---
part six
---
The space was familiar, from the moment he was first aware. The stone, the carpets. He had lived in a crypt.
"Well, here it is," Dawn said awkwardly, "He lived here."
William looked around the place. It told him a great deal about himself, about the creature that had dwelled here.
This was a creature who didn't want to live, so he made a home here, among bodies, dead and dry. It was spare, the man didn't indulge himself. He felt separate, apart from the world. He didn't have a place in it.
He had aspired to much and failed miserably. Some of those failures seemed to have had serious physical effects. The charred marks on the stones of the lower level proved that.
Perhaps he wasn't a very good man, but he wasn't a good monster either. The books, the recordings of music. Even a sketchpad on a desk, filled with drawings of the trees and funerary sculptures around the crypt. This was a creature that had wanted to be a man, tried to put on the trappings. It was almost ludicrous to see those trappings in the cold and spare expanse of the crypt.
Perhaps that desire had created this new consciousness. A sort of second go at things.
William felt sorry for this creature that was himself.
Dawn had been silent for some time. He turned to her.
"You miss him, don't you?" William asked Dawn, who was sitting on a sarcophagus, built into the wall on one side, drawing patterns in the dust. She didn't look up.
"He used to stay with me, a while ago. He treated me like a person, more like an adult. But he stopped coming, and then he went away. But I thought he liked me-- I'm not sure..."
"I'm sorry," said William quietly.
"It's ok," Dawn said.
---
Buffy ran, fast. The trees of the forest spun past her vision in a tirade. She had tried to follow them to their den, wait until morning. But they had seen her, broken up and created a sort of pincer movement through the alleyways. It had been all she could do to get away, regroup. Now she had a plan.
She continued to run. She knew they were behind her, even though she could not see them in the night. Occasionally, a growl of one to another could be heard in the dark distance.
They stalked her swiftly, but the trap lay set. Xander would be ahead, she knew he would be ready. She trusted him.
She had known the perfect place. She jumped over her own grave on the way.
And then she scaled the walls of the cemetery, not far from that resting place.
She ran past the trees, past the soft incline of a sloping hill. She caught sight of Xander, in the branches of a familiar tree. She spun and lifted her crossbow. It was time.
She waited. She waited to give the signal. Xander would pull the mechanism he had constructed, the net would rise. And they would kill them all.
She waited.
And there was nothing.
She swore.
"I didn't lose them, I couldn't have, they were right there--"
Xander looked down from his perch sympathetically, "You said you were going to keep them at a good distance. Maybe they lost your trail."
"No, they could smell me-- they didn't have to see. They'd only break off if--"
"If they smelled something better-- easier to kill."
Buffy looked around, but there was no sign of civillians. She couldn't let anyone die because she led them right there-- it was typical. She couldn't do anything alone.
"We have to find them," she said, "We have to find them now."
---
They streamed as one mind through the headstones, laying low. She was a threat to them and they still needed to feed. More trouble than she was worth.
The large silver male tossed his head to the left, they turned left. The smell was fresh and clean, young and vulnerable. It was what they were made for.
Two females with black pelts paused. Not left, no, that way was cold. It was stronger towards the back of the cemetery, towards the old and abandoned crypts.
They had lost the hunter, evaded her obvious trap.
They stalked to the appropriate door.
---
William and Dawn sat at the foot of the bed, silent. They didn't know what to say to each other, and simply took in the silence. After a long pause, Dawn sighed and stood up.
"Did it help?" she asked, "To see this place?"
"I don't know," he replied quietly, "I think I understand better, but I-- I don't know if it helps."
She touched his hand gently, twining her fingers in his.
"I understand."
There was a loud crash above them.
"What was that?" she asked, her grasp tightening around his fingers. Her heart sank in her chest.
---
His eyes darted around the room. This body knew something, sensed the feral movements from above. And it knew what to do.
"This way Dawn-- be silent." He pulled her behind a bookshelf next to the stairwell. Soon he could see shapes at the top the stairs. They filed slowly down the stairs, sniffing the air, looking around the strange subterranean room.
They waited. Dawn shifted against where he held her fast, gasped. Instinctually he caught the sound with his hand, cupping her mouth.
They paused on the stairs, two abreast. There were six of them. They continued to scan the room, as if the pause were a part of a ritual, carried out by hunter and prey from the beginning of time.
Then they moved. One darted its gaze through the books to where William stood. It coiled to spring.
"Run!" William yelled, gesturing to the tunnel opening behind them. He pulled the bookshelf free in the same motion, and threw it at the stairs.
He hadn't known the strength in this body.
A rain of barking ensued, and Dawn stared, frozen in place like a doe. They wanted her.
The six strained against the bookshelf, and one paw came down on a board and snapped it. There was no time. He grabbed Dawn's arm and dragged her into the blackness of the tunnels.
---
part six
---
The space was familiar, from the moment he was first aware. The stone, the carpets. He had lived in a crypt.
"Well, here it is," Dawn said awkwardly, "He lived here."
William looked around the place. It told him a great deal about himself, about the creature that had dwelled here.
This was a creature who didn't want to live, so he made a home here, among bodies, dead and dry. It was spare, the man didn't indulge himself. He felt separate, apart from the world. He didn't have a place in it.
He had aspired to much and failed miserably. Some of those failures seemed to have had serious physical effects. The charred marks on the stones of the lower level proved that.
Perhaps he wasn't a very good man, but he wasn't a good monster either. The books, the recordings of music. Even a sketchpad on a desk, filled with drawings of the trees and funerary sculptures around the crypt. This was a creature that had wanted to be a man, tried to put on the trappings. It was almost ludicrous to see those trappings in the cold and spare expanse of the crypt.
Perhaps that desire had created this new consciousness. A sort of second go at things.
William felt sorry for this creature that was himself.
Dawn had been silent for some time. He turned to her.
"You miss him, don't you?" William asked Dawn, who was sitting on a sarcophagus, built into the wall on one side, drawing patterns in the dust. She didn't look up.
"He used to stay with me, a while ago. He treated me like a person, more like an adult. But he stopped coming, and then he went away. But I thought he liked me-- I'm not sure..."
"I'm sorry," said William quietly.
"It's ok," Dawn said.
---
Buffy ran, fast. The trees of the forest spun past her vision in a tirade. She had tried to follow them to their den, wait until morning. But they had seen her, broken up and created a sort of pincer movement through the alleyways. It had been all she could do to get away, regroup. Now she had a plan.
She continued to run. She knew they were behind her, even though she could not see them in the night. Occasionally, a growl of one to another could be heard in the dark distance.
They stalked her swiftly, but the trap lay set. Xander would be ahead, she knew he would be ready. She trusted him.
She had known the perfect place. She jumped over her own grave on the way.
And then she scaled the walls of the cemetery, not far from that resting place.
She ran past the trees, past the soft incline of a sloping hill. She caught sight of Xander, in the branches of a familiar tree. She spun and lifted her crossbow. It was time.
She waited. She waited to give the signal. Xander would pull the mechanism he had constructed, the net would rise. And they would kill them all.
She waited.
And there was nothing.
She swore.
"I didn't lose them, I couldn't have, they were right there--"
Xander looked down from his perch sympathetically, "You said you were going to keep them at a good distance. Maybe they lost your trail."
"No, they could smell me-- they didn't have to see. They'd only break off if--"
"If they smelled something better-- easier to kill."
Buffy looked around, but there was no sign of civillians. She couldn't let anyone die because she led them right there-- it was typical. She couldn't do anything alone.
"We have to find them," she said, "We have to find them now."
---
They streamed as one mind through the headstones, laying low. She was a threat to them and they still needed to feed. More trouble than she was worth.
The large silver male tossed his head to the left, they turned left. The smell was fresh and clean, young and vulnerable. It was what they were made for.
Two females with black pelts paused. Not left, no, that way was cold. It was stronger towards the back of the cemetery, towards the old and abandoned crypts.
They had lost the hunter, evaded her obvious trap.
They stalked to the appropriate door.
---
William and Dawn sat at the foot of the bed, silent. They didn't know what to say to each other, and simply took in the silence. After a long pause, Dawn sighed and stood up.
"Did it help?" she asked, "To see this place?"
"I don't know," he replied quietly, "I think I understand better, but I-- I don't know if it helps."
She touched his hand gently, twining her fingers in his.
"I understand."
There was a loud crash above them.
"What was that?" she asked, her grasp tightening around his fingers. Her heart sank in her chest.
---
His eyes darted around the room. This body knew something, sensed the feral movements from above. And it knew what to do.
"This way Dawn-- be silent." He pulled her behind a bookshelf next to the stairwell. Soon he could see shapes at the top the stairs. They filed slowly down the stairs, sniffing the air, looking around the strange subterranean room.
They waited. Dawn shifted against where he held her fast, gasped. Instinctually he caught the sound with his hand, cupping her mouth.
They paused on the stairs, two abreast. There were six of them. They continued to scan the room, as if the pause were a part of a ritual, carried out by hunter and prey from the beginning of time.
Then they moved. One darted its gaze through the books to where William stood. It coiled to spring.
"Run!" William yelled, gesturing to the tunnel opening behind them. He pulled the bookshelf free in the same motion, and threw it at the stairs.
He hadn't known the strength in this body.
A rain of barking ensued, and Dawn stared, frozen in place like a doe. They wanted her.
The six strained against the bookshelf, and one paw came down on a board and snapped it. There was no time. He grabbed Dawn's arm and dragged her into the blackness of the tunnels.
---
