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| In Omne Tempus - Masque of the Red Death by Holly (1 Review) | | - - - abc |  | | | Chapter Twenty-One
Masque of the Red Death
It was going to rain. The skies were clear now, but the weatherman was predicting heavy storms for the night, and the meteorologists in Sunnydale were never wrong. Thus Willow decided to count her blessings that she had a boyfriend with a van. With any luck, they could leave right after Oz showed up. After all, there was school tomorrow, and she wasn’t all too wild about the thought of being up all night, especially when she had finals to worry about and a paper at home, waiting for her finishing touch.
Willow shivered a little. The past three years had been trying on her. While life prior to Buffy and the bombshell of vampires and demons and other crawlies that stalked the night had been relatively quiet, she realized that her sleepy little town had always had its share of creep. She was just more alert to it now. More aware that every step she took, especially after dark, that she was challenging fate.
Granted, the past few years had similarly presented a fair share of problems in which walking at night from one place to another was unavoidable. Xander had accompanied her on a few missions, but he seemed to have less and less time for her and Buffy ever since he and Cordelia discovered they were destined to a love-hate relationship with much of the sex having.
She really didn’t care to think about how she knew about the last part. Finding condoms in her best friend’s wallet while fishing out a dollar for the soda machine? Yeah, that hadn’t been fun. Especially when Xander remembered they were in there. They hadn’t been able to look at each other for a week.
It would be easy to be irritated with Xander had she not been fault of the wonders of having a boyfriend herself. She had discovered Oz around the same time that Cordelia and Xander called off their childhood feud to make with the smoochies. And yes, while it was aggravating to have a super-genius boyfriend who could make peace in the Middle East in a blink but was a fifth year senior due to laziness, she and Oz had been glued at the hip for a good year or so now.
It was similarly nice, despite her outward disappointment, to have him with her when she walked the halls at Sunnydale High. She was no longer Willow-The-Nerd—she was Willow-The-Nerd-With-A-Cool-Boyfriend. It had just seemed so wrong that she found that happiness before Buffy had. Buffy, who embodied every characteristic that she had coveted since kindergarten. Buffy, who could’ve been the most popular girl in school if she wanted to, but had instead befriended her and made her life all the better for it.
Buffy was the Slayer. Willow had always thought her friend chose the road of solitude because of her sacred duty, though it hadn’t kept her from trying to set her up with every available guy with an I.Q to save her from loneliness. With her dating Oz, and Xander with Cordy, the redhead had experienced pangs of reverse-abandonment, and never wanted her friend to think that her love life came before their friendship. It didn’t. She likewise never wanted to be in a position to choose between Oz and Buffy; therefore, it had made the most sense to try to set Buffy up with guys and hope that it worked out. That way, at least, she wouldn’t feel left out of things that were of the coupley nature.
The past few days, though, had served as the ultimate wake up call.
Buffy had never wanted anyone, because there was only one in the world for her. And as twisted as it was, Spike being a vampire and all, Willow didn’t question it. She couldn’t. Simply watching them together had told her everything she needed to know. The way Spike looked at her friend left little room to doubt. Oh yeah. Even if Buffy hadn’t told her that he’d said it already, Willow would have known on first glance just how deeply he felt for her.
She was excited. All pending doom and gloom aside, she was thrilled that her friend finally had someone to double with…though granted, she didn’t know if Spike would be the kind of guy who’d want to double, but it seemed highly unlikely that there was anything Buffy couldn’t talk him into. Not when he looked at her like that. She could probably even convince him to be her date to the prom.
It would make next year easier on her as well. Willow and Oz were talking about getting their own place off campus, which would limit her time with Buffy even further. Now Buffy had a mate, someone with whom she would share a connection so great it would make everyone around them tremble with envy. And the knowledge gave the redhead a sense of endless relief.
She would never abandon Buffy; never abandon her best friend, but she didn’t want to feel guilty for having a boyfriend. And while nothing had ever been said to inspire such a feeling, Willow simply couldn’t help but worrying about it.
Though she had to be careful and pace herself. If she got too carried away, she’d forget imminent danger, such as this vampire that Buffy and Spike were currently trying to sniff out. Some big nasty that even had Giles wigged—a feat that wasn’t too altogether difficult, but unnerving nonetheless.
Perhaps it was a belated realization, but walking after dark? Alone? Not of the good.
Oz will drive me home.
Yeah, she always had some excuse to satisfy her conscience after she did something stupid. Like midnight walks to Buffy’s? Not smart…but then, she had done it all the time before she realized the town was a hellmouth. Particularly when Xander needed a shoulder to cry on in the years when his parents’ fighting wasn’t as easy to ignore as it was now. When he couldn’t escape it by blaring music and making out with his girlfriend. When he didn’t have a car by means to get far away with, or things like impending apocalypses to distract him from issues that looked downright petty in comparison.
Perhaps that was why she felt she could justify her carelessness. At least she was aware of the danger now. At least she was aware. At least she knew.
In the meantime, she would have to crack on a plan on defeating the latest threat to human existence. If it was that thing that Spike had mentioned—that stone hell-sucky demon—she wanted to be all with the ready. She wanted to know there was a plan waiting to be hatched. Something to throw back at the baddies.
Besides now? Two superhuman forces fighting together? So much more with the reassurance. Not that she thought slayage was too much for Buffy, but Willow would never pretend to be anything but relieved that her friend wasn’t out there alone.
The sooner this evil was defeated, the better. She wanted to focus on important things…like finals and term papers and the possibility that she and Oz might start talking marriage once they hit college.
Marriage that young, though, would be stupid, she told herself. Very, very stupid.
A shrill scream tore through the night, slicing through her reverie. Willow started and whirled around just in time to see the flash of blonde hair of a frantic young woman. She nearly ploughed the redhead over in her carelessness, panting erratically, her blue eyes streaked with fear, dodgy, and barely seeing her in the midst of her panic.
“Ohmigod,” she gasped, clutching at her stomach. “Ohmigod.”
Willow was dumbfounded. She hadn’t even heard the woman approaching. However, the fear in the blonde’s eyes automatically shoved aside any curiosity. Something was bad. Her heart had started pounding wildly, and she knew something was very bad.
“Calm down,” Willow said, hazarding a glance to their surroundings. The neighborhood seemed quiet, even deserted. “Calm down. What’s wrong?”
The woman turned to her and stared. “Oh, oh, oh, you’ve gotta help me,” she cried, seizing her by the shoulders. “You’ve gotta help me. He’s gonna kill me. I swear, he’s gonna kill me.”
“Who?”
“His face! Oh God, his face!”
Willow’s blood ran cold, and she looked up again with some urgency. No, the road was still deserted. That didn’t matter, though. If the woman was being hunted by a vampire, he could easily melt into the surroundings that even skilled eyes would overlook.
“Calm down,” she said again, voice full with sudden intent. “Calm down.”
“He’s gonna—”
“He won’t do anything. We’ll get you inside somewhere.” She licked her lips. “Do you live near here?”
The woman’s face went blank.
“Listen!” Willow seized her arm and shook. “Listen, you need to stay with me, okay? I’m gonna get you somewhere safe, but you need to stay with me.”
The woman released a deep breath and nodded. “Y-y-yes,” she agreed, shivering. “Yes, oh please.”
Willow sighed and began walking again at a brisk pace, never releasing the woman’s arm. The poor thing was shivering, and her skin felt cold through the fabric of her blouse. No wonder; the weather recently had been playing a symphony of different chords when it came to daily temperature. It was going to storm tonight, and that was allegedly supposed to be the end of the unusual southern California cold fronts.
“Do you live near here?”
“Yes.”
“Come on. I’ll take you home.”
“Oh, thank you! Thank you!” The woman seemed to snap back to reality at that, as though only then truly realizing that she was no longer alone. “He was gonna kill me.”
“I know.”
“There was something wrong with his face.”
“I know.”
Willow didn’t feel particularly chatty. She understood that the woman needed to speak, but that didn’t mean she wanted a heart-to-heart as they fled for their lives.
“I think he was…oh God, this is going to sound crazy…”
“A vampire,” the redhead supplied. “I know.”
“Oh.” That seemed to shut her up for a minute; stun her into silence. Then, “Thank you so much for helping me. I didn’t know there were people in the world like that anymore.”
Willow released a deep breath and slowed. She didn’t feel like they were being followed, and though her senses were hardly Slayer-refined, being a loyal sidekick for the past three years did have its perks. “I just did what anyone would do,” she said.
“No, I don’t think so.”
A pause. They continued in silence for a few seconds, walking fast. Willow kept shooting glances over her shoulder. They appeared, for better or worse, thoroughly alone.
But she wasn’t going to question the woman and abandon her only to risk seeing her name in the obituary section the next day. Buffy would just have to wait ten minutes.
“I’m Willow, by the way,” she said.
The woman turned to her at that and flashed a smile, an unsettling flicker in her eyes. “Darla.”
*~*~*
Buffy was slightly disconcerted to see her house dark and unwelcoming, especially in the veil of night where it all but faded into shadows. She had neglected to leave the porch light on by simple force of habit, as she usually left the house for patrol through her bedroom window. She had thought, though, that Willow would have already arrived.
It was a quarter past eight o’clock, and the house was dark.
“Something’s not right,” she said, stopping coldly, squeezing Spike’s hand.
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“Willow should be here by now.”
Spike shrugged. “Prob’ly saw no one was home,” he replied reasonably, though there was a note in his voice that set her nerves ablaze. As though he was deliberately trying to keep her calm. “We are runnin’ a li’l late.”
Buffy shook her head. “No, she knows where we keep the spare key.” There was silence, then she realized that her boyfriend already knew that. There was very little about her life that he didn’t know. “She would’ve just gone inside if we weren’t home when she got here.”
“She’s not jus’ runnin’ late herself?”
“Spike—”
He threw his hands up and she immediately missed the comfort of his touch. “Jus’ don’t want you jumpin’ to conclusions, luv,” he said. “Let’s go inside an’ make sure she din’t phone you. Somethin’ might’ve come up.”
Buffy released a deep breath and relaxed. He was right, of course. Chalk up to her nerves being on fire. Since their tryst in the cemetery, she’d found herself growing increasingly anxious, and knew that as time came closer for them to make their union complete, she’d be in a state to make coffee tense.
It was a strange understanding. These were the last few hours of her life as a virgin. She was going to be claimed tonight; going to become the mate of a vampire. The knowledge made the evening seem holy, and she was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the silence that had surrounded patrol since she met the Order of Aurelius to shatter, especially when something so sacred was about to take place.
Spike kept looking at her as though she would vanish; kept looking at her with a world of love and adoration. It made her feel warm, but the weight of what they were about to do was similarly unstable. She feared a girlish breakdown, and that simply would not do.
It felt like her wedding night.
As Spike had predicted, there was a message from Willow on the answering machine. Her friend had evidently decided to wait and catch a ride with Oz later, which seemed more sensible, and spend the time until then working on her research paper. That way, she didn’t hazard taking on a dangerous town alone and after dark, and she could get some homework done in the process. But she did advise Buffy to give her a ring if anything came up.
Relief washed over her.
You need to stop looking for bad in every direction.
Only there usually was bad in every direction. She had Spike, but she was also the target of one of the most notorious Orders in history. That was bad. Bad, but fixable. And she had Spike’s assurance that Angelus wasn’t the type to randomly attack. He planned strategically—which in itself was frightening, sure, but she had an insider feeding her all the information she needed. When it came time for the big fight, she would be Spike’s mate in name as well as blood, thus the danger of using their unclaimed bond would be out of reach.
She hoped so, at least. They were in love; Angelus and Darla were not. It seemed to her that her enemy still had a deadly advantage.
The thought was terrifying.
“There, now,” the vampire cooed, dropping a kiss against the back of her neck. “Feel better?”
“Yeah,” she said, sighing. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just on edge.”
“I know, baby.” He smiled, twisting her in his arms so that he could see her eyes. “Anythin’ I can do?”
The question was innocent enough, but her polluted mind took the back alley without needing any direction. He sensed it, of course, and the grin turned wicked.
“Any virtues you need me to sully?” he asked, waggling his brows.
God, it was so tempting.
“We shouldn’t.”
“Why not? Far as I can see, we have the house to ourselves for two an’ a half hours.” His eyes smoldered and he neared. “Wanna see how many times I can make you come in two an’ a half hours?”
Her knees buckled. “Spike…”
“Wanna see how loud I can make you scream?” He nibbled on her ear lovingly. “Wanna, Buffy?”
God yes.
“But—”
“Won’ put anythin’ anywhere you don’ want it put,” Spike promised. “That’s for later.”
Oh God.
He cupped a breast, stroking her nipple through the thin fabric separating them. “Please, sweetheart?” he pleaded softly. “Need you.”
He hadn’t reached fruition in the cemetery. He’d sent her into two spiraling orgasms before noting that he didn’t like the idea of sharing her with Sunnydale’s deceased residents. They’d made two more sweeps, talking quietly about her English paper before coming home. And all the while, he’d been sporting an erection that he had occasionally thrust against her backside. Whether or not this was to relieve tension on his part or make her all kinds of horny, she didn’t know. Probably both.
He liked making her squirm. She’d be in the middle of trying to answer a question he’d asked her, concerning how her teacher was tackling Orwell’s novel, and he’d break into her explanation by reminding her how much he wanted her.
“You’re a bad influence,” Buffy murmured.
“The baddest, baby.”
“We have two and a half hours?”
Spike grinned.
“Well,” she continued, flashing a saucy smile. “I think I could use a shower. You think you could help me with those…hard to reach places?”
His eyes widened and he kissed her fervently, leaving her breathless with the taste of his passion. “God, I love you.”
Buffy melted. “I love you, too.”
“And I’ll never tire of hearin’ that.”
It sounded like a casual assurance, but there was something in his gaze that spoke volumes of truth. He was in awe that she had said it. More so tonight than ever, she’d catch him staring at her as though she was a flame that would disappear with the slightest hint of breeze; a flame he depended on for warmth and beauty, and all the other virtues vampires were supposed to reject. All the virtues he embraced. As though he was still holding back the full wealth of his feeling to keep from scaring her. It didn’t. She was in love, and with them it was forever. Forever.
Tonight was the night they made it final.
She only hoped she could wait. Even now, with his arms around her, the peace she craved seemed years away.
*~*~*
“The dolly said it couldn’t act. Bad dolly.”
“Ah, Dru,” Darla replied, leaning back and appraising the redhead with a careless shrug. “You’d be amazed at what people can do under pressure.”
“Oz…”
The elder vampire rolled her eyes. “Oh knock it off.”
“He hears music,” Dru commented, raising her hands to the ceiling. “All he sees is the dolly. Pretty shades of red.”
“Angelus will be here soon,” Darla said, ignoring her grandchilde completely, enjoying the fresh sparks of fear that danced through the girl’s eyes. Really, obtaining her had been ridiculously easy. It was something that she and Angelus had perfected centuries ago, and time had not betrayed them. Humans were still so miserably good-willed that they’d believe anything, and do more than that. All for the want of compassion.
Like this one? Mentioning that little werewolf had her singing in three seconds flat. Even with a knife to her back, a child that swore she couldn’t lie had concocted, perhaps, the most convincing story of her life. Had Darla not known better, she would’ve sworn the girl was wholly sincere.
Lovely devices, answering machines.
It would be fun to tear the girl down.
“You know how much werewolf pelts go for?” she’d asked as the girl struggled against her bonds, refusing to cooperate. The little redhead had frozen at that. Really, Darla couldn’t blame her. They’d ripped away her dignity. She was nude, her hands behind her back, and quite literally in chains. Oh, and they were planning to make her beg for death before actually granting it.
There were times when Darla suspected living on the Hellmouth fulltime would be worth the competition. Plus, the architects in this town foresaw every demon’s needs.
“Their fur is so rare,” she’d continued, “that a few poachers have been known to kill entire villages in search of the one allergic to the moon.”
“Moon,” Dru had cooed, giggling.
“We’d have to keep him alive until it was time for the change, of course. Starve him. Hey, maybe even let Angelus satisfy some of his more…animal needs with you while he watched. Of course, you wouldn’t last as long as the wolf would. We need him for his fur.” She’d grinned. “Then after that’s gone, a feast. You have any idea how good werewolf meat tastes, especially on the first night of a full moon?”
“Like lamb,” came the expected reply from Drusilla. “Only chewier. Bits of it get stuck in my teeth.”
After ten minutes of hearing that, Willow had done whatever they wanted.
A shame for her, really. She’d cooperated, and therefore lived long enough for Angelus to return.
His torture sessions weren’t quite as dainty as Darla’s. Her boy had an imagination to him that Hollywood would drool over.
“Why?” Willow screamed. “Why?”
“There is no why,” Angelus retorted coldly. “We’re vampires.”
“Been trying to get that through her head for a half hour,” Darla observed.
Her mate smiled, grabbing the girl’s naked breast and squeezing with sadistic delight. “But,” he continued as she screamed, “if you’re that hungry for motive, let’s just say I want the Slayer angry enough that she gets clumsy. And somehow, I think killing her best friend might do the trick.”
Darla grinned. Drusilla cackled and clapped with glee.
There was simply nothing in the world like watching her boy play.
To be continued in Chapter Twenty-Two: Seek And Ye Shall Find…
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