Lissie:
He rolled over listlessly in his bed. Sensing the approaching dawn, his eyes fell closed again. It had been a rough night, but nothing a good night's sleep wouldn't deal with . . . partially. Suddenly, he heard a loud bang come from within. Grabbing some clothes from the floor, the muscular form draped them on haphazardly. He then grabbed a lit candle, letting the warmth envelop him for just a short time before investigating the noise.
"Shiny, like smiling children's faces." she whispers, turning toward the man before her. "Like the little orphanage, where the children run and play." She layed (laid?) down the sharp sword she examined so thouroughly. He sensed something wasn't right, and took a step back from the crazy vampire who now stood in his four walls.
Grasping the side of a cool table, he began to examine the vampire in question. Her maniacal grin stood pernament on her face. He recognized the frilly lace dress she wore. He bought it for her himself. Clutched tightly in her left hand was a ball of hair, and the head of a doll, one of the many more to add to her collection. Her other hand played over the shimmering axe, which she gazed at in splendor. Her pale hand clicked the crimson nails over the handle of the axe, clutching it almost as tightly as the doll in her other hand.
Not knowing what to do, the strong vampire took a step foward, and laid his pale hand upon her smooth shoulder. She twitched slightly as she felt it. "Dru," he whispered, careful to not talk too loud, "Why?" That was all he could muster out before she turned to him and grasped his shoulders. "An evil demon haunts my love. I see it flitting around his head like butterflies. Mummy always liked butterflies. Would point out the colors. Red, orange, and sometimes blue. But I never saw a blond butterfly. I guess mummy didn't know everything."
"Dru, what are you saying?" he said frustrated. Running a hand through his hair, he walked over to a chair. Sitting softly on it, he put his hands to his chin, as if in deep thought. Dru flitted her way to his side, her pale dress flowing behind her. She bent down and laid her head upon the thinking vampire's knee.
"We must kill her. She stops my love from thinking straight. When she is gone," she said, smiling. She creeped so that her eyes could meet the face before her, "we can be a family again. Don't you want to be a family?"
"No." he said, pushing her way from him.
Her demon coming out, she growled harshly. "Fine. She has haunted you. You will never forget her smell. Mummy said when things began to smell they were rotten. Rotten little slayer. Must throw you out." She smiled and grabbed the gleaming axe before turning to go.
"Stop Dru. T . . talk to me. I want to be a family again. But we don't have to kill Buffy to do it."
"I knew you would understand Daddy. My Angel. I always knew you would love me." She ran into Angel's arms. He closed them around her nervously, a look of worry spread over his face.Prebuffy:
Buffy slowly opened the door to her house, and crept in as quietly as she could. It would be daybreak in precious few minutes, and she didn't want anyone to know she'd been gone all night. Doing one check around the house, she spotted Willow, asleep in a kitchen chair, head rested in her arms. She debated whether to wake her or not. Surely, Will had been waiting for her return. She probably wanted to talk about stuff. But Buffy didn't feel like chatting. So, she headed towards the staircase. I'll just tell her I didn't want to wake her, she thought. Maybe I can catch a few hours of sleep and pretend I was here all along. Before she could start up the stairs, a hand stopped her progress. She turned and found herself staring at Angel. She momentarily thought how glad she was that she hadn't started berating him. She assumed it was Spike, ready for seconds, wanting to persuade her to stop denying her obvious magnetism to him. Now, she couldn't think of anything to say. She stared at him and finally asked, "What are you doing here?" "Someone came to see me," he replied. "Someone who is a little intent on disrupting your life." "Tell them to take a number," she snorted. She sat on the second stair and leaned on a closed fist. "Who are you referring to specifically?" "Drusilla," he said. "Yeah, I know." She told him what had happened earlier. He looked troubled. "She's serious, you know. She has some fresh anger towards you. Any idea why?" Buffy suddenly found her shoes to be endlessly interesting. In fact, she couldn't take her eyes off of them. "Nope," she said in a voice barely above a whisper. No reason at all, she added silently. She doesn't want her old boyfriend back. From me. Willow appeared behind the doorway. Her mouth dropped at the sight of Angel. "Um, hi, um, it's you, um, hi, uh, are you staying? Well of course you are, you haven't seen Buffy in a while. Or Dawn. Or me! So, hi." Angel smiled at the familiar ramblings of the shyest of the bunch. "Hi Willow." She smiled and walked past Buffy up the stairs. Now was probably not the best time to bring up the fact that she was still in her clothes from yesterday. Or the doll she had found on the doorstep. They could talk later.
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Drusilla stealthily crept around the shadows of Spike's crypt, looking for a place to hide. They only way she and Harmony could kill their nemesis would be to catch her by surprise. Let Angel see the two of them in the throes of passion. He would be inspired to kill. It had been his idea for her to stake out Spike's place. Although she had conveniently left out the part about Spike's recent nighttime involvement with Buffy. She had made it sound like he was trying to kill her. Not trying to love her. She folded herself into the coffin they had made love in so many times in the past. He didn't use it anymore. Now, he likes to sleep in a bed. Like he was alive. She snorted in disgust. "Bad baby," she whispered to the empty room. Her bad baby. He would be her baby again. Soon.
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Buffy had deflected enough of Angel's questions to buy herself some time. She needed to talk to Spike. She was fairly sure Dru hadn't revealed the whole situation to Angel, or he would have acted differently towards her. But, she couldn't be sure when all of these parties would come together for a stand-off of dynamic proportions. She left Angel to chat with her friends. He couldn't go out in the daylight anyway. And Spike would surely be at home too, due to the UV rays warming her skin. She turned her face towards the sunshine. When had she stopped enjoying the warmth, and turned to the cold still of the vampires she was drawn to? Wait a minute, she thought. I'm still warm. Inside. When I'm with Spike. She shook her head, remembering Angel's face when he looked at her after all their time apart. This is not going to turn out well. I've got to do something quickly.
She walked past him and stood in the middle of the room. She purposely looked away from him, so she could hold on to her thoughts, and not be distracted by his muscles, or cheekbones. "We have a problem," she said, trying to sound businiesslike and firm. He wanted to still be angry with her. He wanted to listen to the voice in his head saying he should stop this before she shattered his feeble heart. But he couldn't. He snuck up behind her and kissed the back of her neck. "Miss me, luv? Is that why you're really here?" he whispered in her ear, his lack of breath not moving her hair, but still touching it. She closed her eyes, willing her body to stop responding to his verbal touches. "I'm busy right now. If you want to help, fine. But no funny stuff." She turned to leave, but he held her fast. "You're not laughing," he replied, hands moving under the smooth fabric of her shirt. She took a deep breath. "I mean it, Spike. No fu........" Suddenly she forgot why she wanted him to stop, what she had to do. Her brain couldn't register anything but his hands on her body. He spun her around, facing him. "You were saying?" he asked. She didn't answer. She just placed her lips as close to his as she dared. Predictably, he made up the distance between them. Then, her brain circuits shut off, not able to hold tangible thoughts, or separate the difference between his hands and his tongue. She felt herself being laid upon the bed. Spike moved in concert with her, in the opposite direction, traveling down her body as she scooted towards the headboard. And then, instantly, all of their clothes were gone. He was dangerously close to her and she could smell his skin through his aftershave. He groaned with desire and let his body take over. Let his skin touch hers, every pore shooting currents towards the middle of his body. She whispered his name over and over again, begging for him to stop and never stop simultaneously. The whisper turned into a chant, broken only by shortness of breath and sounds that came out of her diaphragm, traveling up her entire body before they perforated the sound barrier. The friction beteween them heightened. He closed his eyes and focused, ignoring the intense head rush he was getting from being with her, being in her. Buffy struggled not to lose it, to keep concentrating, but she couldn't. Slowly, she let the electricity crawl up her spinal cord until it freed itself from her in a rush of pain and pleasure. They fell into the curves of the mattress, breathing deeply, heavily, so relaxed they forgot to part. And fell asleep that way. No one saw the partially opened crypt on the other side of the room.
She awoke with a start. Shooting up out of her slumber, she looked around, confused. Next to her, Spike opened one eye and stared at her quizzically. "I was doing something...." she said, out loud. He smiled and replied, "Yes you were. Did I stop you too soon? Do you feel the need to finish?" She glared at him, rolled her eyes, and tried not to smile. "Not that," she said, turning her head so he couldn't see the lazy, reminiscent half-grin dancing across her face. "I was doing something important." "That was important to me," he deadpanned, sitting up to match her position. This time, a soft giggle escaped. She hated when he did that. Made her forget how much she hated how well he knew her. And how well he touched her. She tried shaking her head to rid herself of those thoughts, but his lips were in her way. And they were traveling up her neck. "Spike, cut it out. I've got something to do. At least I think I do. I was doing...something.." But he had moved over to the other side of her neck. Then his hands.....she suddenly forgot what she had to do.....again.
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Drusilla flew in the door, screaming and throwing the flaming shroud to the ground. She slammed the door and stormed over to where the gaggle of porcelin figurines sat perched in separate conversations on the mantle. She knocked them all over. "What is your deal?" Harmony asked, staring at her reproachfully, feet dangling over the edge of the couch. "He likes it!" screamed Druscilla storming over to an endtable with a lamp on it. She picked it up and threw it as well. "Who likes what?" Harmony replied, hands over her ears. "And stop yelling. We have neighbors, you know." She blew in the direction of her freshly-painted toes. "Now what are you babbling about?" Dru was looking at her as though it were easier to stare at the wall thru her than it was to stare directly AT her. It was these times when she started to freak Harmony out a little. But she was very creative, and very crazy, and possibly the only person who would be willing to help her kill the slayer. So, she tolerated her ramblings, conversations with her dolls, and wierd spaced-out staring contests. She even had real conversations with her once in a while. Harm briefly wondered how Spike had lived with her for so long. Patient guy, for as moody as he could be. Speaking of Spike... She leaned toward Dru and spoke conspiratorily. "So, what did you find out?" Dru fell into a chair and placed her thin hands over her head. "He likes it. Miss Edith said he was just playing with her, torturing her because she secretly likes it, that evil bitch. But he likes it." She had gotten up to pace around the two chairs. "Miss Edith never lies to me. He is supposed to hurt her. She deserves to be hurt. I want her hurt!" Harmony had turned her attention back to her toenails. "Of course he likes it. He likes her. He likes Slayers or something. He used to make me play "Slayer" and he would get all riled up when I pretended to stake him. But he....." She trailed off because Druscilla was standing over her, looking traumatized. "But he told me you were his first love. He probably liked you the best." She smiled and added "If that makes you feel better" under her breath. Why did she care about Spike anyway? He was so 2000, when she was first turned, and scared to hunt by herself. But, she had gotten better now, and didn't need him. Didn't need his strong arms or dizzying kisses. Maybe I should go for a walk, she thought, and see what's really going on for myself. Maybe Dru couldn't talk to him like she could. "Where are you going?" Dru snapped. She hadn't even realized she had migrated towards the door. She could feel him nearby. She needed to see him. "I'm hungry," she replied. "Just going for a midday snack. Want anything?" She picked up the smoking robe, held it up, and smiled, for effect. But Dru just turned away, waving at invisible annoyances, mumbling obscenities.Mazzy:
Sunnydale cemetery was just like any other cemetery, save for the fresher graves and strange sounds that tinged night air with horror and the muddy footsteps. There were always muddy footsteps in every direction on every footpath of this gravesite. Footsteps that left any stranger well aware that this dead were indeed restless in this town.
From the South entrance he strode through the rusty iron gate of the familiar "landmark". Ironically, he found himself reminiscing, feeling nostalgic as he walked past headstones of former friends and former kills. Normally he would weigh himself down with these broody thoughts, but perhaps the guilt-free nostalgia was due to the hypnotizing thoughts implanted in his brain by his former raven-haired protege. She'd mention that her protege, the blonde one, had made himself quite comfortable in a nearby crypt and was causing trouble for the Slayer. Angel knew that Drusilla had an agenda. Her pretense for trouble was to reunite their "family" again. Angel knew better, and knew the less he said to Dru, the better. His number 1 priority was to look out for his Buffy.
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From the North entrance of the graveyard, the ditzy blonde vamp strolled in adjusting her pink leather outfit, as she proceeded. If she was going to face her platinum baby again, she was damn sure she was gonna be dressed to the nines and leaving him panting. "Hmmpff!" she thought. In high school, it wasn't at all about Buffy Summers; it was about Harmony--a Cordette, a popular girl and a favorite with all the boys--and for good reason. Spike was temporarily insane; that's what she truly believed. Her plan was working. Drusilla and Angel would take care of the Slayer and she would have Spikey-boy chomping at her Manholo Blahnik (sp?) heels once more. Then she could take over Sunnydale and the world.
Harmony saw a figure rustling in the distance. She spied a leather duster swooping through rows of headstones on the way to the vamp's crypt, and she prepared herself for the long overdue confrontation. She skipped forward with haste and excitement, running toward the figure with anticpation.
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Angel looked down at the footsteps that lead toward's Spike crypts. Chip or no chip, he knew Spike was bad news and he was gonna get what he deserved--a good beating, and a 1-way ticket out of Sunnydale forever. He plotted his strategies, lost in thought and concentrating when a figure dashed in front of him. Instinctively, he punched before he looked up, sending the figure hurling back into a freshly dug grave. He heard a high pitched scream, but knew it wasn't the slayer's sister. What had he just done? He crept toward the muddy hole and slowly and carefully peered over the edge to gaze at his opposition.
"Ewww!" Harmony shrieked. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" She sat in the the hole, trying to wipe away the grainy earth from the creases of her skirt as she composed herself. "Is that anyway to greet an old friend?" She saw the man with the duster standing up at the entrance of the grave, but couldn't make out his features. A strong hand was held out to
her, in offer of assistance up from the hole. Harmony carefully contemplated her next move.Alantie:
Drusilla twirled into the graveyard, half dancing, half prowling. It was a beautiful night, she noticed. The moon wasn't whispering tonight, it was sleeping- half covered in a black bag. She crept stealthily along the rough side of Spike's crypt, smelling the passion that was burning inside. The crazy grin stretched across her face as she brought her spidery hands up and curled them in and out of a determined fist. Now to find Angel.
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Harmony stood next to the open grave, brushing the cold clumps of mud from her bottom and sleeves, her stupid blue eyes glaring at the large man who had backed away into the shadows some more. Like a gentleman giving her respected space. Harmony snorted. "Aren't you going to apologize, sir?" she mocked, "Because you ruined my shirt." she bent her arms to show the tiny rip in the frilly pink shirt, "And you punched my face! Oh my god, my make up! You didn't mess it up, did you?" she shrieked immaturely, patting her cheeks and rubbing underneath her eyes to smooth away smudged mascara. "Harmony Kendall. Vampire." he sighed after moving back into the light towards her. The slight silver light and the dull glow of the cemetary lamps played off of his strong features and thick hair. She gasped. "Angel? Buffy's ex. Ha! I thought you moved to LA. What are you doing here?" she whined. "Don't worry about it. I'm looking for a vamp named Spike, have you seen him? Bleached blonde hair. Arrogant english accent. Can't miss him." his voice sounded slightly immpatient and unamused, ignoring the light that had just flared up in Harmony's eye. "Boy, have YOU been out of the loop, Angel. Of course I know Spike. He's my ex. I was on my way to his crypt right now before I was so rudely punched into a 6 foot deep hole." her high-pitched voice lilted proudly, planting her hands on her plump hips. Angel growled lightly under his breath. "Good. Then you can take me to him." "Are you going to kick his ass? I'm not surprised. I want to kick Buffy's ass, so you should want to kick his ass. Its like an ex-personal-property thing." she babbled, beginning to walk towards his crypt. Angel reached out and grabbed her squooshy bicep, pulling her back towards him and turning her around to face his snarling face. "What are you talking about?" he said through clenched and fanged teeth. "Ew! Don't need to go all vampy on me! I'm not going vampy on you! Even if I do want the guy back!" she shrieked, trying to shrug his powerful grip from her arm. He squeezed tighter. It was like trying to talk to Dru. Spike's ex's were both insane in very different and annoying ways. "Get back to the 'Ex-Personal-Property' shit." "Oh. Buffy is your ex. Spike is my ex. They're together. I want Spike back. Dru wants Spike back. I bet you want Buffy back. So we all hate Buffy, and you hate Spike. Hell, I even hate Spike. I hate Dru too. I hate you-" he cut her off by throwing her forward again. "Take me to Spikes. NOW."
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"Where are you going, pet?" Spike mumbled through his lips mashed against his pillow as he layed drowsily on the bed. Buffy pulled on her clothes quickly and nimbly. "Patrolling. I can't seem to get out what I want to talk to you about because every time...well, you know. So I am going to go work off the aggrevating energy." she said simply tying up her boots and kinking her head from side to side to crack it and loosen it up. Spike dragged himself across to her side of the bed and ran one long finger down the tiny bumps of her spine. "You can work out that energy here, you know." "Thanks but no thanks, Spike. I want to kill something." He chuckled slightly and then sat up, pulling on his own black clothing. "Me too, I'm coming along." She stood up and faced him, playing with the straps on her tanktop and pulling her coat collar tighter around her neck. "You don't have to." "I know, but I want to. Let's kill the bad guys. Grr." He threw on his worn duster and climbed up the ladder ahead of her. She sighed and followed. Upstairs he pulled open his chest and tucked some stakes in his belt and sleeves. She followed suit. They were two nighttime warriors: sex and then the fight. Buffy halted right outside of the crypt door and pulled up her coat, struggling to stick a stake in the back of her shirt, under her bra. Spike didn't miss a sexual beat. He slipped up to her face, his cool hand sliding up behind her to her back and the other hand pulling her wrist away. She dropped her hands and stared up into his eyes, feeling his arms around her. "Let me do it." he whispered. She felt the wooden smoothness of the stake get lodged comfortably under the elastic, her eyes still fixed on his as his muscular hands stayed on her skin caressing. His mouth met hers.
Dru watched two shadows approach. One large and looming, and the other small and curveous. She danced out to meet them, the worn fabric of her lacey dress fluttering. "Hello my dearies. My little daddy and his bad mistress are inside. But my blood is calling their names. They will soon come out to dance with the stars." Angel growled as Harmony rolled her eyes. Just then the crypt door swung open with its creak and groan. Two tangled bodies stumbled out, mouths fused together, arms holding to each other's strong slender bodies tightly. Angel let out another roar. Buffy's eyes flew open and she pushed Spike away. The 5 people stood facing each other in a open circle in the middle of the misty graveyard. One growling, one laughing crazily, one complaining dumbly, one muttering curses, and the other breathing heavily.
