See Part One for Disclaimer and details. Hi, welcome to the latest chapter! Just wanted to thank everyone who's read and reviewed the story so far, please keep it up as it inspires me to keep going and truly warms the cockles of my heart. An extra special thanks has to go to Bill a.k.a. zTiamaTz, for giving this story a plug when publishing his own fanfic! Well, enough from me, it's time for the story to continue...
Part Three: New Arrivals
Restfield Cemetery, Sunnydale
September 2nd, 1997
Darla stood before the grave of the Master, staring down at it and feeling very conflicted.
Back in 1898, when she had been cursed with her human soul, Darla had sought out her sire in order for him to help her get rid of it. Unfortunately, the Master had been repulsed by her – in much the same way Darla would have been revolted by an ensouled Angelus – and he'd banished her from his court, never to return upon pain of immediate staking.
Oddly, the Master had rescinded that edict during 1937, when he'd come to Sunnydale in order to open the Hellmouth. The ancient soulless monster had wanted his former favorite to witness the coming of the Old Ones, the pure demons that millions of years ago had ruled this dimension. Of course, the last laugh was on him as the Master had gotten mystically trapped in that underground church for sixty years...
After Buffy had arrived on the Hellmouth, Darla – recalling what Whistler had said – had pleaded with the Master for him to leave town if she could get him released from captivity somehow. The only thing that conversation had resulted in, though, was all ties being cut between sire and childe. And due to the Master's actions on the night of the Spring Fling dance, there had been no other choice for Darla but to come down on Buffy's side of the fight, in order to preserve this world which the ex-prostitute liked so much.
"It didn't have to be like this," Darla muttered, staring at the consecrated earth containing the Master's bones. "Why couldn't you have listened to me, just for once? Did the presence of my soul truly disgust you that much? Or was it just that you wanted to bring the Old Ones back so badly, you couldn't stand to see any Slayer get the better of you?"
There was no reply, of course. But then Darla's supernaturally enhanced hearing caught the sound of digging not far away, and she quickly decided to investigate. Walking over to another part of the cemetery, she saw two male teenagers digging up a grave – occasionally looking around furtively, as if worried about getting caught.
"All right, what do you two clowns think you're doing? It's obvious you're not official gravediggers," Darla's sardonic voice made Chris Epps and Eric Gittleson yelp and drop their shovels.
"Uh, uh, who are you?" Chris stammered, staring at the blonde beauty a few feet away from him.
"Name's Darla." The female vampire effortlessly hoisted first Chris and then Eric out of the half-dug grave. "Now answer my question."
"Why should we? I mean seriously, lady, just what kind of authority are you supposed to have, anyway?" Eric suddenly demanded in a belligerent tone of voice.
"I'm not a lady," Darla growled as she morphed into her vampire face, and both Chris and Eric yelped again. "Now start talking."
"Um, uh, well, we-we were just..." Chris started to babble helplessly.
"Robbing this grave. Why?" Darla scowled.
"None of your business," Eric said indignantly, before Darla grabbed him and her fangs came within inches of his throat. "Okay! Okay! I'll talk..."
The whole sordid story soon came out; Darla learned how Chris had reanimated his dead brother, Daryl, who had been killed nearly two years ago, and the zombie had pleaded with Chris and Eric to create a mate for him. A female zombie whom he could spend eternity in the shadows with. Darla had been unimpressed with the plan...
Later that night, after meeting Daryl personally, Darla had been unimpressed with the ex-football player, as well. Unfortunately, the meeting had quickly degenerated into an all-out brawl – and after Chris and Eric had run for it, Darla had made with the slice and dice on Daryl's ass, before burying his body parts in the grave from earlier on in the evening.
"Darla? Whatcha doing?" a familiar male voice interrupted the ensouled vampire's labors.
Darla looked up and pseudo-sighed. ( Wonderful, him again. ) "Jesse, what are YOU doing here at this time of night?"
"Something stupid, I guess – looking for you," McNally said, coming closer. "Uh, you're digging up a grave?"
"Filling it in," Darla said brusquely, casting the shovel aside and jumping out of the hole in the earth with inhuman grace and speed. "Now why were you looking for me? And by the way, if you try to ask me out on a date again? This time, I WILL knock your two front teeth out!"
"No, no, uh, nothing like that," Jesse stammered, as he knew the female vampire's threat was serious. After Cordelia's rejection, McNally had moved on to the ensouled vampiress, at least partly; but Darla had made it clear she wasn't interested as well. "Um, I was wondering if you'd noticed anything odd about Buffy?"
"The Slayer? No. Why?" Darla demanded.
Jesse launched into a rambling explanation of how Buffy had acted incredibly mean at school today, dissing himself, Willow, Giles and even Cordelia. Not that there was any love lost between the cheerleader and the Slayer, but Buffy's insults in the school corridor today had been far too bitchy in nature; and even though Buffy hadn't humiliated Jesse in the Bronze tonight in order to make an undead boyfriend jealous, he and Willow were still very concerned about her after their conversation within the teen club.
Eventually, Darla walked Jesse home, with strict orders not to venture out alone at night like this again. Not far away, the Anointed One and his minions arrived at the Master's grave.
"Well, don't just stand there – dig!" the chief minion known as Absalom ordered the others, as Collin stared down at his mentor's grave.
The vamps started digging with shovels or even their bare hands. Then one of them screamed as her hands started smoking, "The ground is consecrated! It burns!"
"Dig," was all that the Anointed One said, and so the grunts got back to it despite the pain.
"We have been put down, kinsmen," Absalom started to preach as the vamps uncovered the Master's bones. "We have lost our way. We have lost the night. But despair is for the living! Where they are weak, we are strong. Where they weep, we rejoice. Where they bleed, we drink! Tomorrow night, a new hope shall arise. The four witnesses to our Master's wretched demise will breathe their last. The blood that pours from their throats will bring NEW LIFE to the Master! We will gather for His resurrection. For the dawn of a new Hell on Earth!" the black vampire finished triumphantly.
Abandoned warehouse, Sunnydale
September 3rd, 1997
Unfortunately, the grand scheme hadn't exactly gone to plan as far as the undead were concerned.
The Master's bones had been recovered, and the four witnesses to his death – Giles, Cordelia, Willow and Jenny Calendar – had been dangling upside down, unconscious, waiting to be bled to death in order to revive the Master. Absalom had started the ritual, but then Buffy, Darla and Jesse had shown up and disrupted the proceedings by rescuing the sacrifices.
"ENOUGH!" Absalom shouted, grabbing a sledgehammer as Collin decided that discretion was the better part of valor and the child vampire vanished from the scene of battle. The black vamp snarled at Buffy, "Your day is done, girl. You've ruined EVERYTHING! I'll grind you into a sticky paste, and hear you beg before I smash in your face!"
"So, are you gonna kill me, or are we just making small talk?" Buffy snarked at him.
Absalom raised the sledgehammer in furious indignation and yelled incoherently as he began his attack. Buffy calmly looked at the tall wooden torch post in front of her, before breaking it off and turning it a few times in her hands. Another vampire that had started charging towards her impaled himself on the broken end of the wooden torch and exploded into ash: almost at the same time, Absalom ran into the burning end and was set ablaze by the fire.
The undead black preacher backed up and screamed as the flames spread all over him. He made a last desperate attempt to attack Buffy and raised the sledgehammer over his head, but it was too late as the flames engulfed him and burned him up. The rest of the minions quickly decided to split the scene, as the sledgehammer fell to the floor with a loud clang.
Upstairs on the platform, the four rescuees were finally regaining consciousness. Willow found herself in Jesse's arms as she asked dazedly, "Is it over?"
"No, I don't think so," Jesse replied, as he saw Buffy bend down and pick up the sledgehammer.
The Slayer slowly walked over to the Master's skeleton and looked at it for a moment. Buffy thought to herself, ( You're dead – and I'm not. Not anymore. I KILLED you. I won our little contest, and there's not gonna be any sort of rematch here! )
Buffy swung the hammer back behind her and slammed it directly onto the Master's skull, shattering it to pieces. She kept whaling on the Master's skeleton as Willow, Jesse, Cordelia, Jenny and Giles looked down from above.
Darla, on the other hand, could not stand witnessing this. Despite his desire to destroy the world, the Master had been her sire – her father, her teacher, her everything for centuries, and so the female vampire quickly walked out of the warehouse to avoid tearing Buffy into little pieces for her actions.
Thus, it was up to Giles to scramble down from the platform and comfort his Slayer as she finished destroying the Master's bones and Buffy burst out crying, dropping the sledgehammer to the floor.
"It's all right. It'll be all right now," Rupert said comfortingly, as Buffy turned around and leaned into him, crying into her Watcher's shoulder.
Miss Summers was an emotional wreck after everything that had happened lately, and despite working out her issues with the Master – the Chosen One still had no idea how she was going to apologize to her friends for how terrible she'd acted lately.
Park near the town limits, Sunnydale
September 15th, 1997
Buffy needn't have worried about Jesse and Willow being mad at her for endangering everyone's lives, for they were friends in the deepest, truest sense; the Slayerettes were psychologically incapable of doubting their superheroine friend for long, and the three amigos had made up in class the very next day.
What Buffy needed to worry about right now, along with being responsible for setting up Parent-Teacher Night this Thursday evening, was in a classic 1958 Dodge Desoto FireFlite that crashed through the 'Welcome to Sunnydale' sign and then screeched to a halt.
Spike got out and strolled over to the curb. Sporting a Billy Idol look nowadays, instead of his old brown-haired English gentleman ensemble, the vampire formerly known as William the Bloody lit up a cigarette and said with obvious glee on his face: "Home, sweet home."
"Spoike?" Drusilla said in a weak, trembling voice as she got out of the car as well.
"There, there, luv," Spike said with honest affection in his voice as he came over to his sire. "You all right?"
"It's all wrong in this place, it is," Drusilla muttered, looking around in Sunnydale in seeming despair. "Daddy's not 'ere, and neither's my kitten..."
"Angelus has been dust for nearly a hundred years, poodle, you know that. And what's all this about some effin' pussy cat?" William tried to understand his sire's strange words.
"Gone, gone he is, but not like his mummy 'n daddy. Thanks to a wish and a prayer," Drusilla mumbled cryptically, starting to sway about in her Victorian era dress. "Those two naughty girls, still screamin' in that cage they are..."
Spike quickly lost interest in the entire conversation, knowing nothing about Anyanka and Halfrek. "Come on, then, pet. We've got an appointment to keep with the big noise around 'ere, remember?"
"The Anointed One," Drusilla nodded as Spike guided her back to the car before they took off down the road. "He prepares for the Feast of St. Vigeous, my precious 'eart."
"Well, good," William said as Drusilla guided him on where to go, her second sight having already identified where Collin's headquarters was. "That's this Saturday, innit? Should be quite the spectacle for us to see, luv."
Drusilla suddenly shivered, as the moon started whispering horrible things that only she could hear.
Sunnydale High School, Sunnydale
September 18th, 1997
( Even for Sunnydale, this has been one weird-ass evening, ) Jesse McNally thought to himself. Not just because of the nightmare of Parent-Teacher Night, which just about every student who didn't get straight A's dreaded. No, this was the Hellmouth; and so, one of the worst school nights of the year just HAD to get even worse with the appearance of the vampires.
Jesse didn't get it, to be honest; tonight was Thursday, not Saturday – which Giles and Ms. Calendar had said would be the Feast of St. Vegetables or whatever. The young man couldn't know that, because Spike had become involved with Collin's forces after he and Dru had arrived in town, William's impatience and hotheadness had resulted in the vampires attacking ahead of schedule – before their power would be at its peak in two nights' time.
All that Jesse knew was that a bleach-blonde guy in a black leather coat had led the vamp posse into the school, and after what Giles had told everyone, he didn't want that bloodsucker anywhere near any of his girls. Or himself.
Jesse had wanted to stay and help after the invasion, but he had to admit that Giles' orders to go get Darla made more sense, tactically speaking. The ensouled vampiress would be of much more use in tonight's fight than a normal human like him, so McNally had found Darla in her apartment and told her about the attack. The moment he'd mentioned Spike's name, she had led the way outside and they had quickly made tracks toward the school.
"So what's the plan?" McNally asked his undead companion as they approached the dark high school building, the power had been deliberately cut after the invasion.
( Plan? ) Darla thought. ( Pretty simple, I guess. Kill them all. ) Because Darla knew that if Spike was allowed to have his way, there would be a massacre here tonight; and it would be best to avoid that if possible, in her view.
Her great-grandchilde was already enough of an egomaniac concerning all the bragging about his kills – and besides, Darla was still pissed at him for that thing with Cyril Jr. in Romania, a hundred years ago. Not enough to want to personally dust Spike anymore, but still...
Darla figured the best bet was for her to eliminate as many of the fledglings as possible, thus giving Buffy a clear shot at Spike. The female vampire with a soul had heard on the demon grapevine that Spike had managed to kill at least one Slayer during the last century, after Drusilla had taken him with her to New York, but Buffy was strong and resourceful. If she was able to kill the Master, then the odds were that Spike wouldn't be all that great of a challenge to her.
"Well, what have we got here?" a voice called out behind her and Jesse.
Darla and Jesse turned around to see three vampires approaching them, all in game face. Acting on instinct, Darla vamped out as well and grabbed Jesse by the neck, pulling him close.
"Back off!" she snarled at the other vampires. They all stopped upon seeing her game face, confusion evident in their eyes. The blonde vampiress then added viciously, "He's mine!"
"Oh, sorry!" one of the bloodsuckers said, still looking confused. "I – we thought everyone else was already inside..."
"Well, THINKING obviously isn't your strong point, is it?" Darla approached the trio, baring her fangs in anger. The undead guys quickly stepped back, obviously feeling unnerved by her attitude. Darla then demanded, "Has Spike dealt with the Slayer yet?"
The three minions looked at each other, none of them wanting to tell Darla that they didn't have a clue about that. "Um..." one of them managed to say feebly.
Darla, still holding Jesse tightly, quickly got into their faces. "Never mind, I can tell that you three idiots don't know. Now unless I'm badly mistaken, you're supposed to be out here guarding the perimeter. So what the hell are you doing all grouped together like this? Looking for a quick meal?"
"We...uh, well, we..." one of the vampires stammered in acute embarrassment.
"Shut up, you pathetic fool! You, and you!" Darla pointed at the other two. "Go check the back of the school! Make sure no one's gotten out that way. As for you," she pointed at the third vampire. "Go guard the front entrance! I'll join you as soon as I'm done with my meal."
The three minions hastily complied with her commands, and Darla smiled in true pleasure as they did so. She hadn't actually commanded any subordinate vampires in nearly a hundred years, but it was obvious she hadn't lost her touch. The undead duo Darla had ordered to the back of the school quickly vanished, not wanting to be found derelict in their duty.
The third headed toward the main entrance of Sunnydale High...
A second later, he exploded into dust after Jesse managed to get close enough to use his stake: with the disintegrating remains of a skeleton seen for just the barest flicker of an instant.
"Ha! Gotcha, chump!" McNally laughed, rubbing his neck and turning towards Darla. Somewhat tellingly, he wasn't too upset at being used as part of a sting operation like this, most likely because he considered Darla to be a truly gorgeous piece of ass. That was one of the reasons why the sixteen-year-old boy had originally gotten involved with the Slayage, as a matter of fact – in order to impress the girls, as well as help keep his friends Buffy and Willow alive.
Jesse said to Darla, "My neck's kinda aching, though; did you have to squeeze quite so hard?"
"Yes, because I had to make it look real," Darla shrugged, before putting another stake in Jesse's hand and heading towards the back of the school. "Now come on, hurry up and follow me!"
"I'm coming!" Jesse said, faithfully following Darla around to the rear of the building to stake the other two perimeter guards.
Inside the school, Buffy slowly made her way through the dark corridors, thinking that her mother and the other adults should have made it out to safety by now. She just hoped that Willow and Cordelia were all right, as she had seen neither of the girls since the attack had begun. Luckily, those two were currently stuck in a utility closet and no vampires had discovered the female pair yet.
Buffy's thoughts drifted back to that recent meeting within the library. Giles had told her that he had sent Jesse to get Darla – and so the Slayer hoped that her best male friend would arrive soon with their undead ally, as she could do with the reinforcements. ( I just hope that they get here soon, and nothing goes wrong... )
And of course, that was when something went wrong.
Buffy stumbled onto the scene of Darla and Jesse running away from Spike's minions, but the flaxen-haired Englishman sensed her presence and failed to follow his fellow vampires.
"Fee, fi, fo fum. I smell the blood of a nice, ripe..." Spike turned to face Buffy, "...girl."
"You really shouldn't have come here tonight," the blonde Slayer said dangerously, hefting the fire axe she'd appropriated earlier on in the evening.
"Yeah? Well, I guess I've got issues about killing Slayers, luv. Darla always used to get on my case about being too impulsive about that sort o' thing, not to mention being too impatient to savor a kill properly, but I just got so BORED waiting for Saturday..."
"You know Darla?" Buffy's interest was briefly piqued.
"Know her? Slayer, please! Me, Darla, Dru and me old mate Angelus – we were the bloody Scourge of Europe for nearly twenty years! Doesn't your Watcher tell you bleeding anything?" Spike then smirked, "I'll tell you what. As a personal favor from me to you, I'll make it quick. I promise, this won't hurt a bit!"
"Yeah. Not for me, anyway," Buffy said, raising her axe and the fight was on.
"Not bad," Spike smirked as he ducked underneath the axe and delivered a powerful punch to Buffy's face. "The last Slayer I killed, she begged for her life. But you don't strike me as the begging kind."
"That's 'cause I'm not," Buffy replied, dropping the axe and hitting Spike with a powerful uppercut to the jaw. "And in case you haven't noticed, I'm kinda ticked off about you ruining Parent-Teacher Night."
"That right?" Spike continued to smirk, as he punched Buffy three times in a row. "Well, assumin' you survive, I reckon you can always ask the old boyfriend for comfort later on..."
The blonde girl responded with a savage kick to the vampire's face; unfortunately for Spike, he had hit upon a rather sore spot with the Slayer. Buffy hadn't had a boyfriend ever since arriving in Sunnydale – as Angel did not exist, Xander was a very different person living in Los Angeles, and Jesse only had eyes for either Cordelia or Darla.
"Struck a nerve, did I?" William asked the Chosen One, once he recovered from the pain of his nose being impacted by Buffy's foot. "Let me guess, your Watcher frowns on the whole dating thing? Or is it just that no one's interested in dating a complete fashion victim like you?"
That last crack was a mistake Spike would soon deeply regret.
Infuriated, Buffy ducked under Spike's next punch and the British vampire buried his arm into the wall. While he was trapped, Buffy hit Spike in the left kidney whilst kicking the back of his left knee.
Hurt and disoriented, William the Bloody took one precious second too long to get moving – and when he finally did so, the last thing he saw was Buffy's axe heading directly for his neck
"Bloody hell!" were the final words Spike managed to utter, before oblivion swallowed him whole.
"Fashion victim, am I? Least I know the Billy Idol look is SO 1980's, Mr. Dust Bunny," Buffy quipped, brushing Spike's dust off her clothes – as the engines of destiny exploded somewhere up in the higher realms.
Abandoned warehouse, Sunnydale
September 19th, 1997
The Anointed One glared at his minions, as daylight came streaming through an upstairs window and hit the wall opposite. A lot of the surviving vampires were very much the worse for wear after invading Sunnydale High under Spike's leadership, and just about all of them were babbling about having gotten their asses kicked by the Slayer.
( Our numbers are depleted, and the Feast of St. Vigeous has been ruined, thanks to what's happened. About the only good news I've heard so far is that loud-mouthed braggart with the stupid hair is nowhere to be found. He must have gotten himself dusted somehow! Hmm – I guess some good has come out of this mess, after all, ) Collin thought to himself with sudden satisfaction.
"Sir? What do you want done about her?" the minion named Lucius asked his undead boss, as the Anointed One looked over in the indicated direction.
"Gone, lost, vanished! My poor Spoike, he won't dance and play with his princess no more. All my dollies will be ever so sad," Drusilla started rocking back and forth clutching Miss Edith to her breast. "Oh, Grandmummy, why did you do it? Because they'll turn against you, eventually, they will. That silly little man and his pet demon will see to that..."
Annoyed by Drusilla's apparently-meaningless speech, Collin quickly made a decision. "Get rid of her," he commanded Lucius.
The minion nodded and walked over to the insane brunette female. He subsequently hoisted the struggling Dru over his shoulder, tossed her into a nearby iron cage and locked the door. Lucius then started pulling on a chain, lifting the cage up from the floor.
"My kitten!" Drusilla screamed as she was hauled up towards the deadly sunlight, the mad seer was currently receiving her last ever psychic vision. "He'll be here soon! And you'll all scream after that happens, you will! You'll burn-"
Her words were abruptly cut off, as Dru caught on fire upon being exposed to the daylight. She screamed in pain as the deadly flames consumed her body, before dust quickly drifted down onto the bottom of the cage and the warehouse floor below.
There was only one member of the Scourge of Europe left in existence, now.
Outside 36 Spring Street, Los Angeles
September 25th, 1997
Far away in Sunnydale, Jesse was moping about his recent disastrous encounter with someone called Ampata the Inca Mummy Girl; Giles had his nose buried in a book concerning Seban Kaya, the Peruvian mountain god whom the Incas had sacrificed their princess to; Darla was scowling at Buffy, Willow and Cordelia as the human females pressed her for information on what it had been like dating guys for four centuries; and Jenny Calendar was writing a letter to her Uncle Enyos, concerning the situation with Darla.
But here in the City of Angels, all that was of no interest to Whistler; he only had eyes for Xander Harris, who was camping outside in his back yard in order to avoid the 'party' his Uncle Rory was having inside the house.
Ever since Rory Harris had been granted custody of his nephew back in 1984, Xander's life had naturally been very different to what it otherwise would have been. The two males had moved here to Los Angeles where Rory's taxidermy business was based, with only the annual trip to visit the graves of Tony and Jessica Harris – not that the Sluggoth demon Rory's brother had become was actually dead, but everyone assumed he had died in the fire that day – to remind Xander of the old home town.
( Damn it, Rory, ) Xander thought to himself, hating the idea of sleeping outside his house where the vampires and demons might kill him – but hating to witness his stodgy and boring uncle by day becoming a fur-flinging, booze-guzzling whoremonger by night even more. ( This is getting worse and worse every month, I swear to God. I'm gonna have to move out soon – maybe even as soon as I turn eighteen... )
Eventually, the young man fell asleep in his sleeping bag, despite trying to keep his eyes and ears open. And as Xander slept, Whistler came over to inspect him more fully.
( Well, you're certainly not much to look at, are you? ) the balance demon asked himself, as he continued to inspect this nameless human the Powers had recently brought to his attention. ( No super-powers, no nothing. Personally, I've got no idea why my bosses want you to go back to Sunnyhell on a permanent basis and help the blondie Slayer, now that Captain Peroxide and his girlfriend are dust – but I'm guessing they must have their reasons for it. )
Indeed they did. The PTBs could foresee quite a number of apocalypses coming, and since Darla would eventually have to come here to Los Angeles to deal with the ones occurring after the summer of 1999 – a number of destinies would now have to be rewritten in order to make sure the world kept turning for the foreseeable future.
TBC...