Faroth really didn't want to go in that room. He had two options, being a
lower level demon and likely to get his butt kicked for insubordination if
he didn't do as he was told. He could try and find someone lower level than
him -which was difficult, as Faroth's ritual tattoos were still fresh, and
a little red around the tiny skulls decorating the symbol of the group,
which was a dead give away that he was new- and order them to do it, or he
could go in, and pray to Immith, Oh Great and Fiery Lady of Evil that must
not be Spoken that he did not go insane.
He ran a finger around underneath the edge of his collar, swallowing a bit and moistened his lips with the tip of his forked tongue. Faroth, despite being new had a sense of impeccable style that he refused to edit for the typical sacking robe. He was a demon who thought that if you really had to do evil rituals by candlelight at midnight on evil sabbats, the least you could do is wear Armani, and get a kick out of wearing clothes from a truly evil corporation.
At the thought, Faroth bowed his head, and prayed fervently to Immith that someday he would become as unspeakably wicked as Armani. He refused to allow himself to hope for the heady heights of Versace.
By this time, prayers said and a quick glance around to check that no-one was watching, he gulped and turned the handle.
Cadence Annabel Summers looked up from rocking her dolly to bestow a sweet, pearly-toothed smile on him. Her light brown hair had been combed smoothly to part into two silky pigtails. Her pale pink dungarees were neat and clean. In the existence of seven-year-old children, there was possibly no cuter or sweet looking child. She was unholy.
"Hello," she said politely, little dimples appearing in her cheeks as she grinned adorably at him. 'Are you here to play with me?" She held up her doll for him to inspect. Dolly was wearing a pretty pink dress. Someone had poked out Dolly's eyes.
Faroth wished his mother had drowned him at birth rather than given him to the priests.
/
"Buffy."
There was an awkward pause, as awkward as most pauses get. This was the pause to end all pausal breaks. Buffy Summers, the Slayer in capitals, five foot two inches, blond, granted with the title of 'perky' by her sister and having slept with all the men in the room – or vampires, whichever term preferred- felt officially awkward. It wasn't a good feeling. Dawn walked over and hugged Spike.
"You're okay," she said, inspecting him for holes, or well, signs of imminent dust-age. "You didn't die." Her tone turned accusatory. She scowled at him, her blue eyes narrowing. "Hey. Why didn't you call Buffy when you didn't die?"
She had, Buffy decided, firm in her stance of 'not-talking', covered about every awkward issue in the space of two nano-seconds. It was also the end of the pause. Which, Buffy concluded wistfully, meant she had to talk.
"S'complicated, Dawn," Spike said, his lips twitching into a pained smile as he ran his hands distractedly through his blond hair, standing it on end. He slid a look at Buffy. Dawn frowned once again.
"Hey," she said again, this time confused. She looked faintly perplexed. "Why didn't I see you?"
"He was in Rome," Angel intercepted the conversation, stepping out from the corner of the room. Buffy watched him, slightly panicked. This was good, she was confronting issues. She had two of her ex lovers in the room, and they worked together. Bad Buffy!
"What did you do in Rome?" Buffy asked, finally speaking. Her eyebrow rose in a questioning look. Spike shuffled, and looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"Met a few old friends," he said evasively. "Took care of a little... unfinished business." He glanced at Angel, who looked away guiltily. Buffy's eyes narrowed.
"Quit with the Godfather talk, Spike," she said impatiently, her hands on her hips. "What aren't you saying?"
"Why did you date the Immortal?" Spike suddenly blurted out, glaring at her. He sighed, looking dejected. "I mean, of course he's attractive, in an obvious way, if you like that sort of thing, but please! All those flashy tricks," his voice dripped scorn as if he wasn't acting like a lost eight year old with his favourite toy taken away, "He's not your type. Believe me."
"And you were?" Angel interrupted, incredulously, his eyebrows sky-high. "C'mon, Spike, if anyone-"
"Did you just kill her ex?" Dawn interrupted, laughter edging its way into her voice. She looked at Buffy, her eyes dancing. "They killed your ex."
"Are you, like, five?" Buffy demanded, staring at the two well-over-one- hundred vampires before her. If they could've blushed, they would've done. She waved a hand, sighing. "I don't care. Angel, I need to find someone. And I need your help." The Slayer's jaw tightened, and determination steeled her hazel eyes. Angel nodded.
"Yeah, Buffy, whatever I can do. Who are you looking for?" he asked, puzzled.
"Our sister," Dawn answered.
A/N: Short update, but a taste of what is to come. Next chapter, Cadence bullies the help, Dawn and Buffy search and find quite a lot of information, and plans are made for finding their sister.
Please review!!
He ran a finger around underneath the edge of his collar, swallowing a bit and moistened his lips with the tip of his forked tongue. Faroth, despite being new had a sense of impeccable style that he refused to edit for the typical sacking robe. He was a demon who thought that if you really had to do evil rituals by candlelight at midnight on evil sabbats, the least you could do is wear Armani, and get a kick out of wearing clothes from a truly evil corporation.
At the thought, Faroth bowed his head, and prayed fervently to Immith that someday he would become as unspeakably wicked as Armani. He refused to allow himself to hope for the heady heights of Versace.
By this time, prayers said and a quick glance around to check that no-one was watching, he gulped and turned the handle.
Cadence Annabel Summers looked up from rocking her dolly to bestow a sweet, pearly-toothed smile on him. Her light brown hair had been combed smoothly to part into two silky pigtails. Her pale pink dungarees were neat and clean. In the existence of seven-year-old children, there was possibly no cuter or sweet looking child. She was unholy.
"Hello," she said politely, little dimples appearing in her cheeks as she grinned adorably at him. 'Are you here to play with me?" She held up her doll for him to inspect. Dolly was wearing a pretty pink dress. Someone had poked out Dolly's eyes.
Faroth wished his mother had drowned him at birth rather than given him to the priests.
/
"Buffy."
There was an awkward pause, as awkward as most pauses get. This was the pause to end all pausal breaks. Buffy Summers, the Slayer in capitals, five foot two inches, blond, granted with the title of 'perky' by her sister and having slept with all the men in the room – or vampires, whichever term preferred- felt officially awkward. It wasn't a good feeling. Dawn walked over and hugged Spike.
"You're okay," she said, inspecting him for holes, or well, signs of imminent dust-age. "You didn't die." Her tone turned accusatory. She scowled at him, her blue eyes narrowing. "Hey. Why didn't you call Buffy when you didn't die?"
She had, Buffy decided, firm in her stance of 'not-talking', covered about every awkward issue in the space of two nano-seconds. It was also the end of the pause. Which, Buffy concluded wistfully, meant she had to talk.
"S'complicated, Dawn," Spike said, his lips twitching into a pained smile as he ran his hands distractedly through his blond hair, standing it on end. He slid a look at Buffy. Dawn frowned once again.
"Hey," she said again, this time confused. She looked faintly perplexed. "Why didn't I see you?"
"He was in Rome," Angel intercepted the conversation, stepping out from the corner of the room. Buffy watched him, slightly panicked. This was good, she was confronting issues. She had two of her ex lovers in the room, and they worked together. Bad Buffy!
"What did you do in Rome?" Buffy asked, finally speaking. Her eyebrow rose in a questioning look. Spike shuffled, and looked distinctly uncomfortable.
"Met a few old friends," he said evasively. "Took care of a little... unfinished business." He glanced at Angel, who looked away guiltily. Buffy's eyes narrowed.
"Quit with the Godfather talk, Spike," she said impatiently, her hands on her hips. "What aren't you saying?"
"Why did you date the Immortal?" Spike suddenly blurted out, glaring at her. He sighed, looking dejected. "I mean, of course he's attractive, in an obvious way, if you like that sort of thing, but please! All those flashy tricks," his voice dripped scorn as if he wasn't acting like a lost eight year old with his favourite toy taken away, "He's not your type. Believe me."
"And you were?" Angel interrupted, incredulously, his eyebrows sky-high. "C'mon, Spike, if anyone-"
"Did you just kill her ex?" Dawn interrupted, laughter edging its way into her voice. She looked at Buffy, her eyes dancing. "They killed your ex."
"Are you, like, five?" Buffy demanded, staring at the two well-over-one- hundred vampires before her. If they could've blushed, they would've done. She waved a hand, sighing. "I don't care. Angel, I need to find someone. And I need your help." The Slayer's jaw tightened, and determination steeled her hazel eyes. Angel nodded.
"Yeah, Buffy, whatever I can do. Who are you looking for?" he asked, puzzled.
"Our sister," Dawn answered.
A/N: Short update, but a taste of what is to come. Next chapter, Cadence bullies the help, Dawn and Buffy search and find quite a lot of information, and plans are made for finding their sister.
Please review!!