Bring Me To Life

A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event

Part 66

Empty Places, Part 7


Sunnydale, California - Shadow Valley Vineyard

10:04 p.m.

Days Left Before the End of Days: 10


Caleb was so pleased with himself he was practically strutting into The First's stronghold. Like the only rooster that got left in the henhouse.

He gave Pearl and Nash, both off-put by his presence, a cheeky wink as he passed them by.

Caleb pointed and made a "click" sound as he passed by Drusilla, who was guzzling down on the jugular of a dying homeless man she had plucked off the streets for dinner. Stopping mid-meal, Drusilla looked up and raised one ridged eyebrow at the servant of The First, even the mad vampiress finding his demeanor somewhat…unsettling.

Looking up from his makeshift workshop as he was tinkering with several gadgets, a skinless Warren Mears eyed the crazy ex-clergyman suspiciously, Amy also staring at Caleb with distrust in her pretty, but dark eyes.

"Someone's in a good mood," Warren wondered aloud.

"Reckon I should be, Bacon Face," Caleb crowed, not breaking his stride once as he walked by them. "I'm havin' a mighty good night."

Warren muttered curses under his breath at the crass reminder of his disfigurement, Amy trying to soothe her boyfriend even as the witch threw Caleb a dirty look that the ex-preacher ignored.

Heck, Caleb mused, he was more than pleased.

The thrill, the sheer exhilaration of having the Slayer, THE Slayer, Buffy Summers herself, at his mercy was a memory that he would forever savor.

How her beautiful hazel-green eyes danced with fear as his hands wrapped around her long, soft, slender neck. How she buckled under his might, how her so-called strength was barely like a gust of wind against the hurricane-like force that was his own, how helpless she looked as he strung her up in her own school like a crucified hero, how she moaned weakly in her unconscious reverie every now and then as he strapped her to the cross like some common whore in heat…Caleb had to dig down deep to slow and cool his blood from the orgasmic rush that threatened to overcome him.

It was the greatest high of Caleb's wretched life. Hell, he would have almost paid for that kind of high.

I have to have her again, a part of his twisted mind realized. He just had to have her at his mercy one more time. Watch the fear light up in her eyes once more, the fear leaping up and dancing, dancing, like a harlot in a strip club in a dance for his eyes alone. For the fear, the terror that only he could bring her.

And dance again we will, Slayer, he smirked darkly, his thoughts lost in almost wanton lust. For me, you'll give me your last dance.

All the while, Caleb's master, The First Evil, watched him, the expression of the woman's face it wore, Buffy Summers, not revealing much.

"Know what I figured out tonight?" Caleb asked, keeping his voice almost casual, trying silently to wipe the hellfire-hot thoughts of a vulnerable Buffy Summers lying prone before his might, helpless before his mere touch from his mind. "Every high school from one end of this country to the other smells exactly alike. Now why do you suppose that is?"

The First, dressed in Buffy's body, stepped from the shadows and moved toward him, eyed him with an expressionless look. And for a moment, Caleb could have sworn it was looking right into his very mind, into his darkest thoughts. Judging him for it. And had he been capable of anything remotely close to what was once his former humanity, the fallen preacher would have felt something akin to shame.

"And how was our best girl?" The First asked him, curious.

Silently breathing a sigh of relief that his master had not brought up the dark musings about their hated enemy, Caleb shook his head, grinning and chuckling. "They always think they should put up a fight," he said, almost with some amazement. That Slayer sure was a spitfire. He was beginning to understand what it was that drew dark creatures, like this Angel, the former iconic dark vampire Angelus, towards her. Like Spike, who was once the feared William the Bloody. Yet all of them had fallen for the charms of this Slayer.

Even Caleb had to admit himself, for a man who hated all women, but her especially for all that she represented, he still did find her somewhat…fascinating.

"Did you lay the proper groundwork?" Buffy/The First pressed, as if it could hear his thoughts.

Clearing his mind again, the mad preacher nodded. "That I did."

Not being able to help himself, Caleb preened a little. "Strung her up like a pinata for good measure, too. Reckon she got the message, even if she doesn't know it yet. So now the big, strong Slayer goes back to those girls. She's so ready to just walk them right into it, and all we're going to have to do . . ."

He reached up to The First's chest, and even though it was only an image of the woman, Caleb could have sworn he felt the heat almost burning his arm as his hand neared his new obsession, his vice…the Slayer herself…

"...is give her that one…gentle…final…nudge."

Effortlessly, the twisted ex-minister's hand passed right through Buffy/The First…and The First smiled.

"Excellent," she/it said.

"Gotta say," Caleb continued, "I know she's supposed to be some great and powerful mystical force, but…I don't see it. I just don't." He smiled broadly, chuckling cruelly. "She was so…easy."

"Of course she was," The First responded. "And now it's just a question of knowing how to exploit it. And when." Buffy/The First smiled a very happy, and very evil, smile.

"So…when?" Caleb asked, almost eagerly. Maybe a little too eagerly.

Buffy/ The First regarded him with a raised eyebrow. "Aren't you a rush-y boy all of a sudden," she/it mused.

Caleb backpedaled slightly in his tone. Summoned his most neutral face possible. "I'm, uh, just rearin' to go, is all. Can't wait to have another chance to see the fear in those fools' faces again."

Buffy/The First narrowed her/its eyes slightly. "Or maybe you just can't wait to see her again."

Gulp.

Fighting the flushed heat that suddenly rose from his ears, Caleb knew he was busted, yet tried to laugh it off. "I surely don't know what yer talkin' about…"

"Caleb," the ghostly image of the woman that had been haunting his thoughts lately said in a warning tone. Almost like a mother rebuking her child for stealing from the cookie jar. "Remember who you're talking to. I know when you're not telling me the truth."

Buffy / The First walked closer to him, studying his eyes. Holding on to every ounce of self-control he had, Caleb looked back in to the perfect hazel-green pools of the not-Slayer, fought to quiet the alien urges rising in him.

"Remember what I told you about The Slayer," the 'woman' warned him. "She is quite beautiful, yes…but she's also cunning. Wicked. She confuses her foes. Blinds them with her light. Diverts them from their true path. You cannot stray from that path now. Not when I need you the most. You have to ignore whatever base urges…whatever weak human urges…she might entice you with." Her/its voice dropped to almost a whisper as the distance closed between them until the entity wearing the beautiful Slayer's face was but a hair's breadth from Caleb's own face.

" I picked you because you have the potential to be so much more than just human. You're better than them. Stronger than them. And her. You're more powerful. Superior." The soft, hushed tones the fake "Buffy" spoke to him in were almost…intimate. Tender. "I need you to remember that, Caleb. I need you to be strong. For me. I need you. Now. More than ever. Can you do that for me?"

Caleb would have broken out into a hot sweat right then and there had he not summoned the last bit of his will. Yet even then, he stared back into those big pretty eyes of the image of Buffy Summers, the Slayer, his prey…his obsession…and he felt his flesh start to betray him, particularly in his most southern regions.

His normally flinty, cruel dark eyes got slightly tinged with a hint of lust in them as he looked back at the image of the object of his fixation. "I…surely can oblige you," Caleb said in a somewhat hushed tone.

Buffy / The First smiled up at him. "Good."

Then she/it leaned closer to him. Whispered in his ear. Intimately.

"Because if you steer the wrong way…or God help you, if you fail me…I'll kill you myself."

Buffy / The First pulled back and gave him a wink.

But the stare in her / its eyes was dead serious.

It was like a wave of sobriety washed over him at that moment.

As lovely as this Slayer was, it was just an illusion. Something to tempt him astray from his path.

And if he strayed, that path he would travel would be lethal.

Deep in his heart, Caleb resolved not to fall prey to her charms. Like the weak-kneed fools before him.

No, he resolved. It would be him to bring the Slayer down to her knees.

And then he'd strike her down with his own bare hands. Hallelujah.


Sunnydale, California

Hawkins Avenue

10:18 p.m.


Oz's van hummed along the road as the short blonde werewolf kept his keen eyes on the pavement.

In the driver's seat, Willow sat, fidgeting a little as she tried to get comfortable in the new seats. Oz's old van was rather easy to get used to. It was a little old and beat up, but easy to settle into, like an old couch.

The new van had nicer seats, and judging from some suspicious-looking panels hidden on the dashboard, a lot more bells and whistles. But it lacked the familiarity, the homeliness of the old van. Sighing, Willow found herself missing it.

Behind them, Xander sat alongside Cordelia. Xander had finally been discharged from the hospital, and he was just glad to finally be back in his clothes again after having to spend days wearing that ugly white sheet over his body. Yet his face still hurt from his…injury. And the heavy white gauze over his eye was definitely not something he thought he would ever get used to.

Cordelia sat with him, her hand in his, giving him silent comfort. She could barely stand the sad look in his face, in his lone remaining brown eye. She made a mental note to slice Caleb from his belly to his balls if she ever saw him again after what he did to Xander.

The silence that stretched in the car was long, uncomfortable. None of them knew exactly what to say. Nobody wanted to really talk about Xander's eye. Nobody really knew what the grim situation facing them was.

"Hey, could you put on the radio?" Willow asked Oz.

Looking to her, Oz saw a somewhat pleading look in the redhead's pretty green eyes. Wordlessly, Oz nodded, and pressed the dial to turn on the radio.

A familiar song came on the radio:

"We'll be singing,

when we're winning,

We'll be singing…"

The sounds of "Tubthumping" by the 90s band Chumbawumba echoed through the van. Absently, Oz looked to Willow, and a smile crept across their faces. They remembered this song well. During nights when the gang used to patrol together back in their senior year, they had spent many a night in Oz's van blasting this song in celebration after dusting vampires.

Despite his somewhat morose feelings, Xander felt a smile creep onto his face, as well. He remembered Oz and Willow sitting up front cranking this song to the max, heads bobbing up and down to the catchy beat of the one-hit wonder, Xander's arm around Cordelia in the center as the couple sang and laughed and giggled loudly, a tired, bruised but relaxed Buffy and Angel cuddling in the backseat, a happy and giddy Buffy even managing to coax a smile out of the often-brooding Angel as the Slayer joined her friends in singing along. The young heroes forgetting that they were misfit teenage demon hunters battling the forces of darkness with the weight of the world on their young shoulders for a few moments and just being young, stupid and happy seventeen-year-old kids. Like the world was normal for just a few precious moments…

"Seems just like yesterday, doesn't it?" Xander said aloud, a wistful smile on his face.

Cordelia knew what he meant. All of them knew what he meant. "Yeah," the former cheerleader-turned-Seer said with a nostalgic smile of her own. "I can still remember that one night in Weatherly Park. I think we dusted four, maybe five vampires?"

"I had it at seven," Willow chimed in, rather proud of that memory.

"Six out of 10," Oz corrected with a little smirk.

They all chuckled at that, remembering that moment fondly.

Willow sighed, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Was it four years ago…or four lifetimes?"

Xander sadly nodded. "For some of us, that was a literal statement."

Oz gave him a sympathetic glance in the rear view mirror. "Too bad we can't go backwards in time. It's not like we can just be seventeen again."

As she felt a pang of sadness of her own while she looked at the now-glum faces of her friends and her (boyfriend?)...and Xander, Cordelia got a sudden idea.

"Who says we can't?" Cordelia asked, to the surprise of the group.

"I don't follow," Oz asked, puzzled.

"No, but you can turn the van around. Head for the Bronze, Oz," Cordelia said with a sly, yet somewhat determined look on her beautiful face.

At that, Willow looked concerned. "What? B-but, Cordy, the doctor said…and Xander…and…"

"Too many 'and's, Willow," Cordelia replied, looking to Xander with a smile. "I'd say we all earned ourselves a break for a little while. The apocalypse can wait for a minute."

Xander looked doubtful. In his current attire of a rumpled off-white shirt over a plain black tee shirt, blue jeans, black sneakers and that puffy mass of white gauze over his destroyed left eye socket, Xander definitely didn't feel like he was up to par with swinging it with the party crowd of Sunnydale's teen and twenty-something social hotspot.

"I don't know, Cor, The Bronze?" he hesitated, a hint of pain in his normally jovial voice. "I'm not dressed for that, I look like a mess, and I don't know if I'm up for people looking at me now the way I…well, in my condition."

But Cordelia wasn't having it. "Hey," she insisted, gently but firmly. "There's nothing wrong with how you're dressed, I think you look cute, and if anyone looks at you sideways, I will kick their ass all the way to the Hellmouth. C'mon, please? It'll be fun, Xander, I promise."

Xander wanted to say 'no', he really wanted to…but off the sweet look in Cordelia's beautiful hazel eyes, how hopeful she glanced at him, how he could see that she just wanted to cheer him up…all his objections got thrown out the window.

Relenting, he gave her a crooked smile. "Okay, what the hell? You only live once, right?"

His response brought a grateful smile to Cordelia's face, a hopeful grin onto Willow's pixyish features, and an approving half-smile onto the normally stoic Oz's handsome visage.

And moments later…

"I get knocked down! But I get up again!

You are never gonna keep me down!

I get knocked down! But I get up again!

You are never gonna keep me down!"

Oz's van echoed with the sound of the joyful off-key singing of a werewolf, a Witch, a Seer and The One Who Saw Everything as the four Sunnydale High School alumni drove on down to the Bronze.

And just for a moment, it was just like they were seventeen all over again…


Sunnydale, California - The Bronze

A few minutes later


It had been a while since Wesley had been on a date, or anything even close to one.

The last time, he had taken his ex-girlfriend, the wealthy heiress Virginia Bryce, out to the Santa Monica Pier for ice cream and a live concert. Things were a lot different then.

He was a lot different then, he realized.

Back then, he had his friends, for example.

Back then, he hadn't set in motion events that sent an innocent kid into hell, like he had with Connor.

Back then, Angel hadn't tried to kill him in revenge.

Back then…he didn't hate himself for all the pain his failures and his lack of trust caused his dearest friends.

Back then…death wasn't something that a part of him felt he deserved.

Of course, he mused as he took in the stunning beauty sitting across from him holding his hand, Darla was a ruthless woman bent on turning Angel back into his murderous former self, and not the redeemed, well-meaning soul who he had found of late to be the only bright spot in this miserable black-and-gray-splashed world around him.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Darla asked, flashing him a somewhat shy, yet very bright smile.

Wesley gave her a wane smile back, sipping his coffee amid the loud music of the Bronze.

"You'd be overpaying by a penny," the broody ex-Watcher cracked.

Darla gave him a sad look as she subtly shook her head. "You do that a lot, you know."

"Do what?" Wesley asked, puzzled.

She gave him a knowing look. "Act like you hate yourself."

Wesley sighed, looking away from Darla's soul-piercing blue eyes for a moment to look back down at the brown latte in his mug, the liquid as unclear and cloudy as his life had seemed to become. "Who's acting?"

"But why?" a saddened Darla asked, giving his hand a little squeeze. "Wesley, if this is about what happened in the past, you have to let it go. You can't keep punishing yourself for what happened with Connor and Sahjahn. It was a mistake. If you had known—"

"'If' is irrelevant, Darla. I did it," Wesley said, his tone dropping a few degrees colder.

Catching himself by the disappointed look in her eyes, the former Watcher tried to correct himself.

"I can't undo the past," he said, his voice a little gentler, but no less bitter, or remorseful. "And every time I have to walk into any room of late, I have to face the ones I wronged. And every time I have to walk back into those rooms, my mistakes are staring me right in the face. Reminding me of what I lost." His eyes were clouded in dark memories. "And why I lost it."

Darla took that in. Nodded.

And then she spoke to him in a frank tone. "Great. Now imagine having to do that with a body count that could fill up this club about 10 times over, a kid who I tried to kill while I was still pregnant with him, and a failed attempt at trying to destroy the world, and you'd get some idea of walking a mile in my shoes for a moment."

Wesley took that in, and he immediately felt a bit flustered. This wasn't the first time a powerful woman had put his recent dark past to shame with her own. He remembered how Willow had told him about how she had nearly destroyed the world and flayed Warren Mears alive, and how that made the darkness within himself seem tame in comparison.

Yet patiently, Darla gave his hand a squeeze. "Sorry. I'm not trying to have a measuring contest with you over who screwed up worse. I know that you…that you've had a lot of pain to deal with recently. But instead of letting it kill you, you grew from it. Learned from it. It made you stronger. If we can't learn from our mistakes, Wesley, where can we learn from?"

Wesley's eyes softened as he looked into Darla's ancient, wise blue eyes. "And how do you deal with it, Darla? With all the guilt you have? The things you did? How do you handle it?"

Darla thought about it, a sad look in her own eyes as she remembered the nightmarish sins of her past.

Every victim. Every scream. Every drop of human suffering and anguish and death she sowed with her own hands and fangs over 400 years…

And then she gave Wesley an earnest glance. "Same as you'll learn to, handsome. One day at a time."

Wesley didn't know what to say to that, but as this stunning vision of a woman sat across from him amid the noise of The Bronze, he felt glad that she was saying it. For a moment, he felt a twitch of something inside his heart. He couldn't be certain of it, not lately, but for the first time in a while, it sort of felt like…

…hope.

Darla smiled at him, then tried to broach another subject. "So…have you thought about what Giles talked to you about? About becoming Faith's Watcher again? He had some points about it being good for you, and for Faith…"

Yet Wesley shook his head. "I'll think about it, Darla. But if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not talk about that right now."

To his surprise, some mild annoyance, and yet some marvel at her grace, Darla merely patiently nodded. "Fair enough. Another time, then."

The faster-paced music suddenly died down and a slow ballad began to play on the speakers. It was one of those slow love songs that sounded like it would have been at home in the 1960s.

Georgia,

wrap me up in all your...

I want ya

in my arms

Oh, let me hold ya

I'll never let you go again, like I did

Oh I used to say

Taking a deep breath, Darla gave him a curious smile. "But enough of that kind of talk. It's a club. There's music, so let's dance."

Wesley immediately shook his head. "Oh, I don't think you want to see me dancing," he said with a chuckle.

But she was not going to take 'No' for an answer. "Oh, I think I do," Darla said as she stood up and pulled him to his feet, dragging him along with her.

Wesley tried to protest, but he didn't too much.

Tried to insist that he wasn't in the mood, yet followed her onto the dance floor.

Tried to find a million reasons why he just wasn't up for it, but…

"Wesley? Just shut up and hold me," Darla smiled teasingly as she wrapped her arms around his neck and began to sway softly to the beautiful song amid the mass of couples on the dance floor.

The pessimistic, broody ex-Watcher found himself relenting. And then finally, he gave up as he put his strong hands around Darla's tiny waist.

And despite himself, Wesley found himself returning Darla's beautiful smile with a half-smile of his own. Letting himself go as he lost himself in the soothing tones of the music.

Losing himself in the sky-blue eyes of Darla.

Losing his heart a little more as he let it fall farther and further for her.

… I would never fall in love again until I found her

I said, "I would never fall unless it's you I fall into

I was lost within the darkness, but then I found her

I found you


In the corner, Kennedy, getting cranky from the absence of her (girlfriend? ex-girlfriend?)...of Willow and the tattered state of their crumbling relationship thanks to that damned werewolf Oz, was grouchily complaining to a wounded Rona about the state of things.

How she blamed Buffy for the disaster at the vineyard.

How it was Buffy's fault that Rona's arm was broken and how many more of the Potentials were now dead.

How it was Buffy's fault that everything was falling apart.

"...something's got to be done about Buffy, man," Kennedy grumbled as she poured a bottle of beer into her plastic cup. She had managed to smuggle it from one of those dopey frat guys for a dance. They were, in fact, surrounded by beer bottles from guys looking to pick them up who struck out. "The longer she keeps playing Pied Piper, the more likely we're the ones who are going to end up belly-up in the river. That is if Preacher Man doesn't get us first."

"I know. The girl is clearly off her rocker," Rona said in an exasperated tone, her arm still in a sling. "Somebody's gotta right the ship fast, because I'm running out of body parts I can give in this fight, Ken."

Kennedy was stewing so much in her anger that she almost didn't notice a rather interesting sight…

Dawn.

Buffy's little sister.

Sitting all by her lonesome amid the raging sea of hormones around them.

Looking all sad. And pensive.

And vulnerable, a dark part of Kennedy's mind whispered wickedly.

Kennedy had developed a seething hatred of Buffy lately, but she had no love lost for The Slayer's sister, either. Showing off her new powers in front of the other Potentials like Molly, Vi and Amanda, getting coddled by the top brass in this makeshift army of theirs from Buffy to that Angel bastard and Willow…it was enough to make Kennedy sick. Part of Kennedy had been wanting for weeks to take Little Miss Perfect Dawnie down a peg.

And now, Kennedy saw she might just have her chance to kill two birds with one stone…get a dig in at Buffy, and take her perfect little sister down to Humble Pie Town.

"Hey, Ro'," Kennedy motioned at Rona to look over at Dawn. "What do you suppose has her down?"

Rona looked confused as she darted glances back and forth between Dawn and Kennedy. "Who, Dawn? Well, I guess she's pretty bummed out about that Connor guy splitting. I mean, if a boy that cute decided to skip town on me, I'd be drinking my sorrows away for a week."

"Yeah…" Kennedy felt a wicked smile spread across her face, eying the full cup of beer next to her with not-so-innocent intent. "So maybe we should help…comfort her."


At The Bronze, the girls danced and drank, and made merry, lost in the haze of teenage lust for life. And in some cases, just plain lust as Caridad was making out in the corner with one of the guys who had caught her eyes…

…yet Dawn had suddenly found herself winding down, sitting alone on one of the couch chairs of the Bronze.

Her once-happy face was all pensive now. Kevin Berman, a gorgeous boy she had been crushing hard on since the 4th grade, had finally asked her to dance a little while ago. Yet while the thought of it would have once made her sail over the moon in giddy girly feels, it only made her sad now.

For all it took was just one look at the wavy long bangs of Kevin's brown hair and his gorgeous blue eyes, and all Dawn could see was Connor.

Connor…

Handsome, broken, sweet Connor.

Who was still lost somewhere out there. Alone. Hurting.

Needing her.

And the thought of Connor sent a hammer of pain slamming hard into the walls of Dawn's already breaking heart, killing off any happy feelings that she was getting so far tonight. So she abruptly turned him down and went to sit by herself. Wallowing in her newfound sorrow.

Dawn rubbed her arms together, almost as if she was trying to comfort herself. She couldn't understand any of this. How could Connor just leave like this? Leave her like this?

Without even saying goodbye…

Amid her sad musings, she found herself suddenly surrounded by Molly, Vi and Amanda, who were crashing down on the couch in giggles and glee. They had all sat down from either dancing with or flirting with some cute, cool boys. Molly herself was proudly showing off a hickey one boy left on her neck after an impromptu make-out session while Vi was waving at a guy she had been dancing with for 6 straight songs and even shy Amanda couldn't stop babbling about hitting it off with one boy who thought she was cute.

"Oh, God, I had no idea clubs could be so much fun, Dawn!" Vi said giddily to the youngest Summers girl.

Dawn only gave her a wane smile. "Sure," the Key replied, glum and down. "Tons of fun."

At that, the smiles on the faces of the girls disappeared. They looked rather guilty at being so happy in front of their friend Dawn, who had been going through so much.

"Dawn? Are you alright?" Molly asked, sincerely.

Dawn sighed, unhappily. Her eyes were downcast.

The young Potentials looked at each other in concern. They all knew what this was about—Connor.

Their other friend, the tall, broody teen heartthrob who had run away and left Dawn sick with heartache. The relationship they had all been openly "shipping" and rooting for left seemingly in tatters in the wake of his abrupt departure.

Amanda sweetly reached out and grabbed Dawn's hand, gave it a gentle squeeze. "Dawnie…he'll be back." She offered gentle words of reassurance to her crestfallen friend. "Connor will come back. He will. You'll see."

At that, Dawn gave her friend and fellow Sunnydale High classmate a sad glance. "You didn't hear him, Amanda. God, when he called me on that phone, all I wanted to do was run to him. Hold him. Tell him it was going to be okay. He just sounded so hurt and…alone."

Dawn swallowed bitterly, looking down. "I know what that feels like."

The girls looked at each other, unsure of what to say.

Vi tried to cheer her up. "C'mon, Dawn. He'll be okay. I mean, it's Connor we're talking about. We've all seen him fight. He's good. Like, really good. If anyone can take care of themselves out there, he can. Just give him some time. He'll be okay, trust me."

Still unconvinced, Dawn was about to answer Vi, tell her about her doubts, how she was more worried about Connor being a danger to himself, or maybe someone else in his current mental state, when…

"Yeah, Wonder Boy just probably needed to blow off some steam. That's guys for ya. Probably why I never saw the appeal myself," Kennedy's familiar voice crowed as she and Rona came over to the group, drinks in hand. A surprisingly friendly look was plastered over Kennedy's face.

Instantly, the faces of Molly, Vi and Amanda went from sympathetic to guarded, untrusting and a hint of sourness. Kennedy had earned herself the reputation of being an alpha bitch among the Potentials in the Summers home for a while now. To say they didn't care for her was an understatement.

Dawn fought to keep her own face from frowning as she gave Kennedy a polite half-smile. Deep down, Dawn was no fan of Kennedy at all. Aside from being pissed at Kennedy for that treacherous attack on Angel and Buffy days ago that could have gotten both Dawn's big sister and her surrogate big brother Angel killed, Dawn was more than familiar with Kennedy's obnoxious antics with Willow and the Potentials. The youngest Summers girl was also not pleased with how this obstinate, arrogant rookie who seemingly just showed up in her home the other day was trying to throw her weight around and act like she was in charge when she was just as in over her head as the other girls she was a part of.

"Kennedy," Dawn greeted, politeness straining in her voice.

"Don't get so down on yourself, Summers," Kennedy said, a lot friendlier than Dawn had remembered her sounding. "I mean, sorry that your broody boy toy split on you, but that's just how it is with guys. And relationships. Sometimes even the best romances can get rocky, am I right?"

Not really liking her somewhat glib tone, and in no mood to discuss Connor's well-being with the 'Mean Girl' Potential, Dawn decided to casually get in a dig of her own.

"Yeah…Willow told me something like that not too long ago," Dawn said coolly.

Kennedy's smile dropped, a stung look on her face.

Next to her, Rona's eyes widened in disbelief at Dawn's audacity.

Shocked, Amanda covered her mouth to hide a smile, an impressed Vi coughed to cover up a laugh bubbling in her mouth and Molly awkwardly rubbed her brow as she looked down, biting the inside of her mouth to keep from grinning at Dawn's not-so-subtle jab.

Internally seething, Kennedy mentally growled. Oh, you're gonna pay for that, Slay-time Skipper Barbie.

Yet despite this, Kennedy managed to regain her composure and her fake friendly demeanor.

"Touché," Kennedy replied, with a tight smile. "But seriously, I come in peace. In fact, I come with a little advice—Carpe Diem."

"Seize the day," Dawn translated, yet suspicious at Kennedy's actions. Frankly, she was hoping Kennedy would have taken the hint with that last verbal jab and just go away and leave her alone. But it didn't look like that was gonna happen.

"Right," Kennedy said, her tone still friendly…almost a little too friendly for Dawn's liking. "Look at where we are! We're in this hot club, music, dancing, plenty of fish swimming 'round this sea…if you're gonna get over the Connor Blues, this is as good a place as any. Maybe…with that guy who wanted to dance with you a little while ago? He seemed like he wanted to get himself a little Summers Sunshine."

Dawn felt slightly defensive at that. She knew Kennedy was referring to Kevin Berman. But that was not something she wanted to entertain right now, not with Connor Thoughts clouding her mind.

"I'm not really feeling in a very 'sunshiny' mood right now, Kennedy," Dawn replied, a hint of sternness in her voice.

"Well, then, I might have just what the forecaster ordered," Kennedy grinned slyly as she and Rona put the beer cups down in front of the girls.

Ever the good girl, Amanda eyed the cups warily. "Is that…what I think it is?"

"Yup," Rona shrugged. "Good ol' fashioned American beer. We scored it off a couple of guys a little while ago."

"Just what the doctor ordered to chase those gloomy clouds away," Kennedy said in a coaxing way.

After passing the cups around to the group, Kennedy offered a cup to Dawn. "Here. Drink up, Summers. You look like you need this more than any of us."

Dawn hesitated. She had never had beer before. Or any alcoholic beverage. Ever.

And drinking wasn't really her thing.

"Uh, I don't think so, Kennedy," Dawn shook her head at first.

"Aww, come on," Kennedy said in a cajoling tone. "It's just what you need to get a little bit more fun right now."

Still, Dawn resisted. "No, thanks."

At that, Kennedy smirked. "Oh, what? Don't tell me you're scared of one little beer? Or maybe Summers girls just can't hold their liquor?"

At the challenge to her family's honor, Dawn bristled. "We can hold anything thrown at us, Kennedy."

"Come on, Kennedy, she said no," an annoyed Vi said, trying to stick up for her friend.

"Yeah, I'm not deaf, Vi," Kennedy coolly replied to the redhead.

The boarding school brat then turned her attention back to Dawn, deciding to switch tactics. "Come on, Summers. You can't tell me you'd rather spend what might be one of our last nights alive in this club, moping around and feeling sorry for yourself over a guy. You've got a nice little body on you, you should have these guys lining up knocking themselves out to dance with you. And maybe even some of the girls, coming from my expert opinion. Come on, Dawn. Just for one night, forget about your missing guy, forget about your problems, forget your worries and just…live for the moment."

Kennedy thrust the red cup of beer out to Dawn once more. Like it was the brunette Summers girl's ticket to Fun Town.

Dawn knew it was wrong. She was underage. She shouldn't be doing this.

But at the same time, something that Kennedy said began to ring true in her mind.

She really was tired of feeling like this. She'd been feeling grief ever since she turned 14, when she found out she was really a ball of mystical green energy sent to her superhero sister to protect.

Grief, painful, smothering grief, over her mother dying.

Over Glory stalking her.

Over her sister dying for her and coming back messed up.

Over Angel leaving years ago.

Over Tara dying. Over Anna dying, and Matthew dying. Over Angel being away, and possibly dead.

Over finding out her own sister would rather let her die to save the world.

Over Xander getting maimed.

Over worrying about Faith and Spike and their state of mind.

Over Connor leaving her…

Dawn was only 16 years old. She was so tired of feeling so much grief.

And if this was one of her last nights alive, why shouldn't she spend it happily? Why shouldn't she be normal for once? Why shouldn't she be allowed to be sixteen?

She eyed the cup longingly…

"Live for the moment," Dawn repeated to herself, nodding.

With that, she took the cup in her hand, sucked in a breath…and began to chug the beer down.

And boy, did she chug it down fast.

"Woohoo! All right, Summers!" Kennedy clapped, a wicked gleam in her eye. "I'm impressed. Maybe you're not such a Goody Two-Shoes after all."

Amanda wasn't so sure she liked how fast Dawn was finishing that beer. "Dawnie, maybe you shouldn't…"

"Ah, don't be such a wet blanket, Amanda, let the girl drink!" Kennedy chided Amanda as she watched in delight while Dawn drained the red cup.

Vi noticed that Dawn suddenly began to cough. "Dawn? You okay?"

Coughing, Dawn felt the burn of the alcohol warm her windpipe, its taste baking her tongue…and then she began to feel warm.

A warm, fun feeling.

It almost felt like…happy.

God, she missed being happy.

A hiccup escaped Dawn's mouth, yet her resolve steeled in her large blue eyes. Without a word, a determined Dawn reached over and poured down another cup of beer down her throat.

Then another.

And another.

Another after that…

Several beers later, Dawn had no idea how she ended up on the dance floor with Kevin Berman.

Or with a bunch of other guys who the leggy little brunette let dance up on her, letting her lithe body sway and rock, her hips shaking provocatively, her long dancer-like legs gracefully moving across the dance floor.

And then she realized something…she didn't really care how.

Dawn lost herself in the feel of the music, the lights, the warm embrace of the alcohol, the hands of her longtime crush Kevin Berman, the lusty gazes of the guys around her.

"You're so pretty, Dawn," Kevin murmured in her shell-like ear amid the loud music around them.

Lost in an alcohol-and-emotion-fueled haze, Dawn giggled drunkenly. "Mmm…so are you, Connor…"

Kevin frowned at being called some guy named 'Connor', but figured it might have been the beer talking, so he rolled with it, letting his hands roam along Dawn's firm waist and stomach.

Lonely, drunk and eager to forget, Dawn let him. For a little while, maybe she could pretend that he was Connor.

For a little while, maybe she could pretend it was okay.

For a little while…maybe she could be happy again…

…Just for a little while…


In the storage room, marked "Employees Only", one handsome, but dim-witted bartender went to get more toothpicks.

"Who the hell is that guy in the yellow suit hogging all the customers?" he muttered in annoyance, referring to the disguised Lorne and how his tricks were wowing the clientele.

Suddenly, he was startled at the shadowy figure in front of him, what appeared to be a very attractive dark-haired woman with large, hypnotic blue eyes that almost seemed to glow in the dark.

"Um, hey, miss? You can't be back here, it's employees only," he said, reaching for her to escort her out…

…only to have a long pale arm reach back for him.

I lost my heart

Under the bridge

To that little girl

So much to me

Yank the startled man into the shadows with a yelp.

And now I moan

And now I holler

She'll never know

Just what I found

With the pulsating noise of PJ Harvey's "Down by the Water" echoing through the club and a hand muffling his mouth, the bartender's scream was silenced as razor sharp fangs buried themselves in his jugular, blood spilling everywhere.

Draining the last drop dry, the killer now dropped the dead man to the floor as she stepped out of the shadows, wearing a slinky black dress that hugged her thin,yet attractive frame.

That blue eyed girl (That blue eyed girl)

She said "no more" (She said "no more")

That blue eyed girl (That blue eyed girl)

Became blue eyed whore (Big blue eyed whore)

"Don't worry, lamb," Drusilla uttered madly, walking up the stairs to the balcony, ignoring the thirsty stares of young and horny men following her frame until she found the very edge of the balcony, where she could see everything. Like a perched bird of prey atop a tree surveying the land for its food. "The stars and I shan't be here long. We're just here to make merry, to have fun. Like lollipops at the circus. We want to play games."

The psychotic vampiress's eyes narrowed as they scanned the club, licking her blood-tinged lips as she saw such tempting prey…

…her grandmother Darla, dancing with the handsome ex-Watcher cloaked in shadow and regret…

…the Slayer's little sister, reeking of alcohol and pain and lust, dancing like a harlot with thoughts of Daddy Angelus's child…Drusilla's 'brother'...on her mind…

…the young Potentials, dancing and reveling, unaware and ripe for the picking like sweet fruit off the vine…

Then the raptor-like Drusilla found her intended target…

…a dancing, partying Faith, the wicked Slayer dancing around like a whore, blissfully unaware and trying to forget her troubles.

Trying so hard to ignore the smoldering stare of Spike—My Spike! Drusilla hissed mentally—eying the dark-haired Slayer longingly from across the room.

Oh help me, Jesus

Come through this storm

I had to lose her

To do her harm

Reaching into her purse, Drusilla pulled out an amethyst-colored mind-altering Prokaryote Stone. Altered just for this occasion.

The occasion? A specialty of Drusilla's she had over a century of perfecting. Causing mayhem. Causing her enemies pain.

Little fish, big fish, swimming in the water

Come back here, man, gimme my daughter

Little fish, big fish, swimming in the water

Come back here, man, gimme my daughter

An evil smirk spread across the mad vampiress's blood-colored lips as the stone glowed an ominous purple color. " And such wicked games we'll play."


To Be Continued…


Next: Dance Night in Sunnydale, Part 2! Spike and Faith confront their feelings on the dance floor, but with Drusilla lurking about, will the night turn deadly? Sparks will fly on the dance floor, and more than just a few hearts might get broken before the night is through. But what will an already on-edge, wounded Buffy think once she finds out? And will it put her on a collision course with Faith?

Meanwhile, Angel brings in help as he seeks to take down a deadly serial killer. How far will he be willing to go to bring the killer down and return to help Buffy in Sunnydale with the Awakening still days away?


Thanks to everyone for sticking to this story. Your feedback is always appreciated! Please read, follow and review!

Peace!

-Jean-theGuardian