The Master growled at the cowering vampire nervously fidgeting just beyond the reach of his magical prison in the sunken church. The timid demon translator shuffled his notes as he offered yet another apology. As with the last time he appeared before the Master, the scared minion wore clothes that only confirmed the elder vampire's opinion. A white dress shirt, tweed dress pants, and a burgundy silk vest did not terror inspire except perhaps for fashion conscious teens.
"We are so sorry that we missed the... uh, Night of St. Vigeous. You might have been able to utilize the magical convergence in some manner to address your... um, confinement," Dalton nervously explained before quickly attempting to cover the error. In truth, he hadn't found any information about the Feast until a few days after it occurred because he was spending all his time researching for Spike. The bleach blonde vampire had the freedom to dust him at any moment whereas the Master of the Order of Aurelius could only dust him if he put himself within reach of the vicious elder's mystical trap. Dalton once more glanced anxiously at the floor to confirm he was truly outside the danger zone while he rushed through his manufactured yet utterly feasible excuse. "The source we were using miscalculated the lunar cycle. The Mesopotamian Calender wasn't properly addressed by the researcher who published the information and I found that..."
"ENOUGH!" the irate Master shouted as he flung his clawed hand in a cutting motion in dismissal of the smaller vampire's attempt at avoiding his anger. The elder vampire felt the overwhelming need to kill something but to his ultimate displeasure, nothing was within reach. The deformed evil lamented anew his confinement. When he finally escaped, he would not tolerate such incompetence.
Dalton jumped backwards in fear and dropped his notes and books. They scattered across the rough rock floor. The petrified vampire barely kept himself from bursting into tears and fleeing from the cavern. This wasn't a new response. As a man, Isiah Dalton had been the very epitome of a nerdy recluse. He had spent his life buried in books and manuscripts. The pursuit of knowledge had been his one and only focus. Isiah had been a model student through high school and received a modest scholarship to attend a state university and study languages.
Academia had been one of the best of times and the worst of times in Isiah's living existence. He had been perfectly happy to bury himself in research and studying. he was popular with his professors and loved spending innumerable hours in the vast library. Unfortunately, his lack of social skills and generally timid demeanor made him a target for a few nasty tempered individuals. His obvious lack of physical prowess only added to the situation. A number of these more arrogant and mean spirited folks seemed to revel in tormenting him. They plagued him with all manner of pranks and embarrassments.
When he finally graduated, Isiah found employment with a private foundation that specialized in acquiring and translating rare texts for other organizations as well as the government. Dalton had been in figurative heaven. He spent his days and nights surrounded by limitless knowledge and no one seemed to care if he was a bit socially backward or uninterested in anything besides ancient languages.
Alas, Isiah's outstanding skills as a translator and researcher finally brought him to the attention of the wrong party and one evening he found himself dragged into a dark alley and forced into his current existence. Dalton spent the next several years locked in a basement and wading through crumbling manuscripts and dusty tombs. He had been little better than a slave to a master who vacillated between neglectful and abusive. A few years ago, the atrocities his keeper perpetuated on the local populous had finally drawn the attention of the Watcher's Council and a Slayer had arrived. The young girl had entered the building and killed every vampire she encountered then she set the building on fire.
If Dalton had been anywhere else in the house, he was sure he would have dusted like everyone else. Isiah never had been much of a fighter and becoming a demon hadn't suddenly made him an expert in combat. Luckily for the scholarly vampire, the room in which he was locked had been protected with spells to prevent the destruction of the priceless knowledge stored inside it. The building burned to the ground but he and the books remained perfectly safe. It had taken him a couple days and some magical interventions found in one of the spell books found in his long time prison but he had been able to dig his way free of the destruction. With the aid of a stolen truck, Isiah had pilfered a small library worth of books and manuscripts and ran. He ultimately settled on the Hellmouth and tried to keep his head down in relation to the usual play of demonic politics.
Dalton didn't hate being a vampire. He liked the unending possibilities unlife afforded him for pursuing knowledge. He did hate how he often felt like he was back in college though. He knew he was a coward and was never going to be a force with which to be reckoned. He was a perpetual victim to those more powerful than he was. In the demon world, that seemed to be just about everyone. Isiah desperately didn't want to be involved in anything related to the Order. He just wanted to muddle through vampirehood with his heart and head intact. Although Spike scared him, he figured the British vampire wouldn't dust him if he remained useful. Isiah cast another nervous glance towards the Master as he scrambled to pick up his scattered resources. He was glad none had fallen inside the reach of mystical barrier. His hands shook so badly he felt like a blasted beeper set on vibrate. The scared demon had no illusions that the vicious head of the Order of Aurelus would have no qualms about destroying him so he silently prayed to remain undusted.
He stammered out yet another apology as he shuffled his retrieved paperwork. His voice squeaked and he winced at his own reaction.
"I... that is... um, we did find reference to ah... I mean I found in one of Posidonius' treaties on lunar cycle and magical confluence that... um..." Dalton stammered as he searched through his notes to find the proper information. He deathly feared the Masters response to improperly conveying his find. He definitely didn't want to misquote something and have the elder vampire want his life for the misdirection. He finally found the specific notes he wanted and read the direct translation. His voice gained more confidence as he read an others' words instead of creating his own. "On lines of power, a balance if you may, can siphon from one source to another and remake the markings of time and place. Success can only be reached by combining the science and the mystic. The Order of Destrian proved this possible with the Rite of Cyperion performed on the Gulf of Corinth on the night of the new moon. The earth moved and the sea rose. Helike fell to the waters and Destrian was freed from his ageless slumber."
The Master tilted his head and a bit of gleam entered his eyes.
"Destrian was ultimately killed by the forces of Sparta," the ancient vampire offered in a moment of contemplation of a long forgotten memory. "Such a lovely demon he was too. All long clawed arms and snapping teeth. He should have gone after Athens first. The blood of the more cultured Greeks would have fed his power and given him the strength to take Sparta. Hmm, I had heard the reptilian demon lord was awakened from some half baked curse before his ill fated campaign to devour the Grecian Empire."
Dalton suppressed his shudder at the thought of the long dead Detrian Lord. He didn't know if his repulsion at the thought of destruction of civilizations would offend the elder vampire who was now staring at him intently. He didn't want to discover the answer.
"Soooo," the wrinkled vamp prompted in a slightly sarcastic voice after too long a pause.
"Oh... sorry, yes," Isiah stammered once more as he shifted through some more papers. "Given what Posidonius theorized, I looked into the Rite of Cyperion. One of my contact found a reliable copy in Aromanian. It took a few days to maneuver through the regional dialect but I was able to translate the rite."
Dalton's hand shook slightly as he handed a copy of the translated magical ritual to the Master.
Snatching the paper from the trembling minion, the ancient vampire quickly read through the rite. He frowned.
"We will need a more than just idly competent sorcerer for this to work," the head of the Order of Aurelius stated. It would not be feasible for any of his remaining followers or family to perform the magics needed. With a sigh of disgust, The Master then demanded to see the original copy of the Rite.
Nervously, the timid translator handed over the Aromanian copy. It was contained in a thin book hand bound in pressed leather. The parchment pages where sewn into place and crisp with age. Surprisingly, the elder vampire treated the fragile resource with respect and a gentle claw. The Master's eyes darted over the faded writing. Lifting his eyes from the page he nodded at the nervous minion hovering near the edge of his magical barrier.
"You did an excellent job translating," the elder vamp offered in compliment. It was the first time he had seen a real merit to the cowardly minion who his arrogant great-grandson had offered as the best route to escape.
Dalton's eyes lit slightly.
"You speak Aromanian?"
The Master snorted.
"I have forgotten more languages than the huddled masses speak today," boasted the ancient vampire.
"Don't believe him," a teasing voice called from the entrance to the sunken church. "Heinrich's never been interested in the more noble of pursuits."
Dalton swallowed and stepped nervously back as he glanced between the Master and the unexpected visitor. He could not fathom why anyone would want to arrogantly insult the ancient evil like the newcomer just did. He clutched his books and papers to his chest and scrambled to catch the book and translation copy that was tossed thoughtlessly in his direction.
"Friduhelm!" greeted the Master with glee evident in his voice. "Meine Fliege."
The lithe vampire bounded across the cavern. Mindless of the magical barrier, the darting vampire threw himself at the ancient vampire. He showered kisses on the wrinkled demon's face and clung to his leather clad body like a monkey on a tree. The exuberant display didn't phase any of the vampires that followed the first vampire into the torch lined cavern. It seemed to be commonplace. It only seemed to make Dalton uncomfortable. Even the Master seemed to take the affection in stride.
Nervously, Dalton scuttled even farther away from the center of the space until his back hit the rough wall of the stone prison. Despite his attempt to make himself small and forgotten, he soon found himself surrounded by a number of other unknown vampires. The room seemed to overflow with undead within moments. Isiah gulped unneeded air as his eyes jumped from one to the next. Each of the new vampires to enter the cavern were a marked study in extremes. A couple of the vampires were easily the most gorgeous males and females Dalton had ever seen. They seem to epitomize all that was considered attractive from a number of distinctive time periods. A lushly curved woman ran her expertly manicured finger up the scholar's arm as she purred seductively into his ear. On the other side, a whip thin vampire all angles and sculpted cheekbones peeked at his papers while rubbing her emaciated body against him.
"Leave the little geek alone," ordered a third vampire who moved purposefully towards the cluster with Dalton at the center. The pushy vampires took a number of steps away from the now grateful minion. Isiah shifted his eyes to thank the male who shooed away the others. He started. The vampire before him had huge purplish moles covering most of his visible skin. Given the fact the new vamp was wearing little more than a pair of running shorts and sneakers, he had a lot of skin to show. It was fascinating deformity that Isiah never imagined to see on an undead. The new vampire smirked knowingly at Dalton but did not comment on the timid demon's response to his appearance. Instead, the vampire just turned his back to the scholar.
Resisting the urge to stare longer at any of the other strange and wondrous occupants of the room who might have been at home in the side tents of P.T. Barnum's turn of the last century show, Dalton sidestepped along the edge of the cavern until he reached the exit. He was just about to flee the room when the Master called to him.
"Tell William to find me a proper sorcerer," he demanded with just enough menace in his voice to make the request seem like more of a threat.
Giving a promise to tell Spike, Dalton fled into the darkness to escape the raucous reunion between the Master and another branch of his family. From just the short time in their presence, Isiah feared he wasn't going to like these new arrivals much either. He sighed heavily. He only had himself to blame. After all, he had been the one to send out the numerous messages the Master had drafted to call home the remaining members of the Order of Aurelius. He sighed once more and ran a hand over the spine of one of his books for comfort. Dalton really wished folks would just leave him in peace.
Buffy stood by her locker and stared into the stacks of books. She felt unmotivated to take any of them home to study and she only had a little homework to worry about since she had completed some of it during the lunch she took in the library.
"So no on the hanging for Halloween?" she confirmed with a quick glance to the left where Oz leaned against her neighbor's locker. He had recently bleached out his hair and now sported an almost white blond head with black on the tips. Buffy found his changing hair colors an amusing quirk and she wondered if he would ever keep one more than a few weeks. She had to admit that she liked this one better than the flat black he had sported previously. This color looked better with his skin tone.
"Gig at the Shelter Club."
Buffy pouted as she closed her locker door.
"No fair. The one night outta the year the vamps take the night off and I am left with no one to veg with. Anya has a party to attend with Cordelia, you're playing outta town, my mom has a meeting with some computer guy, and Willow and Xander were commandeered to help with Safety Night." Buffy sighed. "Even Giles has a date with Ms. Calender. I'm all solo girl."
"You could help with Safety Night," her friend suggested as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans.
Buffy grimaced.
"That would be all defeating of my mom taking Snyder to task about pressuring me into stuff."
Oz couldn't help himself. He smirked.
"Man, I wish I had seen that."
Buffy grinned. She was so tickled with the way her mom had risen to her defense for parent teacher night. In the week before the event, their vindictive principal had tried to pressure Buffy into hosting the event along with a scary delinquent named Shelia, but in a moment of inspiration, the teen had taken Detective Ricci's advice. She told her mom about Snyder's harsh words and unreasonable expectations. The Slayer had explained how she wasn't comfortable with the obligation because being around a lot of people still made her nervous. Joyce had been thrilled to swoop into the school office and crush the evil troll's attempt at manipulation and punishment. It had been a win-win-win situation all around. Mrs. Summers had the chance to feel like she was doing something to help her daughter heal, Buffy was no longer the target of the evil educator, and Snyder was pretending Buffy didn't exist. Strangely enough, that was way better than his previous attitude. Best of all, it had eased some of the tension between Buffy and her mother. Officer Friendly had been right; it had helped their relationship.
"Its the prezzie that keeps on giving," Buffy chirped as she shoved her math book into her leather courier bag. The pair started moving down the hallway. "Snyder forced Xand and Wills to agree to escort little kids for trick or treat but he only looked at me once before storming down the hall. He looked like he had swallowed something foul but didn't say a word to me."
"Maybe you could just hang with Willow and Xander while they herd kiddos."
Buffy worried her lower lip between her teeth.
"Things are doing the wonky with us," she admitted as the duo approached the student lounge. "Xander is still upset that I had to make with the slaying on Empada and Willow is still upset that she didn't realize her family's student exchange guest was a life stealing mummy."
"Might be worth the effort on your part then," Oz prodded thoughtfully. He nodded towards the lounge where Buffy's friends were waiting. Although Oz enjoyed spending time with Buffy, he was worried about the growing gap between her and her previous friends. The Slayer seemed to be spending more time with him and Giles and even Anya than with her previous best friends. Both sides had noticed the change but neither camp seemed willing to address the issues.
Across the room, Willow was sitting stiffly beside Xander while watching him munch a Twinkie. She looked a bit sad and a bit frustrated that her best friend still seemed oblivious to her feelings. Perhaps it was time for her to cut her loses and crush her crushing feelings.
"Hi guys," Buffy greeted with a forced cheerfulness.
Xander attempted to return her greeting but forgot he was chewing. Mashed Twinkie flew from his mouth in a spray of crumbly mush. The partially eaten food landed on the floor, their books and part of Willow's lap. Willow grumbled a half-hearted welcome as she brushed the gross mess from her clothes. The three friends glanced nervously at each other but said nothing else.
Oz rolled his eyes. He wasn't prone to excessive speech but he found the trios behavior ridiculous. He did his best to start the ball rolling.
"Heard Snyder was England yesterday. Impressed you two into service."
Willow giggled at the musician's subtle quip but Buffy and Xander just exchanged an expression of confusion.
"History joke," the red head explained to her friends. "One of the reasons for the War of 1812. The British were impressing American merchant sailors into serving in the Royal Navy. We covered it last year in history class."
Willow smiled brightly at Oz who was silently impressed yet again by the younger girl's quick mind.
"And yeah, we were impressed."
"And not in an impressive way either," Xander added with a goofy grin after he wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve.
The tension in the group eased slightly.
"Eep!" squeaked Buffy as Oz nudged her gently. She glared at him but he just rolled his eyes.
"Fine," she snapped to him before turning to suggest that she go along for trick or treat. Willow's eyes lit up and Xander nodded enthusiastically. They both insisted it would be more fun with her company.
"I thought you would have to patrol though. It being Halloween and all," Willow stated with concern. She didn't want to pull Buffy away from her important duties just to help with an assignment that even she didn't want to do.
"Yeah, would think All Hallows Eve would definitely be a big old vamp scare-apalooza," Harris added.
"Nope," Buffy countered. "Giles says Halloween is kinda dead for the undead."
"Who-da thought?" Xander exclaimed. "Those wacky vampires! That's why I love 'em! They just keep you guessing!"
Buffy rolled her eyes but Willow giggled at her friend's antics.
Xander moved from the couch to retrieve a soda from the machine while Buffy settled onto the seat across the table from Willow. Oz slid onto the cushion beside her and offered her a tiny smile before flipping open his notebook. He was soon engrossed in putting notes on paper and totally ignoring his surroundings. Meanwhile, Willow began lamenting the mandatory nature of costumes for Safety Night duty. It was all part of Snyder's attempt to make their lives even more miserable.
"I'd have to wear a costume?" Buffy questioned quietly. The idea of needing to dress up made the concept of attending the event with her friends even less appealing. A quiet night vegetating in front of the television was sounding better every minute.
Willow nodded enthusiastically.
"We could go shopping this afternoon," she offered. The excitable red head was thrilled at the prospect of spending more time with Buffy. She had been so confused lately. The teen kept shifting from crushing on Xander to hating his treatment of her and she really needed a chance to spend time with her best friend to help her figure out how she really wanted to feel. Willow grinned when Buffy sighed in disgust but still nodded in agreement to the shopping suggestion.
Suddenly, Xander flipped over the arm of the couch and landed on the short table between the seats. He groaned as Willow rushed to pull him vertical. Meanwhile, Buffy stood and spun to see what had attacked her friend. Expecting some supernatural danger, the Slayer found only a classmate. Larry might be a big brute but a supernatural threat he wasn't.
"Uncool, man," Oz stated with just a hint of censor in his voice as he stood also.
Both Buffy and Willow glared at Larry as Xander also stood. A quick glance showed his right eye was already swelling and bruising. By tomorrow, he would be ensured one titan of a black eye.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Larry offered an insincere apology before hastily retreating from the lounge and the hostile looks from all four Scoobies.
"Ouch," Xander finally whined to break the silence as Willow gently prodded his sore cheek. "How come your Slayer sense can't warn you about potential bully problems?"
"Sorry, Xander," Buffy offered since she hated seeing her friend injured and wished she had been able to prevent the blow to his face and ego. "Next time, I'll be quicker on the savage."
"Ooooh-kaaaay," Xander replied playfully as if it was a hassle to forgive her. It was meant as a teasing mockery of the exchange, but Oz's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. It was bad enough that Buffy had to save the world from the bogeyman under the bed, she shouldn't have to save her friends from everyday life and a considerate friend should not be making her feel that she had to be their constant safety net.
Willow hustled Xander out of the lounge after Buffy agreed to meet them at the new costume shop on Maple. She wanted to get ice on her friend's eye to help prevent too much swelling. As they were leaving, Oz leaned closer to his friend's ear.
"Worth the effort?"
Buffy thought for a moment then smiled. She really did miss her friends even if they made her a bit uncomfortable now. She nodded and thanked the musician for pushing her to socialize. She casually bumped her shoulder against Oz's shoulder. He smiled softly as they headed for the exit. As they entered the bright afternoon sun, Oz wondered aloud if Willow was ever going to get tired of being the little puppy following Xander. Buffy raised an eyebrow and stared at her companion.
"Someone feels a sparkage," she teased with an evil grin.
Oz smirked and countered "Nah, the Dingos just already have a blond and a brunette groupie. Was thinking we needed to add a red head."
"Yeah," Buffy replied with a knowing smile. "Sure."
Three hours later, the three juniors met at the entrance to Ethan's. It was a new store that opened just a few weeks ago and specialized in costumes. It was closer to their homes than Party City so an easier walk for the three car-less friends. Xander's eye was already sporting quite the bruise and he kept wincing in discomfort since he couldn't seem to resist touching his cheek every minute or so. As expected, Willow scolded him each time he touched his injury. Buffy couldn't help but smile softly. It seemed just like normal, at least the normal that didn't involve research or dusting vamps in graveyards.
When Buffy moved to open the door, it swung out of her grasp and she just avoided slamming into an exiting customer.
"Hey Anya," Buffy greeted as her hands caught the preoccupied senior before they crashed into each other.
Anya smiled and returned the Slayer's greeting before warning the trio that they better hurry. A lot of the good costumes had already been bought.
"Although I have secured the most horrific of imaginable masquerades," the brunette insisted as she shook the handle of her brown paper bag. "And the owner was totally willing to barter on price. I talked him into quite a discount. It was exhilarating."
Buffy peeked into the other girl's bag. She giggled.
"A bunny is the most horrific of costumes?" she questioned.
For a moment, Anya appeared deeply offended.
"Bunnies aren't just cute like everybody supposes," she responded solemnly as if she was imparting something of utmost importance to her new friend. "They have hoppy legs and twitchy little noses, creepy, I tell you, and whats with all the carrots? What do they need such good eyesight for anyway? It's all a conspiracy. I swear, bunnies are poised to take over the world and we will never see it coming because we will be too busy going aw... look at the adorable bunny rabbits just before they rip out our throats like in that horrid Monty Python movie."
"You need to be prepared," Anya warned gravely.
Buffy grinned.
"Warning duly noted."
Anya missed the slightly amused tone of Buffy's voice. She smiled in return.
"Glad I could offer the proper warning," she responded. "I am much too pretty to end up little black jellybean turds."
With that statement, Anya swept regally from the doorway and marched purposefully down the street.
"Crazy weird chick," Xander commented and Willow nodded in agreement.
Buffy nodded her head briefly before shrugging. The longer she new Anya, the more the older girl grew on her. She may tend to say outrageous things but she also seemed to really understand when Buffy was feeling uncomfortable. Anya just always seemed to notice when a guy was making her queasy or stressed. Of course, some of her distractions comments were off the wall but Buffy really thought this just made her more interesting. She did feel a bit badly that Sam had unceremoniously dumped Anya right after her mysterious injury but it didn't prevent the senior from still hanging out with the Dingos.
"She's a little different," the Slayer admitted before pulling open the costume store door.
"I like her though and she's probably a good person to have at your back during a vamp attack. She wields a mean frying pan," Buffy complimented from over her shoulder as she entered the busy shop.
Willow and Xander exchanged worried expressions.
"Think it is a catching kinda crazy?" Xander whispered.
"Let's hope not," his friend whispered in reply before following Buffy.
Quickly joining Buffy inside the small yet packed store, the two friends set to finding the perfect costume on such short notice. Triumphantly, Xander quickly discovered a toy gun which would be perfect for turning an old sets of fatigues from the army surplus store that he already had at home into a soldier costume. He was thrilled to have a costume for less than two dollar. That was showing Principal Snyder. No way was he paying good money to complete a chore for someone he hated even if he actually liked the idea of trick or treating with a bunch of little kids. Who in their right mind turned down the chance for free chocolate? Certainly not Xander Harris.
Willow joined Buffy who was listlessly sliding bagged costumes aside on a partially filled rack. In her hand, the red head held a ghost costume. She figured it was a classic and perfect for her. She wasn't trying to prove anything and she hated answering questions about what her costume was. No one would question her ghostly self.
"Find anything you like?" she prodded Buffy who shrugged.
"Not really. Nothing is jumping out at me."
"What about that?" Willow suggested as she pointed towards an elaborate pink gown that would have been worn by a rich woman during the era of the Revolutionary War.
"Or how about this one?" she added as she held out a bagged costume for a sexy vampire.
"Ah, no," Buffy stated with a roll of her eyes. "That one is way too pink and that one is just, well, wrong for me to wear."
Willow laughed.
"But this would be perfect," she countered as she shook the vampire costume towards her friend. "Halloween is all about being what you aren't. How much more unlike a Slayer can you get than being a vamp?"
"I don't know, Wills," Buffy hedged. She really wasn't comfortable with the style and cut of the costume in her friend's hand. It left almost nothing to the imagination and was way more revealing than anything she had worn in months. As she shook her head, a flash of white caught her attention.
Moving smoothly down the aisle and into the back corner, Buffy's attention focused intently on her find. Along with the pink princess gown, it was one of the more elaborate costumes remaining in the shop. It was obviously expensive but it still called to the teen. If Halloween was a time for being the opposite of what she was normally, this costume was perfect. It was the image of everything she felt was gone from her life. Her hand reached for the flowing folds of the material. Her finger trailed over some gold accent piping. Tears welled in her eyes and she swallowed in an attempt to keep control of her sudden rush of emotions.
A gentleman's voice startled her from her thoughts. She swiped at her cheeks hastily before turning to the salesclerk.
"You have exquisite taste," he complimented.
"Its amazing," Willow added.
"I prefer my girls in spandex," Xander offered as he joined the group.
"This is not a costume for inspiring a tawdry lust," the shopkeeper lightly scolded as he slipped the costume from its place and held it before Buffy so that she could see herself in one of the shop mirrors. "It is all that is good and pure."
"And entirely too expensive," added Buffy regretfully as her hand smoothed the costume over her stomach.
"Nonsense," the very gentlemanly shopkeeper countered in a soothing British accent. "I feel quite moved to make you a deal you can't refuse."
Buffy plucked the headpiece from the stand and placed it over her short blond hair. Her hand then rose to caress one of the additional accessories.
"Then I guess I can't refuse," she replied with a bittersweet smile as her fingers sunk into the softness of the costume. It truly was perfect.