'She falls apart by herself,
No one's there to talk or understand.
Feels sustained, dries her eyes,
Finds herself, opens the door inside.'
Buffy twisted against the thin cotton sheets of the hotel, sweat beading her body as she clawed at the mattress. She let out a low moan, her eyes pressed tightly shut as she rocked farther and farther into the bed. With a final groan she turned off the side of the bed, her body giving a few final twitches as the nightmare began to loosen it's hold on her.
The cool pre-dawn light filtered in through the thick hotel curtains, casting the room in a series of pale grays. She blinked absent-mindedly at the ceiling above her, trying to recall the nightmare that had plagued her the entire night. But now, in the burgeoning light, it was fading away at a painfully quick pace. She sat up slowly, her gaze traveling over the empty bed. A frown worked it's way across her face as she realized Spike was gone.
She dropped the sheet back on top of the bed and walked over to the windows. She pulled back the curtains, the cold rising up from the glass to her face as she stared out at the sleeping town. She closed her eyes, forcing her long dormant Slayer senses to traverse the town, her vampire radar searching for that one demon that always made her more aware of him than anything else. Finally, she sighed, pulling back from the window, unable to get a concrete fix on his location, "At least I know he's alive. Although whether or not I'll be rectifying that later remains to be seen."
* * *
Willow frowned as she studied the contents of the grimoire before her, the cramped characters making the arduous task of deciphering the ancient Latin exceedingly more difficult. As a result, she was going at a painfully slow pace, "Always … Always … Always the warrior shall be sacred, her body a vessel." With a labored sigh she plunged on, carefully deciphering the next few lines, "For she is a meeting place of the two powers; the light and the dark. The only body that can hold the power of both forces and still breathe. Once deceased, they're bodies are eternally dormant, and only one whose veins carry the blood of the Sisterhood can call one across the veil." She stopped and repeated the last line, quickly she reached across to the stack of books before her and pulled out a thick codex.
She flipped quickly to the pages until she found herself staring into the carefully rendered hypnotic eyes of the brunette vampiress. In the picture she was clothed in a dress of red brocade, that fitted into her narrow waist and was decorated with delicate black embroidery. Her white hands were outstretched before her. In one hand she held a ball created of a shimmering transparent material and in the other a long, thin silver needle. The caption below the picture read, 'Drusilla was the last known member of the Sisterhood, and is depicted her carrying the sacrosanct symbols of the cult.'
"Giles!"
* * * * *
Faith awoke to a throbbing head. Slowly, carefully, she moved from the blood-stained bed to the bathroom, her knees shaking beneath her the entire time. A throbbing pain spread from the side of her neck to the complete length of her body. Casting a cursory glass at the mirror she turned on the water and bent down to wash her face. Her hand came up to push her hair away from her face and she froze as it came into contact with something thick and clotting. Trembling, she brought her fingers in front of her face, staring at the thick blood that marked them. She lifted her gaze to the mirror and suppressed a shriek as she realized that her thick brown hair was matted with blood in various degrees of coagulation.
"Turpitude."
Faith turned around at the sound of the familiar voice and found herself staring into the visage of Drusilla, her own face marked with stripes of Faith's drying blood. She shrugged unapologetically, a feral smile twisting the delicate features of her face, "It fits me like a dress." She pressed herself against Faith, her pink tongue darting out to lick at the blood by her ear, taking the earlobe between her teeth as she did so and sucking on it encouragingly.
Faith felt her body responding despite her waning disgust, a rush of heat so intense it left her dizzied and clinging to the sink. Struggling to bring her vociferous emotions under control she pushed away from Drusilla, "Not now."
Moving past the vampiress she exited the bathroom, searching across the disheveled sheets for some clothes. So absorbed was she in her search that she was completely unprepared for the vicious slap across her thighs that sent her reeling to the floor. Large, red welts springing from where the vampiress had struck. Drusilla's low keening filled the air and she turned to find the vampiress standing over her in game face, swaying back and forth, her long black hair flowing dangerously around her form, "Naughty Slayer."
She reached down and grabbed the girl's right arm, her fingernails digging into her skin as she brought her level to her face, "Miss Edith warned me that you might be difficult. I put chains on you and you come when I call. Like a dog. Rrrruff."
She released the Slayer and moved away towards the table, her fingers gliding across the fake wood grain. Faith could feel her anger rising and she reached out for her clothing, viciously yanking on her undergarments before she spotted the stake half hidden beneath her jeans. Casting a furtive glance at the vampiress she grabbed it, holding it carefully in her hands.
Silently, she straightened and moved towards the vampiress, stake ready to plunge. With a yell she lunged, only to find herself falling backwards across the floor, the stake clattering from her fingers. This time Drusilla wasn't as gentle as before and with a brutal yank twisted Faith's arms behind her back and moved her head back from her neck.
"Bad dog," she ran the tip of her teeth along the skin of her neck, breaking it open neatly, "Not even the fairies can save you from me." With a feral growl she plunged her fangs into the side of Faith's neck and drank deeply.
* * *
The warm water washed over her body, cleansing away the nightmare. She sighed, luxuriating in the warmness a few minutes longer before shutting off the water and stepping into the harsh cold of the bathroom. Shivering, she reached for her towel and began to dry her body hurriedly.
She wrapped the towel around her body tightly and was just leaving the bathroom when the sound of breaking glass echoed behind her. She paused, feeling an almost imperceptible drop in the temperature. The hairs on the back of her neck rose slightly as she became increasingly aware of the sound of her heart beating and beneath that a chorus of whispering voices. Slowly she turned and found herself staring into the broken mirror above the sink, and in the glass she watched, horrified, as Drusilla drank deeply from the neck of a young girl, her cool hand squeezing one cloth covered breast in a painfully possessive manner.
The vampiress raised her eyes toward Buffy's and they locked as she continued to watch; unable to look away. Finally, she withdrew her fangs and licked at the long white column as the head turned around and she found herself staring into the haunted eyes of the Slayer from the cemetery. Like Drusilla, her eyes locked with Buffy's as she mouthed the words, "Soon."
Buffy yelped and stepped backwards, slamming the bathroom door closed as the phone began to ring, breaking the spell.
* * *
Spike swore as he sat in the back of Willy's bar, smoking his cigarette furiously as he contemplated the risen sun. His impromptu meeting had run later than he expected and had left him little better off than before. Even now, the torrent of heart beats that rang in his ears outside the bar sung to him, begging him to come out a feed. With another violent curse he stubbed out the cigarette and crumpled up the bar napkin with the now all too familiar name and number on it.
He leaned back against the booth and closed his eyes, preparing to wait out the day there. When he opened them again he frowned, finding himself alone in what had been only a few moments before a crowded bar. He stood up cautiously and walked out to the middle of the bar, "Hello?"
He stood there for a minute, listening to the silence before shrugging and crossing over behind the bar and reaching under it for an unopened bottle of tequila, "Free bar for all then." He sat out a shot glass and poured the Tequila into it before knocking it back neatly. He sighed, wiped his mouth and poured another shot. He tossed it back and was about to pour a third when a muffled sound caught his attention.
He followed the sound towards the back of the bar and into the small storage area next to the bathrooms. On the floor in the corner a figure sat huddled, her broken nails scratching the rough wood planks of the floor, her white dress torn and stained. Spike shifted nervously, unable to pick a heartbeat out from her, "Hello?"
The girl lifted her head revealing the large maggot infested gash in her throat and Spike drew back, stumbling in his haste to get out of the room. He could hear her rising from the floor and following him out, the sound of whispering voices filling the air as he stumbled and tripped into the center of the bar before he landed sprawling on the floor. Slowly, she walked in front of him and dropped from her arms a white bundle, the sound of something breaking reverberating in the air as it hit the floor, "Open it."
Automatically, Spike did so, pulling out the broken pieces of a doll's face and next to it a broken picture frame, the glass sticking into a Polaroid of Buffy and the girl before him standing together, "Kendra."
She didn't say anything as she looked down at him, her blank eyes staring sightlessly at him, "Soon."
The intensity of the voices reached a high-pitched crescendo and Spike dropped the artifacts which dissolved into dust before him, his hands rising up to cover his ears in an effort to block out the torrential sea of sound. He let out a loud yell as his surroundings wavered before him, going all black and then into brilliant color, people and faces appearing around him as he screamed.
Finally the voices stopped and he hit the floor. "Buffy," he whispered struggling to his feet, ignoring the faces of the demons in the once again crowded room, "Buffy." Drawing his duster up above his head, he took off running towards the library.
No one's there to talk or understand.
Feels sustained, dries her eyes,
Finds herself, opens the door inside.'
Buffy twisted against the thin cotton sheets of the hotel, sweat beading her body as she clawed at the mattress. She let out a low moan, her eyes pressed tightly shut as she rocked farther and farther into the bed. With a final groan she turned off the side of the bed, her body giving a few final twitches as the nightmare began to loosen it's hold on her.
The cool pre-dawn light filtered in through the thick hotel curtains, casting the room in a series of pale grays. She blinked absent-mindedly at the ceiling above her, trying to recall the nightmare that had plagued her the entire night. But now, in the burgeoning light, it was fading away at a painfully quick pace. She sat up slowly, her gaze traveling over the empty bed. A frown worked it's way across her face as she realized Spike was gone.
She dropped the sheet back on top of the bed and walked over to the windows. She pulled back the curtains, the cold rising up from the glass to her face as she stared out at the sleeping town. She closed her eyes, forcing her long dormant Slayer senses to traverse the town, her vampire radar searching for that one demon that always made her more aware of him than anything else. Finally, she sighed, pulling back from the window, unable to get a concrete fix on his location, "At least I know he's alive. Although whether or not I'll be rectifying that later remains to be seen."
* * *
Willow frowned as she studied the contents of the grimoire before her, the cramped characters making the arduous task of deciphering the ancient Latin exceedingly more difficult. As a result, she was going at a painfully slow pace, "Always … Always … Always the warrior shall be sacred, her body a vessel." With a labored sigh she plunged on, carefully deciphering the next few lines, "For she is a meeting place of the two powers; the light and the dark. The only body that can hold the power of both forces and still breathe. Once deceased, they're bodies are eternally dormant, and only one whose veins carry the blood of the Sisterhood can call one across the veil." She stopped and repeated the last line, quickly she reached across to the stack of books before her and pulled out a thick codex.
She flipped quickly to the pages until she found herself staring into the carefully rendered hypnotic eyes of the brunette vampiress. In the picture she was clothed in a dress of red brocade, that fitted into her narrow waist and was decorated with delicate black embroidery. Her white hands were outstretched before her. In one hand she held a ball created of a shimmering transparent material and in the other a long, thin silver needle. The caption below the picture read, 'Drusilla was the last known member of the Sisterhood, and is depicted her carrying the sacrosanct symbols of the cult.'
"Giles!"
* * * * *
Faith awoke to a throbbing head. Slowly, carefully, she moved from the blood-stained bed to the bathroom, her knees shaking beneath her the entire time. A throbbing pain spread from the side of her neck to the complete length of her body. Casting a cursory glass at the mirror she turned on the water and bent down to wash her face. Her hand came up to push her hair away from her face and she froze as it came into contact with something thick and clotting. Trembling, she brought her fingers in front of her face, staring at the thick blood that marked them. She lifted her gaze to the mirror and suppressed a shriek as she realized that her thick brown hair was matted with blood in various degrees of coagulation.
"Turpitude."
Faith turned around at the sound of the familiar voice and found herself staring into the visage of Drusilla, her own face marked with stripes of Faith's drying blood. She shrugged unapologetically, a feral smile twisting the delicate features of her face, "It fits me like a dress." She pressed herself against Faith, her pink tongue darting out to lick at the blood by her ear, taking the earlobe between her teeth as she did so and sucking on it encouragingly.
Faith felt her body responding despite her waning disgust, a rush of heat so intense it left her dizzied and clinging to the sink. Struggling to bring her vociferous emotions under control she pushed away from Drusilla, "Not now."
Moving past the vampiress she exited the bathroom, searching across the disheveled sheets for some clothes. So absorbed was she in her search that she was completely unprepared for the vicious slap across her thighs that sent her reeling to the floor. Large, red welts springing from where the vampiress had struck. Drusilla's low keening filled the air and she turned to find the vampiress standing over her in game face, swaying back and forth, her long black hair flowing dangerously around her form, "Naughty Slayer."
She reached down and grabbed the girl's right arm, her fingernails digging into her skin as she brought her level to her face, "Miss Edith warned me that you might be difficult. I put chains on you and you come when I call. Like a dog. Rrrruff."
She released the Slayer and moved away towards the table, her fingers gliding across the fake wood grain. Faith could feel her anger rising and she reached out for her clothing, viciously yanking on her undergarments before she spotted the stake half hidden beneath her jeans. Casting a furtive glance at the vampiress she grabbed it, holding it carefully in her hands.
Silently, she straightened and moved towards the vampiress, stake ready to plunge. With a yell she lunged, only to find herself falling backwards across the floor, the stake clattering from her fingers. This time Drusilla wasn't as gentle as before and with a brutal yank twisted Faith's arms behind her back and moved her head back from her neck.
"Bad dog," she ran the tip of her teeth along the skin of her neck, breaking it open neatly, "Not even the fairies can save you from me." With a feral growl she plunged her fangs into the side of Faith's neck and drank deeply.
* * *
The warm water washed over her body, cleansing away the nightmare. She sighed, luxuriating in the warmness a few minutes longer before shutting off the water and stepping into the harsh cold of the bathroom. Shivering, she reached for her towel and began to dry her body hurriedly.
She wrapped the towel around her body tightly and was just leaving the bathroom when the sound of breaking glass echoed behind her. She paused, feeling an almost imperceptible drop in the temperature. The hairs on the back of her neck rose slightly as she became increasingly aware of the sound of her heart beating and beneath that a chorus of whispering voices. Slowly she turned and found herself staring into the broken mirror above the sink, and in the glass she watched, horrified, as Drusilla drank deeply from the neck of a young girl, her cool hand squeezing one cloth covered breast in a painfully possessive manner.
The vampiress raised her eyes toward Buffy's and they locked as she continued to watch; unable to look away. Finally, she withdrew her fangs and licked at the long white column as the head turned around and she found herself staring into the haunted eyes of the Slayer from the cemetery. Like Drusilla, her eyes locked with Buffy's as she mouthed the words, "Soon."
Buffy yelped and stepped backwards, slamming the bathroom door closed as the phone began to ring, breaking the spell.
* * *
Spike swore as he sat in the back of Willy's bar, smoking his cigarette furiously as he contemplated the risen sun. His impromptu meeting had run later than he expected and had left him little better off than before. Even now, the torrent of heart beats that rang in his ears outside the bar sung to him, begging him to come out a feed. With another violent curse he stubbed out the cigarette and crumpled up the bar napkin with the now all too familiar name and number on it.
He leaned back against the booth and closed his eyes, preparing to wait out the day there. When he opened them again he frowned, finding himself alone in what had been only a few moments before a crowded bar. He stood up cautiously and walked out to the middle of the bar, "Hello?"
He stood there for a minute, listening to the silence before shrugging and crossing over behind the bar and reaching under it for an unopened bottle of tequila, "Free bar for all then." He sat out a shot glass and poured the Tequila into it before knocking it back neatly. He sighed, wiped his mouth and poured another shot. He tossed it back and was about to pour a third when a muffled sound caught his attention.
He followed the sound towards the back of the bar and into the small storage area next to the bathrooms. On the floor in the corner a figure sat huddled, her broken nails scratching the rough wood planks of the floor, her white dress torn and stained. Spike shifted nervously, unable to pick a heartbeat out from her, "Hello?"
The girl lifted her head revealing the large maggot infested gash in her throat and Spike drew back, stumbling in his haste to get out of the room. He could hear her rising from the floor and following him out, the sound of whispering voices filling the air as he stumbled and tripped into the center of the bar before he landed sprawling on the floor. Slowly, she walked in front of him and dropped from her arms a white bundle, the sound of something breaking reverberating in the air as it hit the floor, "Open it."
Automatically, Spike did so, pulling out the broken pieces of a doll's face and next to it a broken picture frame, the glass sticking into a Polaroid of Buffy and the girl before him standing together, "Kendra."
She didn't say anything as she looked down at him, her blank eyes staring sightlessly at him, "Soon."
The intensity of the voices reached a high-pitched crescendo and Spike dropped the artifacts which dissolved into dust before him, his hands rising up to cover his ears in an effort to block out the torrential sea of sound. He let out a loud yell as his surroundings wavered before him, going all black and then into brilliant color, people and faces appearing around him as he screamed.
Finally the voices stopped and he hit the floor. "Buffy," he whispered struggling to his feet, ignoring the faces of the demons in the once again crowded room, "Buffy." Drawing his duster up above his head, he took off running towards the library.