Summary: Yet another Halloween fic. With demons.
Disclaimer: I own... hmm. I own nothing. The bank owns any money I make, at the moment. The concepts building 1001Keys do not belong to me, most probably.
Feedback: Why not? It helps me write more and better...
* * *
Xander yawned. Willow, Angel, and him were checking out a lead on Buffy's friend 'Ford' that she had found.
"The only thing I could track down was this address," Willow reported. She looked worried. "The Sunset Club. Still didn't find anything incriminating."
"He leaves no paper trail, no records, that's incriminating enough," Angel observed.
"Yeah, I'm gonna have to go with Deadboy on this one," Xander said reluctantly.
"Could you *not* call me that?," Deadboy asked irritably.
The Irish vamp knocked on the steel door, and an eyeflap opened. It reminded Xander of all the really cheesy B-grade crime movies he'd ever seen.
"We're friends of Ford's," Angel glibly lied to the eyes behind the slot.
The eyes nodded, bobbing up and down as the door opened. Once inside, the three found that it distinctly reminded them of some of the more upper class tombs in some of Sunnydale's cemetaries.
"Boy, we blend right in," Willow frowned. While she had to cover up almost completely during the day, now, she typically compensated by wearing her old, brightly coloured clothes during the night.
"In no way do we stick out like sore thumbs," Xander joked. He had on a pair of old jeans and a white T-shirt with a huge black cross on it, arms stretching to the edges of the fabric -- he had figured at the time of purchase that he could hug girls to see if they were vampires. "If I'd known we were coming here, I would've put on my leather pants."
Angel winced at the thought of Xander in leather anything. "Lets look around. You guys check out downstairs."
"Sure thing, Bossy the bitch!," Xander said, flipping off the vampire. Darn rude... Angel should be asking /him/ what to do!
"Okay, but do they really stick out?," Willow finally said, trying not to think of what sticking out could mean.
"What?," Xander asked.
"Sore thumbs," Willow answered. "Do they stick out? I mean, have you ever looked at a thumb and gone 'wow, that baby is sore!'?"
"Not really, no," Xander shrugged. "You think too much."
They walked past an upright, open coffin. A man in funeral clothes was standing in it, hair combed down in a widow's peak.
"Hi!," the man said, waving.
Xander politely waved back. His inner demon was laughing his ass off at all these pathetic humans, trying to pass themselves off as low-class demons.
"It must be a theme night," Xander observed. "Dress as a vamp, get drinks at half price."
"You guys are new," a female voice said from behind them. They turned to find a girl in a long, oldfashioned white dress. "I can tell."
"Oh, no," Willow joked. "We come here all the time."
"Don't be ashamed!," the girl scolded. "It's cool that you're open to it. We welcome anyone who's interested in the lonely ones."
"The lonely ones?," Willow asked.
"Vampires," Angel said, having sneaked up on the group.
"Eternity is overrated," Xander said simply. He didn't make a sweeping comment about vampires being nasty -- Willow was an exception, and if she existed, then it was possible that other non-truly-evil vamps existed.
"They are creatures above us," the girl said desperately. "Exalted!"
"You're a fool," Angel reprimanded her.
Xander looked at Deadboy in surprise -- /him/ telling someone else they were an idiot?
"You don't have to be so confrontational about it," the girl complained. "Other people may have valid viewpoints, you know?"
"Nice meeting you," Willow said as the girl stomped away.
"Half of me pities them," Xander said, "and the other half thinks that they're funny."
"Now no one's gonna talk to us," Willow complained.
"I've seen enough. I've seen this type before," Angel said. "I mean, they're children making up bedtime stories of friendly vampires to comfort themselves in the dark."
"Is that so bad? I mean, the dark can get pretty dark. Sometimes you need a story," Willow said, shivering with experience.
"These people don't know anything about vampires," Angel said dismissively. "What they are, how they live, how they dress..."
The Irishman had the decency to blush as a young man dressed just like him came down the stairs just by them. He cleared his throat, and the three began up the stairs to leave the club.
"You know, I love a good diatribe," Xander said conversationally. "But I'm still curious why Ford, the bestest friend of the Slayer, is hanging with a bunch of vampire wannabes."
"Something's up with him, you're right about that," Willow agreed.
"Willow, I'll take you by my place so you can feed," Angel said as they walked out the door.
"But I don't want to ki-, uh, hurt anyone," Willow protested.
The door swung shut on them, as a Spanish boy looked in their direction with great interest.
"I've got some pigs blood," Angel shrugged.
"Uh, it's gotta be from, um, living people," Willow stuttered.
"Oh," Angel said.
"Don't look at me," Xander blinked. "Not human, remember?"
"Maybe Giles could help you, Willow," Angel said.
* * *
Buffy looked on, bemused. She'd come across a vampire attacking a strange man and had paused when the man had pulled out something. And began shouting, in some foreign language.
"B4The man pulled out a strange looking gun, which had several flashing lights on it. "F133, f0|2 3y3 5H411 53|\||] Y3\/\/ 70 7H3 B4|2G41|\| B1N!!!111"
As the man's trigger finger drew closer to the gun's trigger, the vampire lost it's nerve and fled.
The man looked up into the sky in jubilation, continueing to shout in that strange tongue.
Buffy decided to leave him the hell alone.
* * *
Guess who.