Disclaimer- Joss and the WB own the rights.
Summary- On Christmas Eve, what's a Jewish girl to do? Why, kick some big fat Santa ass, that's what! But can Willow and Tara really save Sunnydale and defeat Santa without losing the lives of their friends or each other?
Spoilers- There's major Season 5 spoilage all throughout.
Rating- Hard R: Sex scenes, gore, spritzled with profanities and layered in strong violence.
Feedback- You know it.
Author's Notes- This is a horror story in case you didn't see the category I set it to. It's not a very nice story, though I think fans of Willow and Tara will like it.
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Santa and the Jew: A BtVS Christmas Story | by Donald P. Pike
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Chapter 3
13. Signs of Turbulence
"I know what I'm doing..."
Tara looked over at her nervously. A word hadn't been spoken since they'd left Giles' house. "I-I'm sure you do."
Willow looked back at her and grimaced. "C'mon Tara, stop it."
"Stop what?"
"This, the solemn looks, the constant fidgeting, agreeing with me when something's bugging you."
"It's nothing."
Willow's eyes widened.
"Aha, it is something! Otherwise you wouldn't have referred to it as though anything existed in the first place."
Tara sighed in frustration. "Please, d-don't do this. I'm just in shock, that's all. As to w-what happened to Buffy. And Ms. um, Joyce."
"...Really?"
Tara nodded, her eyes steadily watching the dark-white road as Willow drove around the tall gate of Sunnydale Park.
"Yeah..."
"And you'd tell me if there was something wrong?" Willow inquired hopefully.
Tara pointed to something outside of the car. "Is that the place?"
Willow momentarily forgot the flow of the conversation and looked to where Tara was pointing. "Yeah...this is it. The old Sunnydale Carnival..."
14. Getting Past the Gate
Sunnydale Park was quite large, with about ten square acres of land mass. This is where many of Buffy's patrols would lead, seeing as how it was the most common place for midnight joggers and the occasional rapist or pedophile to prowl. And in the southeast corners, shrouded in woods and covering about one-forth of the park, stood Sunnydale's former carnival spot. Now normally, a carnival is defined as a traveling fair providing sources of entertainment such as games, rides and side-shows. And originally that's exactly what it had been.
Every year the carnival would be erected in Sunnydale Park for three weeks, then it would be taken down and the owners of the carnival would travel elsewhere for the other fifty-two and a half weeks, but always returning. Unfortunately, three years before this very Christmas, the carnival was about to be taken down again when vampires attacked and slaughtered almost every worker there. Had it not been for Buffy, everyone would have died. But that's another story altogether...
Willow parked the car in a secluded area between to drooping trees of her own namesake and the witches emerged, the sound of their doors shutting reverberating throughout the forest.
"I've never seen this place before." Tara said, awe of the old fair easily read in her voice.
Willow shrugged slightly, walking with her to the gates. "Well, it isn't the kind of thing I ever figured you wanted to see."
Their shoes crunched in the snow, which hadn't taken much time to cover the forest floor, but at least their surrounding was keeping the snow from falling at such a steady rate. In fact, it was almost as though the snow had just magically appeared on the ground.
A glint at the end of her vision caught Willow's eye, and she signaled to Tara, who at that moment had been contemplating climbing a nearby sapling to get across.
"Over here." Willow looked behind her to make sure Tara was following, as she didn't want them to get separated too far apart. If Kringle were to ambush either one of them alone...She shuddered at the thought, and on the impulse stopped walking, waiting for her other to catch up with her.
The faded green ticket booth looked as though it would fit better in some fifties horror film, as it was covered in cobwebs and the Plexiglas separating the inside from the out was lined in cracks. The main gateway looked fully closed, and would probably take quite a bit of strength to get over. Still, it hadn't stopped the vampires.
Tara gasped as they arrived at the booth, grabbing Willow's shoulder. The red-head herself was forced to turn her gaze away from the acrid smell of death. A skeleton was still stuck in the booth, a bit of raggedy hair sticking out from underneath his blue cap. Vines had snaked in from outside of the booth and perversely wrapped themselves around his neck and collarbone, then up and out through one of his eye sockets. His uniform was splattered in long dried blood, the most of it being around the area of his shoulders, suggesting that one vampire had been a particularly messy eater.
"Goddess...what happened here?"
Willow shook her head. "I'll tell you some other time, when we're not in danger of winding up looking like that." She suddenly spotted a ring of keys in the man's chest pocket. Feeling a bit braver as a flash of Buffy's silently screaming face ran though her mind, Willow balled up her red denim jacket around her small fist and took a deep breath. "Stand back."
Tara did so, not sure of what she was about to do. Willow punched her hand at the cracked glass of the booth. It bounced off harmlessly, though she did manage to further some of the cracks already there. Willow gave a small cry and put her hand against her chest, doubling-over as her eyes scrinched up in pain. Tara covered her mouth with her hand and hurried back to Willow, putting her arms around her.
"Owie, owie, owie...owwww, dammit!" Willow started trying to hop, which was a bit difficult with Tara clinging onto her. She turned around to face Tara and rested her forehead on the girl's shoulder. "Buffy makes it look so easy, she just flicks a finger and poof, broken glass. No problem. Me, I think I just dusted all my knuckles."
Tara nodded, running her hands over Willow's back. "I know. B-but you did a nice job of cracking the g-glass..."
Willow sniffed and looked back at the booth. "Yeah...look at that one right there, I think I doubled it in length."
"You want to try again?"
Willow shot her love a dirty look.
*
"J-just a little bit further."
"I can't go a little bit further, this hurts!"
"C'mon, you can d-do it. I've got you, I've got y-you."
Tara stood on the ground inside of the park, motioning for Willow to let herself down a bit further over the gate. So far neither girl had torn their blue jeans, which clung tightly to their legs in the cold, but Tara's dark green sweater was ruffled a bit. Willow shakily put one hand between the spikes in the bars and then the other, lowering herself further down.
"That's it. Hang on, I've got you." Willow sighed in relief as she felt Tara's hands on her waist, and as a result laxed the stress on her grip. So much so that the slippery ice covering the bars caused her grasp to give away. Both girls yelped as they fell to the ground, Willow's back on Tara.
After a moment of simply laying in the aftershock Willow groaned, rolling over but not off of Tara. Seeing the other girl's eyes watching her, she grinned. Tara smiled back and the frozen leaves underneath her crackled as she brought up a hand to brush a lock of Willow's autumn-red hair out of her face. Willow in turn gazed down at Tara's beauty. The fall had cause her long hair to spread in every direction, fanning out along the snow. Her normally pale features were flushed slightly from the cold while appearing even paler in others, and her lips were parted as she breathed in the chilly night air. Unable to resist temptation, Willow leaned down slowly and tilted her head, pressing her lips against Tara's.
A small gust of cold wind blew up on them, causing the kiss to deepen as Willow shivered and moved closer on top of Tara for warmth. She felt Tara's hand run through her hair as their lips met again and caressed. She opened her mouth further and Tara sighed through her nose, her other hand gracefully moving up Willow's spine beneath her jacket and shirt. Another very cold gust of wind and a long crrreeaaakk of rusty metal broke their heated embrace, both girls turning to see what was the cause of the noise.
"Son of a bitch...", Willow murmured, watching the gate as it now stood open.
Tara was dumbfounded, the fog of lust still not fully gone from her brain. "You mean all we had to do was-"
Willow turned to face her, kissing her for the second time before Tara could finish her sentence. "Shut up," she said with a grin.
Tara nodded. "Well, it w-wasn't all bad."
Willow shook her head in agreement. "It never is when I wind up with you in this position."
They giggled and nuzzled together, placing light pecks on each other lips when a laugh carried through the wind towards them. A crazy, distorted, sick cackle that could have been heard for miles, but couldn't have been less than half the distance of the park away from them. Willow got to her feet in an instant, Tara begrudgingly removing her hand from the soft white skin of Willow's back.
"So, he's here..."
A static-filled voice emanated from inside Willow's jacket, causing the girls to jump from fright. "Willow, Tara? Hav~~scrshh~~ound anything yet?"
Willow glanced sheepishly back at Tara, who had the same look on her face. She removed the walkie-talkie from her jacket pocket. "Yeah, we just heard him. We're going to check it out now."
The distinct British accent answered back, "~~ight, Riley and I have ju~~shh~~ived at the restaurant."
15. At the Steak and Ale
"Jeez Giles, wha~~scrshh~~ook you so long?" Willow asked over the radio.
Riley looked over at him from his stooped position at the double-doors of the eatery. "I told you Giles, you could have driven a bit faster."
Giles huffed at the remark. "I'll have you both know that these streets are very dangerous right now, this ice is absolutely horrid on a vehicle without four-wheel drive...such as mine."
"What? Gi~~scrrrrssssssssshhhhhhhh~~eaking up, I can't he~~shhh~~ing you say!"
Giles shook his head, shaking the transistor radio in his hand. "Willow, I'm sorry, you're breaking up. I can't hear you!"
"~~scrshh~~what I said....sigh> Over and out."
Giles huffed again and put the radio back in his pants pocket, then flexed his aging fingers in their leather glove coverings. Now he remembered one of the major reasons he'd first enjoyed California. The weather was always nice and sunny, with the occasional rainfall. Snow was a big turn-off in his book.
"The damn lock's not opening," Riley said, getting back to his feet and wincing as he did. His injuries would fade soon thanks to Tara's spelled herbs, but before they did they seemed intent to make themselves known. "We're gonna have to get in the old fashioned way."
Giles frowned. "What's that?"
"A little B&E." Riley replied as he searched for a big enough object to throw at the door.
His frown deepened. "How is breaking and entering old fashioned?"
Riley stopped what he was doing to look up at him. "...Well, I mean...it's just an expression, Giles. Now instead just of standing there you think you can help me out here?"
The Englishman spread his gloved hands wide as snow fell around them. "To do what, Riley? Throw a big rock at the door and hope we get the alarm system in the same shot?"
"Well, it's not like we'd be alerting anyone to our presence, everyone in town is fast asleep, remember?"
Giles stepped closer to Riley. "Right, everyone except for the fellow we're looking for. And seeing what he did to you, wouldn't it be better to find a quiet way inside of the building instead of just charging in?"
Riley looked at him curiously. "I'm all ears for a better way..."
As Giles was opening his mouth something jingled behind them and a voice called out, "I know of a way in there. A real good way."
They both turned quickly to find a handsome twenty-something man staring back at them, leaning against a tree. On one finger a small ring of keys dangled, and he shook it again, making the jingling noise once more before clasping them in his hand. He was looking at them in a bemused fashion.
"Who are you?" Giles asked in a haughty if 'yes, you caught us with our hand in the cookie-jar' sort of way.
The dark-haired man's smile grew as he stepped forward, crossing his arms authoritatively. "My name's Jack."
Riley limped over to Jack, standing to his full height when he reached the other man, trying to be as menacing as he could in his bandaged state. "Well Jack, it might be a good idea if you just moseyed on your way. This isn't what it looks like, and frankly you don't want anything to do with it. We're after a bad, dangerous man. Understand?"
Something struck Giles and he came over and poked Riley on his bandaged shoulder, making the tall man wince and jump back, grimacing as he shot darts at Giles with his eyes. Giles smiled at him apologetically before turning back to Jack. "You wouldn't happen to be Jack of 'Jack's Steak and Ale', would you?" Riley's eyes went wide with embarrassment and he looked down at the white ground.
The young man stared at Giles with a blank look on his face and then glanced up. His face brightened into an even wider smile and he looked back at Giles. "No-no, I'm Jack as in Jack's grandson, named of course after my grandfather." He shook his head mockingly at Riley. "Bad, dangerous man my grandfather was. Always leaving the stove on." He turned his gaze back to Giles. "I just got word this weekend that he'd passed away and that I'd have to take care of the place until funeral arrangements were completed."
Giles shook his head in understanding. "Listen, sorry for the straight-forward approach of my friend here, but he is right. We have reason to believe that someone is inside your diner right now."
"Well if you guys are wondering how to get in, how did he?"
"He has ways," Riley piped up from behind Giles.
Jack stood in the cold with them for a moment longer, silently looking them both over. "Alright, I was going to go in anyway." He pointed to Giles. "You come with me," and then shifted his finger to Riley. "You stay."
Riley nodded, still embarrassed, before backing up and to the side so that they could get past him. Jack brushed against him nonchalantly as though he weren't there and he stuck his ringed key in the lock, pressing forward. He then whispered something under his breath and turned the key to the right, the lock sliding out and the door opening. Jack smiled and motioned to Giles before stepping inside.
Giles nodded at Riley and came a bit closer to him, putting the radio in his hand. "Be careful..." he whispered.
The young man smiled and nodded again, jumping a bit to get his blood flowing as he pocketed the device. With that, he lost sight of Giles inside of the diner, listening as Jack locked the door behind them.
*
Giles was surprised he'd never decided to go here before. It was a quite a nice restaurant really, with the faintest scent of alcohol and burnt meat mixing well against the wide-open space and seventies feel. The walls were layered in gold-colored paint while he could see that the backroom was lime-green. A large mirror covered the bar as usual and many glasses and bottles covered racks on it, their reflective surfaces making the wooden bar itself seem multi-colored, though for the most part it carried a deep brown gleam. Giles half-expected a disco ball to drop down from the ceiling, but none appeared. A full shag carpet covered most of the floor but Giles caught site of a mahogany finish showing out in several places. He breathed in deeply. It was a nice place...holding a slightly morbid air to it, this would be an excellent spot to drown one's self in the sorrows of a wasted life...he'd have to come here more often.
Noticing how immaculately clean everything was, Giles unwittingly removed his glasses to shine them. He looked up when he heard a "harumph" to see Jack staring at him patiently as though waiting for something. "Yes?"
"Your friend? The dangerous one who can walk through walls...where is he?"
Giles shook his head, trying to loose the feeling that was overcoming him. On second thought, it might be a better idea if he stayed away from this place. It carried a bit too much atmosphere for him to handle. "Right, of course. Well, uh...do you have a gun or some sort of protection with you? If you're going to look around as well I wouldn't want to put you in danger."
Jack gave him an odd look and walked over behind the bar, disappearing for a moment before coming back up with a sawed-off double-barreled Remington shotgun. "Here." He tossed the shotgun to Giles, who even surprised himself as he caught it deftly in one hand. He checked to make sure it was loaded before pumping it once to enter the shells into the chamber. Meanwhile, Jack had once again ducked beneath, and now rose up with a magnum in his hand, each slot loaded. "What's this guy look like anyway?"
Giles gave a weak smile. "Large, red suit. Big white beard, and as I've heard apparently very ugly."
Jack stared back at him, confused. "You're chasing a guy dressed up as Santa Claus?"
He nodded. "Something like that. Shall we begin?"
Jack shook his head, his wavy black hair moving with him. "I hate Christmas..."
He walked with Giles over to the door leading to the kitchens and, after taking a deep breath, pushed it open.
16. Hearing Things
Dawn came back to the couch and sat down next to Xander, a fresh cup of hot chocolate in her hands. Late-night TV played on the television, though they'd muted it out a while back.
"Where's Anya?" Dawn asked only mildly curious, waiting for her cup to cool down a bit as she ripped open yet another large package of marshmallows. She simply wanted to get her mind off of the possibilities as to what really happened to her mother.
"She's back at the house. When I heard what was going on I left her in bed, figured it was better for all of us that way."
Dawn watched on the muted television as two filthy-looking men in desperate need of shaves started a bar brawl, pulling guns on each other and beginning to tear the place apart with their bullets. Hail softly fell on the windows outside and Dawn couldn't help but enjoy listening to Xander breathing. For some reason it lifted her spirits...
"I've seen this one before," he said, motioning towards the television set. "Watch, I can even tell you what's gonna happen without the sound. See that guy right there, the one with the gun?"
Dawn smirked a little and slid closer to him on the couch. "They all have guns."
"Yeah I know, but I mean the one in the ugly blue shirt. Look, there he goes. See, he and the other guy, the one in the tan shirt, they're gonna have a big shoot-out outside of the bar. They're gonna blow holes in lots of stuff and, you know, cause general havoc."
"Uh-huh," Dawn said in a disbelieving voice. "And who's gonna win?"
"Oh, the tan guy," Xander said, as though it should be obvious. "Then the blue will join his posse' and they'll have another big shoot-out with the Indians at the end."
"Then what? You can't just end a movie with a bunch of dead people."
"Well, then they go back home and the tan guy gets all the chicks and the money while the blue guy gets one chick and a little money and rides off into the sunset with her."
On the television, the man in blue motioned for the man in tan that they should go outside.
"See, I told you. I must've seen this movie like a dozen times now."
Before the man in blue could reach the door the man in tan drew his gun again and shot the other westerner in the back, sending him flying out of the saloon. Dawn laughed loudly as Xander played being shocked.
"Well, this must be the alternate one with the shorter, unhappy ending."
Dawn nodded while still laughing. "Yeah, poor blue guy. He got gypped. No girl, no money, no sunset."
Xander smiled at her and rubbed his hand on her head affectionately. "Yeah. Good thing that's not gonna happen to us."
Dawn's grin faded and she slowly rested her head on his shoulder. "It already has."
Xander shook his head and wrapped an arm around her. "No, don't think that. We're going to be fine, we're going to get Buffy and Joyce back."
"...You promise?"
There was an awful silence that filled the room before Xander said simply, "Yes."
Suddenly, the TV turned the channels on it's own and the station rested on the cartoon, 'The Night the Grinch Stole Christmas', which was already in progress. Mute disappeared off of the screen and the television blared out at them.
"YOU'RE A LIAR, MR. GRINCH; YOU'RE THE KING OF SIMPLE SIIIIIGHTS-"
Xander jumped up off of the couch and, fighting the rage and fear inside of him that said to break the television, instead simply switched it off. He turned to see Dawn looking up at him with wide eyes, but before he could say anything to comfort her something scratched against one of the outside windows. He glanced quickly to find nothing there but darkness.
"I think it's time to check up on the others..." Xander stated, reaching for the walkie-talkie on the table. Dawn nodded as he sat back down next to her and pulled up close to him. On a thought she pulled out the enchanted map Willow had given her and rolled it open. Xander, sitting next to her and also looking at the map, dropped the radio. "Oh shit..."
17. Discoveries
The lack of sound on the streets of Sunnydale was really getting on Riley's nerves. Not even a bird chirped in the darkness, and the silence of the snowfall only made things worse. The hail had dropped back a while ago... He was about to start singing to himself when something caught his eye. Whatever it was had just moved into an alley he and Giles had apparently missed when they parked.
Glancing back into the restaurant, Riley noted that Jack and Giles were nowhere to be seen. It looked as though he'd be going solo again.
Riley...
The ex-soldier looked back at the alley. Had it simply been the wind? With know visible weapon at hand, Riley forced his nerves up and walked towards the corner. Placing his bandaged hands together like a club (figuring it was better than nothing) Riley turned inwards into the alley, not surprised to find nothing there. Another gust of wind blew a horrid stench into his nose, obviously deriving from the path in front of him.
While it was very narrow, it was looked rather long for an alleyway, concealed by red clay bricks and an over-hanging roof that shrouded everything beneath it in darkness. After about five feet Riley could see nothing. Sticking his hand out, he shivered as he realized that the darkness was so thick that the tips of his finger disappeared inside of it. Quickly pulling forth his Zippo, Riley lit it up for the second time that night. Once again the flame burned upwards, giving him at least the slightest semblance of hope. But his hesitation for stepping into the darkness ended when once again he heard his name on the wind. He took one step forward, then the next.
The first thing he saw was a trash can, overfilled with junk and rotting meat, covered in a layer of what looked to be oatmeal. Upon closer inspection though, the oatmeal was alive and wriggling furiously. So this is where that smell is coming from, he thought. Maggots on meat. A squeak emanated from beneath the maggots, and Riley yelled and jumped back as a rat appeared from beneath the mess. It's face was bleeding and some of the maggots seemed to have taken temporary residence inside the gashes along it's cheeks and body. Utterly disgusted, Riley continued down the alley at a faster pace, the flame from his lighter dancing crazily.
*
"Oh, this is nice..."
Giles looked over at Jack, who had his back turned to him checking out one of the many meat lockers. Dry ice flowed out in waves as Jack stared at whatever was in the locker, and was covering the linoleum and tile floor. "What is it?"
Jack shook his head. "I'm not really sure. My grandfather was into practical jokes, but this seems a little over the top, even for him."
Giles walked over to him, his loafers squeaking on the clean floor. Upon looking inside Giles stood back in shock. Stuffed in the darkness of one of the lockers was the skinless, burnt body of a man. His neck had been pierced by a hook and as a result he swung lazily from side to side, his feet inches above the ground. Had Giles not been so intent on the man he might of noticed that the entire kitchen floor was now covered in the rolling mist.
Jack sniffed the air. "Huh...that's odd."
Giles followed suit and breathed in the brisk air of the locker. A bit stale as meat lockers went, but nothing to awful or out of the ordinary. Then it dawned on him and he looked quickly at Jack, who had apparently been staring at him. "The body...it doesn't smell."
The young man snapped his fingers as though it was a game Giles had just won. "Bingo. So it must be fake. You just can't cover up the smell of burnt flesh, believe me, I know."
Giles stared at him oddly for a moment, considering something. "Jack...when did you get into town?"
"Just now. I've been driving non-stop from New York. Got my own Deli in Queens, but my girlfriend is taking care of it right now. Why?"
Giles thought for a moment longer. "And you didn't notice anything wrong as you entered town?"
Jack shrugged, looking a bit agitated. "Nah, I mean sure it was a little too quiet for Christmas Eve, but Sunnydale has always been dead, man. Look, what's all this about? Who are you looking for, really?"
Figuring that if he wanted to survive it might be a good idea to tell him, Giles stepped closer. "Listen Jack, it would be for the best if you got to your car and turned around, just leave this place. There's no one around because they've all been put under a spell-"
Jack laughed out loud and started to turn around, but Giles grabbed his shoulder roughly. "Dammit man, listen to what I'm saying! If you don't get out of here right now you are going to die!"
Jack scrinched his nose and shook Giles off. "Sure I am old man, sure thing. But as I see it everyone's gone to bed early which is completely understandable considering where I am and two guys are trying to find a good way to break into the family diner, which as of right now only holds three things out of the ordinary. Those three things being myself, who should be drunk on Egg Nog and boffing my girl silly in N Y, a lunatic who's hunting down Santa Claus and a sick practical joke my Uncle thought would be great for one last laugh; now get the hell-"
Giles frowned. "Your Uncle?"
Jack, caught off guard, stopped ranting and smiled.
*
Riley...
"Who the hell is that?" Riley was certain now that something was calling to him, but he'd been traveling for five minutes straight and the only change since entering the alley was the fact that the darkness seemed to have gotten thicker and the voice louder. He couldn't see anything more then a foot ahead of him. The pavement was an ugly gray with the occasional puddle and the walls on either side of him remained a deep red brick color.
Riley, come to me...
"Riley no, run! Get out of here!"
Now he could recognize both voices. They were one and the same...Buffy's.
Riley, help me...just a little further...Riley, I'm trapped inside of him...
He stopped walking; the hair on his arms, chest and back rippling in fear. He could smell her. Her perfume was heavy in the air. He took another step forward.
"Riley, NO! Not now!"
Riley, please...it's so cold in here...I need to be held...you're almost with me
Something drew him closer. He could hold her, he could do that. And there was another smell here as well. A smell that made his groin tighten and his mouth dry up. He caught the scent of her sex in the air, it's intoxication enchanting him.
Yes Riley, you want me...I'm here for you
Something shifted in the darkness ahead of him, and he caught sight of blonde hair and skin. Whatever was in front of him looked surreal, it's shadow moving like a hummingbird's wings.
Take me, ravish me...just another step...
"RILEY!!!"
A smile grew on his lips, and as Riley walked on the walkie-talkie came to life in his pocket, static clearly audible.
"Hey Giles, Riley? Anybody there?"
Riley shook his head and fell to his knees in the snow, pressing his hands on his temple. Xander's voice came out at him again, calling out his name. He opened his eyes to see that he was still in his spot next to the door of the Steak and Ale. For some reason a line from the film Skinner popped into his mind. Theodore Raimi with his back on the floor looking at Traci Lords as she died and yelling in her ear, "Doesn't it just make you want to SCREAM!"
"Hello? Dawn, I don't think anyone's the-"
"H-hey Xander. What is it?"
"Oh, thank god. What the hell took you so long?"
Riley sighed. "My mind was elsewhere."
"You okay? You sound like shit, man. Dawn, don't listen to me, I didn't say that."
"What's wrong, Xander?"
"Huh? Oh, a couple of things. Will and Tara's spell seems to be working, but isn't looking good. That map Willow put a spell on, it's starting to look like somebody spilled a Bloody Mary on it."
"I don't follow."
"The entire thing is blinking red, every bit of it except for Giles' house."
"I guess his power is growing. All right, I'll tell Giles."
"Where is he?"
"He's in the Steak and Ale with some asshole grandkid of the owner."
"Why aren't you?"
Riley blushed. "It's a long story."
"Okay...well, the other problem we're having is that we can't seem to reach Willow and Tara, all we get is stat-...wait, Giles is in the store with who?"
"Yeah, his name is Jack. He's named after the owner, his grandfather. Real prick."
"That isn't right."
"Tell me about it. I'm freezing my ass off ou-"
"No, I mean it isn't right right. I know the Jack guy who owns the store. He's only got one son and the son is..uh..."
Riley frowned. "Xander, what the hell are you talking about?"
"He's, you know. He's what you do with mouthwash. Like Scope."
"What?!"
Riley heard a frustrated sigh over the phone. "You know that special relationship between Willow and Tara? Well it's like that in reverse."
Riley then heard Dawn ask Xander why he was covering his mouth over the phone. "It's nothing Dawn. Really."
"Xander, if...oh no, I gotta go!" Riley turned off the connection and ran to the doors of the restaurant, yelling in frustration as he remembered that Jack had locked them again. Wishing Giles good luck, Riley ran off to find something suitable to break in with.
18. Carnival Conciliation and Cotton Candy Cocoons
Willow and Tara walked along the quiet, paved roads of the fairground. Every few yards streets lamps were placed, which helped to light the way a little. But most of them were dimmed out or fizzing on and off, so that the only truly reliable source of light was the moon above. Willow shivered a little and jumped up and down a few times.
"Urggh, where is he?"
Tara didn't answer. Instead, she gazed up at the moon and then at a nearby hot dog stand. Flies had long since made there way inside the broken glass of the case holding the dogs, and so nothing was inside. But oddly enough the rotator continued to perform it's job. It didn't stop rolling.
"Why haven't they torn this place down?"
Willow, surprised by the question, looked up at her and shrugged. "I don't know. When all this happened the Mayor was still in charge and we'd only heard a few things about him. He probably ordered the place quarantined but made sure nothing got out about it. There wasn't anything in the newspapers..."
Once again they fell into silence, looking around each way, trying to get something on where Kringle could be. But nothing showed. Tara sighed as an owl hooted above and decided to bring up something that had been eating at her. She just needed to know...
"Willow?"
"Yeah?"
"W-what um...What will we do when we f-find him?"
"...Kill him."
"How do you know we can?"
"It isn't about whether or not we can, I have to."
Tara nodded. This had confirmed what she'd been wondering. "You have to."
Willow frowned at her. "We...I meant we."
"But why? Why d-don't we get someone stronger, or wait until we have a b-better opp-"
Her eyes widened and she cut Tara off. "What better opportunity? Who stronger? We had someone stronger but now he has her!"
Tara, in an uncharacteristic burst of emotion, threw her hands up. "All the more r-rr-reason that we need to g-go!"
Willow stopped walking and grabbed Tara's shoulders. "No, we have to save her Tara!"
"...Buffy."
"Yes, Buffy!"
Tara's gaze fell and she pursed her lips. After a moment she looked back at Willow, her eyes red and watery. "Okay." She said, sounding defeated.
She moved to continue walking but Willow wouldn't let her go. She looked at Tara and shook her head, starting to tear up herself. "No, no! What's wrong? What is it?"
Tara shook her head. "D-don't worry, I understand-"
"No, talk to me!"
"You c-care about her a lot, I g-get that."
Then it dawned on Willow. "Tara, what is this? What, you think I care, you think I love her more than I do you, is that it?"
Tara's head stayed down. "I...I understand..."
Willow took the other girl in her arms, holding her tightly. "Man...you really are dumb..."
Tara cried in her jacket, holding her back. Willow kissed the side of her head as she sobbed quietly. "I d-don't want you to d-do this. I don't want you t-to, to wind up like her. I don't want to see you die..."
Willow backed up and gently held Tara's head in her hands, meeting her eyes. "Listen to me. I am not going to die, and neither are you or Buffy. Yes, I love Buffy. The day I met her, that was when I really started living. And yes, I've loved people before. Xander, Oz-"
At this Tara looked down, but Willow dipped her head to catch her gaze again. "-Oz. But then I met you. And I could never and will never love anyone," she choked up, "anyone, as much as I love you. You, you make me feel like every part of me is constantly burning. I can't breathe when I'm not around you. Okay? I need you. If anything ever happened to you..."
Tara stared at her, her eyes pleading. Willow knew that she needed to hear this, as painful as it was to think about. "...My world would stop. I would stop loving. I wouldn't eat, I wouldn't sleep, I am for all intents and purposes dead without you."
Tara leaned into her hold and kissed her, shaking. Willow returned it, tasting the salt of both their tears on her tongue. Tara surprised her when she pulled back, but there was a smile on her face that made Willow's heart jump. "I-I'm not going to die."
Willow shook her head and backed Tara up until she was pressed against a small blue and yellow-striped building. It was fairly ratty and looked makeshift. Willow put one hand on her waist and the other behind her head, passionately kissing her. The door to the building was slightly ajar and Willow slid inside, pulling Tara with her.
It had probably been some sort of security booth three years ago, but now this tiny place was simply home to cobwebs, a broken chair and a few patrol batons. And while Willow felt a bit of deja vu', she was more interested in the only other living thing here that didn't have eight legs, Tara. She pressed her mouth against Tara's lips, her tongue snaking between as her lips parted and she felt the girl's teeth.
Willow growled only somewhat playfully and rubbed up closer to Tara, who for the second time that night had her hands up Willow's jacket and shirt. She wanted to tell Willow that they shouldn't be doing this, that they should be looking for Kringle. But she was afraid that Willow might agree with her and stop running her fingers over Tara's waist. She rolled her tongue along with Willow's, basking in the heat they were creating in each other.
Willow smiled as they kissed and moved one hand up underneath Tara's sweater and bra, cupping her breast in the small of her hand. Tara let out a deep sigh and pressed her head against the wall, moving it from side to side with her eyes closed as Willow traced her hand along Tara's nipple. Willow grinned at her reaction and drew in to suck on her jugular as she tweaked her sensitive nub.
The girls were in fact, so caught up in each other that they didn't notice the door slowly pull shut, locking in a small click. Now they were in almost complete darkness save for streams of moonlight shining through slats above.
ssssliiick....
"W-Willow?" Tara called in a throaty whisper.
The redhead murmured something from the crook of Tara's neck.
sssslliiiiiick....
"Willow, I th-think...oh, I think we're in trouble."
Her tongue running below Tara's ear, Willow opened her eyes. Her hand was still on Tara's breast as she gazed at her. "What?"
ssssscllaaaaack....
"Do you hear that?" Tara asked, both frightened at the sound and lustful at Willow's touch.
Willow looked down at the floor where the sound was coming from, than suddenly reached her hands around to Tara's back and pulled her out of the way as the something on the ground began to slither towards them. They withdrew their hands from each other and Willow pointed to what she saw. Strands of something pink and hairy were growing all over the floor, seeming to materialize straight from the murky puddles of water. They could only see so much through the slats above.
"Willow, the door!"
Willow nodded and jumped over to the wooden door, but it took very little struggling to know that it wasn't going to open. She banged her arm against it in frustration.
"Willow!"
She looked back as Tara shuddered in fright. The pink material was wrapping itself tightly around her legs and hands, tying her up. Though the girl rolled and tore at the pink vines they continued to course around her. By the time Willow got back over to try and help her, Tara's mouth was already gagged. One of the forms snaked itself around Willow's angle and yanked so hard she fell, which made it all the more easy for them to take her.
In only a matter of seconds the girls were cocooned, their only source of air coming from slight holes in the pockets of the pink material. A cord shot up from each of their wrappings, latching themselves around the slats above, so that now Tara and Willow dangled off the floor, mummified.
The door creaked back open and something large shambled in. It breathed in heavily and was obviously trying to fit itself completely into the room to no avail.
A gruff, almost wet voice spoke then. "I'll just stay right here...heh-heh, so precious."
Willow knew who this was. She'd never heard him speak before, but she knew it was him.
"Naughty, naughty girls...I saw you with my thousand eyes...you aren't getting any gifts this year, dirty girls don't get presents. Eh-heh, HO-HO-HOOO!"
A large hand ran up and down Willow's wrapping.
"I'll only need one of you, the other I think will enjoy it here. So peaceful, so quiet. The dead don't act up, they're good boys and girls all year 'round, but I can't give them any goodies! No, because they're dead!" He howled with laughter at this, but stopped short before coughing up something that splattered onto the floor below. Willow thanked her goddess that the attacking vines had covered her eyes.
"Yes, my job is difficult like that. So many rules to follow, so much work to do. But no more! Tonight, I ride!" He roared, and with that Willow heard what could only have been the cord holding Tara in the air snapping, then the thump of her love falling to the floor.
"Ah yes, the bigger of the two. Perhaps, yes perhaps Diablo will not mind if I take a bit of her myself before the sacrifice. So very youthful, and surely not unblemished. No, this one's been tainted."
His finger poked Willow hard enough that she swayed.
"You've ruined her, witch. You took her innocence. Now, it's my turn."
She heard scraping and dragging, but before the door creaked shut she heard him turn back. "You were never on my list. This one here I've got, she was. But you, I don't like you. I'll come back next year and eat what's left of you."
The door slammed shut, leaving Willow in darkness.
19. Brawl of the Barfly
The old man was as taken aback by Jack's strange smile as he was when Jack's fist slammed into his cheekbone. His feet left the floor and his vision blurred as he entered the swirling fog below. Jack laughed and kicked the oldie hard in the side. So forceful was the kick that he slid across to another part of the kitchen, disappearing in the rolling mist. Jack smiled and pulled out his gun, cocking it and walking over to where the other man had slid. There were no shadows in the fog that gave away his presence. Jack's grin faltered as he heard the sound of a gun being picked up. The shotgun... "All right you bastard," he yelled, "I'll admit it, I shouldn't have given you a weapon! But I'd been-" He turned another corner. Still nothing. "-expecting my associate to arrive sooner. As you can probably tell, he's a little late."
Giles, on his hands and knees, crawled to another counter. A few yards away he heard Jack yell in rage and start throwing pots and pans, one of which landed next to him. "Where's the real Jack?", He ventured, not really wanting to know but all too happy to lead Jack straight around the corner into the sight of his sawed-off.
Jack laughed and shrugged. "Depends on which Jack," he explained as he centered in on the Englishman's voice. "My name really is Jack, but I'm not his grandson. From what I gather the real Jack's son was what you might call a filthy faggot, and would never have a son of his own." No, he couldn't just walk around the corner of the counter, his enemy would be expecting that.
Giles was getting nervous. He realized that it may not have been such a good idea to relay his position. Had he remained silent he might've been able to sneak up on Jack. But now he had no idea where the other man was, only that he was nearby. "And what about the body in the freezer?"
Jack chuckled lightly. "I haven't the slightest idea who that is. This is Sunnydale after all, full of dead people. I simply came for the fun of it all. Make things harder for my associate."
He guessed that Jack meant Kringle. His voice seemed to be coming from everywhere on the other side of the counter. "And why would you want to do that?"
"Oh, don't you know, old man? He's retiring tonight. It's his last ride before he gets his paycheck and pension. And this is going to be the most important night the world has ever known..."
Giles was sweating. He didn't like where this was going and to make matters worse, not only was the fog rising to unnatural heights, there were shadows moving with it. Lots of them. "What are you talking about?", he asked, now very interested in the conversation.
"Oh, ho-ho no you don't. I've said enough already. And just for the record, what's your name?" Jack peered over the edge.
Giles got a fix on the voice. It was coming from above him. Looking up, he saw that Jack had gotten on top of the counter and had crawled his way over to Giles, and was now staring intently down at him. "My name is Rupert Giles," he whispered.
Jack nodded, raising the gun to his head. "Ah. Sorry about the trouble Giles. Someone will be along to guide you shortly. I hear Hell's a very nice place this time of year."
Suddenly he screamed in pain and raised the gun. Giles quickly jumped to his feet and saw what had made him scream. A rat the size of computer monitor was also on the counter, biting on the flesh of his leg. Giles raised the shotgun, but Jack heard the sound and kicked out with the leg the rat was on. Giles fired and accidentally shot the rat, one half of it flying off into the fog and the other landing on the counter. It shot blood in both of their faces.
Jack fell off of the counter and vanished, while Giles felt a few nips at his pant-legs and decided it was about time to get out of the kitchen. As the mist was now waist high Giles leaped up onto the counter, pumping new shells into the gun. There were only about six shots left in the thing, which meant that he'd have to conserve ammo by not shooting every rat he saw. At least until he got back to the bar in the main room and found another gun. He hoped.
Suddenly a hand came out from the mist and grabbed at his pants leg. Giles grimaced and fired down into the fog. No good, he heard the bullets bounce off the floor. He heard Jack laugh and scamper off. But now it was Giles' turn to laugh as he followed Jack's shadow. There were about nine other shadows honing in on him quickly. Giles jumped from one countertop to the next, his gaze shifting from the double-door exits to Jack's shadow to the counters around him, making sure he didn't have any company.
The fog was now counter-high, and Giles smiled grimly as he heard Jack shout in pain. But his smile faded quickly as a scrabbling sound resounded behind him. Turning, he saw the next over-sized rat. He swung the shortened shotgun like a club, connecting with the rodent and sending the ghastly thing sprawling off. Giles grinned. He could take this. Bring it on. He turned again and, forgetting about Jack (who had grown silent), took the next two counters in stride. He was only three away from escape.
Two more rodents jumped up on either side of him, baring their teeth and growling. Blood and maggots fell from their sides, their faces looking more like rotten cut-up meat then that of any animal. Giles hit the one to the left side so hard that it's scalp tore off, exposing brain matter. It looked dazed for a moment before falling off. Getting a little trigger happy, Giles turned and waited for the other rat to leap through the air at him until he fired his gun and blew it's insides all over a nearby meat locker.
But ice filled his stomach and loins as he returned to his course. The countertops had disappeared, the fog was too high and was rising higher by the second. How could he jump across to the next one? Okay, calm down Rupert, calm down. How many steps did you take before?
A rat much larger than the previous ones jump right in front of him and bit savagely Giles in the ankle. He cursed and stepped on it's back, pumping the gun before blowing the creature away. Five, five steps to each counter. And the rat had just given away to him where the first end was. Giles took a deep breath and jumped.
One foot in the air, then the next, one foot on solid counter-top, then the next.
Giles let out a sigh. Two more to go. Another two rats took butts in the head before Giles could begin counting. 1, 2, 3-
Scrabbling of paws sounded all around him, and Giles looked down to see an innumerable amount of gnarled claws reaching from the fog at the counter. Going for broke, Giles jumped again as he heard the countertop he was just on swarm over with the animals. Again his feet landed solidly. The fog was now once more up to his waist and the double-doors at the end were about to disappear. He had a bad feeling of what might happen to him if they did so before he got through them.
Two more bites were taken out of his legs and Giles went haywire. Firing left and right, the aging man covered himself in blood, constantly counting down the shots until he only had one left, then turned and took one more leap. He had, of course, jumped early. His right foot glanced off the counter and his left one didn't even come close. He fell into the mist and felt the back of his head slam into the floor. Squeaking came from all around him, and he rose to his feet warily, his head aching as much as his bloody legs. They were surrounding him now, running along and trying to circle him.
Giles ran forward until he felt something whoosh in the air and latch onto his shoulders, it's jaws closing around his neck. He shouted and leapt backwards desperately, feeling strangely satisfied at the sound of breaking bones and thick liquid soaking through his jacket to his back. Rising again, he yelled at the top of his lungs and jumped in the air as he felt them close in, running on the floor or vaulting off the tops of counters. He sailed through the air, pulling the trigger once more as he careened through the double-doors of the kitchen onto the fluffy shag carpet he'd been admiring so much just a short while ago.
Sure enough, none of the fog spilled out after him.
Gasping for breath, Giles got up on unstable legs and made his way to the bar; checking underneath he saw nothing in the way of ammo, but instead something else that seemed excellent right now. A Jack Daniel's on one of the bottom shelves. He grinned slightly and took the bottle and a small shot-glass off the mirror rack. Turning his aching back and placing it on the edge of the bar, Giles gazed into his reflection between the racks of alcohol and clear empty glasses. Gaunt, ragged, scared shitless. Something occurred to him, and not for the first time. He was too old for this type of thing. It was getting to him.
At closer inspection of the mirror, Giles let the bourbon slip from his grasp and fall crashing to the floor below. Situated at one of the tables at the back, Jack pointed his magnum at Giles. His feet were rested upon the tabletop and his other hand was wiping at a gash on his forehead.
"Nice to see you again, Mister Giles."
Please turn cassette to Side B