Spoilers: Buffy S2, The Dark Age
Author’s Notes: Written for Ghostsforge’s 2005 Ficathon. It is a surprise for him, so I just went with soul_less angel85 for help.
Inspired by the 1999 remake of the House on Haunted Hill. I was so excited to see it because James Marsters was in it but then was severely disappointed when all he had was a bit part in the beginning. Also inspired by the video game, The Suffering.
Also thank you to person or persons, who nominated Bloodlines in the Angel Without Wings Awards Round 2 http://awwa.vampyrehaven.net/indexx.html . I’m honored!
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sunnydale, California, November 14, 1997
Catching up to Buffy at the end of the school day, Spike grabbed her shoulders from behind, while whispering in her ear. “So, Slayer, we patrolling tonight?”
“Yep.” Buffy didn’t bother to turn her head, as she continued walking. “And afterward as a reward, a trip to the. . .Bronze.” Her voice went from enthusiastic to thoughtful, as her attention was caught by the attractive, dark haired computer teacher walking past them.
“What?” Spike caught her mood shift, as he looked around to see who she was staring at. “Don’t tell me you’re flunking computer class too? With Willow, the computer whiz, you’re best friend?”
“For your information, I’m not flunking computer class.” Buffy turned her attention back to Spike. “Mainly because I’m not taking it this semester.”
“Right.” Spike grinned. “So what’s with the evil death stare at Ms. Calendar?”
“She’s still mad at Giles, won’t even talk to him.”
“Really?” Spike frowned, his expression clueless. “How come?”
“Geez, Spike.” Buffy rolled her eyes in exasperation, as she headed for her locker. “Where have you been this past week? Ms. Calendar is mad at Giles for that whole Mark of Eyegor thingy.”
“Why the bloody hell is she mad at Giles for. . .oh.” Realization suddenly dawned on Spike. “She holds him responsible for the Eyghon demon possessing her.”
“Bingo.” Buffy said, as she spun the combination of her locker.
“Poor Rupert.” Spike’s unsympathetic tone belied his words. “There goes his one chance of getting some.”
“Spike!” Buffy turned in anger. “Say one more shitty thing about Giles, and I’ll. . . .”
“Hey, guys.” The arrival of Xander and Willow interrupted Buffy’s rant. “What’s going on?” Xander looked first at Buffy and then Spike. He had heard part of the conversation and was always one to help foster an argument.
“Nothing.” Buffy gave Spike one last scowl, as she turned back to her locker.
“Well, how would the two of you like to earn a hundred dollars a piece this weekend?” Xander asked, as he held up a newspaper clipping. “Listen to this, wanted, young men and women between the ages of 16 to 21 to help with a psychology study sponsored by UCLA and KLOS.”
Snatching the newspaper out of Xander’s hand, Spike perused it carefully. “You sure this isn’t some kind of scam?”
“It’s not a scam.” Xander said empathically. “Because Willow called the number listed in the ad, and. . .and. . . .”
“The person I spoke to sounded legit.” Willow’s tone was less sure than Xander’s.
“And just what do we have to do for this psychology study?” Deciding that taking any books home for the weekend was pointless, Buffy shut her locker with decisive snap.
“It says,” Spike read out loud, “that the study is about seeing how people work together under stressful situations. They‘ll take the first one hundred people, who show up and meet the age qualification. Anyone under eighteen needs a parental permission slip, and all must have valid id. The study will take place on Saturday, November 15 in Thousand Oaks, California, which is just north of Los Angeles.”
“I could use a hundred dollars.” Buffy commented, as the foursome made their way to the school parking lot. “But my mom is out of town at some art convention, so no parental permission for me.”
“My parents are out of town too.” Willow was thoughtful. “We could. . .could sign for each other.”
“Willow!” Xander and Buffy exclaimed at the same time, both shocked at their normally straitlaced, play-it-by-the-rules friend.
“Better watch it Will.” Xander recovered from his shock. “The next thing you know, you’ll be skipping school and smoking funny looking cigarettes.”
“My rebel side is starting to come out.” Willow stated proudly.
“So, are we in accord? Saturday night, we go off to explore Thousand Oaks California?” Xander asked.
Buffy, Spike, and Willow all nodded in agreement.
“And do you think,” Xander turned to Spike, “that your old man will give you the use of the car?”
“Don’t see why not.” Spike answered with confidence. “He’s always nagging me to make some money for myself.”
**
Thousand Oakes, California, November 15, 1997
“You know,” Xander whispered to Buffy, Willow, and Spike, as they climbed out of Angel’s 67 Plymouth convertible, “when we decided to come on this little excursion, I wasn’t picturing that we would have a parental chaperone.” He glanced over at Angel, who was studying his surroundings, which included a huge, old mansion.
“He can hear you, you know.” Spike shouted in Xander’s ear.
“Hey!” Jumping a bit, Xander rubbed his ear. “Deafen me, why don’t you?”
Pretending he hadn’t heard anything the children were saying, Angel turned to them. “Go ahead,” he nodded over at the already growing line of young people, waiting to register, “I’m going to look around.”
“What’s he planning to do?” Willow asked curiously, as she watched Angel stride away.
“He’s making sure there are no bogeymen lurking about.” Spike admitted with some embarrassment, as the group headed toward the registration tables. It was ironic that out of the four, he was the one with the overly protective parent.
“He does know that this is going to take a while?” Buffy asked wondering what Angel would do with himself for hours, while he waited for them.
“I told him.” Spike said. “But he had it in his head that. . .that. . . .”
“That what?” Buffy asked, as they arranged themselves in single file in the already long line.
“That this whole study thing seemed fishy, and he was suspicious that there were demons involved.”
“Man, he’s been hanging around Giles too much.” Xander stood on tiptoes, so he could do a fast head count on how many were in front of them. “They think demons are behind everything.”
“So is he planning to register and participate in the study?” Willow asked doubtfully. “Because he may look young, but I don’t think he can pass for a teenager.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Spike sighed. “If my Sire decides he wants to do something, trust me, he’ll do it. “
**
After checking out the entire area, Angel circled the old mansion twice before climbing an oak tree out of sight of the mob of people. The second floor window was locked but that posed no problem, as a hard tug pulled the handle and lock right out of the window casing. Pushing the window open, he hesitated a moment, hoping there wasn’t an alarm system.
Tuning his vampiric hearing, Angel heard nothing; no alarm, no electronic transmission (for a silent alarm), no hurried footsteps closing in on him. One agile leap and he had entered an upstairs bedroom. No invisible barrier stopped him.
“Just as I thought,” he muttered out loud, “this is no mortal’s home.” Dropping the hardware in his hand to the floor, he sniffed the air. Strange. He puzzled. The air in the mansion was sterile, like someone had come through and had wiped all evidence of any humanly smells.
**
“It’s a scavenger hunt.” Xander looked over Willow’s shoulder at the list of items they were assigned to find in the mansion. “It’s just a big, old scavenger hunt.”
“A scavenger hunt that’s paying us one hundred dollars a piece.” Buffy reminded him. “So,” she looked around at the other groups of young people, who had already begun to disperse, “where should we start?”
“Let’s start in the basement.” Spike made a grab for the flashlight in Xander’s hand. It was part of the basic equipment that each group was given; one flashlight, one compass, and a clipboard with an item list along with a few sheets of blank paper.
“Hey.” Xander swung his arm away from Spike’s reach. “Keep your paws off. I’m the keeper of the flashlight.”
“Are you sure we should begin the basement?” Willow asked in a thin voice, as Spike had swung the door open, and they looked down into a dark cavern.
“Everyone else is starting either on the first or second floor. We‘d be the first ones to search the basement.” Spike said, as he grabbed Xander and pushed him in front of them. “Ok, keeper of the flashlight, lead the way.”
The flashlight made a small tunnel of light down the stairs. Stepping down a few steps, Xander felt like he was being swallowed up in the unknown darkness of the basement. Turning back, he held out the flashlight. “Anyone else want to be the keeper?”
**
A half hour of wandering around, and the gang had had enough.
“Let’s go upstairs.” Willow wanted nothing more to get out of the eerie basement. “Tag along with some of the other groups. I’m started to feel the need to be in a crowd.”
“If there’s anything down here, it would be hell to find.” Buffy said. “Too dark. So which way is out, guys?”
In the dim light of the flashlight, Xander and Spike exchanged confused looks, before each pointed in a different direction. “That way.” They said in unison.
“Xander!” Buffy’s voice rose. “You’re the one with the compass. What direction have we been going?”
“Were we headed that way?” Xander asked, as he pointed into the darkness. “Cause that’s south.”
The four teenagers examined their surroundings with bafflement. It was difficult to determine where they were and where they had come from in the cavernous, unlit basement.
“Let’s head north.” Buffy said decisively. “If that’s not right, then we’ll try south. And Xander, this time pay attention to the compass.”
**
It didn’t take Angel long to figure out that the mansion had a life of its own. Walls, doors, and staircases moved around at will. It wasn’t just a maze; it was a moving maze. Sniffing the air again, it was no longer antiseptic but filled with the odors of young humans.
Closing his eyes, he tried to pinpoint the smell of his Childe. It didn’t take a genius to know that his first instinct had been correct. The study was a trap, looking for the young and the innocent. Loud screams broke his concentration, as he immediately began running toward them. Unfortunately, the door, which had been there a moment ago, disappeared, and Angel found himself at a dead end, staring at a blank wall.
**
Buffy and company heard the screams the same time as Angel, but they were stuck downstairs, unable to find their way out. Running toward the sound of the screams, she yelled over her shoulder. “Xander, what direction are we going?”
Sprinting after her, Xander tried to read the compass, but without any light and the effort of trying to keep up with Buffy, it was impossible to read. “I can’t see it. Stop running a minute, and I. . . .”
“Give it to me, ya nit.” Jogging alongside of him, Spike grabbed the compass out of his hands. This time Xander made no protest. “We’re headed north.”
“North!” Buffy put on the brakes. “We already went nor. . . .”
The rumbling sound of a small engine and the sudden appearance of a tall, masked figure had Buffy backing up, swallowing the rest of her sentence.
“To borrow a phase, bloody hell!” Xander exclaimed, as he too backed up a couple of steps. “It’s Jason Voorhees!”
The girls gave Xander a ‘who’ look, as Spike contradicted him scornfully. “That’s *not* Jason Voorhees, git, it’s Leatherface. Jason doesn’t use a chainsaw; he uses. . . .”
Spike was cut off, as the man attacked, aiming his chainsaw right for Willow. Instinctively she raised the clipboard in her hands to act as a shield, while at the same time Buffy was pulling her away from her assailant. The Slayer’s fast reflexes saved her, as the chainsaw found only the clipboard.
“Bloody hell!” This time it came out of Spike’s mouth, as he his jaw dropped at the sight of the clipboard, now in two pieces, fell to the floor. “Bloody Leatherface is for real. He’s not just some ponce, who was dressed up to give the place atmosphere.”
Darting behind their attacker, Spike managed to clout him on the head with the flashlight, just as Buffy, ever mindful of the chainsaw, stomped him hard in the ankle. Defending against them, the masked figure swung a right arm, catching Spike in the side of the face, causing him to drop the flashlight. At the same time, Buffy’s kick made the man stumble, allowing the chainsaw to go flying.
Seeing the chainsaw falling to the floor, both Xander and Willow scrambled toward it, yelling in unison. “Get the chainsaw! Get the chainsaw!” But before they could grab it, the flashlight hit the floor; its top shaking loose and batteries falling out. Without any light, the basement was thrown in total darkness.
**
Realizing that the mansion wasn’t going to allow him to leave the second floor, Angel had scrounged around and had managed to find a small army shovel. Using it, he was attempting to break an opening through the floorboards. But even with vampiric strength, the process was slow, as the army shovel just wasn’t the appropriate tool.
“What I wouldn’t give to have a chainsaw.” Angel muttered to himself, as he banged the shovel on floor.
**
“Willow, Xander, Spike, talk to me.” Buffy yelled, as she frantically felt her way along the floor. The chainsaw’s engine had stopped, and there was now an deadly silence which only heightened the sinister atmosphere.
“I’m here.” Willow immediately piped up, as she too was on the floor, feeling her way around.
“I’m here too.” Xander reached out in the blackness and found a hand. “Eek! Creepy chainsaw guy.” He screeched, as he fell backward.
“That was me, Xan. . . .” Willow began, and then sighed with relief, as suddenly a dim glow shone from the flashlight.
“Thank God!” Buffy sat up on her haunches, as she looked thankfully over at Spike, who had found the flashlight and had managed to put it back together.
“Let there be light.” Xander was still lying back on his ass. “And,” he stared at the blank space in front of him, “what happened to chainsaw guy and said chainsaw?”
“This can’t be good.” Buffy stood up and checked the surroundings. “Was he just an illusion?”
“He may have been an illusion.” Willow held up the two pieces of the clipboard. “But the chainsaw was definitely real.”
“We’ve got to find a way out of here.” Spike swung the flashlight around, lighting up different parts of the basement.
“That’s stating the obvious.” Buffy looked down at Xander. “Where’s the compass?”
“It’s. . .it’s,” Xander searched the floor in a moment of panic, “it’s here.” He picked it up with a thankful breath.
“Don’t think the bloody thing works anyway.” Spike knelt down, and shone the light on the compass, so they could see it clearly. “I think it says north no matter what direction it’s aimed.”
“It’s the best we’ve got.” Buffy tried to inject confidence in her voice. She didn‘t want the others to give up hope. “Okay, let’s try heading east.”
“That direction.” Xander pointed to his right.”
“Let’s go then.” Buffy said, as her three friends followed her lead.
**
Angel had managed to get himself down to the first floor, but after a complete search, he found no trace of his Childe. He was aware that it was no longer a given that he could pick up William’s scent. The house, which had held no human smells, now was filled with the very humanly smells of sweat, blood, and fear.
**
It seemed like they had been walking forever.
“How big is this frigging basement?” Spike was bringing up the rear, shining the flashlight ahead of him, so everyone could see what was in front of them. “Or are we going around in circles? Xander?”
“The compass points east and has been pointing east since we started.” Xander snapped back. Nerves were fraying, as the fear that they would never get out of the basement grew. “And by the way, your dad is around, so can’t you give him a call?”
“He won’t get us cell phones.” Spike, too was wondering if Angel was searching for him. “My old Sire can barely figure out a regular phone.” He mumbled more to himself than the others.
“I don’t mean that kind of call.” Xander said with exasperation. “I’m not such an idiot that I don’t know that if any of us had a cell phone, we’d be out of here. Don’t you have some kind of link with your dad? That you can call him in your mind or something?”
“He’s a vampire, not a telepath.” Spike gritted out, restraining himself from calling Xander a thick as a brick nit.
“Look.” Xander stopped walking and turned to face Spike. “The first time we met, after we stopped the Master’s minions at the Bronze, your dad found you by. . . .”
“He was looking for me and smelled my blood.”
“Right.” Xander snapped his fingers. “So don’t you think your old man is looking for you now?”
“He might not be.” Willow was the one who answered. “He might think we’re here doing the study, and that it‘s taking a while.”
“He’s looking for me.” Spike broke in, voice confident. “He’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind to not have noticed the pandemonium upstairs. But for him to smell me better, I should be bleeding.”
“Can we cut you?” Willow asked, a little too eagerly. “I mean,” she immediately changed her tone as three sets of eyes stared at her, “just a little.”
“Go ahead.” Spike said. “Got a fingernail file, or something?”
Both Buffy and Willow felt their pockets, but neither had anything useful.
“Got a sharp fingernail?” Spike smirked, knowing it would gross the girls out.
“Ick” The girls exclaimed in harmony. “Spike, that is a foul. . . .”
“Err.” Xander interrupted pointing to something behind Buffy. “Let’s save this discussion for a later time because chainsaw guy is back. Except,” he peered in the darkness, “he’s now Mr. Big-Knife guy.”
“Michael Meyers.” Spike said in a loud whisper. “That’s Michael Meyers.”
Buffy and Willow gave Spike another ‘who’ look, while Xander disagreed. “It’s the same guy from before.”
“He’s got a Halloween mask on.” Spike explained, while eying the man intently, but so far the man had made no threatening move toward them. “Michael Meyers wears the Halloween mask, Jason wears the hockey mask, and Leatherface wears the human faces of his victims.”
“I’m so glad we had this conversation.” Buffy was cautiously moving to her left. “Xander, Willow, take the flashlight and shine it on Mr. Jason Leatherface Meyers there. Spike, you go to his right, and I’ll. . . .”
A loud pounding over their heads cut her off, as pieces of the ceiling began raining down on them.
“Bloody hell!” Spike exclaimed as the four backed away. “Looks like Michael Meyers’ mates are coming to join him.”
**
After thoroughly searching the first floor, Angel moved on to the basement. Finding where the floor was the creakiest, he began once again to pound through the floorboards, swearing to himself that he was never allowing his Childe to leave the house, except for school and grocery shopping. He finally managed a small opening, and with a booted foot began to stomp through the floor.
**
Raising the light to the ceiling, Spike saw a boot come through it, a very familiar boot. “Sire.” He immediately began to yell. “Sire, we’re down here.”
“Spike!” Buffy yelled a warning. The masked man had begun to move slowly toward them.
“Take the flashlight.” Spike thrust it in Xander’s hands, as he remembered Buffy’s instructions and started circling around to the right.
“Willow, Xander.” Buffy called out, not taking her eyes off the man. “Keep your distance, but keep that flashlight shining on him.”
Scampering to their left, Xander and Willow kept themselves behind Buffy.
Hands curled into fists, Buffy’s body was poised to do battle. In a lumberous step, the masked man approached her, raising his knife. His movements were slow, but powerful, as he swung at her. Ducking away, her fists lashed out, while at the same time Spike attacked from the back.
“Bugger this!” He yelled, as he was now riding the man piggy-back, his arm trying to get around a throat. The man seemed to be made of cast iron.
Buffy’s blows slowed their attacker for a moment, as just then, Angel came crashing through the floor right next to her. Fast reflexes enabled him to catch an arm, just as their assailant was taking another swing. He drew back a fist and aimed for the man’s masked face. As his fist came forward, his target disappeared into thin air. Both he and Buffy found themselves punching at nothing, while Spike fell to the ground with a thump.
“Ompf.” Spike grunted in pain, as his face met a concrete floor.
“What the hell?” Angel swore in bafflement. “What happened?”
“The bad men seem to come and go in this house.” Xander had a smile of relief plastered on his face. He never would have thought that he would be so happy to see one of their parents show up.
“Let’s get out of here.” Angel reached down to help Spike up, while looking up at the hole he had made in the ceiling. “You, first.” He looked at Buffy. “If there are any nasties up there, you can take care of yourself. I’ll hoist you. . . .” He trailed off, as the opening came to life and began to repair itself.
“So much for our way out.” Xander commented, as he looked straight up at the mending hole. “Now what. . .oh shit!” He exclaimed, as just then the flashlight began to flicker and dim.
“Turn it off.” Angel commanded, as he took Spike’s hand. “Save it for when we need it. Slayer,” he reached out his free hand, “take my other hand. I can see for all of us.”
“You can?” Willow said doubtfully, as Spike grabbed her wrist.
“Vampire, love.” Spike leaned over to whisper reassuringly in her ear. “All his senses are more highly tuned than humans.”
With Angel in the middle, flanked by Spike and Buffy, and Xander and Willow on the ends, the group started forward. Stumbling along, Xander found that walking in total darkness was harder than one would think, especially when any minute a boogey man could jump out at you. “Okay,” he whispered to Buffy, “I’m never saying no to carrots again.”
Despite being the Slayer, Buffy was also having a hard time. “Giles has been nagging me to start some exercises, where I hone my other senses by not using my sight. I think the next time he suggests it, I’ll do it, instead of blowing him off.”
“There’s something up ahead.” Angel’s voice was a welcome distraction to the four teenagers.
“Thank God!” Xander exclaimed. “Should I turn on the flashlight?”
“No, I can see some light.”
Four sighs of relief and four sets of eyes squinted in the darkness looking for the promised light. “I see it!” Xander couldn’t help himself, as a faint glow appeared ahead of them.
There was even better news, as they soon discovered that the light was leaking out from the edges of a metal door.
“An exit!” Willow couldn’t help but clap her hands. “Finally, a way out of here.”
“Maybe.” Angel was inspecting the door carefully, looking for a way to open it. Pushing on it told him that it was tightly sealed shut. “It needs to be kicked in. William, Slayer.” He commanded. The combination of three powerful legs had the door open within seconds.
Inside there was no staircase leading to an escape, but a makeshift operating room. A man dressed in a white medical coat turned slowly, as the metal door fell to the ground.
“Goodness me.” He greeted, as he held up a scalpel. “I do believe I recognize you.” He addressed Angel specifically. “The famous Angelus. I’m honored to finally meet you.”
The group cautiously entered the room, as Angel stared at the man, who greeted him. He had never seen him before. “Who are you?” He asked, as he looked around the room, and immediately heard gagging and retching sounds from the children. The room was filled with bodies, which were all in different stages of being operated on, some still alive and conscious.
“Dr. Joyless, at your service.” The doctor was tall, slim with dark hair and a mustache.
“This is your doing?” Buffy waved an arm around the room. She had gotten over her initial shock and now anger was rising in her.
“Some of my experiments, yes.” Dr. Joyless’ lips turned up in an oily smile.
“Son-of-a. . . .” Buffy took a flying leap at the doctor, but to no one’s surprise, he disappeared before she could seize him. “Damn!” She found herself on her hands and knees.
“Guys,” Willow was pointing at another open door on the opposite side of the room. “If I’m not mistaken, I see stairs. That may be our way out.”
“Go!” Angel ordered. “Find a phone. We need ambulances.”
“Will you be alright?” Buffy was uncertain. Part of her was still wary of Angel, but she couldn’t discount that he had just saved their butts.
“I’ll be fine. I’m going to help these people, while you four go and get help.” Angel’s still spoke softly, but it wasn’t hard to miss the edge that had crept into his tone.
“Right, Sire.” Spike gave Buffy a small push to the door. “We’re on it.”
**
Thousand Oakes, CA, November 16, 1997
“And how exactly did you explain everything to the authorities?” Giles asked, as he stepped out of the car and stared at the large, old mansion.
“In all the commotion and confusion, we didn’t have to explain anything.” Angel slid out from the driver’s seat, while Buffy and Spike piled out of the back. “They drew their own conclusions.”
“I see.” Giles walked to the back of the car, as Angel opened the trunk. This time they came prepared; flashlights, weapons, handsaw, and a high powered chainsaw.
Equipping themselves, the four entered the mansion. It was mere minutes and Angel knew that they weren’t going to find any psychotic madmen or doctors on the premise.
“The smell is different.” He stated to the others. “It now smells like an old house should. I doubt if we’ll find much.”
“Well, we’re here.” Buffy said firmly. “Let’s at least look around.
The group spent three hours checking out all three floors, and the only thing they found unusual was a small machine that projected holographic images.
**
Sunnydale, CA, Epilogue
Lying on his stomach in bed, Spike was unusually quiet for a Sunday evening.
“Nothing on television?” Angel asked, as he plopped down the chair next to their bed.
Spike’s answer was a muffled ‘naw’, as he face was buried in a pillow.
“Homework done?”
“Yep.” Spike still had not lifted his head.
“Look at me, boy.” Angel ordered. He was becoming concerned; perhaps his Childe was ill.
“You know,” Spike half raised himself up, “I understand the whole torture thing when it’s against an enemy or some poncy demon, but what’s the thrill of torturing some helpless soul, who’s done nothing and is defenseless?” A moment of silence, while Angel contemplated and Spike had second thoughts about why he had asked his Sire, the Scourge of Europe such a question.
“It gives you the illusion of power. Makes you feel like a god.” Angel finally answered softly. “Are you bothered by what you saw in that mansion?”
“No. . .yes. . .I. . . .” Spike didn’t know how to answer. He was confused. After all he was the son of a vampire; torture and mayhem should be things he was used to.
“It’s alright, Childe.” Angel crawled into bed, wrapping an arm around his son. “It should bother you.”
The adrenaline of the past two days wore off, as Spike suddenly found himself bone weary. Closing his eyes, he rested his head on Angel’s chest. “Right then.” He mumbled, as he fell into a deep sleep.
****
Finis
For all non-horror fans:
Jason Voorhees is from the Friday
the 13th series.
LeatherFace is from the Texas Chainsaw
Massacre and its 2003 remake.
Michael Meyers is from the Halloween
series.