Chapter Eight: The Self-Guided Tour

By: Wynn

The door slammed shut behind Buffy and Will, causing the seven friends to jump. The sound echoed through the mansion, a continuous sequence of door slamming that mingled with the howling wind outside the mansion, creating an eerie cacophony that sent shivers through the gang. Willow shuddered and ran to the door, twisting the handle. It didn’t move. Crying out, she groped for the doorknob, frantic in her efforts to open the door and escape the mansion. Oz stepped behind Willow and placed a hand on her shoulder, gently pulling her towards him. He caressed her russet hair and laid a kiss upon her cheek. “You want to leave?”

“Y-yes.”

“Ok.” He nodded to Xander, who moved next to the door and tugged on the handle. Muscles straining, he leaned back, attempting to wrench the door open. The knob snapped off, causing him to stumble back and crash into Will. The two men fell to the floor in a tangled heap of arms and legs.

“Get off me, you wanker!”

“Quit moving and I will!”

“Get off me and I’ll quit moving!”

They struggled to a standing position amid muffled curses and flying elbows. Once on their feet, they stood close to each other for a moment, breathing hard and scowling, before noticing their close proximity. They jumped apart, retreating to a respectable, manly distance of three feet. Glaring at Xander, Will snatched to broken handle from his hands and stalked over to the door. He kneeled down and attempted to shove the doorknob back into its casing, cursing again when it refused to magically meld together.

“Will?”

“Yeah?”

Buffy crouched next to him, hazel eyes wide. Glancing from the doorknob in his hand to the door, she said, “We’re stuck, aren’t we? Locked inside the house?”

“Yeah.”

Anya shrugged. “A house this large is sure to have more than one door leading to the outside. All we have to do is explore the mansion until we find one.”

Buffy stood and gnawed gently on her bottom lip. Crossing her arms across her chest, she paced the small entryway. “We could try to break one of the boarded windows.”

Willow shook her head. “No, we couldn’t. The boards are reinforced with iron bars. It would take hours to try to get through one.”

“So we search the mansion for another door. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

No one moved from the entryway. A plush patterned rug covered the hard wood floor, and a coat rack resided next to the door, holding three coats, a wool hat, and an umbrella. The ceiling light was covered with cobwebs.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Xander said as he looked into the shadowed hallway extending from the entrance.

Will raised an eyebrow. “Way to state the obvious, Leia.”

“Look, Bleach Boy, this wasn’t my-”

Rolling his eyes, Will followed Buffy out of the entryway into the hall, which was decorated with elegantly framed oil paintings, depicting quaint, serene scenes of country life. The hall opened to a large living room. A dingy, dusty family portrait hung above a massive stone fireplace on the far wall. Three smiling faces, a father and two young daughters, gazed upon the room. A short sofa and two matching chairs, upholstered in a dainty floral pattern and supported by thin, intricately carved legs, sat before a low coffee table. Yellowed newspapers and magazines covered the surface of the table, and a bright blue and red ball rested against one of the table legs. Along both sides of the archway connecting the hall and the living room lay twin bookcases that stretched from the floor to the ceiling; musty hardbacks and various knickknacks filled the shelves. An ebony rocking chair covered with a multicolored afghan sat before the boarded window of the front wall.

Anya frowned. “Well, this wasn’t expected.”

“What did you expect?” Cordelia asked as she flipped through one of the magazines on the coffee table. “Dead bodies and massive bloodshed? A cranky ghost covered in really loud chains wandering around the house?”

“No. But this is so-so…”

“Normal,” Xander said. “In serious need of a dust buster, but normal nonetheless.”

A frigid wind blew through the empty fireplace and swirled throughout the room, ruffling the newspapers and magazines, pushing the ball under the table and across the carpeted floor, and raising chill bumps on the arms of the seven friends.

Willow rubbed her hands over her bare arms and said, “G-great. Normal. Normal but with no door. Moving on now? Please?”

“Here.”

All eyes turned towards Buffy. She stood next to a set of heavy gold drapes; pushing one curtain to the side, she revealed a set of grimy glass doors opening to a leaf strewn courtyard. She grabbed a tasseled gold rope and tied it around the right half of the drapes as Will did the same to the left, opening the curtains and allowing the pale light of the moon to stream into the darkened living room.

Will grasped the curved handle and pulled. The door slid open, swishing softly against the plush carpet. He glanced at Buffy then moved into the courtyard, shivering slightly at the chill night air. A high brick wall surrounded the courtyard, and a fountain full of dull brown water sat amid the brittle leaves. Next to the fountain were a rusted iron table and four chairs.

Buffy walked past Will and circled the fountain, eyes searching the stone wall for any sort of door to the outside world. Halfway around the stone structure, she stumbled across an overturned baby carriage. Crouching, she carefully brushed aside dead leaves to reveal a porcelain doll with glossy black hair, rosy cheeks, and bright blue eyes. The doll was clad in a white lace dress and black Mary Janes. Smiling, Buffy smoothed the curled hair and lifted the doll in her hands. “Hey guys. Look at this.” She stood and walked a few paces towards the others when a faint murmur caught her attention. She stilled, muscles tense, ears straining to discern the soft sound. It sounded like… giggling. Her gaze flickered down to the doll. Moving closer, she placed her ear upon the lace covered chest.

“What are you doing?”

Buffy yelped, dropping the doll onto the concrete. Heart pounding, she lifted her head and looked at Will. “Um… nothing?”

Lips curving into a small smile, Will leaned over and picked the doll up off the ground. He examined the smooth porcelain surface for a few moments before passing the doll back to Buffy. Blue eyes sparkling with mischief, Will said, “Seen Toy Story one too many times, luv? Think your ceramic chum here is talking to you?”

Eyes narrowed in anger, Buffy moved closer to Will. She stopped before him and glanced at the raven haired doll in her hands. “Yeah. She said the next time I see a bleach brained, blue eyed, leather wearing smart ass, I should clock him over the head with the closest available hard object.” Buffy looked up at Will and smiled. She held the doll up in the air. “This’ll do.”

Will chuckled. “Well, aren’t you the feisty little bird.”

“I’m not a bird.”

“Whatever you say, pet.”

Jaw clenched, Buffy said, “I’m not your pet either. And what is with the animal names? My name is Buffy.”

“I remember what your name is, ducks.”

Growling softly, Buffy shoved the doll into Will’s hands as she moved past him. She stalked over to the corner of the courtyard where the others had congregated around a door leading back into the mansion. “Found a way out yet?”

Xander glanced back at Buffy. He stood next to the door, pushing against the solid wood surface, tendons taut in his neck from his exertions. “Maybe. But the damn door won’t budge.”

Buffy moved closer to the door and examined the brass knob. “Looks like its rusted shut.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Good observation, Percepto Girl. What gave it away? The fact that the door isn’t opening or the five tons of rust on the doorknob?”

“Let me try.” Will maneuvered around the gang, passing the doll back to Buffy as he kneeled before the handle.

“What are you going to do?” Xander asked, one eyebrow raised in scorn. “Use the Force and mentally will the door to open?”

“No, I’m going to physically pick the lock.” Will reached into one pocket of his leather duster and removed a palm sized knife.

“And you couldn’t have done this before we took the self-guided tour through the haunted mansion?”

Turning his head, Will glared at Xander. “I could have if someone hadn’t broken the doorknob off of the door.” Returning his gaze to the rusted handle, he pulled the gleaming blade of the knife out of its casing and lifted it towards the knob. The steel tip grazed the brass surface and the door popped open.

“Well,” Anya said brightly. “That was easy.”

“Too easy,” Willow murmured as her fingers tightened on Oz’s arm.

Will returned the closed knife to his duster pocket and stood, blue gaze fixed on the dark beyond the open door. He pushed the edge of the door with the scuffed toe of his boot, causing the wood barrier to swing open and emit a piercing squeal as the unused hinges twisted within their metal cylinders. The shadowy forms of kitchen appliances and furniture were barely discernible in the weak moonlight. Along the right wall of the kitchen, the outline of another door was visible. “There’s a door. Looks like it leads to the outside.”

Buffy peeked into the dark kitchen. “Great. Now we can leave.”

Smirking, Will said, “Thought you wanted an adventure, sweets?”

“An adventure, maybe. An entire night locked inside a creepy mansion with you, never.” Smiling sweetly, Buffy flipped her golden curls over her shoulder and moved into the kitchen.

Will grinned and he followed Buffy inside. As he passed the threshold, the door slammed shut, rattling within its frame from the shock of impact. Soft giggles floated through the murky kitchen.

“There!” Buffy lifted the doll and waved it in front of Will. “That’s what I heard… when you, um, saw me with the doll. I thought it was one of those speaking types of dolls.”

“I don’t think it was the doll.” Fist crashing against the solid wood of the door, Will said, “Ha ha, very funny. You can let us out now, whelp.”

Xander’s muffled voice was filled with confusion. “I didn’t do anything. It closed on its own.”

Will tugged on the handle, but the door was immovable, wedged into its frame so tight the two sections seemed to be welded together.

Buffy lowered the doll and said to Will, “Please tell me we’re not locked inside the mansion.”

“We’re not.”

“Great-”

Will glanced over his shoulder. “I wasn’t serious. We are locked inside the mansion. Again. Looks like it’s just you and me.” He let go of the doorknob and walked over to Buffy, his movements slow and steady, a predatory, sensual flow across the smooth tile floor of the kitchen. “All alone. In the dark. With nothing but Dollie here to keep us company.”

Her hazel eyes locked with his blue, caught in their sapphire depths that sparkled in the faint light filtering in through the glass panes. Her tongue darted out and brushed across her lips, and her breath caught in her throat. His fingers caressed the curve of her cheek, threading into her golden curls and drawing her towards him. Buffy closed her eyes and parted her lips, the feel of his breath on her skin causing a shiver to run through her.

“Buffy!”

Eyes flying open, Buffy stared at Will, their faces mere inches apart. She drew in a deep breath, the scent of leather invading her senses, making the world spin slowly around her, and said, “Yeah?”

Willow’s worried voice drifted through the door again. “Are you Ok?”

“Yeah.”

Will smiled at the breathless tenor of her voice.

Willow continued. “Anya suggested we find separate ways out of the mansion and meet up at Oz’s van since this door is kind of stuck. Will you two be Ok?”

Buffy gently pulled away from Will, a light blush coloring her cheeks, and walked to the door. She said to Willow, “I think we’ll be fine. There’s another door here. If you all can’t find another way out, you could probably find the kitchen from inside the mansion and get out through here.”

“O-ok. Are you sure you’re-”

“We’re fine. See you in a few.”

“Alright.”

The sound of footsteps drifted away from the kitchen, carrying the murmured voices of the five friends across the courtyard. Buffy turned back to Will and found him standing near the other door, his hand resting lightly on a dark surface hidden within the shadows.

“Uh… Buffy?”

“Hmm?”

“The door. It’s locked. And blocked.”

Crossing the kitchen, Buffy approached Will, panic beginning to settle in her stomach. A large, rectangular object pressed against the door, its massive form blending with shadows. “What is that?”

“A freezer. One of the big ones the size of a refrigerator.”

Buffy stared at Will, her hazel eyes wide, heart racing within her chest. “So this means…”

“We’re locked inside the mansion. Again. All alone and in the dark.”

“With nothing but Dollie to keep us company.”

* * *

Chapter Nine: Verbal Battles in the Wacky, Fun-filled Mansion

By: Wynn

The door crashed shut, slamming into Xander’s face and knocking him to the ground. He gingerly rubbed the bridge of his nose, wincing at the slight swelling of aching flesh. First, the kitchen door had smashed into his nose as it separated Buffy and Will from the rest of the group. Now, the door to the living room had collided with his already tender cartilage, bringing tears to his eyes. He groaned as he struggled to stand.

“Aww… poor baby. Did the evil door hurt poor widdle Xander’s nose?”

Glaring at Cordelia, Xander brushed past her and approached the glass door separating the mansion’s living room and courtyard. Through the dirty panes, he could see Willow and Oz staring back at him.

Willow pointed to his nose and asked, “Are you alright?”

“Peachy. I just love having not one, but two, doors smashed into my face by pissed off ghosts.” Xander glanced down at the rusted door handle and said, “Let me guess… it’s locked.”

“Yeah.”

Xander groaned again and cradled his head in his hands. If he ever got out of this stupid mansion, Will was a dead man. Who the hell wanted to come to a rumored haunted mansion for fun? Crazy, cocky, bleach poisoned British people that’s who.

Cordelia stared at Xander, one eyebrow arched in disdain. “You’re not going to pass out are you? ‘Cause I’m sure as hell not carrying your ass out of here.”

Xander gritted his teeth and turned towards the brunette, acid remark ready, willing, and able on the tip of his tongue. Before he could engage in verbal battle, Anya stepped between them, hands on her hips, giving him the Look. The Look was eerily similar to Willow’s Resolve Face, only scarier. Xander flashed Anya a small smile and resumed rubbing his sore nose.

Anya sighed and moved next to the door. “Same plan, I presume? Find our own way out of the mansion and reconvene at the van?”

Willow glanced at Oz, who nodded. Turning back to her sister, she said, “Ok. Don’t get into any trouble. Please? You’ll have enough to deal with having Xander and Cordelia in close proximity without any additional adventures.”

Anya rolled her eyes. “We’ll be fine. Quit mothering. It’s just a house. A very large, drafty house, but a house nonetheless. How much trouble can we get into?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

Cordelia stalked over to the glass doors. “Can we please put an end to the pseudo-parenting so I can get out of here? The less time spent in here, the less I’m exposed to Lord of the Geeks over there. The last thing I need is for him to bleed on me and contaminate me with his loser DNA.”

Ignoring Cordelia, Willow said to Anya, “Just be careful.”

“We will.”

Willow nodded and then shot a glare at Cordelia before turning and disappearing into the depths of the mansion with Oz.

As his two friends faded into the shadows of the house, Xander spun and confronted Cordelia. “Do you have to be a bitch all of the time? I know that the concepts ‘civil’ and ‘conversation’ escape your over-aerosoled brain, but could you lay off the attitude for one second?”

Brown eyes narrowing to deadly slits, Cordelia stepped away from the door, hips swaying beneath her leather skirt. “Oh, I am so sorry, Xander. Next time I’m locked inside a wacky, fun-filled mansion with the socially inept I will remember my manners and have courtesy for all, even klutzy, no brained, wimps like you!”

“Coming to the mansion isn’t fun anymore now that Wonder Boy isn’t here to drool over, is it? You can’t blind Will with your lack of charm when he’s locked inside the kitchen with Buffy.”

“And I bet that burns you, doesn’t it, Harris? That the new kid moved in on your fantasy girl you never had a chance in hell with. It was beyond pathetic the way you used to follow Buffy around, trying to impress her with your geekly ways.”

“Um… guys.” Anya raised her hand and waved it in the air.

“At least I haven’t slept with the entire football, basketball, baseball, and wrestling team! Tell me, Cordelia, how does it feel to be the school’s number one prostitute?”

“Guys… hello?!”

“At least I get some action and don’t have to resort to covert hand operations in the nearest bathroom stall!”

“HEY!! SHUT UP!!”

Xander blinked and Cordelia flinched at Anya’s commanding yell. Their eyes flickered from the fuming blonde back to each other, widening as they realized they were nose to nose. Cordelia shoved Xander away from her, running her hands over her black skirt, smoothing imaginary wrinkles from the luscious material. “Talk about invasion of personal space.”

Stifling his biting retort, Xander turned and looked at Anya. He grimaced as he was hit with the Look and with the knowledge that both women were now furious with him. Sighing, he said, “What is it, Ahn?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little thing called a way out of here. But if you two want to return to your pissing contest, by all means…proceed to act like tiny school children. It was quite amusing.”

Silence.

Smiling sweetly, Anya extended her arm and pointed to a black iron staircase hugging the side of the mansion that led to a small porch and a door leading inside the house.

“Thank. God.” Flipping of her shiny, brunette hair over her shoulder, Cordelia shoved past Xander and bolted up the rusted stairs. She reached the narrow landing and grasped the doorknob, grinning when the door opened smoothly. With a superior smirk of satisfaction, she entered the darkened second floor.

Anya followed her friend up the stairs. She threw an irritated glance over her shoulder and said, “Are you coming? Or did you decide to stand there until you’re old and grey and decrepit?”

Xander sighed again. His fingers rubbed across his forehead, attempting to stifle the quickly blooming headache, carefully avoiding his swollen nose, as he said, “Definitely going to kick some British ass when I get out of here.”

* * *

Running his fingers through his platinum curls, Will uttered a deep sigh and closed his eyes. He never thought it was possible to be driven insane solely through conversation, but he felt his grip on sanity slipping as he looked at Buffy again, taking in her stiff shoulders and crossed arms. The girl had perfected the art of stubborn resistance to reason. Jaw clenched, he said, “Buffy… luv… we have to go down there. It’s-”

“Uh huh. No way.”

“Do you want to just sit here in the dark or do you want to get the hell out of here?”

“I want to get out of here.”

“Good.”

“But I’m not going down there.”

Swallowing his aggravation, Will moved away from the open door to the basement and slowly approached Buffy. He consciously loosened his jaw and plastered a seductive, charming smile on his face. “I don’t want to go down there either, pet. But it’s the only way. We can’t move the freezer, and we can’t open the door to the courtyard or the one leading back inside the house. So that leaves…”

“…the basement.”

Will nodded as he stopped in front of Buffy, placing his hands on her shoulders, lightly squeezing the tense muscles. “That’s right, luv. There’s no other choice.”

Buffy looked up into his clear blue eyes and smiled. She drew in a deep breath and said, “Still not going down there.”

With a growl of frustration, Will backed away from Buffy and paced the tight confines of the kitchen, hands fisted, duster billowing behind him, slapping against his legs as he stalked across the smooth tile floor. “Bloody hell, woman! Are you trying to drive me round the bend? ‘Cause you’re doing a mighty fine job of it. To get out of the sodding mansion we have to go down into the basement and find a way out. It’s all very logical. What is the bleeding problem?”

Buffy shrugged, her hazel eyes intent on the floor. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she drew her arms tighter across her thin bronze top. “I…”

“What?”

Whispering, Buffy said, “I don’t like basements. They’re… freaky. I’m sorry.”

Will sighed, his posture sagging as his irritation disappeared. He winced as he heard Buffy sniffle. “Buffy… shit… I’m…” He trailed off as he crossed the kitchen, drawing the tiny blonde into a hug. He felt her hands move up to his chest, resting lightly on his duster. “I didn’t mean-” Will's eyes widened as Buffy pushed him away, causing him to stagger back a few steps. She slipped out of his embrace, her eyes flashing with anger.

“What is your bleeding problem, huh? We wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for you and your brilliant idea for a late night adventure!”

“Me?! Who’s the one who charged for the front door like a… a…”

Buffy raised one eyebrow. “Like a what?”

“Like a… It doesn’t matter! We wouldn’t be locked in the mansion if you hadn’t charged in here half-cocked making me chase after you-”

“I didn’t ask you to follow me! You made that decision on your own, mister.”

“Like I would have let you wander around this place alone! You could’ve gotten hurt or trapped or… or bloody hell, something bad could have happened.” Will jumped onto the kitchen counter, running his hands through his pale locks again. He stared at the floor.

Buffy fidgeted, watching Will from the corners of her eyes, a hint of a smile playing on her lips at the knowledge he cared about what happened to her. She drew in a deep breath and said, “When I was 12, I got locked in the basement of our old house in L.A. My Mom wanted to take Dawn, that’s my sister, out to the new Disney movie which I was so totally too old for, so I had begged her to let me stay home alone, that I was too old for a babysitter and could spend a few hours by myself. I won her over with the promise of doing all my chores. Well, that and the fact that my father was supposed to be home from work in about an hour. So her and Dawn left, and I trudged down to the basement to wash my clothes. But I forgot the door locked automatically, you know, to keep Dawn out of it. She was only six and always getting into things. Anyway, I was stuck down there for about three hours until Mom got back. I was pretty freaked, all sobbing and hysterical. It was not pretty. My father hadn’t come back ‘cause he was at work… with his secretary. So basements and Buffy are unmix-y things.”

Her eyes darted to Will and found him staring at her. Blushing, she snapped her gaze back to the door in front of her, the door leading to the basement. She heard Will jump off the counter and move towards her.

“You won’t be alone this time,” Will said as he looked at Buffy, grasping her hand and threading his long fingers with hers. “I won’t leave you.”

“But-”

“But nothing. You’re stuck with me, Summers.”

In the soft moonlight filtering into the murky kitchen, they gazed at each other, hazel locked with blue. The air around them stilled and all sounds vanished, faded away until all that was left was the two of them, lost in each other, in the connection forging between them, drawing them together.

Buffy smiled, drawing a similar grin from Will. She straightened her shoulders and said, “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Nodding, she looked at the entrance to the basement looming before her. The cold concrete stairs led to a dank darkness, causing Buffy to shiver slightly. “If we get our brains sucked out by zombie ghost things, it will be your fault, you know.”

“Of course, luv. I accept full responsibility for any… encounters with zombie ghost things.”

“Good.”

Will moved to the door, pulling a hesitant Buffy behind him. He flashed a reassuring smile before beginning their descent into the bowels of the mansion.

* * *

Chapter Ten: Secrets

By: Wynn

The basement was dark. Fifty years of dirt, dust, and grime covered the small windows looking out on the outside world, blocking the moonlight from illuminating the spacious interior. Will inched through the murky blackness, one hand outstretched to feel a path through the shadows, his other clutched by a jittery Buffy. He grimaced slightly as her grip tightened, threatening to cut off the blood supply to his fingertips.

“Can you see anything?” Buffy whispered, her hazel eyes wide, vainly searching the gloom for any sign of escape.

“Yeah. A bunch of black.”

“I can’t see anything.” Taking a step closer to Will, Buffy threaded her arm around his and sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to quell the panic bubbling within her. “What if we get lost down here forever? Doomed to wander the dark, moldy basement for all eternity.”

Will stifled a chuckle. “I doubt your chums will leave us here for all eternity. Maybe part of it. A couple centuries.”

Buffy shook her head, oblivious to the sarcastic undertone of Will’s half of the conversation. “No. We’ll be eaten by those zombie ghost things first. They’ll suck out our brains and leave us propped next to the washing machine like really big dolls. We’ll sit and rot and when someone finally finds us, all that’ll be left is two brainless skeletons.”

“Didn’t think skeletons usually had brains in them. And you’d think zombie ghost things would leave their brainless victims next to the dryer or the bottom of a muddied grave at least.”

Buffy frowned, her overactive, slightly panicked brain finally catching up with Will’s replies. “What?”

“She finally returns from Wonderland. How does it feel to be back in reality?”

Glaring at Will, Buffy swatted him across the shoulder.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?”

“For making fun of me!”

Will laughed, dodging her free hand as she swung at him again. “Buffy! Come on! You were prattling on about being doomed for eternity and brainless dolls against the washing machine. I couldn’t resist.”

Rolling her eyes, Buffy sighed, a world weary, exasperated exhalation cultivated to perfection from eleven years of living with a bratty little sister. “You know, normal, considerate people wouldn’t be making fun of me. I have a legitimate fear.”

Will stopped his blind trek through the basement and turned back towards Buffy. He leaned close to her, her large hazel eyes barely visible though she was only a few inches away from him. “I know you’re scared,” he said quietly. “Would you rather me be all serious and broody and let you keep being scared? Or would you rather me try to cheer you up a bit, distract you from the doom and gloom we’re wandering around in?”

Pouting, still irritated over his sarcastic remarks, Buffy said, “You could have done something else, something not mean, to distract me.”

“I wasn’t being mean.”

“Were too.”

“I was not!”

“Now you’re yelling at me. That’s a lot of help, thank you very much.”

Will cradled his head with his free hand and drew in a deep, calming breath, trying to soothe his nerves and lessen the headache blossoming between his temples. He shook his head, a gesture of defeat, and turned way from Buffy, once more attempting to forge a path through the black basement.

Buffy felt Will tug on her arm as he began to wander through the dark again. Stumbling to catch up with him, she gnawed gently on her bottom lip, the smooth space between her delicate brows marred with concern. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No. I’m. Not.”

“I didn’t mean to make you mad. I know you weren’t really being mean. I’m just a little nervous right now, bordering on hysterical actually. Soon I’ll be completely irrational. Mumbling nonsense and maybe drooling a bit.”

Will smiled, his aggravation lessening at her humorous speculation of future craziness. He glanced over his shoulder, his blue eyes alight with amusement, and said, “You’ll be completely certifiable. Ready for your own custom made, Gucci straightjacket.”

“I’ll be the envy of all the other patients at the Sunnydale Mental Hospital.”

“The most beautiful nutbag of them all.”

Buffy giggled at the thought of herself in designer asylum attire, parading around in her own padded cell. The smile faded from her face as she looked at the darkness surrounding them and reflected upon the strangeness of their current situation. “I bet you didn’t expect this. Wandering around the pitch black basement of a haunted mansion with a slightly deranged blonde girl on your first night out in California.”

“No, I didn’t. It’s not so bad though. I could be stuck in the flat with Rupert, watching him read musty old book after musty old book.”

“What would you be doing if you were in England? I doubt it would be anything as weird as this.”

Will shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d probably be royally pissed, trying to pick a fight with any and everyone.”

“Royally what?”

“Pissed. Drunk. Inebriated. Three sheets to-”

“I get it.” Buffy paused. She glanced at Will, his pale bleached locks the only part of him she could see through the shadows. “Did you, um, get into a lot of fights?”

“Yeah. I never won any, what with being completely smashed and all. No coordination to speak of. Mostly got my ass kicked by the random guy stupid enough to go a round with me then ended up in jail for the night. They wouldn’t charge me with anything. Just made me sleep the liquor off and wait for Rupert to come and get me.” Will shrugged, a casual, indifferent toss of his shoulder, masking the faint flicker of pain that sparked within him. “It’s one of the reasons he moved us here. Couldn’t deal with the fighting.”

“What were the other reasons?”

“Nothing important.” Will lifted their clasped hands and pointed. A weak glimmer of light shone ahead of them. “Looks like we found a way out.”

“Yeah. Looks like.” Buffy followed Will through the darkness towards the light, mind working overtime at his smooth diversion from the topic of conversation. As she moved through the gloom, she pursed her lips and formulated a plan to discover just what it was that caused Giles and Will to move to Sunnydale.

* * *

“Oh, look. Another bedroom. Exactly like the last six we’ve seen.” Cordelia peered into the seventh bedroom her, Anya, and Xander had come across during their exploration of the second floor. She could hear Xander moving behind her, searching through a bathroom, and Anya further down the hall, opening the door to yet another of the five hundred thousand or so rooms that dotted the series of interconnected halls of the mansion. They had discovered three wings of cobweb filled bedrooms, moldy linen packed closets, and cold stark bathrooms. No stairs. No doors to the outside. No way out of the mansion.

Cordelia was beyond pissed. The only reason she had stayed for Willow’s so-called party was because Will had stayed; her plan had been to escort Anya to the Bronze, hand over her gift, and find someone cooler to hang with before the lameness inherent in half of the birthday party people contaminated her. But when the chance to seize what one wanted was laid before you, especially when what was wanted had to die for cheekbones and gorgeous blue eyes, it had to be seized, no matter what the unfortunate side effects. So Cordelia had stayed at the party, attempting to lay the Chase charm on Will, only to be thwarted by Buffy. Once again, Little Miss Sunshine had wrapped the alpha male of Sunnydale High School around her little finger. And where was Cordelia? Stuck inside a gross, crumbling mansion with Xander Harris.

Life could be so cruel.

“Yes, Cordelia,” Xander said as he closed the door to the bathroom and leaned against the wall, tilting his head back and looking at her from half-closed eyes. “Thank you for pointing out, again, that we have found yet another bedroom. Your ability to state the obvious is simply mind blowing.”

“You want to know what’s mind blowing, Harris? Your fashion sense. Or lack thereof. What did you do? Temporarily blind yourself and then get dressed in the dark?”

“I would ask you for some pointers on how to dress, but I don’t really feel like looking like a hooker.”

Cordelia smirked as she stepped away from the bedroom. Moving into battle stance, eyes narrowed and arms crossed, she said, “Like anyone would pay to have sex with you. You’re beyond pathetic.”

Xander pushed off the wall and took a step towards Cordelia. “I may be pathetic, but at least I have friends.”

“I have friends.”

“Name one. Besides Anya.”

Cordelia opened her mouth and drew in a deep breath, ready to unleash the names of the multitude of friends she had and wipe the smug look off Xander’s face. But no name came to mind. No sound escaped her parted ruby lips. She wracked her brain, desperately searching for anyone who could fulfill the role of suitable friend of Cordelia. After a moment, she said, “Harmony.”

Xander laughed, a cruel chuckle that echoed down the empty hall. “Harmony is a shallow airhead that follows you around because your daddy has money. She’s not your friend. You don’t have any friends. No one wants to be around you because you think you’re better than everyone else. But you’re not. You’re just a spoiled brat with access to daddy’s charge card that nobody wants to be friends with.”

Cordelia blinked, attempting to banish the tears prickling her dark eyes. He was right, and she knew it. She had no true friends who genuinely liked her for her, except for Anya. Gazing down at the floor, Cordelia said softly, “You used to want to be friends with me.”

“That was a long time ago. Before Queen C came along and decided she was too cool to hang out with me,” Xander said bitterly. He slowly shook his head and took another step towards her. His eyes softened as he moved closer, the pale light of the moon highlighting the rich, coffee brown of his irises. “I still don’t get what happened. We were fine until sophomore year. Then I became lower than dirt to you. Not Xander anymore. Just Harris. Why?”

“I…” Cordelia faltered for a moment, felt her body abandon reason and begin to fall. Fall into the terrifying, dizzying possibility of what she had turned away from. She stared at Xander, panic seizing her, forcing the air to still in her lungs. She tilted her chin into the air and made herself breath again as she said, “I saw the real you.”

Eyes hardening, Xander flashed a tight smile. “Right. The real me. The beyond pathetic loser.” Jaw clenched, he backed away from Cordelia, back into the shadow, and said, “How stupid of me not to realize.”

Cordelia watched him walk down the dark hallway. She bit her bottom lip and sucked in a deep breath, attempting to stifle the tremble that had washed over her. She would not break. She couldn’t. No matter how much it hurt. It would be less than the pain she would suffer if she let go.

Straightening her shoulders, Cordelia slowly made her way down the hall, jumping slightly when Anya stepped out of one of the rooms. The blonde stared at her for a few moments, concern shining from her golden brown eyes, before she spoke.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

Anya crossed her arms across her chest and raised one eyebrow.

“I’m fine,” Cordelia repeated as she pushed past Anya. “Just keep Harris away from me, Ok.” She moved to the end of the hall pausing briefly before turning the corner and disappearing down the next, yet to be explored wing of the house.

* * *

Title: Back to School

Author: Wynn

E-mail: effulgent_sun@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. They are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Twentieth Century Fox, the WB, UPN, etc.

AN: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed. They all mean so much to me. I’m sorry for the delay in a new chapter, but here it is. Finally. Hope everyone enjoys. Feedback is a wonderful thing.

Chapter Eleven: Close Encounters of the Ghost Kind

By: Wynn

Peering through the dirty glass panes of the double doors separating the courtyard from the living room, Willow watched Xander, Anya, and Cordelia enter the second floor of the mansion. The door closed behind them, sending a shower of dark red rust sprinkling down onto the concrete. Sighing, Willow turned from the doors and faced Oz. “You were right. They did find a way out. The door to the second floor was open.”

Oz moved towards her, grasping her hands within his own. “They’ll be alright. Anya will get them out. And Will and Buffy are probably already outside waiting for us.”

“I know. It’s just that what if something happens? What if they get trapped or lost, or what if Xander and Cordelia finally kill each other? I don’t think even Anya can restrain the rage brewing between those two.”

“Never underestimate the power of a determined Rosenberg. She’ll be able to keep them in line, at least until everyone gets out of the mansion.”

“Speaking of getting out of this place… I would very much like to do that now.” Willow pointed across the living room towards the dark hallway. She clutched Oz’s hand as he guided them across the shadowed room, occasionally glancing over her shoulder for potential nasties residing in the doom and gloom. They moved into the hall, walking slowly down the narrow length, free hands outstretched to guide their way. As they turned the corner leading to the front door, Willow gasped.

The door was open.

“Interesting,” Oz said. Moonlight flooded the small entryway, highlighting a small stack of books and newspapers that lay directly in front of the open door. He and Willow eased down the hall, drawing closer and closer to outside world. Oz stopped as his foot brushed against the pile of papers.

“What’s wrong?” Willow asked.

“Don’t know. I don’t remember these being here when we came in.”

Crouching, Willow brushed her hand across the top newspaper, wiping off the thick layer of dust covering the pages. Bending closer, she narrowed her eyes, peering at the fine print in the pale light. “It’s from fifty years ago. It was printed a couple of weeks before this house was condemned and boarded up. Something about a series of mysterious deaths plaguing Sunnydale.” Willow stood and wiped her dust covered hand across her jean skirt. “Now that I’m sufficiently freaked, I vote we get out of here before the door slamming ghosts decide to pounce on us.”

“I agree.” Stepping over the stack of documents, Oz and Willow approached the front door. A gust of cold wind rushed past them, slamming the door closed, sending a billowing cloud of dirt and dust back on Oz and Willow, and causing their eyes to water.

Coughing slightly, Willow stumbled back a few paces, shock and dread shining from her eyes at the sight of the closed door. As she backed down the hallway, the door creaked open again. Freezing, she stared open mouthed, her heart raced in her chest, and her breath came in erratic, frantic pants. “That was creepy. Door opens, then it closes, then it opens again. Schizo door.”

Frowning slightly, Oz walked over to Willow. He stopped before her, his head turned down and eyes locked onto the pile of papers next to Willow’s feet. Glancing over his shoulder at the door, he reached for the newspapers and books. As the tips of his fingers lightly brushed against the top newspaper, the front door opened wider. He looked up at Willow. “I think we’re supposed to take these with us or we can’t get out.”

Tearing her gaze from the door, Willow focused on Oz and his last few words. “What? Oh… take the papers with us. That’s great, fine, wonderful. Anything so we can get out of here.”

Gathering the stack of books and papers in his arms, Oz stood. He turned towards the door and watched as it opened wide, allowing the light of the moon to stream into the dark entryway. He looked at Willow briefly before cautiously moving toward the door. Stopping next to it, he turned back to Willow and whispered, “You first.”

Swallowing, Willow drew in a deep breath. She took a few hesitant steps, her gaze bouncing from the door to Oz then to the outside world visible beyond the open door. Resolve Face firmly in place, Willow sprinted for the exit, grabbing onto Oz as she passed him, and pulled both of them out onto the front porch. She drug Oz down the walkway, abruptly stopping and kneeling over. She stuck her head between her knees as gulped in lungfuls of the cool night air.

“You Ok?”

Willow nodded. Straightening, she looked over her shoulder at the mansion, her face pale and covered in a fine layer of sweat. “I’m fine. Good. Peachy. Slightly panicked and a little queasy.”

Oz peered around the yard, looking back towards his van and down the lonely, abandoned stretch of road. “I don’t see anyone else. They must still be inside.”

* * *

“What did you say to Cordelia?”

Freezing in the middle of the hallway, Xander slowly turned and faced Anya. Her hands were placed firmly on her hips and a look that could melt steel was upon her face. Suppressing the urge to sigh, Xander said, “I didn’t say anything she didn’t deserve.” He folded his arms across his chest and stared at Anya, his stubborn pride battling with his curiosity over Cordelia’s state of mind after their last verbal battle. He looked over Anya’s shoulder, looked down the hallway where he and Cordelia had once again traded insults, as he said, “Why? What did she say?”

“She didn’t have to say anything, Xander.” Anya stalked towards him, fury swirling within her golden brown eyes. “She was upset. I could see it on her face. Now, what did you say to her?”

“Why are you getting mad at me? She started it.”

Rolling her eyes, Anya said, “That’s mature. ‘She started it.’ And you felt the need to continue it, like you always do, like you always have for the past two years.”

“What am I supposed to do? Stand there and listen to her snipe at me twenty-four seven?”

“You could try having a real conversation without sarcasm. Friends occasionally do have those sorts of talks.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Xander said, “Cordelia and I aren’t friends.”

“You used to be.”

“Used to being the operative words. She ditched me like last year’s Prada.”

“She ditched you?!” Anya laughed, a harsh outburst echoing down the hall. “That is the-”

A shrill scream pierced the air. Xander blinked, momentarily thrown by Cordelia’s yell. Glancing at Anya, they sprinted down the hall and rounded the corner. He spotted Cordelia halfway down the hallway, her back to them, one of her hands outstretched, clutching the knob of an open door. Running towards her, Xander laid a hand on her shoulder, jumping as she screamed again.

Whirling, a look of panic and fear on her face, Cordelia locked eyes with Xander. She stared at him for a moment before smacking him upside the head. “Thank you very much for scaring me even more.”

Anya moved next to the brunette duo. “What happened, Cordy?”

Cordelia turned and lifted a shaking hand. She pointed to the end of the hall and said, “That happened.”

A tall window resided at the end of the hall. The glass panes were free from dust and dirt, moonlight cascading into the mansion, onto the young girl standing before the window. Her blonde hair shimmered in the light of the night; her eyes were hidden in shadow. She wore a plaid jumper, white tights, and a pair of black Mary Janes; a slim red book was held in her hands. Smiling at the three friends, she lifted one arm and waved.

Hello…

Xander blinked again, mind and body frozen, the whisper of a greeting echoing in his mind. “Did anyone else…”

“Loud and clear,” Anya said. “Is that a…”

“I think so,” Cordelia said.

Xander swallowed as he stared at the little blonde girl. “She’s a ghost.”

* * *

“Will… what the hell is that?”

“I’d wager that ‘that’ is a ghost.”

Buffy nodded slowly, her brain struggling to catch up with what her eyes were seeing. The faint glimmer of light they had seen did lead to a way out of the pitch black basement. A set of stone stairs ascended to a large wooden door, which opened to the outside world. The door was flung open, the stairs were lit with moonlight, and a young girl stood before the exit, Dollie firmly grasped in her hands. The girl had black hair, curled into delicate ringlets, and wore a simple white dress and black ballet slippers. She glimmered in the moonlight, her dark eyes glittering as she turned her face towards the night sky. A wide grin appeared on her face.

“A-a ghost,” Buffy murmured. She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly, attempting to clear her mind of the hallucination at the base of the stairs. Because it had to be a hallucination. Or a dream. Not a ghost. Definitely not a ghost. Ghosts didn’t exist. And even if they did, Buffy wasn’t seeing one. She was back in her bed at home, dreaming about seeing a ghost in the icky mansion on Crawford St, because ghosts weren’t real.

Cracking one eye open, Buffy once again saw the young girl with the doll standing before the stairs. “Ok… not panicking. Not scared. Not panicking. Breathe… breathe…”

“Ow! Bloody hell, woman! Ease up on the death grip.”

Snapping her gaze to Will, Buffy glanced down at their clasped hands, realizing that during her half-hysterical mantra of ‘not panicking’ she had been slowly crushing his hand. She loosened her grip slightly, allowing the blood flow to resume, as she mumbled, “Sorry. Slightly panicked.”

“Feeling that way myself, pet,” Will said as his blue eyes locked onto the little girl standing before them.

The ghost turned her head back to Buffy and Will. She smiled again.

Hi…

Eyes darting towards Buffy, Will said, “What did you say, luv?”

“I didn’t say anything. She did. She said-”

Hi…

“Oh.” Will looked towards the young girl, jumping slightly as she raised her hand into the air and waved at them. “Hi.”

“What are you doing?” Buffy hissed, bringing her mouth close to his ear. “Don’t say anything to her. What if she’s planning on luring us into her trap and sucking out our brain or something? Why else would a ghost be saying ‘Hi’?”

Help me…

* * *

“What was that?” Anya whispered. This day had certainly been an odd one for the blonde Rosenberg sister. It had been the first day of her senior year of high school; a new student had transferred and joined their little band of friends; Willow had thrown a not-so-surprising surprise party for her eighteenth birthday; her two best friends were fighting way more than usual; and the entire gang had broken into the mansion on Crawford St. and they were now having a close encounter of the ghost kind.

“It was her…. it… the ghost thing,” Cordelia said. “She said-”

Help me…

“‘Help me,’” Cordelia finished. “No thanks.”

Xander moved away from the two girls, stepping closer to the blonde girl perched in front of the window. “I wonder how-”

A blinding white light flashed in the hallway. The window cracked, pieces of broken glass tumbling onto the carpet, and a rush of cold wind blew into the mansion, whipping past the three friends. The young blonde girl, a halo of the white light surrounding her, moved away from the window towards Xander, Anya, and Cordelia. She stopped in front of Cordelia. Another gust of cool wind howled through the hall. The little blonde girl let go of her slim red book; the book traveled along the turbulent winds, hovering a moment above Cordelia’s hands. Abruptly the wind stopped and the book dropped into Cordelia’s grasp.

Help me…please.

The girl pointed to a side door, and the three frozen young people watched as the door creaked open. Beyond the door lay a staircase leading to the first floor. The wind picked up again, pushing Cordelia, Xander, and Anya towards the door and the stairs.

“I don’t need any encouragement,” Cordelia snapped at the wind. She grabbed Anya’s hand and pulled the blonde toward the open door. “Come on before the book ghost changes her mind about us leaving.”

Anya and Cordelia, followed closely by Xander, hurried for the open door, bursting through the archway and stumbling down the stairs. As they reached the first floor, the door above them slammed closed. Anya looked around, spotting another open door at the end of a long hall off to their right. A sliver of the outside world visible through the gap between door and house. She pointed down the hallway. “There!”

Xander pushed the two girls down the hall. “Go!”

The three raced for the door, jumping through the opening and crashing onto a hard patch of grass. Stumbling, without looking back at the mansion, they took off in the direction of Oz’s van.

* * *

The little brunette girl moved away from the stairs, coming closer to Buffy and Will. A brilliant light flashed from the ghost, briefly illuminating the dark basement, temporarily blinding Will and Buffy.

Backing up a few steps, Will closed his eyes, trying to shake off the afterglow of light. He stopped as a gust of wind blew into him, pushing him and Buffy forward toward the ghost. Will opened his eyes and watched the ghost stop before Buffy. The doll in her hands lifted into the air, dangling above Buffy, dancing on the whipping wind, before dropping into Buffy’s grasp. The wind stopped and the ghost disappeared as the doll fell into Buffy’s free hand.

Help us… please.

Will looked down the long dark length of the basement and spotted the stairs leading to the open door. Tugging on Buffy’s hand, he said, “Come on, pet. Adventure’s over.” They sprinted across the basement and scrambled up the stairs, bursting out of the basement into the cool night air. As they ran from the mansion, the wooden door crashed shut, the echo of impact reverberating in the stillness of the night.

* * *