as incense and inhaled, the effects would be even more potent, Darla had discovered, allowing her to truly shape and mold what the Slayer was dreaming. For that reason, she had stockpiled a large amount of it in preparation for her…guest. Her Sleeping Beauty was primed, and now, she only needed one last ingredient to start the seduction of the Slayer.

Darla's room was decorated ornately. Red and blue exotic, crafted patterns adorned the walls. No more dirty places and foul odors for Darla; she would have only the best now. A nearby wooden case for stuffing the throw pillows ley at the foot of the bed, which was an elegantly-carved four-pillar place of rest, each pillar wrapped in red silk, the room smelling of jasmine, lavender and clean linen. Red silk sheets wrapped around the bed, the fabric soft and smooth.

Hmm. Guess Marvin did a decent job after all, she mused as she recalled her conversation with the vampire who was encharged with leaving the room ready and spotless.

Gently, she lay Buffy onto the bed, resting her head comfortably on a soft pillow. The Slayer was a portrait of beauty, her nylon encased legs bent to the left, her right hand left near her face as her other hand lay splayed away from her, her full pink lips parted ever so slightly as her chest gently rose and fell with each slow breath as the California-born blonde drifted further into her slumber. Darla felt her mouth start to water slightly at the beauty beneath her, but willed herself to calm down. There would be plenty of time to explore every inch of this lovely creature soon enough.

Taking a moment, Darla turned away from her slumbering quarry and made her way to the other side of the room, where lay a rather modern-looking stereo system that didn't quite go with the room but had amazing sound quality. Casually, her fingers glided across the selection of classical music CDs that she had pilfered from Lindsey McDonald's apartment before she abruptly left his abode months before. (After all, she smiled, why pay for what you can get for free?)

After debating for a moment between Chopin and Brahms, her two favorite composers, she found herself steering more in favor of Chopin. With a smile, she found her fingers inch towards one selection in particular – Chopin's Nocturno op9, No.2. She had loved the nocturnes and preludes, and while Nocturno nº2 Op.62 had a sweet tone to it, Darla felt this particular track was more appropriate for the occasion: romantic, slow, yet somehow…homely. Inviting. And she did have a guest, after all.

As Darla's fingers injected the CD into the stereo and hit the "Play" button, the melodious sound of piano keys filled the room. Closing her eyes, Darla allowed herself to relish the aging, yet harmonic sound of the master composer's handiwork before she slowly glided back across the room to admire her own handiwork. The mood was set perfectly, just the way Darla liked it.

For a moment, Darla found herself once more admiring Buffy's sleeping form, watching her small yet generous chest rise and fall almost in time with the music. She really is a true beauty, Darla grinned in pleasure. Letting her cool fingers deftly trail up Buffy's smooth, warm legs, Darla allowed her touch to linger on her prize before she took the small bag of purple powder and began to pour it into a nearby dish with lighter fluid beneath it for warming.

Slowly, Darla turned the knob beneath the heater, allowing the flames to heat the dish beneath. She waited patiently.

At last, a small trail of smoke began to rise from the plate, the thin ribbon of the sweet, ash-colored air drifting towards Buffy as she slept unaware. Darla smiled as she watched the small beauty take in the fumes with each sleeping breath. Normally, she might be more worried about the effects on her own being, but with Darla not having to breathe thanks to her undead physiology, that didn't pose a problem for her. She had never experimented with the powder like this, and she was burning with curiosity as to what it could do in this manner.

The candle lights in the otherwise dark room cast an incandescent, almost angelic glow on the unconscious Slayer that Darla hadn't quite expected, making her sleeping guest look even more radiant as Darla's eyes drunk in the Slayer's almost shimmering, perfect form. Her cool hand drifted over the Slayer's peaceful, resting face. Brushed the locks of flaxen-hued hair from her lovely eyes. Drifted down her delicate cheekbones. Tracing the outline of that cute little nose. Sailed softly across those tender, wispy, fluttering eyelids. Nails gliding slowly across the soft upper lip of her mouth. She looked so angelic like this, so at peace. Looking nothing like the powerful warrior that she had seen crush vampires beneath her iron fists in those graveyards. Here, she was just a lovely, vulnerable young woman. Here, in this moment, there was no mask; this was her. This was Buffy Summers. This was as real as she could possibly be. Darla looked forward to getting to know what was underneath that surface…in more ways than one…

Part of Darla wanted to take Buffy here and now, amidst the nirvana of silk sheets and soft music she created and see just how she tasted, how she would feel, what her scent would be like in the throes of passion. But she held back. There would be time enough for everything soon enough. And she knew the old adage about good things coming to those who waited.

The older woman leaned into Buffy's soft, shell-like ear, allowing herself a small whiff of the Slayer's intoxicating vanilla scent, as she began to breathlessly whisper in her ear.

"Buffy," her feathery voice rasped out. "Follow the sound of my voice. Let yourself be guided by my voice. Nothing exists but the sound of my voice. Let your mind go, your body go, your heart go, your soul go…you feel safe. You feel relaxed. Nothing can harm you. Nothing can hurt you. Nothing can happen…as long as you follow the sound of my voice."

A small, quiet moan escaped from the lips of the Slayer, who briefly stirred beneath Darla, and for a moment, the vampiress was worried that she would awaken, but the athletic beauty continued to slumber, her head gently rolling to the side as her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. It seems the powder was working. For a moment, she took pity on the girl, who looked so lonely and helpless beneath her. But she shook that off quickly. If anything, Darla considered this a favor; a break in that mundane routine was something that this pretty girl was in dire need of, and the cunning demon was more than willing to give it to her.

Smiling a Cheshire Cat grin, letting her hand trace down the young woman's lovely throat down to the smooth lines of her collarbone, the vampiress continued with her words. "Follow me down, Buffy…Follow the sound of my voice. Let it guide you to warmth. Let it guide you to safety. Let it guide you to rest. To peace. To happiness. It's the only way to happiness. The only way to safety. To the light. Buffy…let my voice be your salvation."

And as she whispered those words, Buffy Summers began to dream…

In between the blows that she and Spike had traded, Buffy inwardly groaned at how miserable this night was turning out. Organizing Parent-Teacher night at Sunnydale High had been a lot of work, and all she had to do was to keep that bothersome Principal Snyder away from her mother during the whole ordeal, but not only did she fail at that – which would likely result in grounding until she reached her 40s – but Spike, the new vamp in town, and his men had picked that time to storm the school, with bloodshed and the Slayer herself being the top goals.

And now, she was locked in a deadly battle with Spike himself, who was proving to be a lot tougher than the average vampire that she was used to pounding on. He was quick, hit hard and had a warrior's cunning, which made Buffy worry for the first time in a while that this would be a fight she might not walk away from. Honestly, this was not the way she had envisioned this Saturday night to go down.

"Now THAT hurt," Spike mused aloud, impressed at the force of which Buffy had slammed his head into the plaster of the wall of the high school. Before she even had a chance to fire a quip or set her stance, he suddenly and violently ripped his arm out of the wall, wielding a solid wooden beam he wrenched out of the plaster. In that same motion, he turned around and swung, connecting solidly with Buffy's head as the blow sent the dazed Buffy sprawling onto the ground.

Wincing through the pain, Buffy's blurred vision could make out a leering Spike standing above her with the deadly wooden board in hand. "But not as much as THIS will," he sneered, delighting in the helpless, dazed look on The Slayer's face as he raised the board high overhead and prepared to send it right through Buffy's skull…

"Hey!"

Dumbly, Spike whirled around, only to get caught with a powerful fist to the face that sent the vampire tumbling across the floor. Buffy looked up through the haze of pain and breathed in a sigh of relief.

There stood Darla. A cold, hard glower on her delicate features, slowly inching her way in between the still-down Slayer and the vampire she once considered family.

"Ow…bloody hell, Darla, if you wanted to share, ya could'a just said so, luv," Spike chuckled, shaking his head as he clutched his bruised cheekbone. "There's plenty of Slayer to go around."

Unamused, Darla glares at him as she helps Buffy to her feet, the Slayer gratefully accepting her hand. "Spike, I'm only going to say this once. Leave. Now. You get a free pass this time. Because it's my fault that you and Drusilla became what you are…"

"And what's that, Darla? Hmm?" Spike asked, his taunting smile still plastered on his face. "Immortal? Strong? Not having to take anyone's crap anymore? Feeling more alive as a dead man than I ever felt when I had a pulse?"

"You're a monster, Spike," Darla replied, her tone frank, wary eyes never leaving him. "WE…are monsters. We shouldn't exist. And I'll be damned if I'm going to let you hurt The Slayer or anyone else in this town."

Spike lets out a cruel, mocking laugh as he staggers to his feet, seeming to delight as both women take a step back and get into fighting stances. "Well, whaddaya know? Darla the cold, unfeeling bitch finally found something she cares about other than herself. Isn't that interesting?" His leer at Darla intensifies. "You sleep with the bint yet, luv? Tasted her? Heard her moan, made her scream? Felt the warmth in between those warm, tight little thighs of hers? Always wondered whether the only thing better than killing a Slayer would be fucking one."

Buffy's cheeks burn a bright pink as she scowls at this repulsive creature, but she said nothing.

Darla's tone becomes a feral growl, her patience at an end. "Get. Out. Now. Out of this building, out of this town, out of our lives. And take Dru with you. And God have mercy on you if I ever see either of you again, Spike. Because I guarantee you…you won't find any from me."

Spike takes a moment, as if considering her threat and then shakes his head. "Women," he spits disdainfully, before he turns tail and runs through the shattered glass door just 10 feet from them.

Panting, Buffy takes a look at Darla, a million questions running through her eyes. Darla had only cryptically warned her about Spike days ago, but as was her habit, she didn't elaborate much on that before she disappeaered. And that bothered Buffy. She had come to know that Darla had been…different…before she came to Sunnydale. There was a past that she did not like to talk about. But given the situation, Buffy was more than annoyed at Darla's lack of sharing. She was a little…hurt. She had begun to trust this vampire more intimately in the months that they had been fighting together. And she had thought that she had earned her trust. But apparently, she was wrong…though she desperately hoped otherwise.

At last, Darla looks down, breaking the intense stare between them. "I guess we need to talk."

"Yeah…you got that right," Buffy muttered, clutching her head momentarily. Damn, that Spike asshole could sure swing the hell out of a piece of wood.

Darla's blue eyes fill with concern. "Are you alright?"

Managing a small smile, Buffy allows herself a small bit of delight in the way Darla seems worried about her. "Fine. I've gotten hit a lot harder than that. Gonna take a bit more than some bleach-headed moron with a Billy Idol complex to keep me down."

Chuckling, Darla smiles at that, a sight that makes Buffy smile wider. Darla had smiled before, but she was so collected, so reserved that it was difficult to tell which smile was real and which was merely a show, a mask to hide what she was really feeling. This one, however, was definitely real, and it made Buffy pleased to know she could bring that out of this mysterious vampire that had shown up out of the blue to help her in her battles against the darkness.

Later, as the paramedics and police start crawling over the school, Buffy and Darla slip out from all the commotion. They walk in silence to a local park just within the range of the high school. Darla's silence normally phase Buffy, but something in the way she stays quiet this time starts to bother her.

"So…about Spike," Buffy attempts to break the ice.

The way that Darla frowns and looks away tells her that she struck a nerve there. But nonetheless, she persists. Darla had promised to talk about it, after all. "You said you were responsible for him and…Darcilla?"

"Dru-silla," Darla corrects softly, a haunted look in her blue eyes that Buffy had seen before taking hold of her irises. "She was, is…Spike's lover. She also was the one who turned him."

Buffy's golden eyebrows scrunch in confusion. "Then how does that make you responsible for…?"

"For Spike?" Off Buffy's nod, Darla quietly continues. "Because I was the one who turned Drusilla. Buffy…do you remember when I told you that my past was something I wasn't proud of?"

Buffy says nothing, only nodding again as she hung on every word.

"Spike and Drusilla were a big part of that," Darla continued as they found a nearby park bench to sit on. Stopping for a moment, Darla's eyes look into the distance, as if staring at a past that only she could see, and a moved Buffy wonders what she could be seeing that makes her look so sad. "We traveled together for more than a century. Over every corner of the known world. He was younger, and he was a savage. Wild and unpredictable." A wry chuckle escapes her lips. "Sadly, he has not mellowed with time. Drusilla was a lunatic and could barely take care of herself, so it fell on me to have to teach Spike everything about being a vampire. How to hunt. How to hide. How to pick out a victim. Even…even torture. He was an animal, and I helped make him into a killer. Because in the end, a killer was less maintenance to manage. That's all.

"And for a long time, it worked. We took what we wanted, killed when we wanted, fed on anyone we desired. It was an easy way to live – no rules, no boundaries, no limits or morals. Life was a feast and we intended to lick every plate clean. We didn't care who we hurt, who we killed, how young or old they were, if they had families that would miss them…The Kill was all that mattered."

Buffy felt guilty as the story continued, knowing that she was making Darla re-live all of this. Slowly, she took her warm palm and slid it into Darla's cool one.

"I know it's not easy having to dig up all of this," a sincere Buffy uttered, her mossy green eyes filled with sympathy.

"No, you don't understand, Buffy. Those were…" Darla looked away, shamefully. "…those were happy memories."

Surprise fills Buffy's green eyes as she feels her grip freeze in Darla's grasp. "H-happy? How?" she asks, confused and a bit frightened.

"It might not have been the most kosher way to live, but for a while, I had company," Darla explained, her eyes still looking down. "Forever is a long time, Buffy. And as twisted as it sounds, as much as I hate Spike for what he's done…he's family. People grow old. They age. They fade away. But Spike and Drusilla were always there. And as twisted as it sounds…there are times I'd rather have them around than to face the rest of forever alone."

Buffy could feel her heart move at Darla's confession. As twisted as it sounded, The Slayer could understand. She had felt so very alone in this calling ever since Merrick had found her on those steps of her school two years ago. There were times that she wished she could share that experience with someone who truly did understand. And then along came Darla…

Clasping both of Darla's hands, Buffy let her gaze lock on with Darla's eyes. "You're not alone, Darla."

Off Darla's hesitation, Buffy's words became firmer, yet her tone lost none of its gentleness. "We've all done things that we regret. But it's not about living in the past. It's about the future. It's about your choices. Spike made his choice to continue being a creep. That's his choice. You chose different. You chose to be part of the world. To make a difference.

Her eyes fill with a poignancy that emits from deep within. A place where she holds out hope that Darla can step out from the walls of lonliness that surround the vampire and step into the light…with her. "And as long as you remember that, I promise you…you'll never be alone."

Their eyes lock for a long moment…and then, slowly, Buffy leans in first, Darla frozen yet not moving away. Gently, her soft lips glide across Darla's cool mouth, heat and cold dancing across Buffy's lips. Slowly, Darla returns the kiss…their first kiss…and before long, her fingers are sliding into the Slayer's golden mane while Buffy's hands gently cup the icy cheeks of her face, a spark starting to smoulder into a flame that grew with every second.

Breathlessly, the two break apart, their faces still only a few feet from each other.

"Wow," Buffy breathed, fighting to catch her breath. "That was…wow."

"Yeah," Darla nodded, her lips also trembling. "A lot of wow there."

"So…what do we do now?" Buffy asked nervously, a million questions dancing in those expressive sea-green eyes.

Taking a moment to consider, Darla's lips spread into a slow smile. "We'll figure that out tomorrow. For now…let's just get you home."

Buffy doesn't argue that, standing up as the two women walk side-by-side down the empty street, not hiding a smile as Darla's hand links into hers, the Slayer leaning her head on Darla's delicate shoulders as she sighs in contentment.

It might not have been the way she had hoped the night would go, but Buffy certainly would not be complaining about how it had ended. It was almost…perfect, she mused. This is like a dream…

TBC