Spanderverse: Dracula
Chapter13: A Sweet Bit of Vengeance
Dracula lay in the woods in pain and bleeding from a wound created by that treacherous animal, William. That a vampire would try to stake a fellow vampire was just sickening to see, but what could one expect from such a low-class cur (conveniently forgetting his own intentions just before Spike got him first).
Pulling the jagged shard of wood from his back, Dracula sagged against a tree. He wasn't able to stop himself from groaning. Not only from the pain of his near staking, though that was bad enough. He was also suffering the effects of his superhuman sprint just minutes earlier. The muscles in his legs threatened to seize into cramps at any moment, and he felt shaken and weak. Some of this could be directly attributed to his actions, but most of his current state was simple blood loss.
Dracula summoned his dark magic again, temporarily sealing the wound he suffered from his back into his chest. Only time and rest could heal such a grave injury, but he had another visit to make before the night was over. The Slayer needed to be denied the support system that she relied upon for him to ultimately break her. His former emissary was first. Now it was time for the witch. Dracula was certain that one with so much magical strength would be able to hold him off however, so he could not strike at her directly. Not yet anyway. After he had turned Buffy (and this time she would be a simple minion, the first to replace his lost beloved brides) then he would allow himself to gain his former strength. Only then, would he and Buffy visit the red head.
Much earlier in the evening, Dracula had already planned ahead. Knowing that he wasn't able to fight a powered witch yet, he instead cast a simple scrying circle around a puddle of water. Asking the circle to show him the witch's weakness, that which would cause her debilitating pain, it had shown him a blond woman. She resided in a building on the campus of the local advanced learning university, and for whatever reason, the magic circle insisted that she was the red head's Achilles heel.
Feeling much better now after his quick healing spell, however temporary, Dracula began the walk to the school's campus. As he strode purposefully toward the dorm building of the woman he had come to 'visit', he saw a young man out alone.
Alone in a town on a Hellmouth? Humans are such easy sheep to prey on, he thought darkly.
Walking up to the young man, whose attention was buried in a book, despite only having the passing lampposts to read by, Dracula reached out and grabbed him. Even as the young man began to protest, Dracula yanked him off his feet to stare into his eyes. Immediately, the human relaxed into a daze, discarding the books he had been holding.
Dracula led him into a copse of trees and without further ado sank his fangs into the young man's neck. The boy grabbed hold of the vampire, pulling himself into his master's body. He began pressing and rubbing against Dracula's groin, unable to help himself. He felt so good, he wanted to cum so badly and the fact that it was a guy he was suddenly getting off on didn't bother him a bit. Dracula took no notice of his advances. In just moments, the horrible headache set in and the boy groaned in misery and pain, but still his rapidly slowing movements against Dracula's crotch continued. As the boy died, Dracula dropped the corpse and walked away, forgetting all details of the human he had just casually killed. His focus was completely upon the details of the young woman he had yet to kill, her hair and eyes, the way her mouth set and the ample curves she wore. All of the things he had seen in the scrying pool were etched into his memory and was the only thing on his mind.
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At the hospital, Spike and Anya's attempts to 007 their way into Xander's room had fallen tragically flat. Despite Anya's tearful whining and Spike's less than stellar attempts at hypnosis (a gift he had never been able to pick up from Dru, no matter how many times she tried to teach him). They were relegated to the waiting lounge on Xander's floor by the head nurse. Despite her profession, there wasn't a trace of warmth or understanding, as she resolutely marched them down the hall and into the lounge. She lectured to them the entire way that they should go home and get some rest.
Of course, she couldn't be told exactly why Spike and Anya insisted on staying close to Xander's room. Anya was a little bit forgiving of the nurse's attitude, considering she lacked the crucial information. Spike on the other hand, just wanted to fang her.
"It's a good thing that you're chipped, then. I'm pretty sure Buffy would frown on killing the medical staff, even if it is for such a good reason."
"Yeah, well. I might be able to talk her out of staking me…again…if I played on the fact that it was to protect Xan."
Anya looked over at the vampire. She felt that her and Spike should probably get along a lot better than they did. After all, current demon and ex-demon should have a lot in common. And in a way, they did, they both had Xander Harris. "You love him, don't you?"
"What? I mean, no! Of course not. I mean, I care a lot about him. He's alright, as human's go. Brave, loyal, clever, and he wears his heart on his sleeve. Plus, he's the only one of you lot that doesn't look at me as if I could go 'serial killer' at any moment. Not even Willow can completely hide the fact that she wonders sometimes. And Buffy, of course, doesn't even try to hide it. Besides, I may be developing some, uh, some confusing…feelings for someone else, someone not a guy."
"Oh. It's just that the way you're always near him. I mean, even at Scooby meetings, you're always standing close to him or putting your hand on his shoulder. I just thought…"
"Oh!" Spike said, understanding the tensions between Anya and him recently. "You thought, what, that I'd suddenly become a flaming poofter and was sniffing around Harris! Hah! Now that is a laugh. And, uh, there's that non-guy person that I may or may not be developing an itch for."
Anya thought that maybe the look in Spike's eyes meant he'd suddenly become unsure that there wasn't something else going on with Xander, but she let the moment pass. "Well, I do love him, you know?"
"Yeah, I know. So, since we both care about him, and since I'm not looking to shag him…"
"Maybe we can stop fighting over him so much," Anya finished the thought. "For his sake, especially with all that's happened tonight."
"My thoughts exactly, luv."
"Spike? I'm glad that you're here with me to watch out for him."
"Thanks, Anya. I promise you this too, I'll be dust before that poncy shit has a chance to get anywhere near 'our boy'."
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Dracula walked around the Sunnydale campus looking for a particular building. He would recognize it from the scrying he had performed.
Finding it, he stood outside its dark red brick walls and focused. Summoning an echo spell, which nearly had his mystic energies drained, he sent out a simple telepathic thought, "Willow".
Tara was in her room working on her homework. She'd been trying not to worry about Willow because with Dracula vanquished it could be another few weeks before the next real threat came by. Although there were always the vampires and demons, it was hard for Tara to take them seriously. Oh, sure, she knew that any of them were highly dangerous, but if her relatively weak spells were able to fight them off, she knew Willow's definitely could. As Tara worked diligently on keeping her mind off of worrying and on her advanced math, her subconscious was responding without her conscious knowledge to Dracula. The moment that the name "Willow" echoed into her subterranean thoughts, her mind responded with a burst of love, comfort, and warmth. The reaction echoed out into the night where Dracula waited.
The vampire stood as still as the night air around him, where nothing moved. Even the insects, with their most basic instincts, could sense magic afoot and quieted. Dracula broke into a smile, full of maliciousness when his echo-spell returned the feelings he was seeking. Following the intensity of the empathic contact, he was led to the side of the building. Looking up, he saw a lighted window and knew he'd found what he had been looking for.
Summoning the dregs of magic he had left to him, he levitated upward to the third story of the building and peered into the window. There at a work desk surrounded by books sat the blonde woman of his vision. Dracula took a moment to admire the womanly curves of her body and realized that instead of killing the girl, he'd found another bride to replace those that were lost.
Knocking softly on the window, he watched as her back stiffened and then her startled look over her shoulder. As soon as her eyes met his she opened her mouth to scream, but Dracula already had her. He watched, licking his pale lips, as the girl suddenly relaxed under his gaze. Using his will alone, he called to her, summoning her to the window.
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Tara wandered in a daze toward the man at the window. In her mind's eye she could see what she needed to do. The window was a double pane, side by side one with a small latch holding the two 'windoors' as she called them closed. Tara knew the mysterious man wanted, no want wasn't right, he needed her to open the windows for him.
Below the windows sat a window seat, a simple bench upon which was stacked various magical implements. Mostly these consisted of small bottles of various herbs, a small dagger, and a few mystic talismans. Within the small basket containing these items were an antique crucifix necklace handed down from her great-grandmother and a small bottle of holy water used in some of the purification rituals that Tara was investigating.
As Tara shuffled across the room, her eyes, roaming wildly fell upon the small perfume bottle containing the holy water. As Dracula continued to summon her forward, urging her to move more quickly, Tara's eyes remained resolutely on her salvation, even as her eyes began to water with the strain of resisting the vampire's mental hold on her.
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Dracula could feel himself winning the battle of wills with the young woman. She continued to stumble toward the window outside of which he floated. He could see her nose running and her eyes leaking tears as she struggled not to obey.
This bitch is a witch too! How many of these simpletons are there to thwart my will?
Dracula was angry over the whole night. What had happened to the feeling that the dark gods were helping him in his mission for the Slayer's hand? Apparently they had gotten bored and wandered off just when Dracula had needed them most, the stupid, ungrateful, fickle tin-lords.
Still, all was working out. The witch, and there was no way he was going to bother turning her now, had finally arrived at the window and was unlatching the catch. Swinging the windows wide open inward, she stood before him weeping and hitching in deep gasps of air. Her head was shaking side to side in misery as she tried not to listen to his telepathic commands.
Dracula smiled. Invite me in, woman.
"N..n..no. No."
"Invite me into the room, you stupid cow," Dracula intoned harshly.
"C..c..c… NO!" The witch had had the audacity to screech in his face!
Dracula surged forward as close to the entrance and her as he could get. He was about to pour every last erg of mental energy he could summon into commanding her again to let him in. Once inside, he'd disembowel the blubbery twit. Just as he'd opened his mouth to command her, he suddenly screeched himself. His face burned and smoked, and he could feel blisters forming on his chin and across his mouth.
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Tara felt herself giving into the vampire's charms, even knowing it would cause her death. Her mind, shrieking at her not to do it, seemed to have little control over her mouth.
Even as she continued to struggle, she'd felt her hand grasp the old perfume bottle. Its solidity gave her something to cling to, and she'd popped off its top. Unnoticed to Dracula, she'd begun raising the bottle, all the while struggling with her self-destructive tongue to hold its silence.
Tara's hand was shaking so violently, she thought for a moment that she'd dropped the bottle and was lost. It had only been a few drops of holy water splashing out of the narrow opening of the bottle and onto her hand, however. Feeling the potential for power in the blessed water, Tara had found the strength to scream 'no' in Dracula's face. With his hold on her broken, she'd splashed the water out into the night, catching the evil creature in the face.
Tara watched as Dracula kicked off of the side of her building. His screams and roars almost too loud to take. She wasn't sure if it was crushingly loud to her ears or her mind.
And then he was gone, back on the ground and running for the woods with steam flying back from his face. Tara immediately slammed the windows shut, re-latching them with hands that shook so badly, she'd had to try five or six times to get the latch to catch. Once finished, she dumped out her magic contents looking for the crucifix. Finding the delicate necklace, she wound it around the window's handles and then violently shut the curtains on the view to outside. Only after this was done, did she allow her legs to buckle. And falling to the floor, Tara wept and shook until Willow found her ten minutes later curled into a ball with her arms covering her head.
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Dracula hid in the forest near the university campus, weeping bitter tears. He was wounded, scarred and his magical energies used up. Everything he'd tried to accomplish here was ruined and every one he had tried to take vengeance upon seemed to slip through his grasp at the last moment. His tears were full of outrage and frustration.
Dracula sensed the Slayer near and immediately quieted, burying his face in the dirt and biting his own arm to keep his pain-filled moans silent. The Slayer, too busy chatting to her friends, perhaps, did not sense him in return. If she had, he would surely have perished this night. Once the coast was clear, Dracula stood and ran toward town. He could only move at normal human speeds now. He knew he should retreat. Just leave this miserable town before the Slayer found him, for surely she was hunting for him now. He knew he should return to the Demeter and sail away from the Hellmouth and all the sorrow he'd found here.
But pride wouldn't let him leave, just yet. Not without some semblance of a victory. He'd run away from Van Helsing, Harker and the others and he'd spent years regretting it. He wouldn't run away this time without something to show for it. He wished he had the time to hunt down Buffy's mother and sister. He knew where they lived, of course, but the idea that she would leave her family unprepared for a possible assault was foolish thinking. Of course, they'd be ready for him there, and in his current state, they'd win. But…there was someone whose parents he could drop in on. He knew where his former emissary lived and it was possible that they would be unready for him to strike there since he'd, presumably, have bigger fish to fry. Of course, it was entirely possible that they were at the morgue identifying their son, or at the police station demanding answers as bereaved families throughout time had done. The home was on the way toward the docks however and Dracula decided to take the time to check.
Feeling infinitesimally lighter, he altered his path toward the unsuspecting Harris'. Upon arrival at his servant's home, he scanned carefully for any signs of the Watcher or any traps waiting for him. When he didn't see or sense anything out of the usual, he crept slowly toward the front porch stairs and glanced around himself warily.
There still seemed to be nothing amiss. Listening carefully he detected the sounds of that modern pox on man, the television blaring out an early morning movie. He could also hear the light sounds of a snore and the tinkling of ice in a glass in the same room as the television.
He made a quick and silent circuit around the house and found no warriors waiting for him. He tried to smile again, but the burned, cracked skin around his mouth was an instant reminder of the indignity he'd suffered less than an hour ago. He concentrated on banishing the pain, which was only partially successful, and then returned to the steps leading up to the front porch. This time, he didn't hesitate, but made his way confidently up to the front door.
Knocking loudly, he waited as he heard a man's voice grumble and swear at whoever was knocking at this time of night.
You'd think the idiot would be glad, Dracula thought, who else would be here at this time and after your son was attacked (and hopefully killed) you stupid oaf. Surely he would be expecting the police to make a follow up visit. Dracula took the moment before the door swung open to step back from the entrance and into shadow.
As the door swung open, Dracula saw a middle aged man who had eaten too much junk and drank too much alcohol wavering side to side in front of a modestly decorated living space. Over the man's shoulder, he could see the still form of the snorer he'd heard. Obviously that would be the mother. Dracula also noticed a nearly empty bottle of cheap vodka sitting on a low-slung and ratty coffee table.
"Yes?" Mr. Harris said to the vampire. Dracula heard the slight slur in the word and could tell by the man's eyes he was drunk. Dracula was disgusted by the sight. One should appreciate good liquor, not guzzle swill!
"Mr. Harris, I'm Detective Jones of the Sunnydale P.D. I have a few follow up questions to ask about the attack on your son. I'm so sorry for your loss."
What was that weird accent? Walter Harris thought. And what did he just say about a loss? "Loss? No, there's been no loss. Xander's at the hospital. I mean, they woulda called if…they woulda called, right?"
"I'm deeply sorry," Dracula placed the most sincere tone in his voice he could manage. Of course, he was completely livid that his tool yet lived, again because of the interference of that immortal traitor, William. "I've been tracking down a promising lead, and haven't been able to check in with the hospital. With the seriousness of the injuries to your son, and your obvious distress, I had assumed the worst. Again, I deeply apologize for upsetting you further."
Walter Harris tried to get a good look at the detective, but he remained in deep shadow on the porch. He was about to rant that the detective should have been keeping up with his son's current status. Maybe if he played up his grief and started shouting about the lack of professional involvement of the police force, he could get something out of it. Maybe not enough to retire, but then again…
"I was wondering if we could speak out here. We wouldn't want to upset your wife any further than is necessary," (until I'm ready to kill her) Dracula continued.
With a quick glance back at the old ball and chain snoring away (it's hard to believe I found that cute, once upon a time!), Walter stepped out past the door frame and onto the porch. Walter turned toward the stranger to find him standing, literally, right on top of him. His weight was pressing painfully on Walter's foot as Dracula ground his own well shod into the older Harris' midfoot.
There was a loud crack and a pained grunt as one of the metatarsal bones of Walter's left foot cracked under the pressure that Dracula was placing on the mortal's arch. Just as Walter tried to backpedal away from the 'detective' and his eyes were filling with pained tears, he saw the freakish face of his tormentor. Walter Harris instinctively took another huge breath to scream, when a hand with an iron grip slapped down over his mouth. Choking off the bellow of pain as the freak took another step inward on his crushing foot.
Dracula pushed the elder Harris against the house, pinning him to the cheap siding near the still open front door. With gleaming eyes, he said, "Your son has disappointed me, Mr. Harris. It's a pity you and your sow of a wife will pay the price." The vampire sunk his fangs deeply into Harris' neck, trying to ignore the stench of sweat and liquor rolling off the man to concentrate on the more pleasant scents of agonizing fear.
Dracula had just let go of the now dead Walter Harris, his body falling across the open doorway of his home. A single squealing scream shot out of the house into the night.
"Walter! Oh, Jesus Christ! Walter, no," Peggy Harris screeched hysterically. Her eyes were wide and her fingers clawed through her hair. She looked in fact, very much like the heroines who screamed at the monster before falling away into a dead faint for the hero to rescue in a b-movie. The hero however, was dead now and Peggy didn't faint dead away.
Dracula knew he needed to shut the bitch up, but he was trapped outdoors without an invite! Another stupid misstep! I should have had the Harris boy invite me in before giving him his instructions and sending him on his way, damn it!
Dracula tried to throw a hypnotic gaze at the Harris woman, but with her being inebriated he was simply too far away to reach through her haze and grab her mind. Instead, he saw the woman turn away from him and go running for an end table. Tripping over the coffee table, she sprawled out on the floor after hitting it pretty hard. He was hoping she'd cracked her head wide open and her brains would leak out onto the rather ugly carpeting, but as with the rest of the night, the dark gods were still ignoring his pleas. As Peggy grabbed the phone, screaming at someone on the other end of the line, Dracula was already racing from the scene. Not because of the police, for they were only human too. The vampire had again sensed his true foe, the Vampire Slayer, close by.
Racing through the night, Dracula hoped he could find an appropriate place to hide. Without his magic, he wouldn't be able to detect the Demeter till tomorrow after he had rested, its invisibility cloak working against him now. After a day of slumber, he would leave this accursed place and never return to the U.S. shores again!
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Buffy and Riley were still patrolling the streets, trying to find where Dracula would go next. After Willow's call, they had spent too long scouring the campus. They'd been hoping to find Dracula nursing the holy water wounds that Tara had given him before she'd collapsed into hysteria.
It was Riley, in a sudden insight, which suggested Dracula may be going after the peripheral members of the Scoobies or their families. Buffy then began running at her top speed toward home. Calling out behind her at Riley, she begged him to head to Xander's to check on his parents and then over to Willow's home. Willow's parents were out of town a lot on academic or business trips, but Buffy couldn't recall if either was home this week.
As Riley made his way toward Xander's house, three police cars sped past him, lights and sirens tearing apart the early morning quiet. Riley's stomach dropped and, though he could only explain the reason why as 'something in my gut', he found himself racing towards the Harris' home.
Just as Riley turned the corner of Xander's block, an ambulance went racing past. Riley didn't need to get any closer to see that all of the attention was on Xander's house. Riley lurched to a stop behind a crowd of nosey (or maybe just concerned) neighbors and heard bits and pieces of what they'd seen or heard, or of rumors that were already circulating.
Riley inched up to the tape that had already marked Xander's house as a crime scene. Looking over the shoulders of the officers trying to get the gawkers to stay back, he saw a sheet as it was pulled over Mr. Harris' face by one of the paramedics. Next came out Mrs. Harris, strapped to a gurney. She appeared to be conscious but Riley could see her shivering. The nearby street lamp allowed him to take in her appearance…grey, pale, sweat-slicked skin and eyes that were first wide and then went into a flurry of quick blinking. A moment later, wailing could be heard as the attendants loaded her into another ambulance that must have been first on scene.
Riley backed away from the crowd. He didn't need to know the details of what had happened to know the cause. Pressing the number to Buffy's cell, Riley closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He wondered for the umpteenth time that morning when they'd lost control of this situation.
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END Ch 13