Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy, Spike, Dawn, or Anya. They're all Joss'. Everyone else, though - those're mine. ~_^ I'd also like to credit the movies 'The Shinning' and 'Clue', as well as two episodes of Star Trek TOS that helped inspire this plot. (Don't ask. ^_^)

Summary: Seven years ago, Spike fled Sunnydale and his abusive relationship with Buffy. Now, he and still-best-friend Dawn are working together in their own demon hunting agency. However, when they're called out to investigate a chain of supernatural murders at Cascade Mountain Lodge, they discover that Buffy's on the case as well. Will they be able to solve the mystery before they become the next casualties? And what does the solution have to do with the events of seven years ago? *COMPLETED, March 2003 - September 2003* NC17

Author's Note: Hey, it's the beginning of a new Spuffy saga! Yes, this one will be rated NC17 eventually. (Aren't they all?) And, yes, I am doing the infamous 'Buffy and Spike in a haunted house' theme, but I'm hoping it will be quite different from all the others out there. However, I do want to warn people that some parts of this will be a bit darker than some of my other sagas. This story assumes that everything through the S6 episode 'Dead Things' occurred, and it deals heavily with the events of that episode - hence, the darkness. Just wait it out, don't trust anything you see, and trust me that things will turn out all right in the end. ~_^

Haunted
By Kantayra

Prologue

Laura Danvers blinked and shook her head as the man dashed through the entranceway of Cascade Mountain Lodge. For a second she would almost have sworn he was...smoking? in the morning sun.

He seemed fine now, though, as he approached the front desk, and Laura took the time to look him over. Bleached platinum hair, razor-sharp cheekbones, lean muscular body, black leather...and the most haunted look in his eyes... She had expected some sort of cocky swagger as he approached the desk, but instead he seemed meek, unsure...

“Can I help you?” she inquired politely.

There seemed to be a short delay between when she said the words and when he heard them. After the brief pause, he gave her a curt nod. “N-Need a room,” he stuttered in an awkward British accent, shifting from on foot to the other.

“It’s almost six am,” she pointed out, gesturing to the first rays of dawn that were just peeking over the horizon.

He seemed horribly flustered by this, as if he didn’t know what to do. “I-I’m sorry,” he murmured, eyes looking down.

Dammit, Laura cursed inwardly, why are the cute ones always nuts?

“It’s alright,” she quickly reassured him, afraid he was going to break out crying any moment. “You want a room for the day then?”

He nodded meekly, and she noticed for the first time that the hand that seemed to be running through his hair was lingering far too long. Almost like he was covering something up...

“You’re in luck,” she informed him in as friendly a manner as she could manage. “We had an old couple from Kansas check out bright and early this morning...or dark and early, as the case may be,” she joked lightly.

He managed a ghost of a smile, acknowledging her attempt. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve gone for the twenty-something blond in one of his nonexistent heartbeats. She was obviously attracted to him, and a good roll in the hay usually did him wonders. But not now, not after...

“You’re lucky the ski season just ended,” she continued to chatter about inane topics even though his mind had obviously drifted. “Because when the slopes are running, we’re booked solid for - oh my god!”

The concealing hand had fallen downwards as he became more absorbed in his own mental ghosts, revealing the nasty bruise around his eye for the first time.

A wave of nervousness rushed over her at that. He certainly looked the type to be involved in illegal pursuits... “You’re not...in trouble, are you?” she inquired nervously. “Because this is a respectable resort, and-”

“Tripped an’ fell is all,” he hastily reassured her, covering up his eye again, embarrassed.

I’ll take domestic abuse for a thousand, Alex, Laura grimaced inwardly. Must’ve been a big, strong guy to leave a bruise that nasty, too. Dammit, she lamented, why are the cute ones always gay?

“OK,” she gave him a reassuring smile. She reached up to the key rack and pulled down the only set of keys on them. “If you’ll just sign in...” She heard the sounds of pen on paper. “And, I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but if you could just wait here in the lobby while I call Maria and make sure the room’s clean?”

He nodded nervously in response and practically snatched the keys from her hand. His fingers, still cold from the spring Colorado air, brushed against her warmer ones.

She showed no outward reaction to the unnatural chill of his touch and picked up the desk phone while he sat himself down. She bit her lip as she watched his profile. From this angle his bruises weren’t visible, and he looked even handsome than she had first thought. Absentmindedly, she read his name from the guest book. William Summers... Dammit, she sighed as Maria picked up on the other end, why are the cute ones always vampires?

The sounds of the desk clerk’s phone conversation faded to nothing as Spike sat slumped in the lobby chair, staring at nothing. He still couldn’t believe it. He had actually left Buffy, packed his only bag, jumped on his motorcycle, and just...gone. Already, the voices in his head were whispering to him, telling him that she needed him, that she cared about him, loved him despite everything...

“You’ve an evil, disgusting thing!”

“You’re beneath me.”

“The only chance you ever had with me was when I was unconscious.”

“You were just...convenient.”

“There’s nothing good in you.”

“I could never be your girl!”

“Soulless...”

“Disgusting...”

“Monster!”

And then it was like everything hit him at once, and a soft sob escaped his throat. It was followed by a second and a third until he buried his head in his hands, wailing out his loss to the world. This was no different from when he’d lost Buffy after she’d leapt off that tower. If anything, she was even further from him now, even further than death...

Because he was nothing. Just a pitiable monster. Of course, she could never love him. What on earth had he been thinking? That a golden goddess like his Slayer could ever look upon an abomination like him with anything other than disgust and loathing...

“Whoa!” Laura’s eyes widened in surprise as her guest suddenly started bawling. “It’s OK, really,” she insisted. “Maria’s fixing up the room right now, honest!”

He didn’t hear her but clutched tighter at the object in his duster pocket, pulling it out so that he could feel its reassuring silk, remember the girl he loved so much...and that loved him, too...

“You have to go,” Dawn said, still stunned by the story he’d spilled to her in his pain and grief. She gulped at the momentous nature of what she was deciding, but realized that she couldn’t still be his friend and advise otherwise. “She’s killing you, Spike...”

“It doesn’t matter,” he insisted bitterly. “I promised ‘til the end of the world and-”

“No,” Dawn whimpered, tears streaming from her eyes as she looked at the beaten and battered face of her best friend, “you need to leave. Now, before it’s too late.”

“She din’t mean it,” Spike insisted. “She was just mad, an’ I botched everythin’ up again, so-”

“Spike...”

“Was all my fault,” he insisted. “’m not good enough for her is all.”

“You mean she’s not good enough for you!” Dawn countered, enraged. “Why, when I get my hands on that heartless, arrogant bitch!”

“No, Bit,” Spike pleaded with her. “You can’t let her know that I told you. Wasn’t s’posed to tell...”

A cold fire burned in Dawn’s eyes at that, not at all unlike that which burned in the Slayer’s eyes right before a kill. “You need to leave town, Spike,” she said simply. “I need to know that you’re safe.”

“’m not leavin’ you,” he insisted vehemently.

“Please, Spike,” her face softened as she begged him. “I can’t bear to see you like this...not after all we’ve been through together...”

A sad smile lit up his lips at that. “Can’t leave you all alone,” he protested slightly, “with her...”

“I’ll be strong,” she insisted. “I’ll deal. Now, go. Save yourself while you still can...”

A bitter laugh escaped him at that. This had to be the only thing that would ever allow him to leave his Slayer. Dawn begging him, still caring about him, absolving him of his responsibilities in Sunnydale...

“Thanks, Bit,” he whispered softly.

She smiled at him sadly as untied the ribbon from her hair. She wished she had something more, something better, but she hadn’t known when she snuck out to his crypt that this would be the last time she would see him.

“Here,” she pressed the silken fabric into his hand, “to remember me...”

He took it from her gently and then, in an uncharacteristic gesture of affection, caught her up in his arms. “I could never forget you, Dawn,” he whispered.

“I love you, Spike,” she uttered the magic words...

“Hey, are you all right?” Laura asked, noticing the guest calm down as he stroked a green ribbon, of all things. “Is there anything I can do?”

He looked up at her at that, fingering the lingering bruise over his eye. Dawn’s impromptu attempt at a healing spell hadn’t been entirely effective, true, but he still treasured it. One Summers broke his heart while the other picked up the pieces...

“’m tired,” he said simply, a hint of the old fire in his eyes.

Laura was slightly breathless at the change in him. He suddenly seemed confident, strong...mesmerizing... “I’ll show you to your room,” she agreed shakily, helping him to his feet and guiding him down the hallway. “If there’s anything-” she began, blushing.

And his lips crashed down on hers. Her eyes widened for a moment before she wrapped her arms around him, staggering back with him into the room.

That morning Spike washed the Slayer’s scent from him with that of another woman for the first time.

But, what neither of them noticed was the mystical reddish glow that seemed to seep up through the carpet, glittering brighter until, suddenly, it vanished...

BTW, I changed the timeline so that 'Dead Things' occurred in the spring for the sole purpose of making it seem credible that Spike could drive a motorcycle to a ski lodge in Colorado. Deal with it. ~_^ So, confused? Intrigued? Read on...

Disclaimer & Author's Note: The same.

Haunted
Chapter One - Breaking Up

Seven years later...

“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t find out about her?!” Candy’s voice screamed, shattering the quiet of the otherwise peaceful office.

“Sweetness-” Spike’s rough British accent began.

“I don’t even want to hear it!”

There was a loud thump and a crash from the inner office.

Dawn merely sighed and rolled her eyes, as if this were an everyday occurrence. “Check,” she announced, advancing her bishop.

Her opponent practically bounced in her seat, her blond locks flouncing gracefully and her rather ample chest jiggling in that way that turned so many men’s eyes. Her perfectly manicured hand reached out, plucked her rook off of the board, and placed it down right in between Dawn’s bishop and the king.

Dawn frowned. The move seemed quite thoroughly random - the sacrifice of a powerful piece while simultaneously leaving the left flank open - but, then, that was so typically Siggy. Dawn snatched up the rook sacrifice offered. “Check,” she repeated.

Another crash sounded from the back room, followed by an outraged roar.

“You crazy bint!” Spike exclaimed loud enough that all of Manhattan probably heard him.

Siggy winced. “What is it that you think that he has broken this time around?” she asked in a heavy Swedish accent. As always, her grammar was perfect, if a little silted and formal.

Dawn grimaced. “Let’s just hope it’s not another window,” she decided, watching in complete bafflement as Siggy’s knight seemed to be making the same pointless sacrifice as he rook had. Dawn’s own rook slid over to take it.

The other employee at Summers Supernatural Investigations seemed completely unconcerned by this chain of events. Siggy had first encountered Spike in a pub about two years ago, only hours after she’d gotten off of the plane from Stockholm. Given her extreme...assets, going into a pub in a bad neighborhood at one in the morning really hadn’t been a good idea, but then Siggy hadn’t known the area.

The requisite brawl had ensued, resulting in Spike’s victory - as always - and he had promptly decided that his ‘rescuee’ needed a close up and personal tour of the Big Apple.

Dawn could still remember the way her eyes had rolled when Spike first brought the buxom blond back to their apartment. Thoughts like, Oh no, not another Harmony! had popped to mind. Fortunately, Spike spoke German, a language Siggy had been much more skilled in at the time, so they were at least speaking the same language. Dawn had known Spike to choose much shadier mistresses in the past four years.

However, it wasn’t until after a somewhat awkward dinner that Dawn’s opinion of the woman had changed. They had been gathered in the living room, sipping wine, when Siggy had abruptly said to Spike out of the blue, “You are very kind for a vampire.”

The requisite spit takes had followed with a round of Telephone Translations as an encore, while Siggy explained her situation to Spike in German, so that he could tell Dawn, in turn, in English. It turned out that a truce had existed between the demon and human populations in Stockholm ever since the previous Master of the city had been rousted and a more ‘unconventional’ one took his place. The situation apparently wasn’t too rare in Europe where Masters retained entire cities in their territory for centuries and so kept their number of minions low in order to reduce the risk of a revolt - both from the human populations and from their ambitious underlings.

Having fully awed the pair of demon hunters, Siggy had even had the commonsense not to sleep with the guy - the vampire guy - she’d just met that night. Instead, shee’d left, giving Spike a quick kiss on the lips and a giggled “My hero!”

Dawn had liked the woman from that moment on, even though the subsequent sex after Siggy and Spike’s third date had been loud enough to keep her up for weeks. Plus, it was hard to pick up employees in the demon hunting industry, especially ones that made such great bait...

“That’s it!” Candy’s voice screeched from the back room. “I have had it with you!” The door flew open, and the small blond stalked out furiously, Spike right on her heels.

“Pet...” he pleaded, catching her by the arm.

She turned on him furiously then and slapped him in the face. Of course, the human blow couldn’t hurt him, but he made a show of wincing nonetheless. “You...asshole!” Candy exclaimed in a white-hot fury. “You think I’m just going to forgive you?!”

“C’mon now, luv,” Spike cooed softly, looking up at her from under long, dark lashes. “It was just a one-time thing, honest. Just a li’l slip-up...”

“ ‘Little’?” Candy repeated. “Here’s ‘little’ for you! We’re over! Done! Goodbye, Spike!” she said angrily before storming out of the office, slamming the door behind her for good measure.

“Oops,” Spike grimaced, sending an apologetic smile Dawn and Siggy’s way. “Sorry you had to hear that, luvs.”

“Trust me,” Dawn snorted. “We’re used to it.” She watched Siggy’s pawn advance and frowned. “Check,” she repeated, moving her knight once more.

“You should not lie to her like that,” Siggy commented. “If you wish to take another woman to your bed-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Spike grumbled, picking up an opened bottle of JD from the top of the mini-fridge, “’eard it a million times before, poodle.” He downed half the bottle in one gulp.

Dawn didn’t comment. It was best just to leave Spike alone when he was in one of these moods. Frankly, she had preferred watching Spike and Siggy’s break-up. Now, that had been priceless.

After several weeks of non-stop shagging, Siggy had calmly sat across from Spike on the couch one day and delivered the most brilliant speech Dawn had ever heard. In fact, she’d memorized it and quoted it often:

“You are a very attractive blood-sucking demon, and I very much appreciate that when you stare at my chest you do not seem to be thinking ‘fuck big tits now’ so much as ‘must erase pain of the past’. I also fully appreciate your many talents in bed and will miss the excellent sexual intercourse very much. However, I feel the need to be something more than a sexual safety-blanket at the moment. Therefore, I feel that we should just be friends and co-workers for now.” Then, she had given his hand a quick squeeze, brushed a kiss across his forehead, and that had been it.

Dawn had done much interrogating in the next few days after that and had gotten a “How the bloody ‘ell was I s-posed to argue with that?” from Spike and a “It seems futile to try to win his heart, therefore I mean to analyze it instead” from Siggy. Apparently, she took her given name’s etymology - Sigrid: ‘victorious counselor’ - very seriously.

And it seemed to have been the smart track to take since Siggy was now the only other person Spike opened up to, although she was still nowhere as close to the vampire as Dawn was...

“Checkmate.”

Dawn was pulled out of her reverie and stared down at the chessboard in confusion. “Huh?” she said in disbelief.

“That is, I believe, checkmate?” Siggy repeated.

Dawn blinked, cocked her head to one side, stared at the board...blinked again, looked closer...

“She’s got you, Platelet,” Spike agreed with a chuckle.

“But...” Dawn began in protest, “...damn,” she conceded her defeat.

Oh yeah, had she forgotten to mention that? In addition to being gorgeous, demon-savvy, and a brilliant analyst of both the human and vampire psyche, Siggy was also a certified genius. If Dawn hadn’t liked the other woman so much, she would have been decidedly jealous.

Having observed this streak in her, Spike had sat her down one day while Siggy was out on assignment and had matter-of-factly informed her, “You’re smart, street-wise, a brilliant pickpocket, the best friend ‘ve ever had, and unbelievably beautiful, Bit. If you weren’t like my li’l sis, ‘d shag you in a heartbeat. So, no need to feel jealous, huh?”

They jury had been out for a while on whether that speech was sweet or creepy, but the first had finally won out. After all, this was Spike.

And, at the moment, her bizarrely sweet vampiric surrogate big bother was staring into the bottom of the empty beer bottle, frowning at the dead roach inside. “Uh...how long was this thing left out?” he asked warily.

Dawn and Siggy both wrinkled their noses in disgust.

“Don’t ask me,” Dawn retorted. “I refuse to keep track of your messes.”

Spike gave her a mock-scowl at that and tossed the empty bottle into the trash...despite the fact that the recycling was only five feet further to the right. “’m goin’ out,” he announced, snatching his duster from the coat-rack, “get me some roach-free stuff.”

“And you are expecting to find the roach-free liquor at Jimmy’s?” Siggy couldn’t help but tease.

He rolled his eyes heavenwards, muttered something about “bloody women” under his breath, and headed for the door.

“Wait!” Dawn’s voice halted him. “Don’t you want to hear about our new case?”

“Do I hafta kill anythin’ tonight?” he inquired, scarred eyebrow raised.

“No...” Dawn conceded.

“Then you can tell me tomorrow,” he decided, leaving the office in a flurry of black leather.

“I swear, sometimes...” Dawn clutched her hands in a strangling gesture.

“You are searching for the word ‘pig’, perhaps?” Siggy joked lightly.

Dawn smiled at the blond. “It looks like it’s up to us to do all the work,” she sighed, getting up, pulling the roach-infested bottle from the trash, and placing it in the recycling with a grimace of disgust. “As always.”

“Will you be wanting me to research this...” Siggy glanced down at her notepad, “Cascade Mountain Lodge at the library?”

Dawn nodded. “Pull up all the death records from the nearby town as well,” she instructed. “Whatever this is, it might not just be localized at the inn.”

Siggy nodded. “It is time to change into my skimpy ‘surely, you do not really need me to fill out all that paperwork to read this file?’ dress,” she said with a wink before exiting the office as well.

“Which leaves me,” Dawn sighed, “to clean up the mess ‘Spike break-up number fifty-three’ left behind...”

* * *

Dawn had been furious when she’d gone to bed. Spike hadn’t reported in that entire day, and - while it had been cloudy and snowy during the daylight hours - it still made her nervous when the sun was up and he was out. As a result, she’d been trapped in the office all day, taking care of routine business because Spike wasn’t there to do his bloody job. Siggy, at least, had come in later that evening, files and folders all clearly labeled and a summary of her findings written in a concise, neatly-typed report.

It had been closing time then, and Dawn had locked up the office, Siggy’s research in hand, and gone up to the apartment she and Spike shared above the office space. She’d set out the files on her desk and read while she waited for him to come home...and waited...and waited...

By two am, she’d practically memorized all the police reports she’d gone over them so many times, and Spike still hadn’t come home. So she was pissed. Add to that the fact that he had been acting like an ass that afternoon, and she was practically searching for some sharp pointy wood by the time she turned in.

However, one look at his gaunt, haunted features as he stood in the doorway, shivering convulsively, evaporated her anger immediately.

“C’mere,” she whispered softly, holding up the corner of the blanket for him.

Gratefully, he slipped under the covers beside her, teeth chattering as he wrapped himself around her body. “’m so cold, Dawn,” he whispered against her throat.

“Shh,” she agreed, stroking his hair, “I know.”

He let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. “I feel so ridiculous,” he complained. “’m a vampire. I don’t feel the cold!”

“I like to think of you more as a big, cuddly stuffed animal,” Dawn teased, wrapping her arms around him, “with fangs.”

He chuckled slightly at that, his shivers passing as her body warmed his up. “Damn,” he sighed, “I know the cold’s just in my head...so why can’t I just make it stop?”

Dawn shrugged. “Doesn’t work that way,” she said simply. “I was worried about you,” she added more softly.

He smiled against the curve of her throat at that. “’ll always come back to you, Nibblet,” he promised her. “You know that.”

“Yeah,” she agreed softly, gently stroking his peroxide locks, “what would you do without me?”

“Wither and die.” He said it as a jest, but something in his tone indicated that it was the honest truth.

“Don’t say that,” she admonished, placing an affectionate kiss of the top of his head. “You’re the only family I’ve got now. I can’t lose you, too...”

“You won’t, Bit,” he swore. “As long as you need me...”

“That’ll be forever,” she informed him matter-of-factly.

A deep vibration rose in his chest at that, and she snuggled against him further. If she had to have a needy vampire roommate who needed to be held at night, at least she had one that purred. It was very nice, very relaxing.

She wondered for a minute whether he had ever purred for Buffy and then banished the thought to the back of her mind. Her sister was a part of her past she had long since abandoned, and she refused to let such thoughts interfere with the treat that was Spike purring.

“Can I?” he requested shyly.

She nodded and tilted her head to one side, hissing as she felt the bones in his face shift and the sharp points of his fangs graze her throat.

“Would never hurt you,” he purred.

“I know,” she held his head to her neck, breathing heavily. Maybe it was because she was a Slayer’s sister, but a warning tingle always ran down her spine when a vampire’s fangs got this close to her.

He didn’t bite, though, just gently nicked the skin enough to get one drop of blood. “Mine,” he whispered.

“Yours,” she agreed for the umpteenth time since he had first marked her. It was a sign of possession, she knew, but that wasn’t what it meant for them. It was a mark of protection, affection, love - the only love he allowed himself to admit anymore.

“I love you,” Dawn whispered, rolling with him as he moved to lie on his back, her head pillowing on his bare chest.

She often thought that was grossly unfair to all the men she dated that she’d grown up thinking of Spike’s body as the ‘typical’ male build. But, hey, it wasn’t her fault her male role model had a body that would put a vast majority of professional male models to shame. At least he always had the decency to put on a pair of sweatpants before he joined her, or she was sure all her potential beaus would have yet another standard they couldn’t match up to. Not to mention, it would be way kinky.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered then, stroking her hair.

“Don’t be,” she insisted. “You know I’ll always be there for you.”

He nodded slightly, and the two of them just lay there together for a while, savoring the other’s presence.

“We’ve got an assignment,” Dawn finally commented, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

“Yeah, I dimly recall that,” he agreed with a sheepish smile, “before my stalkin’ off to get drunk, that is...”

Dawn sniffed the air. “You don’t smell like you’ve been drinking,” she observed.

“Showered,” he admitted guiltily.

Dawn sighed. “Did you even know this one’s name?” she inquired.

“’Course, I did!” Spike insisted. “It was Sara...or Kara...maybe Karen...”

“Spike...”

“Yeah, I know, ‘if you weren’t dead, I’d give you a lecture about STDs’,” he did a terrible imitation of her voice.

Dawn couldn’t help but smile at that. “Just make sure you take care of yourself,” she insisted. “I don’t want some crazed, jealous bimbo staking you.”

“Won’t happen,” he assured her.

“You’re sure?”

“Sure.”

“You’re careful?”

“Completely.” Spike was lying through his teeth, and they both knew it. “Now, what’s this new assignment of yours?” he not-so-subtly changed the subject.

Dawn let him get away with it for the moment. “How would you like,” she began, taking his hand, “to go on a vacation with me? Ski resort up in the mountains, cozy lodge-”

“Annoyin’ ski-bunny tourists for lunch?” he teased.

Dawn whapped him in the arm. “You might get to kill something mean and nasty...” she sing-songed, holding that tantalizing morsel out for him.

“Mmm, can hardly wait,” he agreed. “What’s the deal?”

“Fifty thousand.”

“Dollars?!” Spike exclaimed, eyes wide. “’d kill the entire place for that. What’s the nasty?”

Dawn sighed. “There’ve been five deaths at the lodge this season alone, all attributed to ‘accidents’.”

“An’ this calls for a supernatural detective agency, how?” Spike inquired.

Dawn bit her lip. “There’ve been a series of paranormal events,” she explained, “poltergeist activity, disturbed psychics - real, Witch’s Guild psychics, possessions...”

“Sounds like some soft ‘f ghost,” Spike pouted. “Can’t kill somethin’ that’s already dead, luv...at least, not that’s non-corporeal and dead,” he amended.

Dawn nodded in agreement. “That’s what I thought, too, at first,” she admitted.

“ ‘At first’,” he repeated, one eyebrow raised curiously.

“Before I looked through the historical records,” she clarified. “Spike, this happened before, fifty years ago.”

“So, the spook’s back for an encore,” he shrugged.

“At the end,” Dawn began, “several of the corpses were found mangled beyond recognition. And,” she paused for emphasis, “they weren’t murdered within the inn itself. Some of them made it halfway across the country. Whatever this is, it tracked those people down and killed them.”

“Which means it couldn’t’ve been confined to the inn,” Spike frowned.

“Which means no ghost,” Dawn agreed.

“Not ‘f the conventional sort at least,” Spike added thoughtfully.

Dawn nodded.

“But what stopped it before?” Spike asked. “And why would it return to it’s old huntin’ grounds?”

“That’s what we’ve got to find out,” Dawn agreed before burying her head in his chest and closing her eyes. “Tomorrow...”

And, now, the flip-side of the coin...

Disclaimer & Author's Note: See prologue.

Haunted
Chapter Two - The Ones Left Behind

“Buffy,” Nathan said with a distant smile, watching the blond sit across from him in the small diner, “you’re late.”

“Yeah, well,” she hedged, “I got caught up at work, y’know. Ms. Perkins can be a real slave-driver.” As can those nasty Hashir Demons that’ve been terrorizing Spi-er, Shady Hill Cemetery lately... “You’re lucky you got me at all,” she finished with a perky smile.

Nathan didn’t look impressed. “I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you,” he commented bitterly into his coffee.

“No,” Buffy instantly denied it, “I’m not inconvenienced, really. I’ve just had a lot of work to do and-”

“At the Administration Office?” Nathan asked in disbelief. “The place was only open ‘til noon today. I’m not stupid.”

“No, of course not, not stupid,” she agreed, mildly panicked now.

“Buffy,” Nathan’s pained eyes looked into hers, “if there’s someone else, I want to know.”

“Someone else?” she let out a humorless laugh. “Of course there’s no one else.” Isn’t there? that naughty voice in the back of her mind couldn’t help from asking.

“Then, I don’t get it!” Nathan exclaimed, banging the table with his fist. “You act like you’re interested, like you like me, and then all of a sudden...you’re so distant. I feel like I don’t know you anymore, like I never did.”

That’s because you didn’t. Only one person’s ever known me, and I can never be with him...

“I-I’ve just been really busy lately,” she insisted, wide-eyed.

“You’re right,” Nathan nodded. “You’ve been too busy, too busy for me, at least.”

“No, I’m really not,” Buffy pleaded. “I’ve got the next two weeks off. We can get together this weekend, and-”

“Buffy, no,” Nathan said tiredly. “I’ve heard this all before, and I don’t think I can go through with it again.”

She sat there, stunned. “B-But, then...what do you want me to do?” she asked weakly.

“Nothing. I think,” Nathan sighed, “that this isn’t working out.”

“What do you mean, not working?” Buffy entered nervous babble mode. “It can work. We’ll make it work.” She reached for his hand.

Reluctantly, he pulled it away. “I’m sorry, Buffy,” he said, getting up, “but I think we both need some time and some space. I know I do. Good luck,” he added, and then he was gone.

Buffy blinked blankly at the table a few times before the waitress approached her table. “Coffee,” she managed to say numbly before she buried her head in her hands and said the one name that always came to her in these circumstances.

“Angel...”

* * *

“So, he dumped you,” Anya shrugged, sipping at her martini. “It’s not like you even liked him that much in the first place.”

“Some Vengeance Demon you are,” Buffy pouted. “Shouldn’t you be trying to get me to make some nasty wish concerning his balls right about now?”

Anya shrugged. “It’s no fun when the wisher’s heart isn’t in it,” she replied simply.

Buffy sighed. “OK, so maybe I never really liked him that much,” she conceded, “but at least he was better than Ryan...”

Anya cringed at the name of Buffy’s ex-husband. “Now, there’s a man I wouldn’t mind doing some vengeance on,” she commented. “Why you ever agreed to marry him is beyond me.”

“I was all confused after the Angel thing, part two,” Buffy admitted. “And needy. I wanted someone who would take care of me.”

“Which, of course, meant you had to marry a domineering, ‘women in the kitchen’ bastard,” Anya exclaimed, still enraged. “I mean, what was that?”

“Me caving in and realizing that I’d never be happy?” Buffy suggested.

“There’s a difference between being constantly miserable and not being happy,” Anya scolded.

“Yeah,” Buffy sighed, thinking wistfully of her lost love.

Anya frowned in response. “You don’t blame Angel nearly enough for how much he messed up your life. There’s someone else I wouldn’t mind doing a spot of vengeance on,” she announced, draining the last of her drink.

“Oh, let Angel get on with his new life,” Buffy said bitterly. “After all he’s been through, he deserves it.”

“You’re too forgiving,” Anya decided. “You blame everything on yourself, when-”

“This is my fault,” Buffy insisted. “I made my bed. Now I have to lie in it.”

“God, don’t you ever get tired of being a martyr?” Anya rolled her eyes.

Buffy cast her an annoyed look.

“What?” Anya protested. “I’m sure he’d agree with me.”

“I’m not going to ever find anyone who can replaced him,” Buffy insisted, hating herself for getting into this argument again but not being able to help herself.

“You don’t replace people,” Anya rolled her eyes. “You just move on.”

“From your soulmate?” Buffy protested.

Anya groaned. “Right, like I haven’t heard that one before...”

“This is different from you and Xander,” Buffy insisted. “You don’t understand. He was the only one who ever really understood me, who accepted me for what I am, who knew the real me.”

“And I felt the exact same way with Xander,” Anya countered, “but it didn’t stop him from leaving me at the altar.”

Buffy sighed. “Can we just not argue about this?” she requested. “We haven’t seen each other for weeks. I’m sure we have other things to discuss.”

“You’re the one who brought up exes,” Anya pointed out, “what with your new one and all.”

Buffy ignored the comment. “So, where’d you go off to this time?” she changed the topic of conversation.

“Demon dimension two worlds over and three up,” Anya reminisced. “They have these things there - like giant catfish but inside-out and covered with defensive parasols. It was a great time...if you discount the large, somewhat stern Jack-In-The-Box junipers...”

“Uh-huh,” Buffy looked at the Vengeance Demon like she was nuts. “So, vengeance served?”

“I’m back on call, amn’t I?” Anya answered before frowning. “And you shouldn’t ask me that. It’s strange and somewhat alarming, like you’re going to slay me or something.”

“What part of ‘retired’ don’t you understand?” Buffy assured her.

“The part where you still go out and kill things every night,” Anya answered readily enough.

“Anya,” Buffy informed her sternly, “you’re the only one of the Scoobies left. There’s no way I’m going to slay you.”

“Not even if I staked your ‘soulmate’?” Anya just couldn’t leave that scab unpicked.

“Anya...” Buffy warned.

“Right,” Anya agreed perkily. “So what have you been doing...being here and all...”

“Work, getting dumped, slayage,” Buffy sighed. “That pretty much covers it.”

“How...interesting...”

Anya was trying, she really was. Buffy had to give her that much. In the days right after the Hellmouth was closed for good, neither of them had really bothered to be civil to each other. Which, Buffy supposed, was reasonable given how shattered the experience had left both of them.

To this day, she could still hear the screams, echoing throughout the ruins of the old high-school as the Hellmouth was finally sealed with its last sacrifice...

“You’re remembering again,” Anya said with a kindness in her voice that Buffy had never noticed prior to The End.

“I am,” Buffy sighed. “I just wish...” That night she had gone back to the empty crypt, hoping against all hope that Spike would be back, that he would heal her like he had after she’d come back from the grave. Hell, that he would just hold her again, take her into his arms, tell her that he loved her...

“Yes?” Anya’s ears had perked up at the sound of those potent words.

“Nothing,” Buffy caught herself in time. “No wishing here.”

Anya pouted. “You’re no fun,” she complained.

“Just keep the vengeance confined to the demon dimensions, and I won’t get any less fun,” Buffy countered.

“See? There you go with the threatening slayage again! I think your latest ex, Brad...or, er, Brad...” Anya paused, frowning as she tried to remember the inconsequential name.

“Nathan,” Buffy reminded her.

“Whatever...was right,” Anya finished. “You are working too hard.” She shifted her shoulders uncomfortably. “You’re getting all slay-happy again. It’s like after-” She cut herself off when she realized where that train of thought was going.

Buffy let it slide. “Y’know,” she thought aloud, “maybe you’re right. I do have two weeks vacation coming up, and there is this ski lodge-”

“See, there you go.”

“-that’s having a demon problem. I was going to advise them to go elsewhere for help, but...”

Anya sighed. “What part of ‘vacation’ don’t you understand? You’re supposed to have fun, not kill things.”

“But killing things is what I do for fun,” Buffy insisted.

Anya mock-scowled at her. “It sounds pretty fishy to me...and not inverted-catfish fishy.”

“Huh?” Buffy blinked before shaking her head. “And this from someone who writes off all of her inter-dimensional traveling expenses as business trips?” she pointed out.

“Those salamanders were vital for inventory,” Anya insisted. “And they just don’t grow like that in this dimension.”

“Uh-huh.” Buffy was lost again.

“Although,” Anya said thoughtfully, “I suppose a working vacation is better than no vacation at all...unless it’s to the former Hellmouth. You do realize that I still get complaints about you slaying demon tourists, right?”

“He was engulfing a six-year-old in cytoplasm!” Buffy protested.

“I still say you would make a lot more money if you just posed for the pictures instead,” Anya continued to rattle on. “Just think! A former Vampire Slayer on a former Hellmouth. We can charge ten bucks a shot. I could manage, of course, order some merchandise - t-shirts, coffee mugs, those little things with the bobble heads and the eyes that move around...”

“I’m not posing for demon family albums,” Buffy insisted for the umpteenth time.

Anya shrugged. “Your loss...or, actually, mine as well, but you’re all morbid and moody, so I won’t complain.”

“I am not-!” Buffy began but was cut off by the sound of an inter-dimensional beeper playing the tune of ‘I’ll Fly Away’.

“This was supposed to be my night off!” Anya exclaimed in irritation before turning back to Buffy apologetically. “Sorry to cut and run, but duty calls.”

“It’s all right,” Buffy assured her. “We’ll have to do this again...”

“Soon,” Anya promised with a wave before vanishing in a white light.

Buffy sighed and looked at the empty space across from her, the straw in Anya’s glass still vibrating slightly from where Anya had just dropped it. The Vengeance Demon had only been gone a minute, and already Buffy felt the loneliness creep back into her. She was used to it now, though.

The real challenge had been the Year Of Hell. So many people gone from her life in such rapid succession: Giles, Spike, Tara, Xander, Willow, Dawn...

This last one was the only one she could really do anything about, but ever since Dawn had fled her custody she’d been implacable about reconciling. And once Dawn hit eighteen, it had been impossible. Buffy had recently managed to get a phone number somewhere in New York, but Dawn hadn’t returned her calls.

Not that Buffy could blame her after all that had happened...

But now, when she was alone, sitting in the dark of the Bronze, she felt the effects the most. Despite Anya’s reassurances, she had pushed people away, and now she was stuck with the aftermath.

The band on stage shifted to a heavily rhythmic number, the bass pulsing through the darkened club, making the whole place vibrate with the vitality of youth. It made Buffy feel like a dinosaur.

A little-known side-effect of Slayer healing had slowed down her aging process - although she doubted many Slayers lived long enough to find out about it. Probably none. But it made her look not much older than the kids here. However, she still felt her age in every muscle of her tired body and in her tired heart most of all. She’d seen more than any of these kids would see in their entire lives.

Plus, it just sucked to think that she was probably the oldest person in this place...

Time to reclaim my youth...

She got up and headed for the dance floor, scanning the crowd, searching, searching... A smile lit up her face as she watched the line of one man’s back. He was just her type, good height, good build, carried himself right.

He turned then, and she got a look at his face. Good, he was part of the older crowd, college or graduate school age. She didn’t care how youthful she looked; the idea of picking up high-school students gave her the creeps. Cute Guy’s face was disappointing, of course, but then she could never have what she wanted.

He watched her approach with obvious interest, a smile brightening his face.

“Hi, cutie,” Buffy said confidently, coming to a halt in front of him.

“Hi, yourself.”

OK, so his voice was blah. Definitely no tingles going down her spine. But she didn’t plan on doing much talking anyway, so that was all right.

“Wanna dance?” she inquired coquettishly.

“Sure,” he agreed, extending his hand to her.

She took it and followed him out onto the floor. Strobe lights flashed around them as Buffy wrapped her arms about his waist, molding her body to his. Their hips began gyrating slowly, moving to the sensual beat.

“You got a name?” he had to practically shout over the usual Bronze racket.

“Buffy,” she informed him. “You?”

“Tyler.”

A blah name, too. Nothing wrong with it, of course, but it wasn’t the sort of name that drew you in, intrigued you, made you want to learn more...

Fortunately, the racket on the dance floor halted any further conversation at the moment. The place was packed tonight, and they wouldn’t even have been able to hear the music were it not for the deep bass that vibrated through the floor in time with the beat.

Buffy turned her back to her dancing partner, grinding her hips back against his, closing her eyes against the prisma-colored flashing lights above the floor. Blinded, her other senses just became that more intense.

She’d made a good match with the build, she decided. She didn’t usually allow herself to indulge like this. Generally, she chose guys that weren’t anything like him, a way to break free of the past that haunted her every day. But, now, rejected by the ‘normal’ human guy once more, she just wanted a fraction of the old fire back, just a taste of what it had been like with him. And, really, what harm could it do just to pretend for a little while?

If she didn’t think about it, she could almost make herself believe it was him, that his hands were gripping her hips, that it was his hair her hands were running through.

A pause in the beat, a breath of quiet slipping through the normal chatter of the crowd, and a name slipped past her lips.

“Spike...”

Unfortunately, her partner heard it and halted his motions.

She turned to face him apologetically then, suddenly noticing all the telltale flaws in his appearance. Hair blond, but not shocking white. Leather jacket short and trendy, not long and battle-worn. Too soft cheekbones, too pale eyes, too straight lips. All in all, not Spike, not even close...

“I-I’m sorry,” Buffy mumbled, brushing past him and off of the dance floor, dashing out of the club, home, tears streaming down her face.

* * *

The next morning she got up, reaffirmed her decision, and reached for the phone.

“Hello, Ms. Danvers?” she said into the receiver. “This is Buffy Summers. I just wanted to let you know that, yes, I can help you with your problem. I’ll arrive this Sunday as we discussed.”

She hung up the phone after she’d left the message and stared into the small treasure box she kept on the shelf next to her bed.

Anya was right. She needed to get out of Sunnydale for a while, take a break from her normal routine, and escape all the ghosts of the past that lingered here. Most of all, what she needed to escape was the memory of him, battered and bloody, looking up at her with such heartbreak and betrayal, the image that haunted her every night when she closed her eyes...

Still confused? Still intrigued? Well, now you have to review for more. ~_^

Disclaimer: The usual.

Author's Note: OK, for some reason some people have gotten the strange notion that this will be a Spawn story. O.o What I have ever done to make people think that I would do this is beyond me. So, everyone just take a deep breath and repeat after me: "The Spike/Dawn relationship in the story is purelly platonic." You all feel better now? If not, try it again a few more times. ~_^

Haunted
Chapter Three - Near Misses

Dawn flicked on the turn signal in her beaten old Chevy and turned off of the highway at the exit to Black Hills Falls. The head that lay beside her on the seat stirred in response, and the deathly still body of her partner finally showed signs of life.

With a lion-sized yawn, Spike finally fully returned to the land of the unliving. He smacked his lips a couple of times, ran a hand through his spiky platinum hair, and wearily sat up once more.

“Are we there yet?” he asked for the umpteenth time, sounding for all the world like an impatient six-year-old on his way to Disneyland.

Dawn grinned at the image that thought invoked. “We’re at the town,” she agreed. “I wanna stop for gas before we head up to the lodge, though.” She cast a sly look Spike’s way. “Y’know, if you hadn’t made us take this gas-guzzler, we’d be there already.”

Spike’s eyes widened in horror. “My Baby will never be driven in snow!” he said, terrified for the health of the ’91 BMW he’d managed to acquire in mint condition at dirt-cheap price.

Dawn merely chuckled and rolled her eyes. She could still remember the evening when Spike had excitedly dragged her out of the office, puffed up as proudly as a peacock, and patted the black hood of his recent acquisition. Dawn acknowledged that it was a nice car, but Spike’s pampering of it verged on comical at times. Although, given that the New York winters had rusted out her own car to the point where she was afraid to wash it lest the body fall apart, maybe he did have a point.

“Don’t worry,” she assured him, patting his hand condescendingly. “Your Baby’s safe in the garage where I can’t get my evil hands on it.”

Spike humphed at her casual disregard for such a lovely vehicle and sulked even more when the gas station they pulled into didn’t have opaque overhead protection that would allow him to leave the vehicle. A bit of magic added to the tinted windows made the Chevy itself safe for flammable vamps while looking perfectly normal.

“You want anything?” Dawn inquired, getting out of the car.

“Coffee,” Spike groaned, “and those chips that have all the different flavors mixed together.”

“Excess caffeine and combo snack foods for the vamp who can’t decide,” Dawn grinned. “Got it. Try not to burn up in the sun.” With that, she slammed the door and moved to pump the gas.

Spike shifted about in the front seat uncomfortably. Long car trips always made him edgy. He needed room to stretch out and some way to release all the pent up energy that accumulated within him during the day. He greatly pitied Dawn for the ultra-hyperactive vampire she was going to have to put up with that evening.

He heard the sound of the gas pump shutting off outside and impatiently watched Dawn head for the building. His foot was tapping out a rapid staccato on the floor, and his fingers were twitching, and…dammit. He couldn’t do a sodding thing about it. There was only one solution for this type of problem - try to sleep some more and hope that it’d be sunset by the time he woke up.

He flopped back down lengthwise across the front seat just as a blue SUV pulled up to the pump across from him…

* * *

Buffy let out a sigh of irritation as she pulled the blue SUV she’d rented into the gas station. She didn’t need the gas - although she undoubtedly would if she didn’t stop winding through all those mountain roads, lost - but there was nowhere else at the station to park.

Angrily, she slammed door of her vehicle shut and stalked into the building. “Cascade Mountain Lodge,” she asked the young Asian woman at the cash register. “Where is it?”

“You just have to take 35 straight down to Highway E,” she began. “Then-”

“June?” the voice of one of the other station attendants shouted out.

“Just a second,” she gave Buffy an apologetic smile. “I’m with a customer, Stan!” she called out to the back of the store in irritation.

“Are we out of those combo chip bags?” Stan called back.

“If there aren’t any on the shelf, then, yes, we’re out!” She rolled her eyes at her coworker’s incompetence.

Buffy gave her a sympathetic smile.

“You turn right and take Highway E north for about a mile,” she continued her directions, “and then you turn left onto Cascade Mountain road. It’ll be the first left turn, but you’ll have to watch out for it because the sign’s down.”

“Hence, why I could find it,” Buffy said in realization. “Thanks,” she added with a smile. “And, where’s your bathroom?”

The cashier dug around in a drawer behind the counter and pulled out a wooden block with ‘WOMEN’ written on it in blue permanent marker, a shiny gold key attached to the end. “It’s right at the end of the beverage aisle,” she pointed.

“Thanks,” Buffy repeated, taking the key and heading for the restroom.

* * *

A Key of a different sort stood one aisle over, debating her purchase. Spike may have been a hundred-year-old immortal being, but he was mighty particular about his snack foods.

What the hell? Dawn shrugged, picking up a bag of each of the individual components of Spike’s favorite junky combo. We’ll probably need some extra munchies in the hotel room, anyway… She drew the line at mixing them all together for him, though. After all, she wasn’t his mommy.

She turned into the beverage aisle just as the door to the women’s room shut in front of her. Paying it no mind, she quickly picked up a bottle of Evian water for herself and poured a cup of decaf - Spike was hyper enough as it was, and while he claimed that he could taste the difference between decaf and normal coffee, his taste buds weren’t actually sensitive enough to tell the difference, and Dawn knew it.

Satisfied with her purchases, Dawn approached the counter.

“This it?” June asked.

“And pump number six,” Dawn agreed. “By the way, do you know the route to Cascade Mountain Lodge?”

June wondered if they should just hand out little instruction placards…

* * *

Buffy shuddered as she wiped her hands dry on a course white paper towel. Gas station restrooms were always the nastiest places. This one had at least been roach-free, but the powdery cracks in the walls left little doubt that the persistent buggers inhabited the room when no one was looking.

The message written on the door of the stall in the precise black ink of the true graffiti artist, proclaiming ‘The rat queen lives!’ was even less encouraging. She once again cursed the elusive lodge whose restrooms would undoubtedly have been much cleaner.

She approached the counter just as a woman, clad all in black and hefting a rather large brown bag stepped out the door. “Thanks a lot,” Buffy said once more to the cashier as the other woman’s exit set off the tinkling of the door chimes.

“Don’t mention it,” June agreed with a smile, returning the key to its drawer.

Buffy escaped the gloomy little station and headed back to her rental vehicle, pausing only briefly to shake her head at the rusted out Chevy parked across from her. At least I’m not stuck driving that, she consoled herself before hopping into the blue SUV and driving off.

* * *

“Dammit, Spike!” Dawn exclaimed in irritation, searching around on the floor of the vehicle together with her frustrating friend. “How do you ‘lose’ a lit cigarette?”

“You threw the pretzels right at my head!” Spike retorted, feeling around under his seat.

“Only because you were smoking with the window closed,” Dawn defended herself.

“You want me to burn alive?”

“You couldn’t wait five minutes?”

“’ll have you know that-ow!” Spike whapped his smoking hand against the seat several times, extinguishing the flame that had singed it.

Dawn calmly reached down, found the cigarette, and tossed it out the door. “You are so hopeless,” she announced, turning her keys in the ignition.

Just as her car started, there was a huge squeal of tires on slick pavement.

“I didn’t do it!” Dawn leapt back from the steering wheel as it had just sprouted eyeballs.

“No, genius up there did it,” Spike commented, sipping his coffee. “’ave I lectured you lately about SUVs?” he inquired innocently.

Dawn merely groaned. “Only about a thousand times,” she whined, heading out of the parking lot.

“Well, ‘s true,” Spike countered. “I mean, look at the size ‘f that thing.” He gestured to the blue vehicle in front of them. “The only reason anythin’ needs to be that big ‘s to run other innocent drivers off the road. And for what? To protect some yuppie rugrats who’re prob’ly better off as lunch. An’ the bint obviously ‘as no clue how to drive.”

“As opposed to you,” Dawn teased, “who would never get caught in a police chase because you were going fifty the wrong way down a one-way street.”

“I was chasin’ a were-cheetah!” Spike insisted, wide-eyed. “An’ there was no danger. I have excellent reflexes.”

Dawn merely rolled her eyes.

* * *

Buffy glanced back in the rear-view mirror to see a woman with brown hair and dark sunglasses who seemed to be arguing with the thin air beside her.

Crazies, Buffy her head. And from New York, too. She checked the license plate. No wonder…

For a moment, a second alternative crossed her mind, but she shook her head. “Nah…”

* * *

“Call Siggy,” Dawn ordered, “and see if she’s gotten any info from the Council yet.”

“’m not your bleedin’ secretary,” Spike crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. “You do it.”

“Hello, I’m driving,” Dawn pointed out.

“That’s never stopped you before,” Spike grumbled under his breath.

Dawn sighed. A day cramped up in a vehicle with Spike. It had to be somewhere on her list of top-ten most infuriating things to do. “Just do it,” she said wearily.

“Who d’you think you are, orderin’ me around?” Spike sulked.

“Your boss, for one,” Dawn felt obliged to point out.

Spike muttered a bit but picked up the cell-phone and dialed Siggy’s number. “Hey, li’l lamb,” he said in a husky voice into the receiver. “’S the big bad wolf.”

Dawn snickered.

Spike cast her a dirty look before something Siggy said caught his attention. “Uh-huh,” he nodded. “Uh-huh…Uh-huh…I see…Uh-huh…”

Dawn was convinced he was making his end of the conversation as cryptic as possible just to tick her off. That was the part of the Spike-as-brother analogy that always worked best - he was damn good at annoying her.

She continued to listen to Spike’s vague affirmatives and occasional bizarre pet names, heading down the highway in search of their turn-off. There was a brief incident where the blue SUV in front of them suddenly hit the brakes before diving down a side road, but Dawn merely cursed and swerved before continuing on their way.

“Ta then, luv.” Spike blew a kiss into the phone before he hung up.

“Well?” Dawn asked curiously.

“She’s still searchin’ for a lonely, horny British male to get her into the Watcher’s archives,” Spike explained.

“Huh,” Dawn said with a wicked grin. “I guess you don’t fit the ‘get into the archives’ part. Too bad, ‘cause otherwise it’s a perfect description of you.”

Spike merely huffed and frowned at the highway intersection up ahead. “Oi, you’ve gone too far,” he pointed out. “The turn-off’s s’posed to back that way.”

Dawn frowned. “I didn’t see any…” She remembered where the other vehicle had turned in front of her and sighed. “Right,” she agreed, making a screeching U-turn at the intersection to go down Highway E in the other direction.

“And you say my drivin’s dangerous…” Spike grumbled.

* * *

The old woman at the desk looked up to see the peppy blond in a light pink ski jacket with white fake fur trim enter the lodge. Tourists, she sighed inwardly before plastering a smile on her face to greet the young woman. “May I help you?” she asked politely.

Buffy sat her two bags down on the floor and pulled off the thick mittens she was wearing to combat the cold. “My name is Buffy Summers,” she agreed.

The old woman appraised her a second time in surprise. This was a demon hunter? “Yes, I believe I talked to you on the phone,” she nodded. “My name is Ms. Danvers. I own the lodge.”

“Ah, you’re my employer,” Buffy said with a bright grin, shaking the old woman’s hand and studying her more intently. She was frail and hunched over, but Buffy had no doubt that she had once been a tall woman. Her hair was thin and white, her face deeply wrinkled, and her eyes had deep circles beneath them, as if she hadn’t been getting enough sleep. Probably due to the string of deaths. “Has anything else happened since we last talked?” Buffy inquired, signing the guest book.

The old woman nodded. “Everyone’s gathering together for a conference this evening,” she stated. “It meets at eight in the recreation room. Please, be punctual.”

Buffy blinked. “Meeting? Everyone?”

“Everything will be explained then,” Ms. Danvers assured her. She handed Buffy her key card. “Your room is 123.”

“Good, easy to remember,” Buffy smiled, looking at the hotel map the other woman pointed to. “Eight then? In the rec room?” She located that on the map as well.

“Thank you so much for coming, dear,” Ms. Danvers agreed with a slight smile. “You have no idea how much it’s…appreciated…”

Buffy just waved, lugged up her heavy bags without the slightest effort and headed off for her room…

* * *

And Ms. Danvers turned when the door opened once more, ushering in a pair of figures. Now, these were what demon hunters were supposed to look like. The pair was clad from head to toe in black, each sporting black boots, jeans, shirts, and leather jackets. The woman’s clothes were tight and trendy, and her long auburn hair was tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail. The man’s shirt highlighted his defined musculature, and his bleached white hair and scarred eyebrow gave him a dangerous edge. The two moved perfectly in time with each other, obviously from years of fighting in sync.

Ms. Danvers smiled up at them. “Your names?”

“Dawn and William Summers,” Dawn provided, turning back to Spike. “You’re sure?” she asked.

He nodded. “Place looks bloody familiar. Could’ve stopped by durin’ my travels with Dru, I s’pose…” he added thoughtfully.

“Surprisingly few neck trauma reports in the past fifty years,” Dawn shot back, signing the guest book. She turned to Ms. Danvers then. “You got us the two-room suite, right?” she inquired.

The innkeeper nodded. “It’s just the two of you?” she frowned, slightly baffled as to why the couple would need the second room. “Because if you have any children-?”

Spike gulped. “Children?” he repeated in disbelief.

“The hubby’s holding out, huh?” Ms. Danvers gave Dawn a knowing smile. Well, that, and he’s a vampire…

Dawn’s face reddened as well. “Um, Spike’s my brother,” she clarified, embarrassed.

Ms. Danvers blushed at her mistake as well. “Oh, sorry, dear,” she winced apologetically. “I didn’t know.” Especially with him being dead and all…

“Right then,” Spike had the sudden urge to flee.

“Why don’t you go bring our bags in?” Dawn suggested helpfully.

Of course, Spike just had to be difficult about everything. “’m not your bleedin’ valet,” he grumbled under his breath before going off to do just that.

Dawn rolled her eyes before noticing Ms. Danvers’ nametag. “Ah, we talked on the phone,” she shook the other woman’s hand.

“Indeed, we did,” Ms. Danvers agreed.

“So, anything new happened?” Dawn inquired as Spike walked by with an armful of bags, muttering under his breath the whole time.

“You’ll get a full report this evening at the meeting,” Ms. Danvers explained. “The recreation room at eight.” She went back to search for the keycard to room 121.

“ ‘Meeting’?” Dawn repeated curiously. “With whom?”

“I’ve brought in several other specialists to help solve the problem,” Ms. Danvers said simply. “It will all be explained at the meeting.”

“Right.” Dawn decided to let it drop. She was tried from the long drive and the aggravating vampire in the car. Investigation could occur after sleep. She took the key from the innkeeper.

“I’ll see you both at eight,” Ms. Danvers said with a smile just as Spike entered with the last of their bags.

Dawn rolled her eyes as he unceremoniously dumped them in the middle of the lobby floor right next to the rest of their stuff. “Think we brought enough weapons?” Dawn couldn’t help but tease.

Spike gave her a mock-offended huff. “No such thing ‘s too many weapons,” he insisted.

“You are aware that, as the woman, it’s my job to pack a ridiculous amount of stuff, not yours?” she inquired sarcastically.

He merely grumbled in response, his body taut with the lack of activity during the last day and his mind obviously just as agitated. “Which room?” he demanded gruffly.

Dawn handed him the key. “121. I’m going to get a quick look at this place before crashing - guarantee that we haven’t actually walked onto the set of ‘The Shinning’.”

Spike chuckled at that. The carpets were a pale blue-gray, instead of that creepy red, but he’d had similar thoughts when he entered the hotel. Too much space, too few people, too fake a pleasant ambience. “’S long as Jack Nicholson doesn’t start chewin’ the scenery,” he agreed, making the first haul down to their room.

Dawn smiled at that before venturing in search of the recreation room…

* * *

Yum, was Buffy’s first thought as she stepped out of her room and caught sight of the sexy, jean-clad ass of the man in the suite next to her just as he closed the door behind them. Spike-quality yum. She hadn’t seen a butt that nice in years; unfortunately, her brief affair with the vamp had left her with impossibly high standards of virtually every sort.

She headed back out to the lobby then, resigning herself to the task of lugging the rest of her luggage back to her room. Hmm, I wonder if that’s why they call it ‘luggage’? She wondered absentmindedly. Something of the lugging. And people mock me for my use of ‘slayage’?

The lobby was conspicuously empty as she went through; even the woman at the front desk was gone. Now, that must be the world’s most boring, sucky job.

Liking the ambience even less when there was no one there - there was something about big, open spaces with suspiciously cheerful ambience that seriously wigged her out - she trotted out to her vehicle, not even noticing the battered Chevy parked beside it.

Of course, she admitted to herself, it could just be because of all the people that have died in this place… But she was used to places where people died a lot. She Who Hangs Out In Cemeteries, right? This place felt different. Pain, anguish, torment… It almost seemed like the walls were whispering to her, calling to her, pleading…

She gave the empty coffee cup in the back seat a suspicious look. That’s what I get for O.D.ing on caffeine, she chided herself before overloading her arms with various suitcases and returning to the building. Stupid tingly senses…

* * *

The small woman carrying so many bags that Spike couldn’t even see her face collided with him, just as he was bending over to move the last of his and Dawn’s things to the common room of their suite. An explosion of suitcases followed as their bags scattered to the four corners of the lobby in a confetti shower of luggage.

“Bloody ‘ell!” Spike groused. “Watch wear you’re goin’, you daft chit!”

Buffy blinked from where she’d landed on her ass right behind a rather large suitcase. No. Way. She shook her head, convinced she was hearing things - maybe this is part of the haunting… - and rose to her feet to see…

There was a moment of complete, beautiful silence.

The two dumbstruck estranged lovers gaped in unison before both simultaneously moved to rub their eyes. When the sight of the other persisted, Buffy cautiously reached out to touch his sleeve and…

The same cool leather she remembered. At the same time, Spike felt the familiar heat of her hand.

There was an awkward pause, and then:

“Spike?”

“Buffy?”

Yes, that chapter was just an exercise in seeing how long I could annoy you by prolonging the reunion. ~_^ But, just to prove that I'm not completely evil, here's chapter 4 now.

Disclaimer & Author's Note: The usual.

Haunted
Chapter Four - Meet the Competition

“Spike.” This was said with a surprised smile now as Buffy fully absorbed the fact that, yes, he was really here.

“It’s really you?” Spike’s voice sounded so soft, almost hopeful.

Buffy managed a wry laugh at that. “I was just about to ask you the same question,” she agreed. All these years apart, and we’re still so in sync with each other…

A slightly amused glint entered Spike’s eyes as well. “So…uh,” he ran a nervous hand through his hair, “why’re you here?”

“Some demon-y problem,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m here to kill it. You know, the usual.”

“Oh.”

God, he sounded so disappointed. Why did he sound so disappointed? “What about you?” she inquired.

“The same.” His face was closed off from her now, the hint of hidden emotion she’d seen earlier gone.

She took a moment to study him, re-memorizing all of his handsome features.

It had been about two months after Dawn had finally left for good that she’d first had the uncontrollable craving to see him again, to just know that, yes, he really had existed. Six hours had been spent frantically searching through the old photo albums in the basement, desperate for just one image of him she could hold onto.

What she had found left a sinking feeling in her stomach. She, Willow, Xander, Giles, Dawn, Tara…hell, even Anya had all gone through various stages where they took pictures like mad. There were literally dozens of albums detailing practically every moment of Scooby existence. All sorts of various groups of people smiling for the camera - in her house, at the old Magic Box, in Giles’ apartment… Hundreds, maybe thousands of photos. But not one of them had been of the face she was longing to remember.

She had cried that night for the first time since he’d left. It had never really struck her before just how much of an outsider they’d made him so that, on none of those dozens of occasions, no one held ever turned the camera on him and said “Hey, Spike, smile!” in an effort to snap a candid shot.

The one image she did recover was of her and Riley holding each other tightly and smiling with the most fake smiles she’d ever seen. The photo had obviously been taken in her freshman year of college since there in the corner of the background was Spike, leaning against the doorframe to Giles’ kitchenette, his head tilted away from the camera.

It was ironic that all that effort went into preserving something so utterly meaningless as the memory of her relationship with Riley, when the man she wanted to remember only existed in the background, as a mistake, something no one ever considered might be important…

It had taken over two years for her to stop feeling silly about the whole thing and have the image of Spike blown up and her and Riley cut from the picture. Still, the picture only showed the side of his face, his chin tilted away, blocking most of his features. She could see the sharp line of one cheekbone, the cut of his chin, and - although she still wasn’t sure whether she was hallucinating it or not - the slight curve of his eyelashes against his cheek.

It hadn’t been nearly enough to remember him, even though she’d tried so hard.

But, now, as he stood before her once more, her mind’s picture of him could once again turn vivid. Slight errors and exaggerations were corrected, gaps were filled, and before she knew it the fine masterpiece had been restored, more beautiful and right than even she could have imagined…

“You…uh…” Her mind was scrambling desperately for something to say and fighting the nearly uncontrollable urge to fling herself into his arms. “…So, you still kill demons?” she finally finished lamely.

“Yeah.”

This was different. She hadn’t remembered him this cool, this closed-off. She remembered vibrant, unquenchable passion, whether it was in a smoldering glance he longingly sent her way or in the way his hands caressed her as he made love to her. She didn’t think she’d imagined that.

“So, where did you go after…?” I beat you to a bloody pulp in a back alley and left you for dead. She flinched inwardly.

“Around,” he gestured vaguely. “You?”

“Still on the Hellmouth,” she said with a fake laugh. “Only, not a Hellmouth anymore…mostly just a demon tourist trap now.”

“Heard about that,” Spike nodded.

He hadn’t always been this quiet, had he? Surely, he hadn’t always been this quiet… She remembered him constantly talking, flirtation and innuendo in everything he said, harsh truths that she hadn’t been ready to hear whispered against her ear… But she was ready now. She wanted…

“Well, fancy meetin’ you.” Spike picked up Dawn’s last two bags and hauled them over his shoulders. “Good luck with the slayin’.”

And, with that, he walked off.

And Buffy just stood there, stunned.

* * *

“Absolute emergency, Holden!” Buffy practically screeched into the phone, hands shaking slightly as she did so.

“Buffy?” the therapist said in slight confusion. “I’m with another client right now.”

“He’s here,” Buffy retorted. “I just met him in the hotel lobby.”

Holden Webster’s brow furrowed at this. Buffy had first come to him for help when she couldn’t stand her marriage any longer. In the time since, she’d been one of his most difficult patients, the seemingly endless list of nightmarish relationships each leaving deep emotional scars. But nothing had ever effected her so much as her regrets about him.

“I’ll be done in ten minutes,” he assured her. “I’ll call you right back.”

“You’re got the inn number, right?” Buffy asked wearily. “I’m in room 123.”

“Yeah,” Holden agreed, “I’ve got it…”

* * *

Dawn had returned to their suite expecting to find Spike literally bouncing off the walls, trying to drag her off to the town for some violence and mayhem. What she hadn’t been expecting was Spike, collapsed in the center of the room, tears streaking down his cheeks and body convulsing uncontrollably with shivers.

Instantly, she ran over to him, and she couldn’t even have said how they managed it, but somehow they became wrapped in a veritable tangle of limbs, him whimpering softly as he tried to bury himself in her embrace.

“Shh, Spike…” Dawn soothed, stroking his hair comfortingly. “What happened?” She felt her shirt dampen with tears but didn’t care if it was drenched. All that mattered was…

“Buffy.”

Dawn started in surprise at that. He never mentioned her unless he absolutely had to. “What?” she asked, confused.

“Buffy…” He gulped and shut his eyes, as if steeling himself up. “Buffy…is here,” he finally finished.

Dawn’s face whitened in response. “Here?!” she repeated, just short of panic herself. “How? Why?”

“I ran into ‘er in the lobby,” Spike answered shakily, running a hand through his spiky hair. “She said she was here to kill the nasty, too.”

Dawn’s face hardened. “This is our case,” she insisted. “So she can just go home.”

“No,” Spike shook his head. “Let her handle it. We need to go-”

“Did she hurt you?” Dawn asked, suddenly concerned, looking him over. “She didn’t touch you, did she? ‘Cause, so help me…” She left the threat unfinished.

He shook his head meekly. “I just can’t…” he began helplessly.

“You can,” she assured him, squeezing his hand gently. “C’mon, I know you’re strong enough to beat this. I’ve seen it. We’ll just go to the meeting tonight, work something out, and if we don’t like the way things turn out, then we’ll leave tomorrow.”

Spike calmed at this and seemed to compose himself, giving her a reassuring little nod.

She smiled in response, placing an affectionate kiss on his cheek. “It’ll be all right,” she insisted.

As the pair disentangled themselves from the floor, the hints of red light that had been flickering about the corners of the room, just out of sight, turned a sickly green color for a moment before bursting back into red and vanishing through the walls.

The Key and the Vampire remained oblivious.

* * *

“My name,” the pompous British man at the head of the room said, straightening his finely manicured suit as he did so, “is Simon Whitteborn, attorney at law. I represent the Danvers estate and will supervise this investigation.”

Spike rolled his eyes, leaned back up against the ‘no smoking’ sign, and lit his cigarette, decadently blowing a stream of smoke into the recreation room.

Simon shot him a dirty look as did the female of the pair of D’vorak Demons that sat on the couch next to him, her antennae twitching blue in irritation. No one else seemed to mind.

“You ask us to solve your problem,” a bored-looking woman with long red hair, tight leopard-print clothes that showed off her shapely figure, and a wine glass in one hand replied, “yet you intend to step on our feet as well?” She took another dainty sip from her glass, her dark eyes searching out Spike’s over the rim and giving him an approving look.

“I assure you, Miss Duvall,” Simon huffed slightly, “it is in the best interest of everyone involved. Previous independent hunters have met with…unpleasant ends.”

“Yeah, that’s what I want to hear about,” Buffy said determinedly, arms crossed over her chest in a no-nonsense manner. “’Cause I was under the distinct impression that I was the first - and only - demon hunter being called in.”

“Second that,” a tall, Hispanic man wearing dark sunglasses said from his position sitting atop the pool table.

“Yes, well,” Simon fidgeted slightly, “I am sorry that we misrepresented our deal to you, but I assure you all that it was most necessary.”

“I’d be a lot more assured if you explained why it was ‘most necessary’,” Dawn said pointedly, leaning back against the wall beside Spike.

“The problem we face is multifold in its complexities…” the lawyer began.

Buffy instantly tuned out. Aside from the observation that British lawyers could drone on and on just as long as British watchers could, there was nothing to keep her interested in the endless double-talk tirade of the older man. Especially when she had so many other things to think about…

It was a good thing she’d gotten to talk with Holden for a good hour or so - long-distance charges firmly attached to her therapy bill - because, if she hadn’t freaked enough at seeing Spike once again, seeing Dawn would have pushed her right over the deep end. Fortunately, Holden had always had a rather amazing ability to cut right through all her emotions and make her look at the truth. Actually, he kind of reminded her of Spike in that way, only without the whole unholy temptation factor that had always caused her to lash out at the vamp.

Now, however, she did as Holden had suggested and really studied the black-clad pair of demon hunters leaning casually back against the door. Don’t deny the past, but don’t pretend that things haven’t changed, either. Learn everything possible, watch for reactions, don’t jump to conclusions and let things balloon out of control.

It was frightening how often she had to repeat this over and over again to herself, especially when dealing with Spike.

Dawn was the easier of the two, though, so Buffy started with her. Her first reaction was ‘where has my little kid sister gone?’ Dawn seemed commanding, confident, in control. She was asking tough questions, demanding that she got the answers she needed, and - believe it or not - she actually seemed to have the authority of her and Spike’s team.

Buffy could still remember when Spike had been babysitting her little sister, and now she was… Grown-up. That was it. She was a grown-up now, and a strong one at that. Buffy hoped she wasn’t deluding herself when she thought she saw a bit of herself in her sister. Besides the whole demon hunting thing, of course.

That had her a bit panicked, but for all she knew Dawn could’ve been fighting demons for over five years now. Buffy had to face the fact that she didn’t really know what her sister had become or who she was. Whoever she was, though, she didn’t seem to need the protection that Buffy instinctively wanted to give her…

“Now, if I can have your attention, please,” Simon said wearily, realizing that he’d lost half his audience in the interim. Buffy, Spike, the woman Buffy had labeled ‘Leopard-Skinned Skank-Ho’, and that D’vorak Demon that had been giving her a weird look all turned their attention back to the matter at hand. “The situation is as follows,” Simon began, gesturing with a pointer to the board beside him.

“October 15th. A newlywed couple from Vermont moves into room 242. At midnight, the husband - Arthur Anderson - leaves. The next morning, his young wife, Emily, is found by one of the maids. She managed,” he grimaced slightly, “to hang herself with a bed sheet.”

“Maybe the hubby killed her,” a gruff chuckle sounded from the far side of the room.

Spike cocked one eyebrow in the direction of the three men gathered by the dartboard. They’d been too preoccupied with talking among themselves to contribute anything up until this point. Spike had been possessed with an instant distaste for them. They seemed to represent everything that annoyed him about Americans - loud, rude, stupid, ignorant beyond belief…and with absolutely nothing but deluded macho-ness to back up their images.

Simon gripped the bridge of his nose. Had he had glasses and the certain habits of another Englishman, he would have undoubtedly been cleaning them. “The police investigated the matter,” he informed the group. “Mrs. Anderson died at approximately 3:30 in the morning - long after her husband left. Apparently, the two of them had had a…conflict earlier in the evening in which Mr. Anderson had abruptly declared that he actually preferred men and had only married her because his parents had pressured him into it. The death was determined to be a suicide.”

He gestured to the next name and date, written neatly on his chart. “Mr. Patrick Adams, aged 58, single all his life, avid hiker and outdoorsman. Found in his room on November 1st after a large explosion. The investigating officers found that he had shot himself in the head. A note was left behind, explaining how the late Mr. Adams could no longer bear to live in a world where he was so constantly alone. His mother and sisters were completely shocked by the news.”

The next date, November 9th. “Madame ‘Cassandra Cleopatra’,” Simon read off the name skeptically, “had apparently heard of the two recent deaths and decided it would be wise to hold a ‘crossing-over with the poor, tortured souls who ended their lives so tragically’. Madame, er…Cleopatra was a wealthy enough woman that my client, Mrs. Danvers,” he gestured to the innkeeper sitting beside him, “agreed to let her…experiment. At ten o’clock on the night of the 8th, Madame Cleopatra locked herself in this very room to ‘speak with the spirit world’. She gave instructions that she was not to be disturbed until one. Some such nonsense about the spirits being most conversational at midnight, I believe.”

Despite the lawyer’s rather monotone account of the events, everyone in the room found themselves riveted to his story. Maybe it was the bit about the flaky psychic. All stories were more entertaining the minute flaky psychics entered them.

“And?” Buffy’s ‘Leopard-Skinned Skank-Ho’ asked breathlessly.

“The door was opened at one o’clock exactly…” So, maybe Simon had a bit of a dramatic sense after all. “Madame Cleopatra was found sitting directly in the center of the room, the candles around her all blown out. She was dead.”

“How?” This was from the Hispanic man with the sunglasses.

“The doctor’s verdict was that it was heart failure,” Simon concluded. “But-”

“You should have seen the look in her eyes,” Ms. Danvers spoke up for the first time. “Pure, wide-eyed horror…”

The three tough guys by the dartboard shifted uncomfortably. They were used to kicking the crap out of physical threats, not facing some unknown terror…

“It was around this time that the incidents escalated,” Simon continued in a voice so prim and precise that everyone wondered whether they had imagined the collective chill that had run down their spines. “A large painting fell from the wall in the restaurant, injuring one guest and breaking another’s leg. Items began disappearing from various rooms, only to reappear elsewhere days later. Theft is considered unlikely in these cases since those who found the missing items in their rooms promptly returned them. There have been reports of voices - whispers - at night, encouraging the most terrible acts.”

Buffy herself shivered at this, remembering her own creepy feelings when she’d first entered the place.

“But it was not until November 30th that we had our next fatality,” Simon continued. “In an effort to combat the situation, an old friend of mine from the Watcher’s Council-”

Surprise, surprise… Buffy, Dawn, and Spike all rolled their eyes in unison.

“-sent a rather powerful Witch’s Guild psychic to investigate. That night she was cheerful, enthusiastic, and eager. The next day she was found outside, at the edge of the woods, frozen in her efforts to crawl away from the house. Cuts covered her entire body and, upon examination, it was discovered that every piece of glass in her room had been shattered.”

The three men at the back of the room seemed to be getting more and more agitated as the story progressed. What the fiercest demons could not accomplish, simple fear of the unknown was doing admirably.

“December 5th marked a daughter stabbing her mother in the stomach as she slept. Afterwards, the girl could offer no explanation of why she would have done such a thing and, in fact, seemed quite traumatized by the event. She was taken to a psychiatric hospital in Denver and is still on suicide watch.” Simon pulled the cover down over his chart.

“And, that,” he concluded, “is why we have invited you all here tonight. Upon the advice of my friend in the Council, it has become apparent that normal methods of dealing with this…haunting are inadequate. It has killed professionals-”

“And may very well kill us, too!” One of the men in back shouted out angrily. “If you’ve got nothing for us, then why should we stick around and wait to die?”

“A possibility,” Simon admitted, “although one that we are making well worth your while. Whoever eliminates the problem will receive the total sum of the offers that each of you has been given. That is three-hundred thousand dollars, for those of you who cannot do the maths.”

This seemed to spark the interests of the three men once more. “So we just hope whatever it is knocks off the others first while we ferret the bugger out?” the loudest of the group asked.

Simon gave him a distasteful look but nodded. “Crude, but to the point,” he conceded. “We are hoping there will be safety in numbers.”

“But only one of us gets all that money?” Leopard-Skin was back in the conversation.

“You are encouraged to work together,” Simon caught the instant looks of distaste on many faces, “although it is not required.”

“What about the guests?” Buffy asked, her brow furrowed. “If this is such a big danger, why are you still letting innocent people stay here?”

“They stay at their own risk,” Ms. Danvers insisted defensively. “We have made no secret of the incidents, but we cannot afford to shut down at this crucial point in the season.”

“Not even if lives are at stake?” Dawn added sarcastically.

Her tone seemed to have caught the attention of the young Hispanic man on the billiard table, but his glasses concealed whatever his eyes would have given away. Spike’s own eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. There was something about that guy that just didn’t feel right…

“Lives will not be at stake so long as you all do your jobs,” Simon insisted somewhat huffily. “If it ever seems absolutely necessary to me to shut the lodge down for the protection of its guests, it will be done. But not a second before.”

“An’ let me guess,” Spike snorted derisively, “ ‘absolutely necessary’ looks a lot like ‘legally culpable’.”

Simon didn’t have a response for that. “I will expect regular reports from you all, but I will leave it to yourselves to arrange how you plan to investigate. We have compiled a list of regions within the lodge that seem particularly susceptible to this presence.” He set the list on the armrest of the D’vorak Demon beside him. “However, may I suggest that you at least introduce yourselves?”

Several groans at that, especially from the back of the room.

“Fine,” one of the men huffed, “name’s John. This here’s my brother, Bob, and our partner, Tucker.” The quiet member of the group nodded sullenly. John approached the D’vorak and practically snatched the list from him. “We’re scopin’ out the woods, and we don’t need any of you freaks’”-he cast a pointed glance in Spike’s direction before turning back to look at the D’vorak pair with disdain-“help.”

With that, the three of them stalked off, John tossing the list onto the table before Dawn as they walked by.

“Oh dear,” Ms. Danvers seemed a bit shaken up by the rude exit.

“Er, yeah,” Dawn picked up the list and scanned it. “So, as for the rest of us… Why don’t we divide these places up, each see what we find, and then meet tomorrow evening to discuss it?”

“Why wait for evening?” the male D’vorak let out a yawn. “Seems like a waste of time.”

His female partner gave him a nasty glare…and then flashed one at Buffy as well.

Ah, the popularity of being a Slayer… Buffy couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.

“Some of us have more nocturnal schedules,” Dawn argued. “Does the evening not work for anyone?”

“What I want to know,” Leopard-Skin was at it again, her tone one of practiced droll refinement, “is who you are and why you think any of us should listen to you.”

“Hey!” Buffy moved to speak up, but Dawn cut her off.

“My name is Dawn Summers. I’ve been dealing with the supernatural my entire life. And, unlike some people, I seem to be actually making a plan, instead of just making snide remarks.”

That pretty much shut up any further objections from Leopard-Skin. She got approving nods from the D’vorak couple also, as well as what looked to be a lopsided smile from Sunglasses Guy. Buffy was too dumbstruck at her little sister’s poise and authority to say anything.

“So,” Dawn continued, scanning the list in front of her, “Spike and I will stay here tonight and hope we get a haunting.”

“Spike?” Leopard-Skin looked at her blankly.

Dawn rolled her eyes and gestured to the vampire beside her. “My partner, Spike,” she introduced.

“Charmed,” Spike shrugged, “only…not.”

“Spike indeed,” Leopard-Skin practically licked her lips.

A smirk played across Spike’s own lips in response, causing Buffy to completely miss what Dawn was saying.

“Huh?” she repeated dumbly.

“I just told everyone that you’re Buffy,” Dawn repeated. “Why don’t you take the restaurant? We can get the keys to that, right?” she inquired of Simon. He nodded. “And I don’t want you to do it alone…” Her eyes alighted on Leopard-Skin, and she raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“Veronica,” the redhead said with a bored toss of her long hair. “Veronica Duvall.”

“All right,” Dawn agreed. “Buffy and Veronica have the restaurant. So that leaves…”

“Xel,” the male of the D’vorak pair said with a smile on his face. His offered Dawn a blue-scaled hand and a charming smile. “And this is my mate, Lena.”

Lena looked significantly less thrilled than Xel…although, quite likely, it was because of the look her mate flashed in the direction of Dawn’s chest.

Dawn sighed inwardly and subtly stepped on Spike’s foot to stop him from doing the ‘big brother Neanderthal evil glare’ at every guy who looked at her. “You two can take the pool room, together with…?”

“Ricardo Salvatore,” the young man with the sunglasses said in a voice almost too soft to be heard. The trace of some sort of exotic accent lingered around his words, but they were still quite understandable.

Dawn gave him a little nod of acknowledgement. “We’ll meet at eight tomorrow night, here once more,” Dawn concluded, penning in the names by the locations. “So, are we all clear?”

“What exactly are we supposed to do?” Veronica said with an exaggerated sigh of annoyance.

Dawn cast her an equally annoyed look. “Tell us what happens, what you see. This thing seems to fall more in the poltergeist category, so swinging sharp objects isn’t going to do much good. We need to figure out what it is before we can proceed, and the only way to do that is to gather more information.” She gave Veronica a falsely sweet smile. “Anything else you’d like me to explain for you?”

Veronica scowled at the condescending tone but didn’t say anything further.

“Then, if you don’t mind,” Dawn announced, “I’ve had a rather long day, and I’d like to have dinner before I have an equally long night. Spike?” she turned to her companion.

“Right, luv,” he agreed, following her out the door.

And Buffy bit her lip. Confident, beautiful, grown-up Dawn who had loved Spike all along… Suddenly, she wondered if she was already too late. If she’d lost him long ago…

Yeah, a more plotful chappy. I couldn't resist the mention of Holden Webster from Conversations With Dead People. Did anyone not love Holden? ^_^ And don't worry about all the OCs. They'll all be sorted out shortly. And, as always, review. ~_^

Disclaimer & Author's Note: The usual.

Previously: Dawn's provisionally taken charge of the investigation. She and Spike are staking out the rec room tonight for supernatural activity. Buffy and Veronica, aka Leopard-Skank-Ho are in the lodge restaurant, Xel and Lena - a mated pair of D'Vorak Demons - together with a mysterious Ricardo Salvatore are watching the pool room, and the three hunters - John, Bob, and Tucker - have gone off on their own to scope out the woods.

Haunted
Chapter Five - The First Night

Buffy wandered about the small restaurant, absentmindedly checking the mantelpiece of the large fireplace that took up one wall for dust. Nope, clean as a whistle. And, really, now that she thought about it, why exactly were whistles clean? And, speaking of clean whistles, why had Spike completely ignored her through the entire meeting? Was it because he and Dawn were together?

Even she managed to flinch at that horrible segue. With a sigh, she sat down on the large family table in the center of the room. All right, she could admit it. She was obsessing over Spike. And, really, it made perfect sense. After all, sexy guy claims to be in love with you, gives you hours after hours of the best sex of your life, then you’re stupid enough to turn psycho abuser and nearly kill him in a back alley so he leaves town for good, never even stopping by to say good-bye - that sort of thing just tends to preoccupy a girl.

And the only hope of distraction she had - namely, Leopard-Ho…er, what was her name again? Oh yeah, Veronica - was too busy reading some fashion magazine over at the far side of the room to start up any kind of conversation.

Remember that conversation Spike always wanted to have with you? Her persistent mind made yet another whiplash-inducing change in thought. Bet it would’ve been sweet. Bet he would’ve looked up at you with those big soulful soulless eyes and told you how much he loved you and-Argh!

OK, that was absolutely enough! Leopard-Skank had just volunteered for a chat, whether she liked it or not.

“Not much happening,” Buffy commented, wandering about the dining area once more.

A perfectly sculpted auburn eyebrow rose in response. “How very observant of you,” Veronica replied in a bored manner.

“Maybe stuff’s happening elsewhere?” Hell, even the sound of her own voice was better than being left alone with her thoughts.

“Fascinating.” Veronica’s tone practically oozed sarcasm.

Buffy scowled at the other woman. “You know, if we’re going to be stuck here together all night-” she began.

“Oh, spare me!” Veronica sighed in annoyance, dropping her magazine on the white tablecloth before her. “I don’t need the ‘let’s all get along’ speech.”

Buffy began to seethe inwardly. God, could this woman get any more pompous and self-centered? Not to mention: major skank-wear. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she retorted, her voice even more sarcastic if that were possible, “did you want to have that mega-ho outfit of yours sliced up into itty-bitty pieces by random shards of glass while you crawl, lungs gasping with blood, to your death? Silly me, and here I thought our working together actually served a purpose.”

“Mega-ho?!” Veronica seemed to only pick up on that part of Buffy’s tirade. “This coming from a precious little girl, dressed in fluffy pink bunny garb?” Her gaze scanned up and down Buffy’s pale pink blouse and billowy white slacks before she snorted in disgust. “That outfit when out of style around preschool, sweetie.”

“At least I’m not wearing a skinned cat!” Buffy bit right back. “Or, more like not wearing one, excuse me!”

“Well, check out the scandalized little virgin,” Veronica let out a cold peel of laughter. “Here’s a tip, doll.” She leaned forward and patted Buffy’s cheek condescendingly. “If you want to ever catch yourself a man, you might try for something a little less…” she snorted in a ladylike fashion as she appraised Buffy’s wardrobe once more, “…vanilla.”

“And you might wanna go for something that doesn’t shout out ‘I’m a two-cent whore’!” Buffy bit right back.

“Your friend seemed to enjoy it,” Veronica retorted nastily.

Buffy’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she just shook her head. “What are you talking about?” she demanded.

“Oh, puh-leeze!” Veronica rolled her eyes heavenwards. “You think I didn’t see you drooling all over him? Some slight subtlety might pay off, dear.”

“This coming from you?” Buffy couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Cheap-and-easy’s probably your middle name!”

“The fact of the matter remains,” Veronica countered sweetly, “that he wanted me, and he didn’t even look twice at you. Spike…” The name fell off her lips with a contented murmur. “Bet he’s loads of fun in the sack. I’ll enjoy taking him for a test-drive. Don’t worry though, honey,” she patted Buffy’s hand with a wicked smile, “I’ll be sure to save you whatever leftovers there are when I’m done with him.”

Buffy didn’t even know where it had come from. All she knew was that Spike had been her friend and confidant and lover, and that he was loyal and loving and had already been used far, far too often, and for this bitch to talk about him like that…

Veronica crashed back into the far wall of the room with the force of Buffy’s blow. The plaster split with the force, and the other woman fell to the floor in a heap, her head lolling about loosely in unconsciousness.

In an instant, the red fury that had enveloped Buffy’s vision faded, and she gasped in horror at what she’d done. She was at Veronica’s side almost immediately, checking the other woman’s pulse, hoping beyond hope…

“Ugh…” the other woman moaned, causing Buffy to breathe a sigh of relief. “What on earth was…?” She trailed off, wide-eyed when she looked up at Buffy for the first time. “Wh-What on earth is that?” She pointed with a shaky finger right at Buffy’s face.

“What?” Buffy felt her features in alarm, but nothing seemed out of place.

“Y-You’re not human!” Veronica announced, scrambling away.

“I’m a Slayer,” Buffy explained the source of her surprising strength.

Veronica shook her head. “No, your eyes,” she almost whimpered. “I saw it in them. The devil…”

* * *

“Paraguay,” Lena said in a husky voice, her antennae practically fluttering with excitement. “It sounds so…exotic…” She placed a not-so-inconspicuous hand on Ricardo’s thigh, causing him to inch backwards slightly in alarm.

Not that he had anything against green lizard-skinned demons with twitching antennae, mind you. In fact, he was sure that her antennae were…lovely, in the eyes of some. (And just how were they staying at a human resort without attracting attention anyway?) It was the married part that really threw him for a loop. Especially since her eternally-binding, ‘til-death-do-us-part mate was practically breathing down the back of his neck in a jealous rage.

“Lena,” Xel practically hissed, his own antennae reddening with rage, “can’t you at least pretend to restrain yourself?”

She cast her husband an annoyed glance and inched towards Ricardo once more. “Ricardo Salvatore,” she rolled the ‘R’s on her tongue. “Such a…strong name…” Her fingers drifted to a place that they had absolutely no right to touch.

With an uncharacteristic yelp, Ricardo leapt to his feet and sat himself down at one of the other white tables that circled the resort’s spacious swimming pool. The only light in the room came from the pool lights, creating an eerie green wave pattern of darker and lighter shadows that covered the walls around them. They made the entire room seem like it was shimmering with supernatural luminescence, reflecting off the demon pair’s ebony eyes like flecks of emerald. It made the rage on Xel’s face look even more dangerous.

“So, boy,” Xel hissed angrily, his forked tongue snapping between his teeth. The gesture looked particularly eerie and out of place given that the rest of the D’vorak’s facial features were humanoid, “why don’t we make a little deal?”

“Xel, be nice!” Lena exclaimed indignantly, gripping her mate’s arm roughly to hold him back.

“I’ll not have you cheating on me right under my nose!” Xel roared at her furiously.

“Me?!” Lena snapped back in retaliation. “Don’t think I didn’t see how you were checking out that brunette this evening! Why, if anyone-”

“Perhaps we could search the other rooms for unusual activity?” Ricardo spoke up hesitantly, hoping to break-up the impending fight.

“What an excellent idea,” Lena practically beamed at him. “Why don’t you ever come up with ideas like that?” She turned a sharp eye in Xel’s direction.

“Maybe if I didn’t have to keep a constant eye on you, I would’ve!” Xel retorted.

“I don’t need you to baby-sit me!” Lena scowled. “I’m your mate, not a delinquent childe!”

“If you actually started behaving like my mate, then maybe-”

“I’m going to check the saunas,” Ricardo said quietly, standing up and walking calmly from the room.

“See? Now look at what you’ve done!” Lena practically screeched.

“Me?! You’re the one who started it!” Xel retorted.

Ricardo shook his head as he exited the room and, in the process, the ever-present pair of black sunglasses he wore - even now, in the pitch-black of night - fell down the bridge of his nose. Had either Xel or Lena been paying attention, they would’ve seen the brief flash of red in the young man’s eyes before the glasses were returned to their proper position and he vanished through the doors at the end of the hall…

* * *

Bob took a deep swig out of his rusty old flask, tipping his head far back to allow the rough liquid to burn down his throat.

“Bobby!” John’s voice shouted out through the blackness of the forest. “Where you gone off to?”

“Right behind you, bro!” Bob shouted out, stalking through the dense undergrowth in the direction of his brother’s voice. He came upon Tucker first, and the seasoned hunter merely acknowledged him with a gruff nod as he lit up his cigar end.

“There you are,” a Southern twang entered John’s voice at his irritation. “We’ve been waitin’ for you for nearly five minutes.”

“Got caught up is all,” Bob insisted.

John gave him a skeptical look. “Caught up drinkin’ is more like it,” he accused.

“You know me better’n that, Johnny,” Bob defended him. “I don’t drink on the job.”

“Except down in Mexico,” John retorted.

“That was a long time ago,” Bob insisted.

“And I got my suspicions about Montana…”

The conversation froze to a halt then when Tucker abruptly raised one hand in a gesture of silence. The third member of their party was a man of few words, but his simplest gestures spoke volumes and were regarded with the utmost respect.

For a minute, they all just stood, surrounded by complete silence. In the cold of the winter, the normal nighttime sounds of the forest were muffled to nothing. It felt as though the entire world had vanished and all that existed was the completely still snowy clearing and the deep dark shadows of trees that faded off into oblivion on all sides.

“What?” John finally ventured to ask when no purpose for their sudden silence could be ascertained.

“Somethin’s out there,” Tucker said matter-of-factly, eyes narrowing as they tried to pierce the darkness.

Bob gripped his rifle so tightly his knuckles were turning white. No matter how much of a tough-guy act he put on, the story he’d heard that night had scared him shitless. “Where?” he demanded, forcing down the nervousness in his voice.

Tucker merely shook his head, scanning the surrounding forest in vain. “It’s out here,” was all he could say.

“Let’s go,” John announced, his own voice a hushed whisper in the still of the night. “I don’t want that thing watching us.”

Bob and Tucker nodded, falling in behind John in formation, the barrels of their guns aimed menacingly at the even more menacing forest around them. It was only after they had vanished from the clearing, however, that a shadowy figure slipped between the trees, its movements as silent as a tiger on the prowl. It paused right over where the men had stood, red eyes noting their footprints in the snow and cautiously sniffing the cold night air. Satisfied that the hunting party had once more moved on, it disappeared back into the forest as easily as if it had been one of the trees…

* * *

“I have had enough!” Lena practically shrieked. Brushing aside her mate’s arm, she stalked off in the direction Ricardo had gone, her antennae twitching in irritation.

“Not nearly enough,” Xel growled deep in his throat, cutting her off once more. “And I won’t have you running off with him!”

“Try and stop me,” Lena retorted menacingly, her hands balling into fists.

Xel’s eyes narrowed in response, his own body coiled to strike…

And then, suddenly, his eyes widened in horror. Lena noticed it at the same time, and her own anger dissipated as fear took its place.

The ghostly green waves of the pool that had illuminated their little argument had suddenly turned blood red, the light that now surrounded them looking like the fiery depths of hell.

Despite their fear, the demon couple turned to face the pool, only to find the water there the same tranquil blue it had always been. The light around them continued to close in with crimson menace, however, the pale red glow darkening to a deep, rich maroon that seemed to ooze down the walls, making it look as though the room were dripping blood. As the thickened red darkened to complete black, there was a moment of complete darkness before, suddenly, everything was normal once more.

Chlorinated waves lapped against the sides of the pool, reflecting greenish shadows upon the walls, and Xel and Lena turned to look at each other before running off after Ricardo. Only he was nowhere to be found…

* * *

With a final heave of effort, Buffy managed to lift Veronica up onto her bed. The other woman had drifted off into unconsciousness just after her cryptic and disturbing remarks, leaving it up to the Slayer to drag her all the way back to her room. Fortunately, Buffy had quickly found the tackily-dressed woman’s room key, indicating both where they should head and allowing Buffy to get her inside.

Buffy frowned at the number. 147. Something was important about that number. She just couldn’t seem to shake it from her head, like something important had happened in this room. She made mental note to check over Simon’s charts again; it was quite possibly the site of one of the ‘accidents’.

Veronica’s head lolled back on the pillow as she favored the side of her face without the nasty purple bruise. Buffy flinched inwardly at the thought that she had caused such a thing. She had been a Slayer for fourteen years now and knew her strength perfectly. She had never accidentally harmed someone like this, especially not a human. But tonight… Something had happened; she had lost control.

There was nothing unusual about her anger at Veronica, that was for sure. The other woman was crass, rude, and entirely too full of herself. She just naturally put Buffy on edge. And probably the worst way to piss her off right now was to comment on her non-relationship with Spike. That wound was older and deeper than any other Veronica could’ve possibly happened upon.

But then Veronica had started talking about Spike like…like he was nothing, just a fuck-toy to be used and then cast aside, and Buffy’s blood had started boiling with rage and then…

It hadn’t happened it years. Honestly, it hadn’t. Holden had been helping her with that. Because one night, in a dark alley seven years ago, Buffy had hated herself so much that she’d taken it out on someone she cared about, beaten them to a bloody pulp because she saw things in them that she feared and loathed in herself.

“Spike…”

Not since Spike. But tonight it had happened again, Buffy forced herself to admit. She was practically the poster girl for using Spike for cheap sex, and she hated herself for it. And thus she had hated Veronica for it, too, and now…

“No,” she whispered to herself. “I’m not like that anymore. I-I’m not…”

With the beginnings of tears in her eyes, she darted from the room.

Veronica cautiously opened one of her eyes when she heard the other woman exit. She confirmed that she was, in fact, alone and breathed a sigh of relief. Because, no matter what the other girl thought or believed, Veronica had seen it the Slayer’s eyes in that moment before she struck. Just for a second, right at the moment when Buffy was consumed with uncontrollable rage, the pupils of her eyes had glowed a deep, threatening red…

* * *

“Gin,” Dawn announced, splaying her cards out on the table.

Spike groaned and tossed his own hand down in defeat. “I know you’re cheatin’ somehow,” he accused. A click and a hiss and the flame from his lighter brightened the dim overhead light above them, creating a moment of brightness until he’d lit the cigarette between his lips and extinguished the silver Zippo.

“And who’s the one who taught me to cheat?” Dawn retorted coyly.

Spike rolled his eyes. “Must’ve gotten some tricks from somewhere else,” he insisted.

“Or maybe you’re just getting slow and decrepit in your old age,” Dawn patted his hand teasingly.

Spike mock-huffed and shuffled the cards between his hands, his movements as quick and precise as any professional dealer. Dawn made sure to keep one eye on those hands just in case; one could never be too careful when playing cards with a demon…even if there wasn’t anything at stake. That, and thinking about these sorts of trivial things built up her courage for…

“How are you doing?” Dawn asked softly, finally broaching the question that had hung between them all night.

Spike thought on that for a moment, his hands only faltering for a second before they picked up their even shuffling motions once more. “Not too bad,” he finally decided.

The top card from the deck landed on the table in front of Dawn with a snap, and she immediately scooped it up. “ ‘Not too bad’?” she repeated curiously.

Spike flicked out the rest of their hands with blinding speed, occasionally landing a card on the back of Dawn’s hand as she tried to beat his super speed, just because he could. A bitter chuckle escaped his lips. “Thought I’d freak out, y’know?” he clarified. “Thought it’d be this big thing…”

“And it’s not?” Dawn asked curiously.

He frowned. “It is, but it isn’t.” He shrugged helplessly and began to rearrange his cards. “She was…”

“Not bitchy?” Dawn provided with an amused smile.

“Ah, you noticed it, too,” Spike agreed with a grin. “Woulda hardly recognized her without the holier-than-thou I’m-in-charge attitude and the woe-is-me look in ‘er eyes.”

Dawn nodded. “She seemed different,” she agreed. “But I guess…” She trailed off at the painful memory. “That kind of thing has to change a person. I mean, losing all your friends…especially like that.”

Spike nodded grimly.

“So, you’re not too freaked?” Dawn pressed further. “Because if you still wanna go…”

“’m fine, sweetness,” he assured her. “Looks like things are finally over between us, y’know? No hard feelin’s…”

“Yeah,” Dawn agreed automatically. Her skeptical eyes watched his face intently as he continued to fiddle with his cards, however.

“’sides,” Spike added with a grin, “it’d be a shame to come all this way and not meet this nasty.”

“If it ever decides to show itself,” Dawn agreed with a smile.

Spike let out a put-upon sigh at that. “This has to be the slowest night ever,” he agreed, discarding the six of diamonds.

With a mischievous little smile, Dawn snatched it right up.

* * *

Buffy raced down the hall towards her room, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She had thought she was over this. She’d been working so hard, learning to accept herself, getting to know herself all over again. And now this…

She came to a stop in the middle of the hallway and forced herself to take a deep breath. Panicking won’t help anything, she reminded herself. So you’ve still got some issues. Everyone does. Just call Holden in the morning and be prepared to try to work this out some more. Don’t deny it, just try to make things better…

Her internal pep talk wasn’t having much of an effect. Tears were still running down her cheeks in rivulets, and she wiped at them helplessly. And then…

The melody had started off so faintly that she barely even heard it. It was just a whisper at first, deep and low and soothing to the soul.

Her sniffles came to a halt as she tried to make out whether she was imagining the ghostly chords or not. However, the haunting harmonies were more clear now, drawing her deeper into the calming piece.

Cautiously, she followed the sound down the corridor, searching for the source of the beautiful, elegant tones that seemed to heal her very heart. The piano chords grew louder as she approached the sitting room right off of the lobby, and she cautiously peered around the corner of the door that really should’ve been closed and locked at this hour…

A gasp escaped her lips at the sight therein. A ghostly specter sat at the piano, translucent white outlines dimly visible in the otherwise pitch-black room. So mesmerized was she by the soulful melody that accompanied the movements of its spidery fingertips that she didn’t even think to move closer and catch this spook in the act.

Her eyes squinted as she tried to better make out the apparition in the dim light, but then she heard the sound of a door slamming down the hall. She turned to look in response, but when her eyes returned to the piano, the mysterious player had vanished.

A thoughtful frown on her face, accompanied by a strange feeling of peace deep inside, Buffy returned to her room, puzzling over the eventful night.

* * *

“So,” Spike commented, closing the door to his and Dawn’s suite behind him, “you spot anything?”

“Upstairs was all clear,” Dawn sighed. “You?”

“Nothin’ outta the ordinary here, either,” Spike agreed. “Guess there really was nothin’ goin’ on tonight.”

It wasn’t until the next morning that they found out how wrong they were…

And, yes, this all eventually will be resolved. But you're going to have to review if you want more clues to the mystery. (Yes, I do know that I'm evil. ~_^)

On To Chapter 6 <haunted6.html>

Disclaimer & Author's Note: The usual.

Previously: Last night: Veronica made some innappropriate comments about Spike, and Buffy punched her silly. Buffy freaked because she was beating on people again. Veronica freaked because Buffy's eyes were glowing red. And, speaking of eyes glowing red, Ricardo decided to join that club last night as well while he was fleeing from Xel and Lena's constant bickering. The only thing that finally shut up said bickering was when the walls turned red and started bleeding. It wasn't pretty. In the meantime, the hick trio were running around in the woods with their guns, but something unknown was watching them. Buffy finished off the fun-packed evening by spotting a ghostly piano player, but it vanished before she could get a closer look. Spike and Dawn spent the whole evening playing cards and being bored out of their minds. Won't they be pissed when they find out all that they missed? (Whew, a lot happened last chapter, didn't it? ~_^)

Haunted
Chapter Six - Fallout

Dawn had just sat down to breakfast and was scanning her menu when the circus began. And, really, a circus was the only reasonable explanation for the tight red leather dress Veronica was wearing, combined with three-inch high snakeskin boots and a black feather boa. Dawn had to blink at the incredibly slutty fashion nightmare.

However, Veronica’s attitude completely belied the confident image her outfit betrayed. “You have to save me from that nutcase!” she practically screeched, leaning forward on the table to stare down at Dawn. “She tried to kill me!”

Dawn noticed the bruise along Veronica’s cheek for the first time and frowned. “What happened?” she asked, concerned.

“That little bitch punched me right across the room!” Veronica wailed, hands gesticulating wildly. “She’s possessed or crazy or something.”

Dawn frowned and motioned for Veronica to sit in the empty seat across from her. Spike didn’t do mornings, so she was pretty used to eating breakfast by herself. “Possessed? Crazy? Are we talking about Buffy?” she demanded.

“Little bitch knocked me across the entire room,” Veronica repeated, nodding vigorously. She leaned forward conspiratorially. “There’s something wrong with her. I saw it in her eyes.”

Dawn let out a weary sigh and rubbed her temples. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?” she requested…

* * *

Spike let out a groan that sounded rather like those that the computer generated dinosaurs on those half-assed Discovery Channel specials did when they were ripped to shreds by herds of veloceraptors. The pitiable display got him no leniency, however, and the hard knocking on the door continued.

A soft whimper escaped his lips, and he tried covering his head with both pillows as well as that annoying fitted sheet that hotels always stuck on the bed. He first action upon retiring to his room last night had been to rip the damn thing out and toss it over the headboard. Now the sheet took its opportunity for revenge by refusing to block the noise.

The knocking on the door continued, earning a string of lavish and bizarre British curse words for its effort. Not put off in the slightest, the bang!bang!bang! resumed with renewed vigor.

Finally giving up with the irritating persistence of the knocker, Spike practically oozed from the large motel bed. Halfway out, his feet tangled in the sheets and he made a rather ungraceful tumble onto the floor.

Muttering grumpily about what kind of idiot would still be knocking on the door after all of five minutes, Spike managed to finally locate the robe Dawn had bought for him and practically forced him to wear after that one morning when he’d given a certain stubborn DA of New York City a bit more to look at than she’d bargained for.

Tying the sash haphazardly about his waist, Spike stalked from his room to the common room of their suite, attempting to growl but his eyelids still too droopy from sleep to slip properly into gameface.

The message: a vampire at 10:30 in the morning is a very scary thing.

“Whazzit?!” he roared, flinging the door open wide to face the irritant that had so rudely awakened him. His eyes narrowed. “Shoulda known it was you…” he muttered under his breath.

“Uh…Spike…” Buffy’s cheeks flushed horribly. The fact that she’d literally beat up a woman the night before in defense of his ‘honor’ was far too embarrassing for her to contemplate right now. Yeah right, like the blush has nothing to do with that gorgeous chest of his, her voice of truth - which sounded suspiciously like Spike’s - felt obliged to point out.

She shook her head to clear it out. “I’m looking for Dawn,” she explained.

Spike blinked once, twice, thrice before her words finally pierced the drowsy haze that surrounded him. “Bit’s not here,” he said amidst a terrific yawn.

Buffy watched in amazement as Spike’s fangs descended with the power of his yawn. OK, so vampires technically had no reason to yawn, but damn were they made for it! She made sure to keep her attention on his fangs rather than that rather skillful tongue she now had a lovely view of ‘cause majorly bad thoughts were that way. No the fangs were much safer - so long and sharp, perfect for piercing, penetrating deep and hard and…

“…or somethin’ like that,” Spike finished, absentmindedly scratching the top of his head, causing his short platinum hair to spike right up.

“Huh? Sorry,” Buffy shook her head once more. Bad fangy thoughts! She scolded herself. Distracting me…

“I said she said she went out to do somethin’,” he repeated. “Here or at the town or somethin’ like that.”

“Thanks for the helpful tip.” Buffy couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

“Was asleep at the time!” he retorted defensively, leaning against the doorframe. “Impressive I remember the soddin’ conversation occurred in the first place.”

Buffy favored him with a shy smile at that. His eyes were still in danger of drooping closed, and she took the opportunity to really observe him. The crimson robe he wore hadn’t been tied properly and exposed his bare chest to her view. It was as pale and smooth as she had remembered, one of the dusty rose nipples that were the only disruption of his marbled physique peeking out at her.

Fortunately - or unfortunately, that naughty voice in the back of her mind said - he had a pair of low-riding torn off sweatpants beneath them. The dull gray fabric hung from his angular hipbone, drawing the eye only too naturally to where the two sharp lines joined. Her memory had no difficulty supplying what was beneath those trousers, a delicious heat rising to her cheeks once more.

The sweats were ripped jaggedly just above the knees, exposing the fine tone of his calf muscles tapering down to those too sexy feet of his. Buffy had secretly been in love with those feet during their brief affair, and the desire to tackle him back to the floor and take that big toe in her mouth - and other things as well - was almost unbearable. She managed to restrain herself, however, with the promise to her sex drive that she would further ogle this undead Adonis.

The dull gray of his slacks set of the deep, rich red of his robe all the more. The fabric was clearly silk and shaded the tone of a fine, heady wine. Buffy was practically drunk just looking at where the soft fabric ended in a rolled sleeve, displaying the sleek corded muscles of his arm as it propped him up against the doorframe.

His inimitable razor’s edge cheekbones, startlingly blue eyes, and shocking white hair were just as attractive as she’d remembered them. The only difference was that his hair was cut shorter now, mussing up into spikes rather than the curls she’d run through her fingers in the past.

She approved of the new look, though. Hell, her entire body was practically screaming ‘yum!’ He looked so enticing right then, like a romance novel anti-hero offering her a night of forbidden passion, deep and dark and, oh, so tender…

Well, except for the fact that he was obviously trying not to fall asleep.

Buffy forced herself to focus. “This is important,” she insisted. “All sorts of weird stuff happened last night, and we have to research it immediately.”

Spike blinked a couple of times as the world finally came into full focus. Damn, he was really awake now. He probably wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep for hours…and by then Dawn would have undoubtedly returned and forced him into some form of menial labor.

“She might still be at breakfast,” he offered. “Might be able to catch her.”

Buffy nodded and was disappointed that she had no excuse to prolong the brief contact between them. However, as an answer to her prayers, the small cellular phone on the dining table by the kitchenette rang at just that moment.

Spike grumbled and swore but gestured for her to come in before he shut the door and prowled over to the phone, hitting the talk button with an angry jab of his index finger. “This better be good,” he growled into the receiver.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Siggy’s cheerful voice came through the other end. “I am calling to wake you up so that you are able to work.”

Spike scowled at the perky voice at the other end. “Dawn put you up to this, din’t she?” he demanded.

“She instructed me to awaken you prior to twelve o’clock noon. You may thank me that I let you sleep for another half an hour.”

“’S 10:30!” Spike exclaimed.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” Siggy insisted. “I must have forgotten about the time zone differences.” The way she said it made it all too clear that she hadn’t forgotten in the slightest.

Spike contemplated many lovely acts of violence that would result in Siggy’s head and body ending up on different halves of the globe. Then, with a weary sigh, he caved in to the undefeatable whims of the women in his life, just as he always did.

“What’m I doin’?” he demanded, plucking a cigarette from the packet that lay on the table amidst several bags of salty junk-food goodness. With an absentminded gesture, he indicated for Buffy to sit in one of the blue-upholstered armchairs. “And why couldn’t Dawn tell me herself? ‘ll rip off ‘er arms and legs an’ beat her to death with the bloody stumps…”

Siggy took his usual death-threats with good humor. “She said you were too asleep to comprehend any orders,” she explained. “I am to relay to you our newest research and instruct you to make a thorough exploration of the basement levels today. Preferably before dinner.”

Spike sighed. “What’s the news?” he asked curiously.

Buffy fidgeted in her seat as Spike began nodding into the phone, making occasional comments. Her eyes scanned the common room, smiling at how chaotic it was. An opened suitcase full of clothes that were obviously Dawn’s sat on the kitchenette counter. Across the room, all sorts of odd weapons were scattered in various stages of cleaning and maintenance. It was pretty obvious what the pair had been doing yesterday after they unpacked. An obscene amount of snack-food lay on every available surface not taken up by instruments of death, letting her know all too well that her little sister and vampire ex-lover hadn’t lost their taste for junky treats in the time since she’d last seen them.

However, the object that really caught her attention was sprawled over the chair beside her. The black leather looked just as soft and worn as she’d remembered it. She could see various places where the duster had been sown back up after it had been sliced in a particularly fierce battle. She was almost proud that could identify where the Initiative had shot him with the homing device and where Glory had smashed him through the table that one time and where he’d taken that knife from the Grsh’thlick Demon before ripping the thing’s head clean off. Ah, good memories…

“Council ‘f Wankers finally caved in, huh?” Spike chuckled into the small black cell.

Buffy’s attention instantly returned back to the vampire’s conversation at that.

“Finally found a lonely old fool?” he inquired.

A pause.

“Me?!” he exclaimed in surprise. “I don’t know any-”

Muttered gibberish on the other end.

“Oh, yeah, her,” Spike conceded. “Forgot all ‘bout that. Didja know she actually bothered to write a dissertation on me?”

Buffy could make out the teasing tone at the other end, even if she couldn’t hear what the other person was saying.

“Oh, god,” Spike groaned. “Please don’t tell me the two ‘f you have been comparin’ notes.” He banged his head against the table at the obviously affirmative response. “I don’t need the entire Tweed Brigade analyzin’ my every move,” he said in a petulant voice.

Soothing, clucking tones on the other end.

Buffy was growing impatient trying to decipher the one-sided conversation. Fortunately, it seemed to be wrapping up.

“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. You got it, Siggy-luv. Uh-huh. Yeah, that witchcraft business is no good. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Get right on it, pet.” He paused and managed a wry smirk. “’ll skin you alive the second I get home,” he said cheerfully. “Uh-huh. Ta, luv.” With a little flourish he turned of the phone.

“ ‘Siggy’?” Buffy repeated curiously. “Isn’t that that little pudgy guy in the newspaper with the parrot and the dog that looks like a mushroom?”

“That’s Ziggy, pet,” Spike pointed out, the edges of his lips threatening to break out into an amused smile at her joke.

Buffy giggled slightly at that as well. “So, what’s a ‘Siggy’?” she inquired.

“Siggy,” Spike explained with a sigh, snatching up a bag of Chex Mix and digging in like a starved man, “is the best damn researcher ‘ve ever had the pleasure of workin’ with.” He held out the bag to her in offering. “Want some?”

Buffy crinkled up her nose. “For breakfast?” she pointed out.

He merely shrugged and continued to happily munch away at the salty treat.

“So, this researcher of yours said something about witches?” Buffy pressed.

Spike eyed her suspiciously for a second, recalling the rather large amounts of money at stake in this case and then shrugging off the idea of the Slayer as a hustler as ridiculous. “Pretty powerful coven lived here,” he elucidated. “Back durin’ the first attacks. Nibblet’s lookin’ into whether they’re still around and what-all.”

“And you’re researching the basement?” Buffy raised an inquiring eyebrow.

“Not much else a vamp can do in the daytime,” he pointed out before getting up and heading over to the mini-fridge. He drained one of the blood bags there in a second, shaking his head at the foul taste of cold cow. “Besides sleep, that is.” He scowled rather pointedly at the door as if he were imagining Dawn standing there right now so that he could try to telepathically nudge the idea into her mind.

“That’s a good idea,” Buffy agreed, biting her lip as she stared down at the table. It hadn’t fully struck her before now just how much things had changed between the two of them. In a way, she was still used to thinking of him as her confidant after she’d been resurrected, her willing slave and lover, eager to carry out her every whim. She still hadn’t decided if the change was for the better, but she definitely missed the closeness.

Apparently, Spike was also reflecting on days past because he cocked his head to one side in that way that he did and looked her up and down. It wasn’t exactly in a sexual way, although there was always that hint of primal passion in him, but more curious, exploratory.

“You look good,” he finally said after the extended pause that hung between them.

A shy smile and a blush was her response. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she countered, making the understatement of a lifetime.

A smirk quirked at the edges of his lips as he plopped back down onto the couch across from her. He propped his feet up on the table, and she got a good look at those sexy toes. Damn, one of these days her fetish for Spike’s feet was going to do her in…

“Your hair-” He froze for a minute, remembering what had happened the last time he’d complemented her hair before shaking it off. “-‘s nice. Like what you’ve done with it.”

Buffy fingered the shoulder-length golden locks absentmindedly. “Yeah, I kinda decided the gray concentration camp refugee look wasn’t for me.”

He let out a delighted laugh at that, throwing his head back onto the couch back, his entire chest rumbling with amusement. Buffy watched his Adam’s apple bounce up and down in fascination. She’d so rarely seen him laugh, or just be happy, period. It made him look young, carefree, beautiful…

“You look like you’ve been treating yourself all right for once,” Buffy added, appraising him. His peroxide locks looked well-tended, rather than a chaotic curly mess. He was still lean and muscled but less gaunt than when she’d seen him last, and the dark weariness that had hung about his eyes was gone.

“Your li’l sis has seen to that.” Spike rolled his eyes and favored her with a conspiratorial smile. “Pampers me just like a mother hen.” He sat forward again, leaning in close to her. “Tryin’ to domesticate me, I think. Turn me into a kept vamp.”

She chuckled at that, although there was a pang of regret deep inside. Dawn had always been there for him, caring for him. He had wanted it to be her, but had he finally let Dawn take her place in his heart?

“You seem more…alive,” he ventured somewhat nervously. “’S a relief to see.” He looked down to study his hands through this speech, but his eyes turned upwards to meet hers hesitantly at the next part. “Was worried ‘bout you. Y’know?”

Buffy felt her heartbeat increase, and a wide smile lit up her face. “Yeah,” she agreed, shyly brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I kinda woke up to the world after you…left.” She hated herself at that moment for bringing the past up, but while she was at it… “I lost so much, so fast. It made me realize that I had to hold on before there was nothing left.”

A slight pang of guilt went through him at that, and he looked away. “Was sorry to hear ‘bout your little Scooby club,” he offered. “Tara and Willow were all right. Even Xander. Had good hearts an’ all. Not bad as far as humans go. They din’t deserve that…”

“Thank you,” Buffy said with a sad smile.

She could tell from the way he was squirming that it had been hard for him to say that, but she was glad that he had, that he still could. A little bit of happiness slid into her, too, at his comments. She could count on her hands the number of times he had called Willow and Tara by their real names, and she only needed one finger to count the number of times he’d called Xander by name. Including this time. It was a relief to know that that horribly sweet man was still buried within the badass vampire exterior. It was a sort of new hope just knowing that she hadn’t destroyed the beauty within him.

“Yeah, well…” Spike looked incredibly embarrassed after his little admission and began scratching the back of his neck in a nervous gesture she recognized all too well. “Better get to work, then. Your li’l sis can be quite the slave-driver.”

Buffy laughed and stood up with him. “What’s she gonna do, eat all your junk-food?” she teased lightly.

Spike’s eyes widened in horror at the thought. “Cor, din’t even think ‘f that!” He leaned in close so that their faces were only inches apart, his eyes darting around furtively like he was about to reveal the most shocking horror imaginable. “She threatened to rip out the cable!” he said in a mock-terrified whisper.

Buffy giggled, and her face flushed at his nearness, and her palms were sweating, and her heart was thumping pleasantly, and things were good. “Heaven forbid I should interfere with your noble mission to protect the television,” she agreed, leaning against the doorframe.

“You can help me by distractin’ her ‘til I get done,” Spike offered.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” she agreed with a wide grin. “I’ll see you tonight at the meeting?”

He looked surprised at that but then nodded. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Tonight.” He opened the door for her, and she stepped back out into the hallway.

“It was nice talking to you again,” she added with a definite blush.

He thought on that for a second. “Yeah,” he said in sudden, honest realization. “It was nice.”

“So, later?” Buffy gave him a little finger wave.

“Later, Slayer,” he agreed with a smile before closing the door behind her. He found his spirits oddly lifted as he went to go change and even hummed a little tune under his breath when he did so. After all, it was nice to finally have the horror of the past dulled.

In the hallway, Buffy was having similar thoughts, her body practically aflame with the brief, innocent encounter. God, how could she ever have thought that this man didn’t mean anything to her? She’d known she was screwed up that year after she came back, but so much so that she honestly didn’t notice just how comfortable he was to be around? That was craziness to top all other craziness.

She walked one door down to her own room, a jaunty skip in her step before she realized, oops!, she’d forgotten to mention what had happened last night…

* * *

“Excuse me, Ms. Summers?”

Dawn looked up in surprise at the softly accented voice, still rubbing her temples from her conversation with Veronica. “Uh…Ricardo Salvatore, right?” she provided with a smile after a moment’s thought. “And, please, call me Dawn.”

“Dawn,” he agreed, nodding slightly. “Rick.”

“Huh?”

“Rick.” His hands fidgeted slightly with the black bomber jacket he wore. “My family called me Rick.”

“Rick,” Dawn agreed, taking in his nervous motions. They seemed rather oddly out of place. The black jacket and dark sunglasses seemed to indicate something badass, like Spike’s look, but the way the other man held himself… It was more like he was trying not to be noticed, to blend into the background. “Was there something you wanted me to talk about?” Dawn shook the oddity from her head for the moment.

“There was a…problem last night,” he explained, continuing to stand awkwardly by her table, stepping quickly to the side when a waiter moved past him. “I thought it should be dealt with before this evening.”

Dawn gestured to the recently vacated seat across from her, frowning at the mention of yet another problem. “What happened?” she asked, concerned.

Rick slid into the chair with catlike grace that belied his obvious discomfort. “I would prefer not to work with Xel and Lena in the future,” he provided.

Dawn raised one eyebrow. “Any particular reason?” she pressed.

“I would prefer not to discuss it.”

Dawn sighed. First Veronica’s hysterics about how Buffy was the Devil Incarnate and now vague requests with no explanation - she was beginning to get a headache. “Request denied,” she said simply, turning back to the notebook before her.

“I see.” Rick didn’t sound disappointed or angry or…well, anything. It was said in a rather plain voice with no inflection.

Dawn gave him an apologetic smile and continued with her work. She had long assumed that he had gone when a sudden hand on her wrist caused her to yelp in surprise.

“Sorry!” Rick said hastily, instantly withdrawing his hand.

Dawn blinked in surprise. How on earth had he stayed there so quiet and…? She decided it didn’t matter. “Just startled me is all,” she assured him. “Was there something else…?”

Rick gulped. “You have no idea…” he began before sighing and caving in to her demands. “There’s no way I can take another night with those two. It’s like being stuck in an episode of Jerry Springer. Lena’s practically crawling over me to make Xel jealous, and Xel’s giving me these dirty looks and-I’m not a marriage counselor!”

A chortle of laughter escaped Dawn’s face at his completely panicked expression. It was that same look Spike always got when she threatened something precious to him - like his ‘Passions’ tapes, or his duster.

Rick gave her a pleading look and caught her hand once more. “I can’t survive another night,” he half-teased.

“I’ll save you from the quarreling D’voraks,” Dawn promised him with a smile. “Actually, I have to re-work the groups anyway since Buffy and Veronica had a little disaster last night as well.”

He pulled back then and tilted his head to one side. Even through his black shades, she could tell that he was studying her intently. “You were teasing me all along,” he finally decided.

“That’s a theory,” Dawn said mischievously, an enigmatic smile on her face.

“A good one?” he pressed.

“That’s for me to know,” Dawn answered, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she rose from the table, “and you to find out.” She gave him a quick wink before heading off for her day’s work.

Rick merely sat back in his chair and fought the smile at the edges of his lips. He had had a feeling before that there was something unusual about this one, but now… He watched the vibrant green energy that surrounded her, composed her, as she walked. Now, he knew…

Reviews make chapters come faster. Or so I'm told. Actually, I tend to write chapters even when I don't get reviews, but still...reviews are nice, wonderful things. Although not quite as nice as naked Spikes. (And, yes, I have had too much caffeine this evening. Thanks for asking. ~_^) In summary: review.

Disclaimer & Author's Note: The usual.

Previously: A whole shit-load of weird, haunted house type stuff happened last night. The morning after, however, led to a rather pleasant chat between Buffy and Spike. Dawn had to deal with Veronica freaking out about Buffy and then Rick begging not to be stuck with the arguing D'vorak pair, Xel and Lena, for another night. And so we continue...

Haunted
Chapter Seven - The Bright Light of Day

The farce that was Dawn’s day didn’t come to an end when her beat-up old Chevy pulled up to the Old Victorian house off of Jefferson Road in the town of Black Hills Falls. Oh no, it was just beginning.

“I’ve never known a Slayer to be so…feminine,” Xel practically purred in the back seat, inching closer to Buffy.

Her eyes widened, and she scootched even closer to the window.

“It must take amazing effort,” Xel continued in a low voice, “balancing the human and demon worlds like that… Have you ever considered experimenting more with the demon side of things?” The way he licked his lips with the world ‘experimenting’ made it all too clear what he really meant.

Buffy gulped. There had only ever been two demons for her - well, one since technically Angelus was the demon and not Angel… So one. Exactly one demon for her. And, while the glamour spell that Xel and Lena both wore to mask their more inhuman features was quite effective, it sure didn’t put Xel anywhere near Spike’s exalted status.

“Been there,” she assured him, “got the emotional scars.”

“Ah, a heart once broken-” Xel began.

“Keep your antennae to yourself!” Lena groused, scowling at her mate from the other end of the backseat.

Xel turned irritated eyes on her. “Like you were last night?” he snapped.

Dawn and Buffy groaned in unison. This was, what, the sixth time this argument had occurred during the brief ride? The eighth?

“This is why I usually investigate alone,” Dawn rolled her eyes in the direction of the two disguised D’vorak Demons that were too busy screaming at each other in the car to notice that Buffy and Dawn had already exited it.

“Is this a subtle hint that I shouldn’t have tagged along, either?” Buffy joked. She massaged her ear, hoping she didn’t have permanent damage from the pitch of Lena’s shriek.

Dawn smiled at that as they walked up to the door of the dilapidated two-storey house. “At least your story wasn’t ripe with recriminations,” she said with a pointed look at the demon pair that were still arguing back in the car. She pondered Buffy’s account of last night’s events for a moment before deciding to reveal her additional information. “Veronica said she saw your eyes glowing. She said they were red.”

A concerned frown marred Buffy’s brow. “Red glowy eyes definitely abnormal,” she agreed.

“Were you possessed?” Dawn inquired curiously. “If that’s what this demon or whatever does, it will narrow down our research.”

“No,” Buffy insisted, “I was just…angry. Furious. I don’t know what came over me.”

Dawn considered this for a moment. “But you don’t think you were possessed?” she pressed. “You were in control of your body?”

Buffy sighed. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “It felt like it was me, but…I haven’t been that angry since-” She broke off, embarrassed to discuss this in front of Dawn. “I’m not like that,” she sounded like she was trying to convince herself, her voice slightly ragged. “I’m not…”

Dawn bit her lip and, after a moment’s consideration, rested a hand on her older sister’s shoulder. “The whole red eye thing wasn’t you,” she agreed. “That means that the hitting probably wasn’t, either. My bet is that whatever this haunting is, it’s playing with you - with all of us. From what I’ve picked up, things were pretty hectic last night.”

Both of them grimaced at Xel and Lena’s accounts of the blood-red walls. And Buffy thought back to the phantom piano player she’d seen as well. She felt a bit guilty about not divulging that part of the story to Dawn, but something about it felt so private…intimate. She just didn’t want to share. And, she couldn’t imagine that her mysterious musician was tied into all this. Something so beautiful couldn’t be evil, could it?

A resolved look crossed Buffy’s face. “I don’t like being toyed with,” she said, a hint of the old Slayer fire in her eyes. “When I get my hands on this thing…”

“I’ll be there to re-kick its ass after you’re done with it,” Dawn agreed.

The sisters shared a smile and then a giggle. Almost as soon as their laughter stopped, the distance was between them once more. But that moment was enough to remind them both of what they’d lost when they’d been estranged all those years ago.

“Are we going to do anything, or what?” Lena’s testy voice broke up their awkward reflections.

“Can’t you at least try to be polite?” Xel retorted immediately.

Lena gasped, offended beyond belief, and Dawn took the moment’s silence to cut off the argument. “Knock it off,” she gave them a stern scowl. “I am sick and tired of listening to you two arguing. Why don’t you both try to shut up for five minutes? Just don’t say a word, OK?” She gave them a falsely sweet smile.

Xel and Lena noticed an equally annoyed look on Buffy’s face and hung their heads in shame.

With identical head shakes and eye rolls, the sisters turned back to the door, and Dawn hit the buzzer. There was an uncomfortable silence while Buffy and Dawn waited and Xel and Lena tried their best not to start yelling at each other, until finally a figure could be seen moving behind the curtain that covered the window beside the front door.

“Ms. Collins?” Dawn asked politely when the bent old woman answered the door.

Ms. Collins blinked out at them through coke-bottle glasses. “Yes?” she asked, sparing a kind smile to the visitors to her doorstep.

“We’ve been hired by the Cascade Mountain Lodge,” Dawn began, “concerning certain disturbances they’ve been having.”

The old woman’s face instantly closed off. “What do you want?” she snapped suspiciously.

“Well, I was informed that your coven did some work up there fifty years ago,” Dawn explained.

The woman’s eyes darkened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She moved to shut the door in Dawn’s face.

Buffy’s Slayer reflexes caught it long before it closed, however. “People are dying,” she pleaded. “If there’s anything you can do to help…”

“Oh, I helped,” the old woman retorted. “Fifty years ago I helped, and all I got in return was a lifetime of pain.” She brushed Buffy’s hand from the door with surprising strength. “If you’re willing to give up your lives, go right ahead. Just leave me out of it!” The door slammed shut with a bang of finality.

The four demon hunters stood on the doorstep in surprised silence for a moment. Then:

“Well, that was a waste of time,” Lena whined. “I don’t know why I should be surprised, though.”

Xel gave her a disgusted look. “Could you possibly be any more pessimistic?” he hissed.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Lena retorted, her words practically oozing sarcasm. “Did I insult your little girlfriend and her plans?”

“You shrew!” Xel exclaimed. “If you weren’t always so…”

Their voices trailed off as they stalked back to the car together. Buffy and Dawn exchanged a look.

“I don’t suppose we can walk back to the lodge?” Buffy asked hopefully.

“I’ll drive fast,” Dawn assured her before reluctantly heading in the direction of the vehicle as well.

Buffy fell into step beside her. “She knows something,” she commented, gesturing back to the house.

“Something powerful enough to frighten an experienced witch,” Dawn agreed with a concern frown.

“I’m kinda thinking we have to figure out how to kill this thing fast.” Buffy wouldn’t have admitted it, but a bit of fear was seeping into her own stomach at the unknown danger. “’Cause if last night’s any indication…”

“We’re going to end up dead and fast,” Dawn agreed. “We’ll just have to keep trying to get information out of our reluctant Ms. Collins.”

“There are no other leads?” Buffy inquired.

“She’s the last member of the original coven alive,” Dawn confirmed. A grimace spread across her face as they reached the car. “Although, if this thing doesn’t kill those two soon,” she indicated the quarreling D’voraks with a pained expression, “I may beat it to them.”

Buffy managed an amused smile at that, and together they entered to the vehicle.

* * *

The Summers sisters had each worked out several dozen plans for double homicides by the time Dawn pulled to a halt at the end of Cascade Mountain Road. Xel and Lena remained oblivious to the extreme irritation of everyone who had to put up with them for more than five minutes. Still arguing non-stop, they finally went off on their own, and Buffy and Dawn both breathed a sigh of relief.

“Justifiable homicide,” Dawn decided, rubbing her temples where a headache was forming.

“Even better,” Buffy decided. “They’re demons. That means killing them is technically part of my job description.”

“D’voraks don’t hurt humans,” Dawn felt obliged to point out.

Buffy nodded in agreement. “But most D’voraks aren’t this annoying. I’d say they’re a definite danger to the sanity of everyone around them.”

Dawn grinned at that. Actually, she was pretty impressed. She’d entered the demon hunting business with her eyes open and had quickly learned that not all species were slay-worthy. But that her sister, the queen of black and white, humans equal good, demons equal bad, finally realized it… It made her curious just how much Buffy had changed over the years. And, from what she could see so far, a lot of the changes seemed to be for the better.

“What’s with that, anyway?” Buffy continued her rant. “I mean, I thought D’voraks were supposed to be the lovebirds of the demon kingdom. Hell, most of the time I’m annoyed by them making googly eyes at each other, but these two…”

Dawn chuckled at that. “My guess is that they’re going through Shi’lann,” she ventured.

“Mating season?” Buffy’s nose scrunched up. “Don’t they usually get extra cutesy then?”

OK, she was way impressed that Buffy knew that. Whatever happened to the ‘knowledge boring, kill now’ philosophy?

Her look must’ve tipped Buffy off to her thoughts. “They’re really common,” she pointed out. “Sunnydale’s gotten a bit more open with the demon population since the Hellmouth closed. I pretty much deal with D’voraks on a daily basis.”

“Cool,” Dawn agreed with a smile, a bit of the girl Buffy had known slipping through. “Yeah, I’ve never encountered any as annoying as these two, either.”

“Are they mis-mated or what?” Buffy wondered.

Dawn shrugged. “Just screwed up,” she decided.

“Sucks to be them,” Buffy decided.

“Indeed.”

They shared an amused giggle, and then Dawn spotted the three rogue members of the demon hunting squad entering the lodge lobby.

“Uh-oh…” she sighed. “You ready to back me up?”

Buffy looked at John, Bob, and Tucker with disdain. “Do we hafta?” she whined.

“They might be useful,” Dawn insisted.

Buffy moaned and nodded. “I got your back,” she agreed.

The two women ignored the rather blatant stares they got as they approached, and Dawn quickly addressed John, assuming him to be the leader of the group.

“We’re meeting in the rec room at eight o’clock tonight to discuss what we learned last night,” she informed him.

John merely chuckled. “Cute thing, huh?” he addressed Bob with a nudge. “Thinks she’s in charge…”

“By rather unanimous decision, I have been put in charge,” Dawn said, green eyes flashing angrily.

“Sure you have, sweetcakes,” Bob laughed, appraising her in a rather scandalous way. “I can guess how you got your votes, too…”

Before he even knew what hit him, he found his face shoved painfully into the counter of the lobby desk, his arm twisted roughly behind him in a bruising grip.

“Wanna rethink the way to talk to my sister?” Buffy asked in a false cheerful tone.

“Oh dear…” Ms. Danvers’ eyes widened at the fight breaking out in her lobby. “Is it really necessary to…?”

“Oh, it’s necessary,” Dawn agreed. She stepped up into John’s face in an odd imitation of Spike’s own trademark intimidation tactic and narrowed her eyes menacingly. “This isn’t some game for boys with guns,” she informed him coldly. “If you’re not prepared to do what it takes to beat this thing, then I suggest you leave it to the professionals. Before you end up getting yourselves killed.”

“You’re not the boss of me, toots,” John tried to maintain his bravado, but he was visibly shaken. “And, hell, like we’re lettin’ you get away with all that money.”

Dawn gave him a final scowl before turning to walk away. “C’mon, Buffy,” she said, her annoyance plain. “These losers aren’t even worth our time.”

With a final twist to Bob’s arm, Buffy let him go and followed after Dawn. “Assholes,” she grumbled under her breath.

“Incompetent assholes,” Dawn amended…

* * *

Now, Dawn had been slightly worried when she returned to her and Spike’s room. She knew that Buffy had come to see him earlier that day, and that probably implied a whole lot of angst. After all, her sister may have gotten nicer and more understanding and much less bitchy, but still… Buffy plus Spike equaled heartache.

So, she was practically floored when she entered their common room to get a quick peck on the cheek and an “afternoon, luv” from what looked to be a very happy vampire. Dawn watched in amazement as he practically floated around the room, straightening various knick-knacks and checking all their weapons absentmindedly for sharp edges.

“You’re in a good mood,” she commented, dropping her bag on the kitchenette counter.

Almost immediately it was snatched up and hung from one of the hooks the lodge provided in the closet for their luggage.

“No arguin’ there, Sweet Bit,” he agreed, humming to himself under his breath.

Dawn blinked. OK, this was getting scary. Fluffy, happy Spike - definitely not of the ordinary. “Did you check the basement?” she inquired, sitting down on the sofa.

He said down across from her, then practically sprang up out of the chair and began wandering around the room again as he talked to her. “Big wall ‘f knives,” he commented.

“What?” Dawn asked in surprise.

“In the restaurant’s kitchen,” he provided, grinning at the fact that he’d had her going for a minute there. “That was the most excitin’ thing I found.”

Dawn relaxed in her seat again. “Nothing hiding down there?” she pressed.

“Nothing,” he agreed. “Checked every square inch ‘f the basement. Even used your laptop to get the buildin’ plans to make sure there wasn’t any space missin’ for secret rooms. And then I looked through the records ‘f that coven Siggy told us about and-”

“Spike?” Dawn cut him off with an amused smile.

“Huh?” He blinked at her in surprise.

“You’re babbling,” she informed him with a giggle. “Now tell me what happened.”

He hesitated for a second before an eager grin spread over his face and he dashed over to the chair across from her with superhuman speed. “Slayer was here,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Yeah, I know.” Dawn was having a hard time containing her laughter. He looked like a kid on Christmas, he was so excited. “I talked to her.”

“Yeah, well…” he agreed, studying the nails of one hand absentmindedly. “Was nice was all. Talked a bit ‘bout old times, a bit about the case…”

“Spike…” Dawn began, a bit of worry sneaking into her voice.

“Nothin’ happened,” he insisted. “Just…” A bright smile lit up his face.

Dawn’s concern increased. “Spike,” she caught his hand in hers and looked directly into his eyes, “think about what you’re doing.”

“I am,” he said, the idiotic grin on his face fading to a more serious expression. “’S not like ‘m startin’ up with her again or anythin’. Just was nice to have somethin’ beyond the nastiness is all. A bit ‘f a reminder that there was good, too.”

Dawn gave him a relaxed smile at that. “Just be careful,” she requested softly. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“’ll watch my back,” he promised her. “But the Slayer’s changed. She’s-”

“I know she has,” Dawn assured him, “but we don’t know how much yet. Just…”

“Won’t run off and do somethin’ foolishly impulsive,” he promised her.

She gave him a skeptical look. “Who are you, and what have you done with Spike?” she teased.

He chuckled at that and brushed another quick kiss across her cheek. “’ll be all right. I promise, Bit. ‘m just…happy is all…”

* * *

“…Calm down, Buffy,” an eerily similar conversation was taking place in the room next door. “You don’t want to rush things.”

“I’m not rushing,” she insisted into the phone. “I’ve known I wanted this for so long… And now it’s like nothing’s changed. I mean, things have changed obviously. There’s all that stuff that happened that we haven’t even talked about yet, but… The feelings… They’re still all there.”

On the other end of the phone, Holden let out a weary sigh. “You’ve made those assumptions before,” he pointed out. “Just look at what happened with Angel.”

Buffy bit her lip at that, sobered slightly by the logical point. “This is different,” she insisted. “This time I know-”

“You’re feeling like this is the way you felt before,” Holden acknowledged. “And that’s good. That’s a sign that you’re moving beyond all that happened in your relationship before. But you’ve got to consider that maybe things have changed for him. Am I correct that you still haven’t ascertained the relationship between Spike and your sister?”

Buffy sighed at that. “No,” she admitted. “But even if… Even if I can just make things OK between us all again, that’ll be more than I ever hoped for.”

“And that’s a good place to start,” Holden agreed. “Just take things one step at a time and see how they develop.”

Buffy took a deep breath and calmed herself down. “It just feels like this could be it,” she admitted.

“And it could be,” Holden assured her. “But you have to work on acknowledging the past and keeping it behind you all at the same time.”

“I know,” Buffy grimaced at the incident the night before, “but there’s a chance that that was Big Bad related.”

“I hope so,” Holden agreed. “I certainly hope so…”

More to come soon. Remember: reviews make me a happy author. ^_^

Disclaimer: Do I own Spike? Yeah, I wish...

Author's Note: Sorry for the delay on this chapter but RL interfered. Rumors that I've stopped writing it are very strange and should not be believed by anyone.

Previously: Last night creepy, whacked-out stuff happened. Everything got happier the next day, though. Buffy and Dawn tried get info out of a witch who had something to do with the Lodge during the previous attacks but were foiled by Xel and Lena's constant bickering and the old witch's reluctance to help. Dawn's concluded that Buffy's impromptu attack on Veronica the previous night might've had something to do with the Haunting. Buffy and Spike actually managed to have a civil conversation. Dawn and Buffy had an uncivil conversation with the three misogynistic hunters, John, Bob, and Tucker. But now what happens when it's night once more?

Haunted
Chapter Eight - The Killer Within

“Does anyone besides me get the clear feeling that this…Haunting was laughing its ass off at us last night?” Dawn demanded, leaning forward on the table in front of her to address the assembled demon hunters.

“If by laughin’ its ass off, you mean borin’ the two ‘f us to death while it screws with everyone else’s heads,” Spike agreed.

“Sort of a welcome ‘nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah’,” Buffy added.

“Well, I refuse to be made fun of,” Dawn replied to the other nods she received. “We may not know how to kill this thing, but we’re sure as hell not going to be scared off by it.”

“It wasn’t the cause of my…concern last night,” Veronica provided in her usual drawl, her crimson hair combed so that it obscured her blackened eye. She shot a nasty glare in Buffy’s direction.

“See, that’s where I think you’re wrong,” Dawn pointed out. “An inordinate amount of freaky stuff happened last night - most of it involving us. I think there’s a good chance that this Haunting’s capable of possessing us. Or, if nothing else, at least influencing us. ‘Cause the only commonalties I’m picking up from all the stories about last night are that people were acting nuts and getting into fights and there were a lot of strange, glowing red lights.”

“I didn’t notice any fighting,” Lena said pointedly, scowling at Xel as she did so. The human disguises the two D’voraks wore during the day were cast aside now, and antennae were bristling as irritably as ever.

“That’s because you never notice anything, honey.” The epithet fell from Xel’s lips with false sweetness.

“You were the one that took-” Lena began.

“Can we not do this right now?” Buffy cut them off, annoyed.

The pair huffed but thankfully remained silent.

“OK, so we’ll all agreed that people are fighting a lot?” Dawn continued with a wry smile.

Spike, Buffy, Rick, and Veronica were all amused as well. Xel and Lena didn’t get the joke.

“Now, believe it or not, I’ve come to realize that you’re all mostly reasonable people. In the daytime, at least,” Dawn amended. “This thing seems to be working its evils more at night, so I’m betting that we’re going to have to put up with more weirdness tonight.”

“And how do we deal with this…‘weirdness’, as you so eloquently put it?” Veronica was busy intently studying her long, red-polished nails, nail file in hand to correct any potential flaws she might find.

Dawn mentally docked one name from her list of potentially reasonable people. “You claim to be a demon hunter,” she said matter-of-factly, “so prove it. You can’t tell me you’ve never dealt with psychological attacks before.”

“That’s your brilliant advice?” Veronica whined.

“Maybe if you would just shut up and listen for five minutes, she would be better able to explain.”

Everyone started at the sound of Rick’s voice. With everyone else’s fondness for sarcasm, yelling, and just generally trying to boss everyone else around, they frequently forgot that the quiet man was even there.

Dawn gave him a grateful smile when she recovered from her surprise, and his lips twitched in response. The ever-present dark sunglasses prevented her from seeing any reaction other than that, however.

“Meditative techniques sometimes work in these situations,” Buffy explained helpfully.

“As does just a general awareness that you might be being manipulated,” Dawn provided. “Keep a close eye on your own actions and on those of the people around you. Anything seems strange, and you point it out. You do not let things escalate out of control like they did last night.”

“A fine theory,” Lena said testily, “but we have no idea whether it’ll work in practice.”

“Lena! Be polite!” Xel snapped before turning his eyes back to Dawn and looking her body up and down in an unashamed manner.

Dawn frowned at the inappropriate attentions, as did Spike. Not-so-subtly, he moved to stand between her and the leering demon.

“We’re testing out if it works tonight,” Dawn announced, getting back on topic. “We still need to learn as much about this thing as possible. And, despite all the chaos last night, we did pick up a few clues. So, we’re still sticking to the master plan. We’ll divide up into groups just like last night-”

“I’m paired with her again?!” Veronica exclaimed over-dramatically and gesturing to Buffy like she was a psychopath or something.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “No,” she said in a tight voice. “As I was about to explain, you and Spike will work together tonight. You’ll have the restaurant again. Xel, Lena, I’m giving you the game room.”

“What?” Lena said, obviously disappointed. “Rrricardo won’t be joining us?” The rolled the ‘R’ in his name for a ridiculously long time.

Rick flinched noticeably and backed away from the preening demoness.

Dawn sighed. “Buffy, Rick, you two are with me in the pool room. Now, are there any more objections?” The glare she sent everyone said all too clearly that there better not be. “Let’s go then…”

* * *

“See somethin’ you like, luv?” Spike practically purred, glancing for the first time over to where Veronica was blatantly admiring him.

“Would you be shocked if I said ‘yes’?” she asked coyly. She crossed her legs, allowing her tight, red leather skirt to ride up further on her tanned thighs.

Spike licked his lips in response to the sight of bared skin. “Takes quite a bit to shock me,” he retorted with a little smirk.

“Mmm, I’ll bet,” she agreed with a deep sigh. Swinging her legs in a graceful arc, she rose from the table she’d settled herself on and approached him like a cat stalking its prey. One long red nail traced its way up the center of his chest as she stood before him, and she won a sharp intake of breath in response. “After all, you’ve got ‘Bad Boy’ written all over you…”

Spike surprised himself and Veronica by pushing away and moving to pace about the room. Displeased at this turn of events, Veronica sat back down on the table with a huff.

“So, er…how’d you get caught up in this gig, then?” he abruptly asked, trying to break up the awkward tension in the room.

Veronica let out a weary sigh. “Inherited daddy’s fortune and decided to actually live. Demon hunting’s a simply fabulous way to get some adventure out of life.” She threw her head back in time with the ‘fabulous’, allowing the ends of her crimson locks to brush the table behind her. It was a suggestive gesture, not unlike that of a woman in the throes of passion, and all the more so to Spike who now had a clear view of the vulnerable column of her throat.

He gulped, then shook the thoughts from his head. “In it for the fun of the kill, then, ‘ey luv?” he responded with a chuckle.

“The fun,” she agreed, “and the power…” Her eyes looked like a tiger’s as she said it.

“With you on that,” he nodded, plucking a cigarette from its pack and slipping it between his lips. “You mind?” he inquired, searching for his lighter.

“Not as long as you share,” she retorted with a smile, approaching him once more.

He removed the cigarette from his mouth, and she took it, leaning in when he produced the small flame. He lit up a second cigarette for himself, and they breathed in the heady aroma of tobacco together.

“Thanks, handsome,” she said with a smile as she took another drag. “So, wild night, huh?”

Spike’s scarred eyebrow rose when their thighs brushed, but he made no comment. “Had a dull one last night, too. Was actually hopin’ for a bit o’ blood tonight.”

“An action kinda guy, are we?” she inquired, her eyes raking over his form once more.

A smile lit up his face at that. “Some would say that,” he agreed. “Although, technically, ‘m more of a blood kinda guy.” He took the smoke deep into his dead lungs and held it there for a moment, letting it warm him from the inside out before he released it through his nose in a steady stream.

“Hmm, I had my suspicions about you.” Veronica’s hand lingered over his long enough to determine that it was cool and confirm her theory. “Only the undead have skin that perfect.”

He chuckled. “Tha’s why we all agree to be turned, actually. Saves a fortune on skin-care products.”

“You’re not concerned?” Veronica asked, a well-penciled eyebrow raised. “You’re not worried that I’m going to stake you now that I know?”

A delighted guffaw followed that statement. “Oh, you’re welcome to try, luv. But keep in mind that all who tried before you met ugly ends.”

“Seems a waste, anyway,” she shrugged. “So, do I risk getting my throat snapped for asking you why you kill your own kind?”

“Gotta watch after my Bit,” he said seriously. “Help her out with her work ‘s all.”

“Ah, yes,” Veronica nodded. “This Dawn… What’s the deal with you two anyway? Tragic love that can never exist in this world?”

“Strange bird, aren’cha?” He shook his head. “Adopted her,” he explained. “Took her in and brought her up. Mind you, she was old enough that she actually did more parentin’ than I ever did.”

“Vampires watch after homeless children now?” Veronica repeated incredulously.

“Just my Bit,” he answered simply as if that statement would answer every question in the universe.

Veronica decided she didn’t care. “You’re different from the other vamps I’ve known,” she commented off-handedly.

“’m different from everyone ‘ve known,” he shot back proudly, “demon or otherwise.” Well, except for one… He banished the thought before it had a chance to consume him and turned a curious glance to the woman at his side. “That troubles you?”

She gave him a lazy, seductive smile. “Not at all,” she assured him. “In fact, I find it most…fortunate…” Her gaze had turned predatory once more, and their thighs and hands brushed as they sat side by side.

“Oh?” He moved away once more, neatly plucking an ashtray from the restaurant’s bar and stubbing out his cigarette in it.

“You hear the rumors about vamps, you know,” she explained, taking the ashtray he offered her gratefully.

“Rumors?” he feigned ignorance.

“Just vague things,” she continued to play their little game. “Enough to get a girl curious, though.”

“Such as?” A definite smile was quirking at the edges of his lips now.

“Just the usual stuff,” she shrugged. Her eyes rested on his sharp cheekbones, and she licked her lips. “Strength, power, stamina. You hear things about creativity, too. All those ideas vamps can pick up over the centuries… Not to mention those rumors that certain other…enhancements come with being turned…”

He chuckled at that last one. “Don’t hear that one too often anymore,” he commented, cocking his head to one side as he studied her.

“Is it true, then?” she asked flirtatiously.

“That remains to be seen,” he retorted coyly. “What I’m surprised, is that you din’t hear all the fang mythology that goes along with it.”

“Oh, I have,” she agreed his a husky whisper, moving so that she stood between where his thighs dangled over the table edge. She could actually feel the heat of her own breath as it was reflected back at her by his cool skin. “They say there’s nothing like it,” she continued. “That moment of pain when your flesh is first pierced and then...complete and utter bliss…”

Spike felt his demon demanding to surface in response. A wave of blood-lust like nothing he’d felt in years came over him, and he wanted nothing more than to sink deep into her throat, feel her body convulse beneath him in pleasure and pain as he took her, savor the honey-coated waves of fear that settled over her body as her heart slowed and she realized that this was her final moment. His vision turned blood-red with the power of the images, and he felt his face shift, and…

“Bloody hell!” He leapt back in horror, forcing his demon down once more.

Veronica frowned at the frightened look on his face. “Are you all right?” she asked hesitantly.

He shook his head vigorously. “We’ve got to find the others,” he insisted. “Safety in numbers and all…”

“Safety from what?” Her brow furrowed for a moment before her eyes widened. “Uh…r-right…” She was stuttering with fear now. “Your friend? Dawn? She’s in the pool room, right?”

He nodded and together, although with considerable distance between them, they fled the latest near miss…

* * *

“Wait a minute,” Rick spoke up for the first time as they wandered about the pool aimlessly, “you two are sisters?”

“The last name didn’t clue you in?” Buffy shot back.

He seemed a bit flustered by this. “It is a common name,” he pointed out. “And I had thought that you weren’t working together…”

Buffy and Dawn exchanged a look. “We’re not,” Dawn admitted. “We actually haven’t seen each other in over five years.”

“It’s actually a pretty amazing coincidence,” Buffy added thoughtfully. “You don’t think…? Nah.” She shook it off.

“Ah,” Rick said, clearly curious as to the unusual circumstance but not wanting to pry.

“Our dad left when we were kids, and our mom died some years later,” Buffy explained the story but without the painful, personal details. “Dawnie was picked up by a foster family in New York after that, and-”

“Well, not exactly,” Dawn admitted sheepishly.

Buffy turned a confused look in her direction. “Social Services told me you’d been adopted by a nice married couple,” she stated.

“And you never found it even slightly suspicious that my foster parents’ names were Sid and Nancy?” Dawn inquired.

Buffy obviously didn’t get it. “Why would that be suspicious?” she wondered.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Guess which one of us has been exposed to way too much punk music?” she asked rhetorically.

Buffy’s eyes widened in understanding. “Spike?” she asked in disbelief. “How on earth did a vampire qualify as a legal guardian?”

“Some strings got pulled,” Dawn whispered conspiratorially. “People in the right places owed Spike some favors and…viola! Vamp-raised me.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t even know that,” Buffy shook her head. She turned back to Rick. “Hence, proving my point that we haven’t seen each other in forever.”

He nodded in response. “You seem to get on quite well for having been distanced for so long,” he commented.

Buffy and Dawn exchanged another look.

“Yeah,” Dawn admitted hesitantly, a bit of surprise in her tone, “I guess we do…”

“If you want, you can just pretend it’s because you’re made out of me,” Buffy offered.

Dawn smiled at that. “Thanks,” she agreed.

Rick looked back and forth between them, completely puzzled. “Huh?” he asked eloquently.

“Summers thing,” they said in perfect unison before both breaking out into giggles at their synchronicity.

Rick backed away slowly, convinced that, like all women, these two were crazy. Fortunately, he was saved at that moment by the frantic entrance of Spike and Veronica.

“What’s wrong?” Dawn asked, immediately on the alert once more.

“Tried to drain my partner,” Spike said simply. “Figured that fell into unusual enough behavior that we should follow our herdin’ instincts.”

Buffy studied Veronica quizzically. “It doesn’t look like you tried very hard,” she pointed out, gesturing to where the other woman’s neck was - unfortunately - still intact.

He made an exaggerated eye-roll in response. “Came here before I bit her,” he said as if it was the most elementary thing in the universe.

Dawn sighed. “Give me the symptoms,” she demanded, sitting on the stone ledge that walled off the pool’s surrounding greenery.

Spike sat across from her, position mirroring hers. “Blood-lust,” he began. “Flashbacks to previous kills. All sorts ‘f overwhelming sensations. Was like something was in the back of my head, sayin’: ‘kill, kill, kill’.”

“And that’s unusual?” Buffy commented.

She got two nasty looks in response.

“I’m just saying,” she began, raising her hands in the air defensively. “Because, y’know, instinctual thrill of the hunt and all. Plus, you always liked to…kill…things…” She trailed off pathetically. “Sorry?” she offered nervously.

Spike shook his head at her. “Valid points. Wasn’t like that. It was like…”

“What?” Dawn asked curiously.

“Seein’ red…”

* * *

Buffy smiled and hummed under her breath as she returned to her room. Even the bickering of the D’vorak odd couple wasn’t enough to sully her mood. Although, if she’d had to come into contact with them for any longer than it took to tell them that they were done for the evening, she might have changed her opinion on that matter.

Still, D’vorak contact had been limited, and Spike contact had been rather extensive. Dawn had picked their brains for anything they could remember just prior to the ‘crazy-psycho-rage’ state, as Buffy had labeled it. Unfortunately, the only thing they could come up with was that they both had the urge to kill Veronica - and that was perfectly natural.

Although, actually, Spike might not have thought so…

Buffy frowned slightly at the memory of the way the pair had been flirting. It was especially irksome given that Veronica was still flinching from her theatrically, but Spike was instantly forgiven for his transgression. Just showed how biased some people were to a pair of gorgeous blue eyes and razor-sharp cheekbones. Yeah, and the fact that you through her into a wall whereas Spike stopped himself in time had nothing to do with it, the non-jealous part of her mind felt obliged to point out.

Still, all in all, things were good. She and Dawn were talking and seemed to be getting along all right, and Spike - however peripherally - was back in her life. It was more than would have dared hope for two days ago. She began to hum louder as the cut through the lobby to get to her room.

And then she realized that the music wasn’t louder because of her humming, but because the tune she’d chosen was being echoed by the grand piano in the sitting room.

Buffy immediately froze to a halt in the hallway. She’d almost forgotten about her own personal Phantom of the Opera, given everything that had been happening of late. Especially since she was keeping the previous night’s encounter from the others.

However, as the haunting melody grew louder, there was no doubt in her mind that the elusive spirit was back. As silent as only a Slayer on the hunt can be, she crept down the hallway, her eyes trained on the cracked open door at the end of the hall.

Just as she got close enough to see through the crack, the music stopped, however. Cursing inventively in her head, Buffy flung open the door and looked inside to see that the sitting room was empty.

Swearing to herself that next time she’d catch her favorite phantom in the act, she headed off to bed and whatever dreams she’d find therein…

* * *

“Please tell me you didn’t sleep with her,” were Dawn’s first words when Spike entered their suite.

He raised an eyebrow in response.

“She’s stuck-up, annoying, and I only paired you up with her to save you the grief of having to work with Buffy,” Dawn clarified. “You were gone for an hour. Please tell me you didn’t sleep with her.”

“I didn’t sleep with her,” he promised before heading to his room without another word.

Dawn frowned at how distant he was being. “Are you all right?” she asked hesitantly. “Did something happen?” She gestured to where he’d just entered the room.

“Went for a walk,” he shrugged. “Tonight was no good, y’know?”

“Yeah…” The concern in Dawn’s eyes indicated that she didn’t quite believe him, but she let it pass. “Goodnight,” she called after him.

“’Night, Bit.” He shut the door behind him in relief. If there was one thing he loved about Dawn above all else, it was that she didn’t pry into his affairs when he didn’t want her to. And now was definitely one of those times, even though her question revealed just how well she actually knew him…

Please tell me you didn’t sleep with her.
I didn’t sleep with her.

He could have, he knew. Veronica had made it more than clear that she would give him the ride of his life, if only he took her up on her offer. And he could say that with absolute certainty that two days ago he would have done it. He would have buried himself in her heat and lost himself to mind-numbing pleasure and just forgotten…

With an angry growl his fist slammed into the wall, cracking the plaster.

Dammit, nothing’s changed! You’re not like this anymore, mate. You’re not a slave to the blood-lust. And you’re certainly not the Slayer’s neutered puppy…

Despite his internal convictions, however, sleep remained elusive for the vampire all night…

You know the drill by now, right? Review, review, review... ~_^

Disclaimer: The usual.

Author's Note: Some people have observed that this story isn't getting updated as often as 'Blue Horizons'. This is, unfortunately, true. I've still got a long way to go on that one, and I'm trying to finish it by the end of May. However, I will keep writing chapters of this one, it just might not be more than once or twice a week. After all, I'm only human, right? ~_^ Thank you for your patience.

Previously: Dawn's determined that the Haunting is fucking with everyone's heads. Last night, it tried to make Spike bite Veronica. Fortunately, Spike was on the look-out and disaster was averted. Also, Buffy once more heard her phantom pianist (no, not 'penis'; get your minds out of the gutter, people! ~_^), but the apparition escaped before she could close in on it.

Haunted
Chapter Nine - Whispers in the Dark

“Xander?”

Buffy’s voice was hoarse, ragged, as she came upon the lifeless body of her friend. Black scorch marks had burned through his shirt, leaving ugly red welts across his chest. He had undoubtedly died instantly.

“Xander’s here?” Anya’s voice sounded hopeful as she followed Buffy into the remains of Sunnydale High School. Her face instantly paled at the sight before her, unable to comprehend it. “N-No…” she stammered before rushing over to the body of the ex-fiancé. She shook his shoulders futily three times before she finally turned back to Buffy. “Do something!” she pleaded, tears in her eyes. “Help him!”

Still not fully comprehending Xander’s death herself, Buffy nodded and turned to go find Willow. Willow had brought her back from the dead. Surely, she could save Xander. It was a testament to just how traumatized Buffy was that she didn’t realize that Willow was the only one that could have hurt him in the first place.

Instinctively, she ran for the Hellmouth, winding her way through scorched black corridors. It seemed only fitting that this should be the place where the Scooby Gang was finally destroyed. A site of beginnings and endings…

Tears streamed down Buffy’s face, and she ran harder, plowing the remains of the library doors off their hinges in her haste.

She froze at the sight before her. Willow, hair red once more but eyes still black, sat in a chalk pentangle in the middle of the library. An eerie, unnatural glow lit up the scene and, as Buffy watched, Willow ceased her chanting and raised a wicked-looking dagger. Before Buffy could even think to stop her, Willow slashed one palm.

The sound of her friend’s scream of pain coupled with the sight of blood pooling onto the floor finally brought Buffy out of her stupor.

“Willow,” she pleaded, “stop this.”

The witch’s eyes turned to hers, and for an instant Buffy almost thought she saw the green eyes of her best friend, just plain old, innocent, ordinary Willow…

The witch mask was back in a second, even though tears were sliding down Willow’s cheeks. “I have to end it,” she insisted in a shaky voice. “There’s nothing left to live for…”

“Willow, don’t do this,” Buffy argued with her desperately. “There’s still-”

“I killed him,” Willow hissed bitterly. “My best friend, and I killed him like he was nothing. I deserve death.”

Buffy ignored the fact that she’d had similar thoughts earlier. All that mattered now was that she’d already lost one best friend; she couldn’t stand to lose another…

“Please, Willow,” she begged. “There’s so much in this world-”

“But not Xander or Tara!” Willow shot back. She took the knife in her wounded hand and stabbed the other palm, the wince of pain causing her to fall sideways. However, the blood offering had its effect, and the dark crack that was the Hellmouth’s only physical manifestation began to glow with an unearthly light.

“I’ll stop you!” Buffy insisted. “I won’t let you-”

“Just try and stop me,” a bit of the old Big Bad Willow slipped out in her snide tone.

Brow furrowing with resolve, Buffy ran at her and crashed to a stop when she encountered the magical barrier that surrounded Willow.

“You can’t stop me,” Willow repeated, holding the knife in both bleeding hands. “I have to do this. For the good of the world…”

“Willow, no!” Buffy shrieked, but it was too late.

The knife was imbedded in the witch’s gut, and she gasped in pain, trying desperately to stay conscious long enough to complete the ritual. “By the power of my blood, I bind myself to this gateway. I am its Mistress, and I command it-”

The barrier before Buffy fell away with Willow’s most recent injury, and she dashed after her former friend in a desperate attempt to save the world once more.

“-closed forever!” Willow cried out with more strength than she should have had at that point.

Buffy froze, stunned into silence. Not only had the apocalypse not happened, but Willow had prevented all other apocalypses to come…

“Forgive me.” The whispered words slipped past Willow’s lips as she fell to the ground.

Buffy ran to her once more, sobbing. “I forgive you, Willow. I love you…”

And then, with a burst of flames, Willow and the Hellmouth were gone forever.

“No!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Buffy’s eyes blinked open with a start, her body still shivering at the horrible memory. She didn’t know where she was, only that Willow and Xander were gone forever, and-

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Blearily, she turned to the door and realized that someone was banging against it frantically. Instinctively, she leapt out of bed and ran for it, mindless that she was clad only in an oversized T-shirt and a pair of lacy black panties. She flung the door open wide and…

“Slayer, are you all right?” Spike’s eyes were wide with worry, and he was only wearing the red robe she’d seen him in the previous morning. His hair was a disheveled mess, indicating all too clearly that he had just been asleep as well.

“S-Spike…” she whimpered in relief, collapsing like a rag-doll into his arms, sobbing out her grief into the cool, smooth planes of his chest.

“What’s wrong, luv?” His voice was soft, the way it had been when she had first been brought back. “The spook come for you?” He looked around the room intently, every one of his enhanced senses hyper-aware.

“Willow…” she whispered, fingers clinging to the silk of his robe. “No…”

Spike breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Just a dream, then? Christ, Slayer, I thought it was killin’ you the way you were screamin’…”

Buffy gasped for air, hyperventilating slightly, and wrapped one arm around his waist to hold him tightly. She felt her fear recede and that relaxing calm overtake her as she snuggled against his chill body, listening to the soothing accent of his voice.

Spike’s expression softened at the sight of her clinging to him like a child, frightened and sobbing and… “’m so sorry, luv,” he murmured into her hair. “Know it doesn’t mean much, but ‘m so sorry…”

Her body responded to his words, and she wondered not for the first time if this was some sort of thrall he had. It was uncanny just how quickly he could make everything feel better. With that thought, the temperature of her skin seemed to rise, and she finally became fully aware of the hard body that supported her. The fingers clinging to his lapels loosened slightly and began to move ever-so-slightly against his chest. Not quite caresses yet, but the beginnings of a more intimate touch.

She pulled back enough to look into those beautiful blue eyes of his, and she felt her heart catch at the hidden passions within. Oh yes, she could bury herself in this man, forget about all her troubles, if only for a little while…

Unconsciously, her lips angled towards his, closing the distance between them.

Spike’s eyes widened, and he gasped in shock, pulling away.

Buffy froze for a minute before she realized one she’d almost done. Shakily, one hand rose to cover her mouth, a look of shocked horror on her face. “Oh my god,” she gasped. “Spike, I didn’t mean … I was just…”

What had she been thinking? His comfort was something to be cherished and returned, not used for her own selfish gains. That was the mistake she’d made last time. She’d never bothered to appreciate him, just used and used until there was nothing-

“Buffy?” Spike ventured to step forward into her room, concerned at how she seemed to have collapsed inward. He hesitantly reached out to touch her shoulder, but she crumpled at his touch, curling into a little ball on the floor and sobbing once more.

“You’ve an evil, disgusting thing!”

“You’re beneath me.”

“The only chance you ever had with me was when I was unconscious.”

“You were just...convenient.”

“There’s nothing good in you.”

“I could never be your girl!”

“Soulless...”

“Disgusting...”

“Monster!”

The words seemed to be whispered into her ear, reminding her of past grievances and yet at the same time…enticing her?

No, she screamed inwardly, I’m not like that anymore. I’m not!

Spike knelt down before her and cautiously reached out with one hand to brush a lock of golden hair from her forehead. She seemed to recover somewhat at his touch, and her eyes were focused once more when they met his.

“I-I don’t deserve it,” she said raggedly, backing away from his touch once more.

Spike immediately seemed to close off, rising to his feet once more. “Right, then,” he agreed passively, his tone gone icy cold. “’ll just be on my way…”

“No,” she whimpered, fingers tangling in the hem of his robe and turning him back to her. “Please, don’t go,” she requested, eyes still tear-stained. “I-I need to tell you…”

Spike sighed in frustration. “What, Slayer?” he demanded, scowling down at her in an annoyed manner.

“I’m sorry.”

The words were so soft that both of them were barely able to hear them.

“P-Pardon?” Spike stammered, convinced he’d heard wrong.

Buffy took a deep breath and repeated confidently this time, “I’m sorry.” Just like that, the voices whispering in her ear stopped.

Spike blinked in surprise. “’S nothing to be sorry for,” he began.

“No.” She rose to her feet and wiped away the last of her tears before venturing a shy smile up at him. “I mean I’m sorry for everything,” she clarified.

Spike’s knees suddenly felt a bit weak. Never, even in his wildest dreams, had he imagined that high and mighty Buffy would actually apologize to the likes of him. Not even knowing how he got there, he landed in one of the hotel-issue armchairs.

“I’m so sorry, Spike,” she repeated, finding the words amazingly easy now that she finally allowed them to come out. “The way I treated you… It was just wrong. I was wrong, and there was no excuse for it. I was so horrible to you all those years, even before I died. And then…” She sighed. “I never should have used you like that. I took your love for me, and I turned it into something dirty, and I’m so sorry. A-And that night in the alley…” The tears were back now.

He turned away from her as well, humiliation and insecurity written all over his handsome features.

“Everything I said, everything I did,” she went on. “It wasn’t you, Spike. It was me. All of that was meant for me. I just took it out on you because you were there, and it was wrong. I don’t expect you to ever be able to forgive me, but I want you to know that the monster that did that to you is gone. I slayed her once and for all.”

He looked up at her at that, a hint of a smile on his face. “Never do anythin’ by halves, do you, Summers?” he inquired.

“Completely slayed,” she agreed, her own lips quirking slightly.

“I did, you know,” he began with a sigh, running one hand through his already tousled white curls. “Forgive you. That very night I forgave you. I wouldn’t’ve even left, but Dawn…” He trailed off.

Buffy bit her lip, pondering her next statement for a while before finally responding. “I’m glad she did,” she decided. “I’m glad that there was someone there for you, someone who could save you. You deserved that. You deserved better than me.”

“I didn’t want anythin’ better,” he pointed out firmly but kindly. “All I ever wanted was you.”

She bit out a bark of laughter and sat on the edge of the bed. “God, we’re fucked up,” she decided.

He grinned at that. “No arguin’ with you there, luv. No arguin’ with you there…”

* * *

“Thanks for helping me out with this,” Dawn said, slamming her trunk shut after Rick had deposited the grocery bags inside. “Most people squick at buying bags of pig’s blood from the butcher.”

“Including some butchers, apparently,” he agreed in his usual softly-accented voice.

Dawn grinned at that. “I think I freaked him out a bit,” she agreed. “It’s funny. When I grew up on the Hellmouth, the butchers looked at you oddly if you didn’t tack on the obligatory two pints of blood to every order.” She walked around to the driver’s side and hopped in.

Rick mirrored her actions on the other side of the car. “What is it you have discovered about this contact?” he inquired, holding his breath as Dawn ripped out of the parking lot, taking off down the freeway at a nice, healthy pace…for daredevils, that is.

“David McKenzie.” Dawn flipped her notebook out of her pocket with one hand, the other firmly planted at the twelve o’clock position on the steering wheel. She began to read over her notes. “His mother was one of the original coven members who died and-”

“Watch the road!” Rick called out in alarm, covering his eyes.

Dawn easily steered around the van she’d come up upon, still half reading the information Siggy had handed to her. “I was taught to drive by a demon,” she explained with a mischievous grin.

“I can tell.” A little smile slipped onto his lips.

She laughed back before obeying his wishes and putting her notes aside. “I’m hoping he’ll be a bit more open than-” She trailed off when the flashing blue and red lights of a police car appeared behind her.

“I believe it is as you Americans say,” Rick began, “ ‘busted’?”

Dawn grimaced and pulled over to the shoulder, but the police car just whizzed on by, followed by a second and then a third. By the time the ambulance had passed them as well, both were incredibly worried.

“The Lodge is that way,” Rick pointed out what they were both thinking.

Dawn nodded before pulling back into the fast lane and slamming the gas down to the floor. “This can’t be good,” she decided…

* * *

Her suspicions were confirmed when the beat-up Chevy finally careened to a stop just behind the lengthening line of police cars.

“W-What’s going on?” Dawn played up the frightened, helpless woman bit as she and Rick approached the first of the officers. “M-My sister…”

“I’m sure your sister’s fine,” the officer assured her. “There was just a hunting accident, and-”

Dawn and Rick exchanged a look and didn’t bother to stick around for the rest of it. They ran into the lobby to find a gawking circle of onlookers surrounding none other than Tucker. The hunter held his arm in a sling, the bandage encompassing it red with blood.

“What happened?” Dawn demanded, shoving her way through the crowd and giving them all the evil eye.

Rick backed her up, looking quite menacing with his black sunglasses and leather. Slowly, the crowd dissipated around them.

Tucker seemed a bit stunned at first but then turned to look at her. “It was an accident,” he insisted vehemently.

“What was an accident?” she pressed.

“B-Bob and John,” he gulped. “They got to arguin’ on account of Bob’s drinking, and then Bob waved his gun and…” He shivered.

“What’s all the fuss about?” Lena whined, entering the lobby. “It woke me up from my beauty sleep.”

“Could you be any ruder?” Xel shot back, antennae obviously twitching under his human guise.

“We may have had our next attack,” Rick informed them in his quiet manner while Dawn urged Tucker to continue.

“He didn’t mean for it to go off,” he insisted, hands clenched at his sides.

“Bob shot John?” Dawn clarified. “By accident?”

Tucker nodded. “The safeties were off ‘cause we’d heard something stalking around in those woods-”

Rick twitched almost imperceptibly.

However, Veronica, who had just arrived on the scene, noticed. She raised one eyebrow in his direction before turning to hear the rest of Tucker’s story.

“-and he just waved his gun and…”

“Is John dead?” Dawn asked softly. True, the trio had been obnoxious beyond belief, but Tucker had been the least rude of the three. And, anyway, no one deserved to see their friend die like that.

He nodded. “John,” he agreed, “and Bob…”

Dawn frowned. “What happened to Bob?” she asked, confused.

For the first time, Tucker looked her directly in the eyes, his expression haunted. “H-He said that he wouldn’t go back to jail. And that meant he had to…had to…”

“What?” That was Veronica. Everyone was hanging on his every word now.

“Get rid of the witnesses,” Tucker finished with a gulp. “H-He turned on me and…” He gestured to his arm. “He missed; I didn’t.”

Stunned silence followed his admission.

“Oh my god…” Lena, for once, seemed truly moved by the situation. She collapsed onto one of the couches, and Xel squeezed her shoulder lightly.

“A-Are you all right?” Dawn found her own voice shaky.

He gave her a look that said he was anything but, before nodding. “Gotta go talk to the officers,” he announced, gesturing to the two policemen in the doorway before leaving them to their own devices.

“God,” Veronica shuddered, “is this part of the Haunting?”

Dawn nodded. “I think it fits the pattern…” She looked around at the assembled demon hunters. “Wait a minute,” she suddenly said with a frown, “where are Spike and Buffy?”

Everyone looked at her blankly, also surprised that the pair hadn’t come out to see what all the commotion was about.

Panic in her heart, Dawn dashed off to her room, Rick close on her heels. Her card key fumbled in the lock before Rick’s steady hands took it from her and opened the door. Dawn quickly ran through all the rooms, finding no evidence of her best friend. Panic began to turn to hysteria.

“Perhaps Buffy has seen him?” Rick suggested, concerned.

Dawn nodded and dashed back out into the hallway. Three sharp knocks, and the door to Buffy’s room opened before her.

“Hi, Dawnie, what’s-?” Buffy froze at the expression on her sister’s face. “What’s happened?”

“Spike!” Dawn gasped out. “Where’s Spike?”

“’m here, Bit.”

Buffy opened the door further so that Dawn could see Spike sitting on the edge of the bed. Dawn let out a relieved sigh when she saw that the vampire was all right.

“What’s goin’ on?” Spike demanded.

“We’ve had two more fatalities,” Dawn provided before she frowned. She suddenly noticed that Spike seemed to be wearing his robe and not much else, and she didn’t even want to guess whether Buffy had anything on under that T-shirt. It suddenly occurred to her that they would have had to have been up to something pretty intense for them not to have heard the noise in the lobby. She turned hurt, confused eyes in Spike’s direction.

He blinked and turned away in response.

“Who?” Buffy demanded, instantly on the case. “More of the guests or-?”

“John and Bob,” Dawn provided. “I got most of the story from Tucker.”

Buffy nodded. “If you’ll all just let me get dressed…” she began.

Spike got up at that and headed for the door. “Prob’ly a good idea for me, too,” he agreed. He watched Dawn and Rick leave before him and frowned when the Hispanic man’s hand brushed against Dawn’s arm ever-so-slightly as they walked together. Dawn had said she was just going to go run some errands that morning, so why - and when - had she picked up Salvatore as well?

Frowning as that strange tickle that the young man sent down his neck reasserted itself, Spike returned to his own room to get dressed and find out what had happened…

Dark enough for you? Hey, don't say that I didn't warn you... As always, I love getting reviews, so send me your feedback. Pretty please? ~_^

On To Chapter 10 <haunted10.html>

Disclaimer: The usual.

Author's Note: I've readjusted my due date for Blue Horizons to make it slightly less obscene, so hopefully this story will be written a bit faster now. Unfortunately, this is a bit of a transitional chapter, but I'll try to get the next one out soon. Again, thanks for the patience with this one.

Previously: Buffy had nightmare in gory technicolor about how Willow and Xander died. Spike ran in on it, and there was some comforting and a bit of forgiveness over what happened seven years ago. Dawn and Rick were going out to meet the son of one of the old Wiccan coven - a David McKenzie - when a bunch of police cars diverted their attention. It turns out that Bob accidently shot John last night, and Tucker had to kill Bob for his own safety. And so we continue...

Haunted
Chapter Ten - The Calm

“Do you feel guilty?” Rick inquired as they walked up the icy walkway, bundled deep into their winter coats. “I feel guilty.”

Dawn flashed him an unrepentant grin. “Let the annoying people annoy each other,” she declared.

“But they’ll kill each other!” Rick insisted. “Even if Veronica doesn’t make a pass at Xel, Lena will still start attacking her and…” He trailed off, somewhat embarrassed at his long diatribe. “It would bad,” he finally finished quietly. “I personally do not feel like scraping antennae off of the pavement.”

Dawn laughed at that. “Ms. Collins refused to listen to reason, so there’s no harm in trying unreason as well,” she pointed out.

“But you don’t feel sorry for her?” he persisted. “Siccing all three of them on her at once?”

“That’s what she gets for not talking,” Dawn countered, amused. “So,” she inquired, ringing the bell, “any bets on whether our friend Mr. McKenzie will be more helpful?”

Rick shrugged just as the door opened.

The older man with sandy blond hair gave them both a curious look before his eyes widened. “You are other…” he breathed in surprise.

Dawn and Rick blinked in perfect unison. Unfortunately, due to Rick’s sunglasses, the effect was completely lost.

“I-I’m sorry,” Dawn began, confused. “We were looking for a David McKenzie?”

“That’s me,” he nodded. “You must’ve known my mother.”

“Not exactly,” Dawn clarified. “We need to talk with you about the incident at the Cascade Mountain Lodge fifty years ago.”

David nodded. “Of course,” he agreed, gesturing for them to enter, “I’d read the reports in the paper. Even talked to my aunt Eustacia, but she refuses to go near the place.”

“You know what is happening?” Rick asked hopefully.

David blinked. “I just assumed…I mean…isn’t it back?”

“That depends on what you mean by ‘it’,” Dawn pointed out. She and Rick was ushered further into the living room and settled down on a couch with the most appalling blue and orange floral upholstery Dawn had ever seen. “But there’s definitely some form of demonic presence,” she ventured forth cautiously. She’d long since learned that most people tended to block out any talk about the existence of demons.

David nodded. “They tried to keep me from the other world,” he explained. “All of my mom’s old friends who lived… They were so afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” Rick persisted.

Dawn bit back a smile at the nervous tapping of his fingers. It tended to be the only visible sign that he was growing impatient, and she wholeheartedly agreed with him on this point.

“You should really be talking to aunt Eustacia,” David insisted. “Eustacia Collins. I don’t really know all the details.”

Dawn groaned. “Collins,” she agreed. “She slammed the door in our face after a few cryptic warnings.”

David frowned. “Yeah, I guess that would make things difficult…” he agreed. “Unfortunately…well, like I said, they tried to keep me away for what happened.”

“Just tell us what you do know,” Dawn pressed. “It’s gotta be better than the tons of nothing we’ve got right now.”

Rick and David both cracked smiles at that.

“OK,” David sighed. “Well, this is mostly pieced together from various snippets of conversations and the like that I happened to overhear…”

“Anything,” Dawn insisted.

He nodded. “From what I’ve gathered, my mom and my aunt and seven other of their friends in the area pieced together a pretty powerful Wiccan coven back before it.”

“This was fifty years ago?” Dawn clarified, studiously taking notes.

“Right before the Lodge was opened as a resort,” he agreed.

“It was some sort of hunting club before then, right?” Dawn broke in, flipping through the data Siggy had given her intently.

“Right.”

“And then, the old owner moved away and sold it to…Michael Danvers?”

“I’m not sure about the details,” David said apologetically. “But, yeah, that sounds right. The Danvers’ have been running the Lodge for as long as I can remember, at least.”

“And it,” Dawn scrunched her nose up at that. “Can we call it the Haunting? That’s what we’ve been using, and it’ll be less confusing…”

David shrugged.

“So, the Haunting showed up when the Lodge turned to a resort?” she pressed.

“As best I know,” he conceded. “That was when the deaths started occurring, at least.”

“Did it start right after the resort opened?” Dawn wondered, circling the question in her notebook.

He gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know.”

She nodded and circled the question one more time. “Go on.” She gestured for him to continue.

“Mr. Danvers, he called in a priest first,” David continued. “He didn’t believe in magic. But something happened to priest - freaked or died, I can’t remember. It’s always one or the other.”

Dawn and Rick exchanged a look.

“Eventually, he got desperate and let the coven help and…” He paused. “They did something, a spell or…I don’t know. This part has always been very hush-hush. They were trying to kill the Haunting or capture it or something. Things went nasty right from the start, though. My aunt and then Emily who’s been dead for a few years now - they were the only two that didn’t die within a year of the incident.”

Dawn frowned. “This was before or after the spell?” she demanded.

“I’m not quite sure,” David grimaced. “I get the impression that at least one of the coven members was dead before the spell got started. But my mother…” He took a deep breath. “She committed suicide six months after. Something happened there that she just couldn’t live with…”

Rick’s fingers had stopped fidgeting now. They were completely still. Dawn wondered if he was nervous. She was certainly getting that creepy feeling again.

“What was it?” Rick spoke up for the first time in a quite a while, startling the other two from their reflections. “The Haunting? Do you know what it was?”

David shook his head. “It was always very vague. I just know… Well, I was warned not to go down to the Lodge. This thing… It plays with your head, makes you do things, act crazy.”

“Wait,” Dawn cut him off. “The coven didn’t stop it?”

“They were still afraid of it,” he shrugged.

“But if they didn’t stop it, then why did the killings stop for fifty years?” Dawn asked, puzzled.

“I…” David began hesitantly before sighing again. “They really didn’t tell me much more than to try to keep me away,” he offered as a caveat, “but I got the impression that whatever they did… They weakened it but didn’t manage to get rid of it for good. All these years, it’s like they’ve been waiting for it to come back.”

“And now it has,” Dawn commented thoughtfully.

“Perhaps the question we should be asking, then,” Rick spoke up, “is why did it come back?”

* * *

“No one shuts the door in the face of Veronica Duvall!” Veronica said primly before pounding on the shut door once more.

“Yeah!” Xel half-shouted out lamely. “Learn how to treat a lady right!” The fact that Ms. Collins technically was a lady and the fact that his hand had found a rather inappropriate resting place on Veronica’s rear end apparently escaped him.

Lena swiped at Xel’s arm, causing him to cringe in pain when her claws distorted the illusion that concealed the true form of his arm for a brief instant. He cringed and cradled the arm dripping golden-yellow blood.

Veronica stamped her foot into the ground and fumed. “Come back here!” she pouted, banging the metal doorknocker when repeatedly slamming her fist into the doorbell didn’t work. “I’m not leaving until you come back!”

Lena rolled her eyes. “This is a complete waste of time,” she whined. “Can’t we just back to the hotel already?”

“Do you have to be so negative all the time?” Xel shot back.

“Maybe if I didn’t have to put up with your philandering, I wouldn’t be negative!” Lena retorted.

In time with those words, Veronica rolled her eyes and took a step back from where Xel’s hand was not-so-subtly brushing against her thigh.

“Let me in!” she screeched again, banging on the door. Then her eyes flew wide open in horror. “Dammit! I broke a nail!” Her squeal was loud enough to cause both D’voraks to flinch.

“God, she’s pathetic,” Lena announced, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “I don’t know what you can possibly see in her…”

“Maybe I wouldn’t look elsewhere, if I didn’t have you listen to your bitching twenty-four hours a day!” Xel hissed.

“Do you have a manicure kit I can borrow?” The desperation in Veronica’s voice as she continued to bang on the door increased.

Needless to say, all the neighbors were gawking like space aliens had abruptly landed in their front yard. Black Hills Falls was just a tiny resort town out in the middle of nowhere; this wasn’t the sort of high-quality entertainment you just let pass by.

“You cheating-!” Lena began.

“I’m the one who’s cheating?!” Xel screamed.

“I think I’m getting frostbite!” Veronica whined.

The door creaked open.

“Goddess, won’t you people just go away?!” Ms. Collins yelled furiously.

“Nail file,” Veronica repeated, her expression panicked. “Now!”

Ms. Collins let out a weary sigh. “Fine,” she grumbled, leaving the door open for the three of them to enter. She cast a pointed glare in the direction of the neighborhood busybody’s house, and the dark curtains fell back into place over the window guiltily.

Veronica practically cooed in relief when the proper beauty supplies were placed in front of her. She frantically set about on her important task while Xel and Lena fought over who was going to sit where. Lena was absolutely adamant that Xel not be allowed even in the remote vicinity of Veronica.

Ms. Collins tried to remember why she’d let them in in the first place. Oh yeah, right: if she was going to be annoyed, she might as well do it within the comfort of her own home without all the neighbors spying on her.

“What do you want?” she bit out angrily.

“Do you have any Frappuccino?” Lena asked hopefully.

Xel scowled at her.

Veronica spoke up. “We want to kill the thing down at the Lodge,” she said matter-of-factly, “and there’s a lot of money at stake, so I suggest you don’t make us angry.”

Mr. Collins’ eyebrow rose at the rather non-threatening spectacle the three of them made. Well, unless they were going to annoy her to death…which, admittedly, was a very real possibility. “I don’t know how to kill it,” she said simply. “Now go.” She rose to usher them out.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Lena informed her primly. “If I have to be stuck on assignment with the queen of slut-ville, than you had better provide us with some useful information.”

“Slut?!” Veronica screeched in indignation.

“Be polite!” Xel hissed just loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Ms. Collins felt her patience rapidly dissolving to nothing. “We tried a spell to drain its energy,” she said tersely, moving over to the bottom cabinet by the mantelpiece and opening it to reveal a shelf of old books. She plucked one out. “We weren’t strong enough to completely kill it.” She shoved the book into Veronica’s newly re-manicured hands. “Now, go. It’s clear that it’s already gotten to you, and I don’t want it to get to me, too.”

Veronica blinked down at the book in her hands in surprise. “Er…thanks,” she said, still slightly baffled as to how they’d gotten the old woman to cave in so easily.

“Go.” Ms. Collins repeated.

Veronica moved to stand up. Xel moved to stand up at the same time. Lena knocked him down, stood up herself, and stood firmly between the two of them before she let Xel rise. Veronica rolled her eyes and shook her head. Together, with much jostling between the married pair, the three of them made it to the door.

“Believe me most wholeheartedly,” Ms. Collins snapped, “that I hope you never come back.”

Veronica, Xel, and Lena blinked when the door was once more shut in their faces.

“Jeez, was what her problem…?”

* * *

Buffy frowned as she entered the lobby. Ms. Danvers just gave her a polite smile in response. Buffy pointed to the banner. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea right now?” she felt obliged to ask.

“It’s an annual tradition,” Ms. Danvers insisted, “and quite possibly the only way to avoid bankruptcy.”

Buffy raised a skeptical eyebrow at the large lavender poster, filled with outlines of elegant figures dancing and the words ‘Winter Ball’ written in precise, black calligraphy. “Either that, or a dozen for the price of one snack bar,” she pointed out.

Ms. Danvers pointed to the seven o’clock time listed on the poster. “It will end before our local spook likes to come out,” she insisted. “Most of the guests will be gone by then.”

Buffy sighed wearily. “Have you cleared this with Dawn yet?” she demanded.

“Simon assures me that there is little danger,” Ms. Danvers assured her.

“Of legal culpability?” Buffy repeated Spike’s sentiments of the first night. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t exactly find that reassuring…”

“Ever since your arrival,” Ms. Danvers informed her primly, “there have been no incidents whatsoever involving the other guests.”

“Which is like what?” Buffy retorted. “A dozen people at most? This place isn’t exactly full at the moment. Just how many guests do you still have?”

Ms. Danvers frowned. “Aside from demon hunters?”

Buffy nodded, her posture indicating all too clearly that she wouldn’t let this matter slide.

“Eighteen.” Ms. Danvers sighed. “If this keeps up, soon they’ll be no one left…”

Buffy gave her a sympathetic smile. “We’re working on it,” she assured the elderly woman.

She got a ghost of a smile in response. “I can’t lose this ball,” she insisted. “With no guests and…” Her features were drawn, weary. This situation was obviously weighing heavily on her mind.

“Hey, this thing only seems to make people kill each other,” Buffy pointed out with false brightness, “so as long as weapons aren’t allowed…” She trailed off. “Plus, the whole infamy of haunted houses. You could play that up. Give tours of the places where people died…”

Ms. Danvers cocked her head to one side curiously. “Amazing…” she breathed.

Buffy frowned. “Huh?” she said eloquently.

“Nothing,” Ms. Danvers shook her head with a smile. “You just remind me of someone I knew long ago, back when I was young…” She trailed off nostalgically before shaking it off and answering the phone.

“Right,” Buffy shook off the oddness of the encounter as well and headed back for her room.

She paused briefly outside the door to Spike and Dawn’s suite and worried her lower lip between her teeth. After the meeting in which everyone had been given assignments except her… (Well, technically, her assignment was to wait around until Tucker left his room and then try to get more information out of him. Given that the door hadn’t opened all day, it was essentially the equivalent to having no assignment, though.) But Spike had retreated into his room and stayed there.

Buffy could almost feel the itch beneath her skin, begging her to return to his embrace. She knew it hadn’t meant anything - just the comfort of an old friend - but she had never dared to hope that she would feel his arms around her once more, and now that it had happened…

Ah, how she regretted that she had been too distraught to savor the moment…

However, despite Spike’s tender candor to her that morning, he had distanced himself from her during the meeting and now even more so. Buffy didn’t know what to make of it. She didn’t think he was angry with her…well, except over what happened seven years ago…although, actually, he had said that he wasn’t angry about that… And she knew she was obsessing. It was just…

“Spike,” she sighed, banging her forehead against the door lightly. “Do you have any idea how much you’re driving me crazy?”

Not surprisingly, the door had no response for her. With a wistful sigh, Buffy returned to her room. She had a feeling that she was going to need all the sleep she could get. Especially if these first few days were any indication…

* * *

Spike sighed when he heard Buffy return to her room. He continued to lay back on the couch in the common room and absentmindedly munched at the bowl of Chex Mix he’d made Dawn go out and buy him. Now, he knew it was exceedingly silly to hide from her like this. He should have just gone to the door and invited her in for…what exactly?

“Do you have any idea how much you’re driving me crazy?”

Oh, he was sure he did. Especially if his own mental state was any indication.

His unlife had been great after he left Sunnydale, he now abruptly decided. Women, booze, all the violence he needed what with Dawn’s propensity for pissing off dangerous demons… It had been a grand time. He even had his own little surrogate family with the Bit and Siggy.

But now…

Something had died in him the day he left Sunnydale, he realized. Something that had allowed him to exist in a happy, ignorant bliss all these years. Maybe it had stayed with Buffy all this time, he mused a bit giddily, and she’d returned it without his knowing.

Whatever it was, it was making Spike imagine possibilities that he hadn’t thought of in years. Fiery hazel eyes and a spitfire sarcasm in the face of all peril and… A part of him was alive again that had been dead for a long time.

And it scared him.

Ah, the power of annoyance! ~_^ Hopefully, I'll have another chapter soon-ish. As always, reviews are much appreciated...

Disclaimer: The usual.

Author's Note: Yup, I'm back to writing my usual stories. It's nice to know some people are still reading even with the finale...

Haunted
Chapter Eleven - Afternoon Conversations

“Spike, you here?” Dawn shouted out, kicking off her shoes and scattering various bags of paraphernalia around her as she entered their suite.

“No,” came the sarcastic retort, “I decided it’d be a bloody brilliant idea to work on my tan.” There was some scuffling from the direction of Spike’s bedroom. Knowing him, he’d managed to get unnecessarily naked in her absence and was now remedying the situation.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “You’re not getting out of research that easily,” she informed him. “Now get your skinny, white butt out here.”

A long string of exclamations that were quite obviously bizarre, incomprehensible curse-words followed Dawn’s proclamation. They were punctuated by yet another crash.

Rick just sort of stood in the doorway, looking mildly stunned.

“Please tell me you don’t need an invitation,” Dawn said with a quirk of her lips.

That quiet smile lit up his face and he ran a nervous hand through his ebony locks before stepping over the threshold. “No invitation necessary,” he assured her.

“Good,” she agreed. “Now, shut the door. It’s getting cold in here.” She shivered slightly at the December Colorado air that leaked into the open hallways of the inn.

Rick did as she asked, gazing around the room curiously. “Nice room,” he commented. “Much more spacious than the single rooms.”

“That’s why it always pays to make unreasonable demands,” Dawn grinned up at him from where she was snuffling around in one of Spike’s duffel bags. A profusion of various pointy instruments and black garments fell out in a haphazard manner. “Dammit, where did you put it?” she grumbled under her breath, studying Spike’s complete lack of organization with something akin to despair.

“You’re looking for something?” Rick’s accented voice was unnecessarily hushed. He felt strangely out of place in this situation, like he was being hidden away from the vampire’s watchful eye.

“Laptop,” Dawn nodded in similar subdued tones. “It’s - surprise, surprise - black. Let me know if you see it around anywhere.”

Through the darkened lenses of his glasses, Rick studied the contents of the table beside him. An axe almost as large as he was made him shift nervously. He shook his head as well at the complete chaos that seemed to follow Dawn’s undead partner.

“Aha!” Dawn exclaimed in delight. She brushed aside the grimy old blanket Spike used for his daylight excursions and produced the shiny black rectangle she’d been seeking. “Book?” she requested.

Rick promptly released the thick tome they’d picked up from Veronica when they’d run into each other in the parking lot. “I still cannot believe that she convinced Ms. Collins to give us this.”

Dawn nodded. “Never underestimate the power of annoyance,” she agreed. “What I’m amazed at,” she flipped open the book to the marked page, “is that she actually handed the book over to me. It would have been-” She paused at the cryptic writing within. “Or maybe she couldn’t have read it,” she hastily amended.

Rick peered over her shoulder curiously. “Can you read it?” he inquired.

“Not off the top of my head,” Dawn agreed. She turned back to the closed door. “Spike!” she demanded loudly.

“Research innit about to fly away,” he grumbled sourly, bursting forth from the bedroom. His eyes narrowed for a second when they landed on Rick, but he promptly turned his attention back to Dawn. “Siggy get a hold of you?” he demanded.

Dawn frowned. “She was trying to?”

“Kept callin’ me and demandin’ whether you had your cell-phone,” he insisted. “Told her you probably had the damn thing turned off.”

Dawn removed the small phone from her pocket. “On,” she defended herself, showing it to him.

“Don’t yell at me,” he grumbled. “Siggy was the one that couldn’t call you.”

Dawn sighed. “The reception’s a bit sketchy in the mountains,” she commented, looking down at the silver device in her hand with disappointment. “What did she say?”

“Bugger if I know,” Spike shrugged. “Was half asleep at the time.”

Dawn rolled her eyes.

Spike stalked right into the common room, keeping the corner of one eye fixed suspiciously on Rick the entire time. “Slayer stopped by,” he commented offhandedly.

Dawn looked up at him in surprise.

“Or slipped a note under the door, at least.” He held up the flier in one hand.

“ ‘Winter Ball’?” Dawn read quizzically. “We’re celebrating what now? All the suicides and murders?”

Spike snorted his agreement. “More like insatiable greed,” he agreed. He dropped the flier onto the table and plopped down onto the sofa beside Dawn…and directly between her and Rick.

If the Hispanic man noticed Spike’s defensive behavior, he didn’t let it show. “This Haunting seems to thrive on human confusion,” he pointed out. “A celebration of this sort is likely to lead to disaster.”

“Yeah, that was kinda my point,” Spike shot back sarcastically.

Dawn elbowed him in the ribs. “Rude much?” she scolded him before frowning down at the book in front of her once more.

“Whatcha got there?” Spike inquired curiously, squinting at the book and sniffing the air slightly as if that would tell him anything.

“The Collins woman finally coughed something up,” Dawn informed him. “What do you think of the language?”

He frowned. The spell itself was written in a sprawling, spidery hand and was quite clearly German. It was the segment of text below that was the mystery. Blocky red…letters? symbols?…formed a regular series of columns that left him baffled.

“’S not human,” he finally pointed out.

Rick ventured to peer over the back of the couch to see what had the pair of demon hunters so perplexed. “How can you tell?” he inquired curiously.

“The script’s an old demon one, used predominantly in the Kassite area a few thousand years back,” Dawn provided. “I’m not having much luck reading it, though.”

“Obscure, dead demon dialect,” Spike agreed with an exasperated shrug.

They looked at each other. Blinked.

“We sooo need Siggy,” Dawn decided.

Spike scowled. “Don’t see how she’s gettin’ here,” he pointed out.

“Well, you see,” Dawn teased in a patronizing manner, “they have these new inventions called ‘cars’ and, with them, it is now possible to travel long distances in very short amounts of time.”

“Except Siggy’s got no way ‘f gettin’ a hold of a car,” Spike refused to rise to the bait.

Dawn gave him a pleading look.

“No,” he insisted stubbornly.

A sniffle.

“No!” he repeated vehemently.

“Uh…what is happening?” Rick asked confusedly, feeling very much like the train of conversation had derailed on him several turns back.

“Spike’s just being his normal greedy self,” Dawn provided before turning back to him. “C’mon,” she insisted, “you know we can’t afford a rental for-”

“That woman is not getting behind the wheel of my baby!” Spike insisted vehemently. “For cryin’ out loud, Bit, she’s a scarier driver than you!”

“She’s never been in an accident,” Dawn pointed out.

“That’s because all vehicles and pedestrians flee the instant they see her!” Spike insisted.

“And who crashed whose car into the lake in Central Park?” Dawn demanded, accusingly.

“There were mitigatin’ circumstances!” Spike exclaimed. “And if this is payback…”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “I’ll owe you for life if she crashes it,” she promised.

“Bloody well right, you will,” he shot back.

“So…we can’t read that now?” Rick broke into the little argument the other two had become trapped in.

Spike rolled his eyes. “Spell’s just your usual jammerin’. ‘So and so poofy nature god, make this boring incantation work if I kiss your ass enough’…”

Dawn just shook her head. Sometimes Spike got too irritating even for her to handle. “The coven just did this spell,” she commented. “Which, really, looks just like a juiced up containment spell. But this text…” She sighed. “I’m willing to bet they didn’t even translate it. You know, I’d give a lot right now to know where they got this book…” She flipped it closed and studied the blank, leather cover as if it would answer all her questions.

“Looks like time for another trip to the Collins place,” Spike sing-songed. “Hey, you, whelp. Why don’t you get gone and make yourself useful?” He leaned back into his seat, stretching out his limbs and plopping his feet down on the coffee table as he did so.

Rick’s lips tightened to a hard line and for a second…

Spike blinked. He hadn’t really seen the red flash in the other man’s eyes, had he?

“Knock it off!” Dawn hissed at him angrily. She gave Rick an apologetic look. “Vampires in the morning…” she assured him.

Rick’s expression was inscrutable. “Of course,” he agreed politely, turning for the door. “I’ll just leave you to your work…”

Dawn was about to object but gave up when she saw the scowl on Spike’s face. “I’ll see you at the meeting this evening,” she assured him. “If we have anything by then, we’ll let you know.”

Rick gave her a quick nod, and then he was gone.

“Good riddens,” Spike shuddered slightly before snatching the book from her lap and studying it.

Dawn felt what little patience she had left snap. “What on earth was that about?” she demanded.

“What?” Spike said with wide-eyed innocence, leafing randomly through the spell book.

“Ridiculous testosterone display?” Dawn suggested. “This ringing any bells?”

“He’s a soddin’ wanker,” Spike shrugged dismissively. “Don’t see why you were lettin’ him follow you around anyway.”

Dawn blinked. “Me?!” she demanded. “At least I’m not having mysterious bedroom encounters with my abusive ex!”

Spike blinked in surprise. “You’re jealous!” he accused.

“No, you are!” Dawn insisted.

“No, ‘m not!”

“Well, I’m not either!”

They both had their arms crossed over their chests by now, nose to nose in their argument.

“Then…” Dawn began hesitantly, “what on earth are we fighting about?”

Spike frowned at that. “Absolutely no clue,” he agreed.

Dawn looked right into his eyes, head tilting this way and that.

“What’re you doin’?” he asked, baffled.

“Searching to see if they’re red,” she provided. “I’m starting to wonder…”

“What?”

She shook her head when the crimson glow she’d heard described so often didn’t present itself. “Never mind,” she insisted.

“No, I do mind,” he countered. “You just accused me of-”

“All right,” Dawn sighed wearily, slumping back in her seat. Sometimes, it was scary how incoherent her conversations with Spike were. They’d definitely known each other for way too long… “You’re being…weird about Rick,” she pointed out.

“Because you’re sneakin’ off on him on these odd ‘missions’ ‘f yours,” he countered.

“Odd missions?” Dawn asked incredulously. “I told you exactly where we went!”

“No, you told me where you were goin’,” he countered, crossing his arms over his chest like a child and sulking. “Din’t mention a bloody thing about ‘Rrricardo’.” He affected the same ridiculous trill and high-pitched squeal that Lena used when she was about to pounce upon Rick. It was actually kind of scary.

“What is your problem with him, anyway?” Dawn demanded. “You’ve been giving him these nasty looks all along.”

“Somethin’s not quite right with that one,” Spike commented, serious once more. “He just sets off this li’l itch…” He scratched the back of his neck in response.

Dawn frowned. Spike might be irritating with his protective big brother act, but his senses were rarely wrong and he never lied to her. “Does it have any connection to what’s happening here?” she inquired.

He sighed. “Can’t pin it down,” he admitted, “but there’s somethin’ unnatural about that one. He wears sunglasses in places where I’m squintin’, for crying out loud!”

“I had wondered about the sunglasses at night bit,” Dawn agreed. “That’s taking the ‘cool shades’ act a little too far…”

Spike’s brow furrowed as he tried to remember something. “You ever seen ‘im without ‘em?” he finally asked.

Dawn frowned as well. “I’m sure I…” she trailed off. “I can’t remember,” she finally admitted.

“Guess you and your new boyfriend aren’t so close, after all,” he commented snidely before snatching up the tome once more. Which was obviously a completely useless act since they’d already established that he couldn’t read the demonic script.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Dawn pointed out, “and you can’t just keep chasing away every guy like ever looks at me.”

“Why not?” he demanded somewhat unreasonably.

Dawn sighed at the wounded expression that he was trying so hard to conceal and scootched over to him so that she could rest her head on his shoulder. “One of these days I’m going to find someone,” she pointed out. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

“I know,” he agreed with a sigh, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “I just…”

“That doesn’t mean you’ll be alone again, though,” she pointed out gently. “You know we’ll always be family, right?”

He gave her a soft smile. “Right,” he agreed.

She smiled at him and then her expression turned demanding once more. “Now, why exactly did I find you in Buffy’s bed this morning?” she interrogated him.

He gulped. “Wasn’t anythin’,” he insisted. “She just had this nightmare and started screamin’, so I thought she was dyin’ and I ran in and…”

Vampires didn’t really have circulation the same way that humans did. They were pretty much pale all the time. However, that didn’t mean that there weren’t subtle differentiations in skin tone that could be provoked by various emotional responses. And Dawn had known Spike long enough that she could pick out every one.

In short, Spike blushed; Dawn noticed.

“Spill,” she demanded in a voice that brooked no argument.

“It was nothin’,” he insisted, nervously pulling back and scratching the back of his head.

“You slept with her?” Dawn guessed.

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed in shocked disbelief. “’f course, I din’t-”

“You’re in love with her again, then,” Dawn guessed. “Or is it still…?”

He was indignant by now. “There’s no way I-”

“Spike…” Her tone held a note of warning.

“Was just…nice,” he defended himself, waving his hands around vaguely.

“Nice?” she repeated.

“Getting rid of some ‘f the old emotional baggage,” he agreed.

“Uh-huh.” It was physically impossible to look any more skeptical than she did right now.

He let out an exasperated sigh. “OK, so yeah, ‘s occurred to me that…she’s still Buffy only…nicer to me.”

“Uh-huh.” Dawn had a quirking smile on her face now.

“Doesn’t mean anything, though,” he insisted, all puffed-up bravado. “’m my own man now, and I don’t need her to-”

She cut him off with a hand on his shoulder, her expression worried. “Just be careful,” she requested. “She’s already hurt you once and…”

He nodded numbly. “Nothin’s probably gonna happen anyway,” he assured her. “After all, I haven’t felt…” Anything since that night in the alley…

Dawn seemed to hear the unspoken words and caught him up in a fierce hug. “I worry so much about you sometimes,” she confessed.

He stroked her throat when he’d marked her affectionately. “’ll be all right, li’l sis,” he assured her. “Takes more’n a Slayer to bring me down.”

She smiled at the rarely-used epithet. “Just so long as you watch your back, big brother,” she agreed, “only not in the creepy 1984 ‘Big Brother’ sense,” she hastily amended.

He grinned at that. “Got you to watch my back, too,” he reminded her.

“You do,” she agreed with a little sniffle.

He let out a groan at the sentimentality of the moment. “We’re out of Chex Mix,” he promptly announced out of the blue. He pulled free of her grasp and held up the empty bag in distaste.

Dawn rolled her eyes at the totally unsubtle diversionary tactic. “God, you’re hopeless,” she decided.

“Completely,” he agreed, kicking his feet up on the table and tilting his head back to catch all the crumbs that poured out of the Chex Mix bag. A good portion of them ended up all over the couch.

Dawn flinched. “You are so cleaning that up,” she informed him.

“Make me,” he shot back.

She gave him an evil smile. “So, what was your answer to ‘are you still in love with Buffy’?” she asked with false sweetness.

Instantly, he was on his feet. “All right, already, ‘ll clean it up,” he conceded his defeat…

Yeah, sorry I couldn't give you Spuffiness in this chapter after the finale and all, but...mih, we're sort of kind of getting there... Review for more.

On To Chapter 12 <haunted12.html>

Disclaimer: Yeah, 'cause I've somehow miraculously managed to acquire the rights to these characters now that Joss has given them up... Alas, it is not so, and only the plot remains mine.

Author's Note: Whee! I'm starting this story up again. Welcome back, readers!

Previously: Whew. A lot. And no one probably remembers it. If you don't, hmm...you should probably re-read. Ah well...

Our band of feisty demon hunters has acquired a book that hopefully will tell them how to kill the Haunting. Unfortunately, no one can read it, so Dawn and Spike's buxom assistant is driving in to the rescue. There's also a big Winter Ball coming up which means many, many people at the inn, which means smorgasboard for the Haunting. And, oh yeah, Dawn and Spike's suspicions have just turned to Rick...

Haunted
Chapter Twelve - Day Stalkers

“Nothing.”

Veronica’s droll comment summarized the past frustrating week only too well.

“I’m starting to really hate this thing,” Buffy complained, hands balling into lethal fists that - thankfully - had the presence of mind not to do serious damage to the décor.

Dawn could sympathize with her sister’s impatience. Chewing absentmindedly on her much-abused and equally loved ‘Mr. Grip’ pen, she studied the seemingly chaotic mess of notes before her, hoping that some divine insight might bring sudden clarity to the mystery before them.

“So now we’re complaining that this thing isn’t attacking us nightly?” Lena’s now-familiar nasal voice demanded.

Xel shot his mate a look of pure disgust. “We can’t very well kill it if it won’t show itself, now can we?” he shot back in the most condescending tone he could manage. He directed a smile in Dawn’s direction that was half leer.

Not-so-subtly, Spike inched forward on the couch beside her, blocking the D’vorak Demon’s view. Surrogate little sister safely protected from unwanted demon attentions, he turned his focus to the scattered notebooks on the coffee table. “Maybe we should just try to make it decipher your handwritin’, luv,” he teased with a look of concerted distaste at the chicken-scratch before him. “Send it runnin’ away screamin’.”

Buffy snickered at the comment before catching herself and placing a hand over her guilty mouth.

Spike looked up in surprise at the sound, only to find her looking everywhere but at him. With a frown, he turned his impatient attentions back to the meeting.

Dawn was just about fed up with the whole situation. While the Haunting hadn’t been causing any trouble lately, Spike - and his unwitting accomplice, Buffy - had more than filled the void.

At first it had been humorous, given all of Spike’s recent philandering, to see him as shy as a schoolboy with his first crush. Dawn had only seen rare flickers of the William side to his personality since he’d first fled Sunnydale, and it had been a bit of a refreshing break from the nearly-perpetual Big Bad bluster she’d had to put up with for the last five years.

Not that the Big Bad was gone. Oh no, that would be far too simple.

Rather, Spike seemed to be bouncing back and forth between the two now like a ping-pong ball on steroids. He’d been consistently difficult about lending Siggy his car until one day Dawn had randomly caught him in William-mode and he’d caved in in all of two minutes. He’d, shockingly, made no complaint whatsoever when Dawn had dragged him out to get proper undercover clothes for the Winter Ball, but then he’d gone into gloomy tirades about every single endeavor of the next two days.

And Buffy was just as annoying. The two of them had apparently subconsciously developed this system whereby they intentionally drove each other - and Dawn - completely insane.

It had started off with the eye-contact thing. Whenever they were in the same room together now, they’d spend all their time staring at each other…only they’d never let the other catch them at it. Dawn had had to put up with hours of eyeball-tennis where Spike pretended to be studying his boots intently anytime Buffy looked over at him and Buffy found the wall decorations fascinating in an effort to remain nonchalant every time he glanced her way.

It was worse when they were forced to talk. They’d both turned as skittish as scared rabbits and fled the scene the instant their mumbled messages were passed on.

As a result, both were irritable and difficult as only Spike and Buffy could be, but then they were in good company.

“OK, tonight’s the big one,” Dawn announced to the assembled group. “Since the inn-” she scowled in memory of her futile argument with Ms. Danvers’ lawyer and shot Ms. Danvers a nasty look just in reminder, “-refuses to cancel, we’re all going to have to be at the top of our game.”

“We care, why?” Veronica drawled, nail file in one immaculately well-manicured hand.

“Evil thingy? Making everyone go crazy? Tried to kill you twice already?” Buffy suggested sarcastically.

Spike snickered.

Buffy looked over at him.

Spike looked back down at his boots.

Dawn rolled her eyes.

Veronica gave Buffy a nasty scowl. “But we’re not going to do anything,” she lamented in a bored drawl. “Why do we even need these meetings anymore?” She studied the sleek black skirt of her evening dress and removed an imaginary piece of lint.

Ah yes, Veronica had been even more uncooperative than usual in the past week, largely because her guaranteed conquest of Spike had inexplicably not occurred yet. He still flirted with her shamelessly, but even more shamelessly he hadn’t seen to her needs on any of the nights she’d not-so-subtly invited him back to her room for a drink. Veronica was completely baffled by his reticence.

“Seems to me,” Tucker’s irritated Southern twang cut in, “that you folks’re all talk and no action.”

“When we find out how to kill it, we will. We’re just waiting for the translator on that spell book,” Dawn insisted, exasperated. “But until then, all we can do is try to minimize the damage it causes.”

“So you’re just gonna party a while and then kill this thing?” Tucker sounded completely unconvinced. “Great plan. Wonder why none of us thought of that.” He moved to stride out of the recreation room.

“Well, that was the shortest-lived team effort ever,” Lena responded with bored indifference.

“Can’t you be polite for just one meeting?” Xel snapped back angrily. He tried to flash an obsequious smile Dawn’s way, but Spike was still strategically blocking his view. One glance at the murderous look on Buffy’s face had him turning his attentions to Veronica and trying his charms there. He gave her an oily smile.

Tucker scowled in Lena’s direction. “I don’t need in any smart-aleck remarks from a…whatever you are. You all can have your little club meetin’s all you want. Me, I’m gonna put an end to the thing that killed John and Bob.” He picked up his rifle from beside the door and shouldered it.

“And you criticized me because my plan was ‘just kill it’?” Dawn countered, stepping in front of the door and cutting him off. “You’re the only one that’s seen this thing kill,” she pointed out. “Did you see anything you could shoot?”

Tucker’s face fell in response to that.

“And what exactly are you going to accomplish running off half-cocked like this?” she demanded, arms crossed over her chest in a no-nonsense manner.

“Getting’ away from bossy little things like you,” Tucker shot back. He attempted to tower over her in an intimidating manner.

Dawn, who had once had to stand up to two Breral Demons in full frenzy-mode, didn’t even blink. “We’re forgetting the lessons we learned from Bob and John’s deaths so quickly?” she retorted bitingly.

“The Haunting has taken control over many of us,” Rick spoke up in Dawn’s defense, his accented voice echoing loudly in the otherwise silent lodge. “We have had some success in overcoming its influence.”

“Run out there alone tonight,” Spike grudgingly had to agree with the other man, even if the guy was obviously a tosser, “and ‘m willin’ to bet we’ll find out you blew your own brains out come mornin’.” He lit up the cigarette between his lips, obviously not caring one way or another which eventuality occurred.

It was this disinterested perspective that convinced Tucker most. The others all had their own reasons for wanting him to stick around, but someone who just didn’t give a damn… Well, they had no real reason to do anything but speak the truth.

“That thing’s out there,” he insisted. “We felt it.”

Rick spoke up. “There will be over a hundred people gathered in the ballroom this evening,” he pointed out logically. “It is the only place for this Haunting to strike.”

Tucker cast a grudging nod in Rick’s direction and slumped back against the wall. In the two days since he’d agreed to have a go at being a team player, Rick had been the only person he’d really listened to. He refused to take orders from the “uppity women,” and his distaste for “freaks” like Xel and Spike was apparent in every sneer he cast their way.

Present crisis averted, Dawn turned back to the group as a whole. “Since the establishment,” she cast a nasty look to where Ms. Danvers was seated in the corner, watching the proceedings with calculated interest, “refuses to cancel this event, the only thing we can really do is try to run interference. Almost all of us have encountered the Haunting in some form or other. We all know what to look for. We have to mingle with the guests and hope we can break up any disturbances before chaos breaks out.” Another pointed look in Ms. Danvers’ direction. “You do realize how potentially dangerous this could be, right?” she demanded.

“Your job,” Ms. Danvers gave her an irritated look, “is to make sure this ‘Haunting’ or whatever you call it doesn’t drive me out of business.”

Dawn bit her lip at that because it was true and she felt like they’d accomplished very little so far. She only hoped that when Siggy arrived the day after tomorrow she’d be able to glean some valuable information from the spell book Eustacia Collins had given them.

“Then,” Dawn decided with a weary sigh, “I suppose we all just have to get ready for tonight and hope for the best…”

* * *

Buffy found it a rather restless afternoon. Aside from their own unusual band of allies, the inn was almost entirely deserted. The hallways seemed to echo with an eerie silence as she walked through them, and whenever she happened upon one of the sparse guests, they both leapt in surprise at seeing another person. It was hard to imagine that in only a few hours this place would be packed. If their Haunting had been waiting for an occasion to cause mischief, that would certainly be it.

To tell the truth, this place was giving her the creeps more every day. Like Dawn, she had the inescapable feeling that something bad was coming, and the longer she was trapped within these walls, the more in danger she felt.

Even the elation at seeing Spike and Dawn again was beginning to wear off. Even though it had only been weeks, already it felt as though they’d spent eternity here, as if time stretched out longer in this place, allowing them to live years in a matter of days.

She was frustrated that nothing seemed to be happening with Spike, of course. Their occasional moments of camaraderie were always interrupted by long stretches in which he seemed not even to be aware of her existence. All his flirtations lately had been directed at Veronica, with even occasional comments thrown Lena’s way, but he shut up like a clam around her. It was more than infuriating.

And the frightening part was that sometimes she wondered if it would just be better if nothing happened between them. He had obviously gotten on with his life without her, and he didn’t seem to have feelings for her anymore, so why shouldn’t she just let him go off and be happy after this mission was over? After all she’d put him through back in Sunnydale, he surely deserved to get away from her if that was what he wanted. And, given the way he acted most of the time, she was almost confident that was what he did want.

But, then, every so often…

They were just glimpses, really, maybe nothing more than some kind of intuition, but they gave her hope that some of the fire that had once burned between them was still there, and it was just waiting to engulf them once more.

What was most frustrating was that she hadn’t been able to get in a good talk with Holden about her various life dramas for almost a week now. For some unknown reason, cell-phone communication seemed to be spotty at the lodge. It got worse whenever it snowed, and the flurries of the past few days had made reception impossible.

She’d thought of going to Dawn to talk a couple of times, but she wasn’t sure it would be a good idea. The two of them had certainly learned to work together over the past couple weeks, and they’d even shared a few laughs, but Buffy sincerely doubted that Dawn would support her attempts to start up a relationship with the vampire again. Dawn’s loyalties were clearly with Spike now, and she knew only too well how badly Buffy had hurt him in the past.

In fact, there was only one thing that managed to calm her mind now when everything became overwhelming. It was the reason she strolled the hallways aimlessly whenever she began feeling restless. Her efforts were in vain this afternoon, of course. The piano had been moved from the sitting room to the ballroom for the celebration this evening, and so many people were working on setting up the festivities there that Buffy doubted that even her favorite phantom would be able to sneak in for a quick tune.

Veronica hadn’t been quite correct when she’d said that nothing supernatural had occurred in the past week. Buffy had heard the soft music nearly every night when she returned to her room. She still felt guilty for not divulging this information to the group, but deep in her heart something told her that it was no one else’s business. The music was only for her to hear, and it was an aide, not a danger.

With a wistful sigh at the silent piano, she began to hum the now-memorized tune and headed over to Spike and Dawn’s suite to hear Spike swearing up a storm…

* * *

“Bloody, buggering…”

A loud roar, and a dress shoe flew through the open door to Spike’s room, sailed in a perfect parabolic arc through the common room, and hit the far wall with an ungraceful ‘thunk’. Dawn watched it fall to the floor in a dejected manner.

“You’re gonna need both of these,” she provided, nervously dangling the shoe back into his room.

He snatched it from her with a growl and turned back to his arch-nemesis - a black tie - with a look of pure, unadulterated hatred.

“You want me to get that for you?” Dawn offered, desperately trying to suppress the urge to laugh.

“Don’t need your help,” he insisted stubbornly, forcibly ejecting her from the bedroom and slamming the door shut.

Dawn rolled her eyes as the swearing resumed within with newfound intensity. “Why me?” she sighed.

A knock at the door saved her from having to deal with ultra-pissed-off Spike for the moment.

“Mind if I come in?” Buffy asked after the door had been opened.

Dawn waved her inside in perfect time with a new string of Spike’s invective.

Buffy’s eyes widened when several crashes sounded from the bedroom. “Is he killing something in there?” she inquired curiously.

Dawn giggled. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” she agreed.

Buffy blinked.

“He’s getting dressed,” Dawn explained.

Unbidden, a snicker escaped Buffy’s lips.

“You think that’s bad, you should hear him after I’ve eaten all the chocolate ice-cream,” Dawn provided with a wink.

“Die, you filthy, soddin’ git!” sounded from the bedroom.

“I can imagine,” Buffy agreed with a giggle.

“So, what brings you here?” Dawn inquired, absentmindedly rearranging the research books on the coffee table. “You as bored waiting as I am?” Dawn had managed to slip into her evening dress of lavender satin in all of five seconds.

Buffy nodded, hiking up the skirt of her own emerald green dress as she sat back on the couch. More inventive invective shook the suite. “Men,” she teased. “They always take forever to get dressed.”

Dawn laughed at that. “I offered to help him, but…”

“As stubborn as ever, I see,” Buffy agreed.

Dawn nodded. “I don’t know why I bother to put up with him…” Another crash and the tinkle of broken glass. Dawn sighed. “I’d better go get the broom and dustpan from the front desk again before he cuts himself,” she decided. “Hold the fort for me, will ya?”

Buffy promised and flipped absentmindedly through the spell book that supposedly held the key to their mystery while Spike got progressively more furious in the other room. She started at the knock at the door and went to let Dawn in…only to find that it wasn’t Dawn there.

Rick looked visibly flustered to see her. “I’m looking for your sister,” he provided.

Buffy let him in. “She should be right-”

“Bloody, buggering fuck!”

“-back,” she finished through Spike’s swearing. She cast an annoyed glance in the direction of Spike’s room and stalked over to it. “You need any help in there?” she demanded, rapping on the wood with her knuckles.

“Bugger off!” he shot back.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Well, can you at least try to keep it down? I could hear you from down the hall.”

Mumbled cursewords, but he seemed to be attempting to be quieter for the moment.

“Sorry about that,” Buffy said, turning to face Rick…and finding that he was gone. She frowned for a second. “That’s odd…”

“What’s odd?” Dawn returned to the room at that moment, broom and dustpan in hand. She walked over to Spike’s door and began banging on it. “You’re cleaning up that glass,” she informed him before turning back to Buffy. “What’d he do now?” she asked curiously.

Buffy shook her head. “Not him,” she corrected, “Rick. He was here just a second ago, and-”

“You let him in?” Dawn asked, slightly concerned.

“Just for a second,” Buffy insisted. “I just turned my back, and then he was gone.”

“He was probably just in a hurry,” Dawn assured her, but there was still a frown on her face.

Buffy shrugged and put the matter out of mind. She moved to sit back on the couch.

Dawn continued to wait impatiently outside of Spike’s door. “I need to return this stuff soon,” she provided through the door.

“Well then, bring it in!” he retorted. “’m not goin’ out there starkers with half the world watching on.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “This’ll probably take all afternoon,” she informed Buffy. “I probably won’t be the best entertainment.”

Buffy nodded. “I can go find Rick and see what he wanted.”

Dawn nodded slowly. “That’s a good idea,” she agreed. “You do that.” With that she disappeared into Spike’s room, cleaning implements in hand.

Buffy shrugged and let herself out. She couldn’t find Rick, though. He seemed to have vanished into thin air…

* * *

“How did you manage to unlive this long?” Dawn demanded when she and Spike finally emerged from his room, tuxedo finally properly arranged.

He grumbled and pulled at the collar like he was choking, even though he didn’t need to breathe. “Didn’t dress up in monkey suits,” he grumbled under his breath, plopping down on the couch that Buffy had vacated over an hour before.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dawn said, “and the punk look never dies.” She checked her watch. “Only forty-five minutes to spare. You know, it’s supposed to be my job to make us late…”

“Whatever you say,” Spike grumbled and picked up the book on the top of the pile. And frowned. He put it back down and began riffling through the pile.

“You know, you’re starting to drive me crazy,” she informed him with a huff.

His search of the table unsuccessful, he got up and walked over to the weapons’ bags and began digging through them. “Well, I told you it was a bad idea for us to be cramped up together in the middle ‘f nowhere all winter.”

“All winter?” Dawn repeated with a roll of her eyes. “And you never said that.”

“Well, I meant to…” he trailed off with a frown, scanning the room.

“Uh-huh,” she teased, “sure. ‘Cause your foresight’s always 20/20.”

He ignored the jibe as the frown on his face grew. “Bit…” he began hesitantly, “where’d you put that book the Collins woman gave us?”

“I left it right on the table,” Dawn insisted and then also noticed that the book that had been on the top of the pile was gone. She frowned and searched through the books there slowly. “You’re sure you didn’t move it?” she asked.

“Left it right there,” Spike insisted.

“Well, so did I,” Dawn countered, “and the only other person who’s been in here is Buffy…” Her eyes widened. “And Rick!” she added, looking around frantically now.

They both scrambled to search the room frantically at that, but the book was gone. There was no question whatsoever that it had been stolen.

And the next chapter already awaits you...

Disclaimer & Author's Note: The usual.

Haunted
Chapter Thirteen - Fire and Ice

The soft tinkle of background music from the relocated grand piano greeted Buffy’s ears as she stepped into the freshly decorated ballroom. She bit back a whistle of appreciation at the obvious effort that had gone into transforming the room into the site of such a formal occasion.

Pale rose and blue light sparkled off of the iridescent streamers that circled the walls, making it look as through the entire room were encased in icicles. At the center of the room, a huge glass chandelier cast crystalline shadows down on the crowd below.

The music was slow and elegant, causing the dancers who accompanied it to appear to be gliding on marble. The clink of champagne glasses sounded throughout the room, and Buffy could almost imagine the ice cubes in the glasses tinkling gently against the sides. She couldn’t decide whether the sound made her thirsty or cold, but she headed over to the long table boasting dozens of glasses nonetheless.

She could certainly see why this was the event of the year in the small-town community. Locals and visitors from nearby inns alike had ventured into the otherwise shunned lodge just for this special occasion. It was quite a crowd.

Buffy remained beside the champagne table, sipping her champagne in what she hoped was an elegant manner, and turned her attention back to the job at hand. Everyone seemed lamentably peaceful, however, leaving Buffy with little to do besides envy the dresses of the other women present. She knew her own spaghetti-strapped emerald green dress looked wonderful on her, but the lighting her did particularly unflattering things to the color.

The women who had worn cream-colored dresses, on the other hand, now appeared to be wearing swirling rainbows of pastels. Somewhat self-consciously, Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and took another drink of champagne.

She spotted Xel and Lena - in human guise - off in one corner arguing. It took no stretch of imagination to figure out what had happened. Inevitably, one had been flirting horribly, and World War III had broken out. Or was it World War LXXXV now?

However, they had all long since learned that the D’vorak pair needed no supernatural assistance to argue. Buffy scanned right past them, searching for her fellow demon hunters.

She knew Tucker was stationed outside, not that she had any desire to see him whatsoever. Dawn had quite cleverly shoved him out of the festivities and instructed him to make sure none of the guests wandered off to their deaths. Given that he hadn’t wanted to attend the “damn party” anyway, this worked out admirably for all-

Buffy’s train of thought completely derailed at the sight that had caught her eye. Gorgeous, delectable, sexy, handsome… Her mind leapt from once adjective to the next, stunned completely speechless.

OK, so she’d never seen Spike in a tuxedo before, but it wasn’t like the pleasant thought had never occurred to her before. But not even she could have imagined he would look that…perfect…

“Have you seen Dawn anywhere?”

The soft-spoken tone interrupted her blatant vampire ogling. Buffy shook off her Spike-induced stupor and turned to find Rick standing beside her.

“Haven’t seen her,” she managed to say in a voice almost entirely free of squeaks. “Spike’s here, though.” Her face flamed a bright red just at the mere mention of the object of her desires.

“Yes, they are rather difficult to miss, are they not?” Rick commented, one eyebrow raised above the frame of his blackened sunglasses.

At that point Buffy noticed for the first time that Spike was not alone. In fact, Veronica had managed to wrap her body all around his as they swayed together on the dance floor, looking for all the world like an over-eager octopus. As Buffy watched, Veronica whispered something into Spike’s ear that was evidently quite amusing because he flashed her that kissable dimpled smile of his in response. Buffy began to contemplate the pros and cons of homicide.

“We are supposed to be preventing deaths,” Rick provided, “not causing them.”

Buffy shook off her murderous urges. “I can’t make an exception for Veronica?” she joked lightly.

Rick cracked a small smile. “Only if I can make one for Lena,” he countered.

As if on cue, a trilled “Rrrrricarrdo!” sounded through the crowd.

Rick flinched visibly and instantly looked around furtively for some place to hide. “Help,” he pleaded.

Buffy couldn’t help but laugh behind her hand at his predicament. However, she quickly conceded the gravity of his situation and stepped in to his rescue. “Wanna dance?” she offered.

Rick snatched her hand and fled from the approaching demon. Only when they were safely on the dance floor did he breathe a sigh of relief. “You have saved my life,” he informed her with a small smile.

She managed to flash a quick smile back before she caught sight of Spike and Veronica across the floor, and the glare returned.

A one-sided awkward silence followed until Rick finally dared to ask, “You are fond of Spike, perhaps?”

Buffy’s attention turned abruptly to her dancing partner at that. He was generally too polite to ask, but she knew he had to have caught her longing looks in the vampire’s direction. “W-We have a bit of a history,” she finally admitted, her cheeks reddening, “and, yes, I am still fond of him.”

“But he does not feel for you?” Rick guessed.

She let out a weary sigh. “Your guess is as good as mine,” she admitted. “I mean, back then he loved me, but now…” She shrugged. “He’s a complete mystery to me now.”

“I can sympathize,” Rick nodded.

Buffy gave him a quizzical look.

“Your sister is just as much a mystery to me,” he provided somewhat nervously.

A sly smile crept across Buffy’s features. “I knew it!” she proclaimed triumphantly. “’Cause, y’know, it was sooo obvious you have a thing for her.”

Rick seemed thoroughly baffled as to how to deal with a Summers in gossip mode, but fortunately Buffy was now able to maintain enough conversation for the two of them. If nothing else, Rick had at least distracted her from moping about Spike for the time being.

Buffy frowned. “Is it just me or has Dawn been acting a bit stand-offish around you lately?”

“It isn’t just you,” Rick breathed a sigh of relief. “For a while, I thought that I was imagining it.”

“What did you do to piss her off, then?” Buffy demanded.

“Nothing!” Rick insisted defensively.

Buffy rolled her eyes at him in a gesture that clearly said, Men! “You did something,” she informed him matter-of-factly. “Now, think. What was it?”

“I have no clue,” he shook his head.

Buffy sighed. “You’ll just have to go for the general, all-encompassing apology then and hope that she drops a hint before you have to clarify what you’re apologizing for,” she decided.

“But I did not do anything,” Rick repeated, somewhat puzzled now.

She gave him a quizzical look. “You haven’t dated a lot of women, have you?” she countered.

“Well, not as such-” he began.

“It shows,” she informed him. “Just trust me about this one.”

He gave her a skeptical look. “And you are helping me to court your sister because…?” he demanded.

“Because you use quaint words like ‘court’,” she informed him. “Plus, you so desperately need the help that-” She stopped abruptly and turned in surprise at the tap on her shoulder…

* * *

Dawn had retired to the far back corner of the room to study the festivities in peace. She frowned as she caught sight of her allies. Most were too caught up in the celebration to really be paying attention to much else. The sole exception was Spike, who at least seemed wary of where Buffy was dancing with Rick.

Dawn’s frown deepened at the thought of the young man.

She had seen all the evidence against him, of course. The suspicious secrecy, Spike’s spidey-sense going haywire, not to mention his increasingly suspicious interest in her. Most damning of all was the disappearance of the book from her room. She was confident that only Rick and Buffy had been in the room since the last time she’d seen the tome, and she was confident that her sister was innocent of the theft.

However, somewhere deep inside, she fervently wanted to believe that Rick was innocent. It was a selfish motive, and she knew it, but she had been growing quite fond of the soft-spoken man and his quirky sense of humor. In fact, he was the first man that had seriously caught her eye in a very long time.

Buffy and Rick’s conversation seemed to have turned serious now. Dawn would’ve given just about anything at that moment to be a fly on the wall. Spike also seemed to have caught the change in the pair’s mood and was angling the overly-amorous Veronica over in their direction.

Dawn couldn’t help but giggle at the other woman’s antics. She certainly had unsubtlety down to an art. Dawn was actually sort of proud of Spike for not caving in. She’d certainly seen him have flings with equally irritating women over the years. A brief shudder passed through her at the memory of Buni, and she decided that maybe Veronica wasn’t so flaky after all.

Her eyes inevitably turned back to Rick, and she sighed wearily. Why are the cute ones always evil? She suddenly felt great sympathy for all the difficulties Buffy had had in her own romantic life. She felt bad about keeping the distance between her and Rick, especially since she could see how it hurt him, but it was a risk she just couldn’t take.

“Now, what is a beautiful woman such as yourself doing all alone?”

Dawn cast unimpressed eyes in Xel’s direction. Somehow, he’d managed to escape Lena and now appeared to be playing up the women along the back wall in sequence.

“My job,” she reminded him. “Which is what you should be doing.”

“Exactly,” he agreed with a smile and an arm around her shoulder, “and here I am, mingling with the guests and making sure no disruptions break out.”

She looked at the hand on her shoulder pointedly until he finally removed it with a sigh.

“Nothing’s happening,” he finally pointed out.

“Yet,” she agreed.

Even as she said it, an apparent scuffle broke out on the dance floor. The two of them both took a step forward…and then back again when they saw that it was just Spike and Veronica cutting into Buffy and Rick.

“Sometimes I think we create more problems than we help solve,” Xel commented with an astuteness Dawn found surprising.

“Yeah, well, all we can do for now is try to keep the peace,” Dawn agreed, leaning back against the wall once more.

“Whatever you say…boss,” he added with a grin before running off to rescue Lena’s latest hapless victim.

* * *

“’m cuttin’ in,” Spike informed Rick with a slight curl to his lips. He practically dropped Veronica into the other man’s lap and whisked Buffy away before she even had a chance to register what had happened.

Buffy’s normally lightning-quick Slayer reflexes were momentarily dulled by the drool-worthy sight of Spike in a tux, and she half-danced, half-staggered along with him, colliding with his body and causing both of them to hold on tight to keep from toppling over.

“Klutzy much?” he inquired, unknowingly emulating her own bizarre speech patterns.

“W-Well, what do you expect?” she countered, forcibly ignoring the wonderful feel of his hardened chest beneath her cheek and his silken hair at her fingertips. “I mean, you practically abducted me…” Jealous? A hopeful voice in the back of her mind inquired.

“What did the wanker want?” he demanded instead of responding to her. Almost unconsciously, the hand at the back of her waist gave her a little squeeze.

Sounds jealous to me, the eternal optimist in her insisted. “We were just chatting,” she stated, “mostly about Dawn.”

Spike’s wandering eyes instantly met hers in a mixture of concern and suspicion. “What about?”

Buffy frowned, put off by his odd manner. “What is it with you and her, anyway?” she finally blurted out in frustration.

A quirked eyebrow was her only response. At least she knew she had his attention now, though.

With nowhere else to go, she plunged onward. “I mean, half the time I can’t tell whether you’re just being protective or whether the two of you are together and you’re just leading everyone else on, which, I’ve got to say, is-”

“Buffy,” he cut her off with a chuckle.

She frowned at his amusement, and then smiled inwardly at the unusual use of her name. “What?” she demanded, determined to play the angry part. It was rather difficult when she, to all intents and purposes, was wrapped in an intimate embrace with him.

“The Bit’s like my own li’l sis, maybe even a daughter at times,” he informed her matter-of-factly, “so, yeah, ‘m concerned when our primary suspect in this hauntin’s got his eyes on her.”

“Really?” Buffy breathed out in relief before the entire meaning of his sentence dawned on her. “Wait, whatta you mean ‘primary suspect’? Rick?” she asked in disbelief.

“Kid hasn’t been straight with us from the beginning,” Spike provided. “Been tryin’ to get in close, insinuate himself among us… Sets off the tinglies at the back of m’neck, he does. That, and the soddin’ shades he wears everywhere.”

“Oh yeah, the persistent clothing oddity’s a definite clue,” she managed to get out with a straight face. “By the way, where’s your duster?”

“I left it with Dawn when-” He caught her meaning and scowled at her. “Ha bloody ha, Slayer,” he retorted humorlessly.

“Oh, lighten up,” she shot back before frowning. “Rick? Really? He seems so…shy and inoffensive.”

Spike snorted. “Women!” he rolled his eyes heavenward.

She gave him an annoyed scowl, while secretly delighting in the exchange. This was the Spike she remembered - stubborn, argumentative, obnoxious…her perfect match. “If you think he’s so dangerous, then why did you offer Veronica up like a sacrificial lamb?” she countered.

“Yeah well, better her ‘n you,” he shrugged.

She smiled at that. “You didn’t seem to mind when she was all over you,” she shot back nonetheless.

An evil smirk lit up his face. “Someone’s jealous,” he sing-songed.

“I’m jealous?” she demanded incredulously. “I’m not the one who went all Neanderthal to get a new dance partner. If anything, you’re jealous.” She prodded his chest with her index finger in accusation.

For an instant they froze on the dance floor, eyes narrowed and glaring, breathing quickened, passions burning. In that moment, all the past seemed to be erased, and they were just the Slayer and her Vampire once more - adversaries and destined lovers.

Then, unfortunately, the world zoomed back into focus, the soft music and conversation around them sounding cacophonous compared to the peace that had just encased them. It was an awkward moment to top all other awkward moments, and they did the only thing they could to alleviate it and began dancing once more.

“He wanted to know why Dawn has been acting so distant lately,” Buffy provided, hoping to break the uncomfortable silence between them.

“Mmm,” Spike nodded, staring off into the distance. “Not a good sign. He knows we’re suspicious. ‘Course, he’d hafta after the incident with the book…”

“Book?” she asked confusedly.

Spike groaned. “Wasn’t s’posed to tell you ‘bout that,” he provided at her look.

“Well, you’re so spilling now,” she informed him, looking right up into his eyes and tightening her grip on the back of his neck so that he couldn’t escape.

He let out a resigned sigh. “Someone nabbed our spell book,” he informed her, “and unless it was you, your dear Rrrricardo’s the only one that could’ve taken it.”

Buffy frowned. “But we need that book to-”

“Yeah,” he agreed, cutting her off.

She let out a little groan and buried her face in his chest once more. “This thing is evil,” she declared. “Why won’t it just die, dammit?”

He chuckled at that. “There’s the Slayer I remember.”

A flush lit up her cheeks at that and his as well. The comment had obviously slipped out unintentionally.

“I-I’m a big fan of the tux,” she decided to take advantage of the fact that her face was already red to complement him. And the award for Understatement of the Year goes to…

He smiled at her at that. “’ll pass the complement along to the Platelet. She deserves it after all the effort of tryin’ to force me into this thing.”

“It’s not just that,” she insisted with a laugh. “It’s you. You’re…” The heat rose in her cheeks once more.

Spike wasn’t any better off and ducked his head bashfully before finally meeting her eyes.

“…very handsome,” she finally finished breathlessly.

“You’re lookin’ quite lovely yourself,” he countered with a nervous smile.

“Yeah, what with my dress the color of fertilizer in this light,” she joked lightly.

He grinned. “You’ll note that the comment was cleverly directed at you and not the dress,” he agreed.

She smiled and let her eyes fall to his lips, allowing herself to ponder their fullness. Her mouth practically watered at the memory of the taste of him, and unconsciously she began to gauge the distance between them. It suddenly felt as though the lights above were burning into her, not the pale rose of before but a brilliant red now.

Too mesmerized by the man before her to let the phenomenon register, she allowed her eyelashes to flutter closed, standing up on her tiptoes to close the gap in between them…

And, naturally, someone chose that moment to let out an ear-piercing scream that shook the entire ballroom.

Yes, that was intentionally evil. Thank you so much for noticing. ~_^ Until next time...

Disclaimer & Author's Note: The usual.

Haunted
Chapter Fourteen - Shattered Crystal

Spike turned away abruptly at the sound of the scream to see a panicked rush over at the far side of the dance floor. People were knocking each other over, shoving their way through other terrified dancers, all attempting to flee the imminent danger from above.

“What the…?” Buffy began.

“Bloody hell!” Spike exclaimed as a second crack split through the ceiling, and the chandelier plummeted downwards, crushing the good dozen people that still hadn’t escaped its path.

“Oh god.” Buffy had just noticed the chandelier’s precarious position as it fell. Instinctively, she pushed her way back through the horrified spectators, Spike at her side, forcing her way to the site of the destruction.

Just as they broke through the inner circle of the gawking crowd, Spike froze in his tracks. Blindly, his hand reached out to capture Buffy’s wrist in a viselike grip.

She turned back to look at him and found his face the most ghastly pale thing she’d ever seen. Her gaze shot to where he stared speechless, and her own heart caught in her throat. At the far side of the wreckage, just barely visible was a head of long brunette hair that was unquestionably Dawn’s.

“No,” Spike gasped in a weak voice.

Buffy’s attention snapped to at that, and she yanked back on his arm. “We’ve got to help her!” she exclaimed, half dragging him with her as she circled the wreckage of shattered crystals.

It took Spike a moment to even realize that Buffy had said something and they were moving once more, but then the desperate urge to save his little sister took over and he dashed off towards the fallen form, leaving Buffy to chase after.

She rounded a pile of broken glass and circuits to see Spike kneeling before Dawn’s fallen form, pulling the twisted wires off of her body. Buffy saw the blood and leapt to worse conclusion, not even noticing that her sister had been technically clear of the crash site.

“Dawnie…” she whimpered in horror, her eyes tearing…

And Dawn groaned and pushed herself up. “Remind me not to go all heroic again,” she instructed Spike, helping to pull the young woman she’d pushed free of the danger zone to her feet.

Spike’s face remained grim as he continued to clear the broken glass out of the pair’s way.

Buffy was too overjoyed at her sister’s survival to even notice. “Oh god, Dawnie.” She caught her startled sister up in a tearful hug before inspecting the cut on her forehead. “W-We’re going to need to get that stitched up, and we should check for-”

“Buffy,” Dawn cut her off with a little laugh, “it’s all right. I’ve had much worse.”

Buffy took a deep breath and tried desperately to remember that her sister was an adult and a demon hunter, and she really didn’t need Buffy to fuss after her well being anymore. It seemed to be a nearly impossible habit to break, though.

“Sorry,” Buffy said with a deep sigh. “Just very relieved.”

Dawn gave her an affectionate smile and a quick hug, anyway.

Spike rolled his eyes. “Hate to break up the sisterly bonding,” he said, handing the woman Dawn had saved over to a concerned Lena, “but that was the stupidest thing ‘ve ever seen you do, Bit.” He scowled over at her. “Next time you maybe wanna run away from the fallin’ missiles?”

Dawn gave him an irritated look that said all too clearly to put this off until later. “Why did it fall?” she asked, turning to more pertinent matters and she and Buffy carefully tiptoed out of the shattered remains.

“Not a bleedin’ clue,” Spike shook his head, staring up at the fractured ceiling.

By now, the ballroom crowd had completely surrounded the wreckage. Xel had located another survivor and was helping him free of the disaster site. Following Spike’s lead, many of the onlookers had turned their heads upwards as well, marveling at the deep rips in the plaster and wondering what could have caused them.

The Haunting, master of timing as it was, took that moment when all eyes were upon it to act.

Slowly, the crack in the ceiling began to ooze a deep blackened red. At one second the substance appeared to be viscous blood and the next a swarm of moving creatures, insect legs vibrating so rapidly that they appeared as thick as liquid. The red ooze spread outward from the cracks, covering the ceiling and dripping down the walls, reaching ever closer to the helpless humans below…

Fresh screams echoed through the audience, and the stampede began anew. Dawn found herself jostled through the crowd, shouting out in vain that if they all just calmed down they’d be fine. She turned back to try to find Spike and Buffy, but the inexorable flow towards the door was unstoppable, and she quickly fell beneath it, locking her arms over her head for protection as she tried to make it back up to her feet…

“Slayer!” Spike called out in alarm, catching her as the two of them were shoved together and trying to force his way over to the clearing left by the fallen chandelier.

Buffy quickly released his aim and pushed her way through the crowd as well. Only their combined slayer and vampire strength allowed them to make it to the relative safety of the broken glass, despite the frenzied humans.

Spike gulped in a deep breath of unnecessary air and looked upward once more, frowning. “’s not comin’ any closer,” he said right into Buffy’s ear so that he could be heard over the chaos of the crowd.

Buffy glanced up as well. The creepy red-black mass was still moving across the ceiling, true, but all its lunges at the crowd were feints, and in itself it hadn’t harmed anyone. “It’s driving them to try to kill each other…” she realized.

“For non-corporeal, it’s a right smart bugger,” Spike agreed, his face still inches from hers so that they could hear each other.

“What happened to Dawn and the others?” Buffy asked, concerned.

Spike shook his head. “And in this crowd, we’ll never find ‘em…”

Dawn screeched as a foot crashed painfully into her side, and the breath was knocked out of her. She gasped desperately, trying to force the air back into her unwilling lungs while shielding herself from further human attacks.

A second kick caught her arm right where it was protecting her head. A stinging pain when all up and down her forearm at the blow, but it was far better than the alternative.

Then, much to her surprise, she felt a hand clasp onto to her uninjured arm and try to pull her upward. She went with the helping hand and soon found herself safely on her feet and gasping against the relative safety of the wall.

She watched, completely unamused, as the harmless effect of the red-black ooze ran up and down the wall beside her, trying to frighten her back into the danger of the crowd.

The room had nearly cleared now, although the bottleneck by the door was still jammed packed. Several fistfights seemed to have broken out among the guests as to who got to escape first. The Haunting proceeded to slide over the floor in the direction of the door, keeping the panicked frenzy to a maximum.

However, as the bulk of the throng had now passed Dawn by, she was able to turn her attentions to her savior for the first time. “Thanks,” she breathed out with lungs that still ached.

“It was nothing,” Rick insisted with his usual soft-spoken voice.

Dawn turned back to the room at large. She saw Veronica cowering under the piano, while Xel and Lena were behind the overturned champagne table. Buffy and Spike had sought shelter in the shattered chandelier, but now all the assembled demon hunters were free of the human stampede and were heading over to the war that had broken out by the door, trying to calm things down.

“Let’s go,” Dawn instructed, limping over to the doorway and still wheezing slightly from the blow to her ribs.

“Are you sure you are all right?” Rick asked somewhat skeptically, but he followed after her anyway.

“Fine,” she insisted in a tight voice before catching the arm of a woman at the back of the crowd, pulling her free of the pile up, and giving her a good shake to stop the ridiculous panicking shrieks she was making.

Rick caught her husband by trapping the larger man in a bear hug and pulling him back away from the crowd.

Spike, Buffy, and Xel were now helping to pull off members of the struggling heap as well, while Veronica and Lena had stayed behind to check on those who had been trampled under the stampede.

“Look!” Dawn demanded, getting right in the woman’s face and pointing her in the direction of the red blood/insect-like substance. “It’s just going ‘boo’. Calm down.”

The hysterical woman paid her words no heed and shrieked again.

With a roll of her eyes, Dawn released her hostage through the now-clear doorway, guiding her in the right direction to get to the parking lot.

She found an exhausted-looking Tucker standing in the hallway and panting heavily.

“Tried to guide ‘em out,” he provided between gasps, “but some of ‘em pushed right by me. Must still be runnin’ around in this place.”

Dawn let out a weary sigh. “Stay here and make sure the last few don’t get lost,” she instructed before returning to the now-destroyed ballroom.

Lena shook her head at the fallen form of the man she had been checking for life-signs, and Dawn called her over.

“There’re still people running scared and lost through the hallways,” Dawn provided. “Track them down and make sure they all make it to their cars all right.”

Lena nodded without any of her usual complaints and ran out of the ballroom to attend to the matter.

Dawn then turned her attention to where the few remaining guests were still struggling with their captors. Spike and Buffy released their hostages upon her all-clear signal, and the offended pair of guests stalked out with a huff. The man Rick was holding decided to be far less cooperative. The instant he was free, he turned on Rick and brought his fist right into the other man’s nose before running for the exit.

Rick fell backwards at the force of the blow, crashing into the far wall and slumping against it. The impact jarred his ever-present sunglasses loose, and they skittered across the floor, landing a few feet away.

Dawn instinctively ran over to him to check that he was all right. Unknowingly, she stepped between his searching hand and the glasses he was seeking. “Are you all right?” she asked, concerned, crouching down before him. “That guy must’ve hit you pretty hard to-”

And, at that moment, Rick opened his eyes for the first time.

And Dawn screamed…

* * *

Lena wound through the seemingly endless corridors of the Cascade Mountain Lodge, following the fleeting sounds of human footsteps. Despite the fact that she’d grown well-accustomed to this place during the two weeks she’d been here, the hallways seemed alien to her tonight, winding with a labyrinthine complexity that she couldn’t even begin to decipher.

She turned another bend and would have sworn that she was back in the same hallway she’d just left behind. She shook off the eerie feeling and ran the length of this hallway as well, demonic ears honed in on the sound of elusive footsteps.

At the next bend she practically collided with the lost pair of humans, and only her quick reflexes kept them from falling over.

“Help us!” the woman screamed, clutching at her husband’s arm.

“Follow me,” Lena instructed. “I know the way out.”

As if mocking her earlier perceptions, the inn corridors were in perfect order now, and Lena had no difficulty guiding the frightened pair of humans back through the lobby and out into the parking lot. The traffic was jammed, of course, but the insane panic of earlier seemed to have faded now that the humans had returned to the illusionary safety of their oversized pick-up trucks and SUVs. Annoyance was the prevailing motion now, and many horns were honked as impatient drivers tried to get through the bottleneck of the lodge’s parking lot.

“Do you know where your car is?” Lena asked the pair she’d found, wiping away the snowflakes that fluttered into her eyes. Apparently, Mother Nature had decided to add a touch of flurries just to make visibility an issue in an already chaotic situation.

“There!” the woman cried out in delight, pointing to a Ford Escort.

Without so much as a thanks, the couple ran off towards their car, leaving Lena to shake her head in distaste. She turned back to the inn, avoiding the path that still held clusters of chilly humans and trudging through the ankle-deep snow instead. She was grateful as ever that this pair of her slaying boots was also fashionable enough to have been worn to the ball. Otherwise, her feet would be wet and freezing.

She still felt a bit of a chill since she hadn’t bothered to retrieve her jacket and hurried back toward the building, arms wrapped tight around her body as she moved through the increasingly thick snow.

Thus it was that she didn’t see the small depression in the white cover until she’d already stepped on it and fallen through. She let out a little shriek as she fell, but the soft white flakes muffled the sound as well as any possible onlooker’s view.

With thud, Lena crashed to the hard earthen floor ten feet below, knocked completely unconscious by the fall.

And, in the blackness of the underground room surrounding her, slowly dozens of pairs of eyes began to glow a demonic red…

* * *

A pair of cold, lifeless eyes stared back at Dawn, blood red through and through with not even a division between iris and pupil.

Dawn leapt back in sudden surprise at the secret Rick had been keeping from her for so long, and his eyes, like red marbles, turned in their sockets, catching all the other stunned faces in the room before finally landing of Spike.

“Kayeri!” the vampire hissed in outrage, his eyes yellowing and facial bones grinding as he slipped into demonic form.

Rick’s eyes flashed with an eerie red light before he leapt up and quickly caught Dawn by the waist just as Spike lunged for him. He threw her into the approaching vampire, causing them to collide in a tangle of limbs, before he dashed for the door.

Spike screeched out in pain and clutched at his head as painful electric arcs shot through his brain, somehow managing to catch Dawn anyway and keep her from falling.

Buffy rushed to his side in an instant, supporting him even as she watched Rick reach the door.

There, he unexpectedly found Tucker and flung the other man aside before vanishing off down the corridor.

“What in god’s blazes was that?” Tucker exclaimed in confusion, pushing himself up off of the floor.

Veronica and Xel seemed to come to at this and helped him up.

“A Kayeri,” Veronica answered before turning a quizzical look Spike’s way. “That was a Kayeri?” she repeated, still surprised.

He nodded as the headache receded and brushed off Buffy’s attentions.

“Uh…” Dawn began confusedly, “what’s a Kayeri?”

“Nasty li’l demons,” Spike provided, turning his concern in her direction. “Pick off human women an’-”

“I don’t care what it is!” Tucker cut in, annoyed. “It’s gettin’ away! Ain’t we going after it?”

Dawn nodded. “Go,” she instructed Tucker and Xel who both had jackets. “We’ll catch up to you.”

The two men ran off in pursuit of their former ally.

“And try not to kill him before we can talk to him!” Dawn shouted down the hallway after him, trying to bite down the conflicting emotions that were swirling around in her belly and making her feel slightly nauseous. “Veronica, grab your coat and go after them as soon as you’re ready,” Dawn instructed, already following Spike and Buffy in the direction of their rooms. “We’ll all meet up eventually.”

Veronica nodded and dashed off down the hallway to her room.

“Spike,” Dawn demanded as Buffy vanished into her room and Dawn opened the door to her own, “did you bring those tranquilizers with us?”

“They’re in my room somewhere,” he agreed.

“Good. Get them ready. I don’t want to do anything hasty until I know what’s going on,” Dawn agreed, grabbing her jacket and kicking off her dress shoes to grab her sneakers.

“He’ll go into the woods,” Spike informed her. “It’ll be the closest thing to home turf he can get.”

She tossed aside the shoes and grabbed her boots instead. “All right, meet me out there,” she agreed before taking off again. She crashed into Buffy in the hallway and instructed her to help Spike with the tranquilizers.

Buffy found Spike back in his room, riffling through a black duffel bag. “I’m supposed to help,” she provided breathlessly, still buttoning up her pink parka.

“Found ‘em!” Spike declared in triumph, holding up a box of darts. “Can you load the guns?”

Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed to do just that, fighting back a yawn. “Are you all right?” she asked, fitting the first rifle with two darts.

“Fine,” he shrugged her concern off, looking for the other rifle.

“I mean, with the chip headache and all…” she went on.

He froze for a second at that. “Yeah…” he began a bit hesitantly, “the chip…”

Buffy let out a wide yawn and set the fully loaded tranquilizer gun down on the floor. “You find the other one yet?” she inquired.

He let out a frustrated snort and searched through another bag. “This is what I get for bringing so many weapons,” he complained.

“Mmm,” was Buffy’s lazy response. She was suddenly very aware of the soft mattress beneath her and the wonderful smell of Spike that permeated the sheets. It was all so…relaxing, and this was the first moment of peace she’d had since the disaster began. I’ll just lay back for a second, her mind insisted. Just to rest up before the fight…

“Got it!” Spike announced in triumph from where he’d been rooting through another bag. “OK, now we need to-” He cut himself off when he noticed that she’d fallen asleep. With a patented roll of his eyes heavenward, he approached the bed. “C’mon, Slayer,” he nudged her foot, “we’ve got nasties to kill.”

She didn’t budge.

He frowned. “Slayer? Buffy?” He gave her a rough shake.

Still nothing.

He crawled up on the bed beside her and caught her shoulder, forcing her to face him. “Luv?” he demanded, concerned…and then a huge yawn overtook him.

He tried to blink back the sudden, inexplicable sleepiness but found himself unable to do so. An incurable weariness took over his limbs, and his vision swam as his eyelids drooped.

“What the bloody…?” he yawned…

And then collapsed into a deep sleep right beside the Slayer.

A swirl of red light escaped both their bodies at that, and the fiery glow hovered about the ceiling for an instant, contemplating the situation. The glow descended upon their bodies for a second, and the next there was a bright flash and their clothes had both vanished, scattering themselves about the room.

At the sudden chill, Buffy curled her nude body into Spike’s, sighing contentedly as his arm slipped around her waist.

Satisfied at mischief well accomplished, the red glow vanished into the cracks of the lodge. Three down. Three to go…

* * *

“There you are!” Veronica exclaimed in relief went Dawn burst out of the inn doors. “We have to follow these footprints fast, or the snow will cover them up.”

Dawn nodded. “Buffy and Spike will catch up. Spike should be able to follow our scents.”

“Let’s go then,” Veronica said a bit less than eagerly, and the two women vanished into what was fast becoming a full-blown blizzard…

Ah, an action chapter. So much fun to write. And, yes, I have somehow managed to give you three cliff-hangers for the price of one. *snicker* Yup, I'm every bit as sneaky and conniving as the Haunting. You'll also notice that I craftily saved Dawn's life twice, just to counteract the 'kill Dawn' campaign that seems to be sweeping through Spuffiness lately. (I'm truly, truly evil. ^_^) So, want to know what happens next? Well, then you'll just have to review... ~_^

Disclaimer & Author's Note: The usual.

Previously: The big party at the lodge turned to chaos when the Haunting dropped a chandlier on the crowd and then oozed a gross blood/insect stuff from the ceiling. In the panic, Rick's sunglasses were finally knocked off, revealing that he has the blood-red eyes of a Kayeri...whatever that is. He ran off, and Tucker, Xel, Dawn, and Veronica chased after him. Lena stayed behind to help get the civilians out safely, but then she fell into a secret underground room and lost consciousness just as glowing red eyes closed in around her. Buffy and Spike stayed behind to get tranquilizer guns to hunt down Rick, but the Haunting put them both to sleep on Spike's bed...and then strategically removed their clothing. That crafty Haunting. Out in the woods, the hunt for Rick begins... (Whew, a lot happens in action chapters, doesn't it? ^_^)

Haunted
Chapter Fifteen - Silent Snow

Swirls and eddies of white spun through the ancient forest, creating ghostly shades amidst the trees and obliterating all but the snow itself from the eyes of those trapped within it.

“Shit!” Tucker swore elegantly, wiping the wet crystals from his eyes as he scanned the wilds around him.

Behind him, Xel shivered. “Can you see any tracks?” he demanded.

“Irritating sonuvabitch’s taken to the trees,” Tucked countered. His attention focused on a spot which seemed to Xel just like any other, and he stalked through the rising ankle-deep snow toward it. “This way,” he instructed.

Xel shrugged and followed, human guise long since abandoned and antennae quivering slightly at the cold. He clutched the light jacket he’d brought to the ball tightly against him. He found it somewhat irritating that Tucker’s jacket appeared to be no thicker, but the hunter was exhibiting no signs of discomfort.

“What are we looking for?” Xel inquired when Tucker came to a halt again.

The other man scanned in both directions before veering off from their original path at a sharp right angle. “He’s knockin’ the snow from the branches as he goes,” he provided for Xel, indicating a recently fallen snow heap to the D’vorak Demon.

Xel shook his head. He never would’ve spotted the pattern in the near blinding conditions around them. “I don’t think we’re ever going to catch him this way,” Xel commented.

Tucker just shot him an annoyed look and trudged ahead. The snow was getting deeper now, and both men’s pants were getting drenched. Fighting their way through the snow was also slowing them down, allowing their quarry’s lead to increase.

“He won’t get away that easily,” Tucker insisted before freezing in his tracks.

Xel skidded to a sudden stop behind him, barely managing to keep himself from falling right over into a nearby snow pile. “What now?” he demanded with a bit of a whine in his voice.

“Shh!” Tucker hissed vehemently, cocking the rifle he’d had outside his room in preparation for any foul play that evening.

Xel shifted uncomfortably on wet feet and watched Tucker scan the forest around them with his rifle sight. He scuttled out of the way nervously when Tucker’s sweep turned in his direction, but the rifle froze in place only a foot or so to the left of where he’d been standing.

Tucker’s eyes narrowed for a second as he zeroed in on his target, and then he let out an annoyed sigh and dropped it. “Just what we need,” he grumbled under his breath, “uppity women to slow us down…”

Xel saw Dawn and Veronica materialize out of the falling snow around them and run over to their position.

“Have you seem him yet?” Dawn demanded instantly, handing Xel the extra crossbow she’d nabbed from her room. Veronica had her own long knife, while Dawn herself had always preferred a sword.

“He’s pulling further ahead,” Tucker informed her tersely. “Now, come on.”

No one protested the hunter’s instructions in this circumstance, and they all scrambled to keep up with his rigorous pace.

“Kayeri are to trees like mountain goats are to cliffs,” Veronica provided during a brief respite while Tucker picked up the trail once more. “If we’re ever going to catch him, we’re going to have to force him to the ground.”

“Or we could just shoot him outta the trees,” Tucker pointed out snidely.

“No shooting,” Dawn quickly reprimanded him. “We need him alive.”

She got several skeptical looks at that.

“Missing book? Creepy non-corporeal thing?” she provided. “I don’t know about you all, but I’d like to get some answers.”

Tucker snorted, but no one argued.

“I still don’t see how we’re ever going to catch him at this rate,” Xel complained, his feet squishing in his wet shoes uncomfortably. The snow was fast approaching knee-deep, and he was soggy and freezing. “He’s going much faster than us, and-”

“Kayeri are subtropical,” Veronica provided, squinting out into the swirling flakes. “He’ll be even worse off in this weather than we are. It shouldn’t take too long for him to slow down.”

“Good to know,” Tucker admitted grudgingly.

“All right,” Dawn said with a weary sigh, turning to Veronica, “it’s official. Until Spike shows up, you’re our expert on these Kayeri. Now, I want to know everything you do. It might help us understand what’s going on.”

Veronica, a bit stunned at being asked to keep talking for once, blinked a few times before she began. “W-Well, I’m not an expert…” she began somewhat hesitantly.

“More so than anyone else here,” Dawn countered, “so tell us all you know.”

Veronica bit her lip. “It’s not much,” she admitted. “I mean, I’ve only heard the rumors. They’re rather infamous down in South America.”

“Then why couldn’t he stay in South America?” Xel grumbled.

Veronica’s brow furrowed at that. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve never heard of a Kayeri leaving its home territory before. They generally stick to the forests of the Amazon Basin and the foothills of the Andes. It’s rare for them even to venture into the cities of Brazil.”

“Fascinating,” Tucker said in a voice that indicated that he thought it was anything but. “This isn’t the Amazon, though, honey,” he gestured to the falling snow around them with a sarcastic sweep of his arms, “in case you haven’t noticed…”

Veronica scowled at him. “I’m just telling you all I know,” she snapped.

“And you’re doing a good job,” Dawn assured her, shooting a warning look in Tucker’s direction. “Go on,” she addressed Veronica. “What powers do these things have?”

“Well, they’re incredibly fast,” Veronica began, still scanning the tree trunks, “especially when they take to the trees. Can jump exceptionally far. There are rumors that they might have some sort of hypnotic powers.”

Dawn sighed. “Great. Rumors?”

“Well, it’s the standard Kayeri attack,” Veronica provided. “They live out in the forests and move around until they select a small village. They then pick off the local farmers - slice open the men for food and kidnap the women. The Kayeri females are incapable of carrying their young to term, see, so they use human females as hosts after the breeding season.”

Dawn’s face scrunched up in distaste, and a slight shiver ran through her. She could suddenly understand all too well why Spike had been furious to discover that a Kayeri had been sniffing around her. “Nice,” she said sarcastically.

Veronica curled her lip in agreement. “Then, after the children are born, they have a nice, handy food source in the human host and-”

Tucker’s hand cut her off mid-speech. “It’s watching,” he hissed in a low voice.

Nervously, the other three formed a defensive circle, looking nervously to the treetops.

“Oh yeah,” Tucker muttered low under his breath, “this is what was stalkin’ us through the forest before, all right…”

“Does anyone see it?” Xel whispered back nervously.

“Maybe he’s run-” Veronica began hopefully…

…and then shrieked.

Everyone spun to face her, only to find her lying in the snow and sputtering in distaste. “He jumped me!” she squealed in alarm. “Came out of nowhere! And he stole my knife!” She held up her now-empty hands.

The alarm of the other three increased at this unfortunate turn of events. Their enemy was now not only blindingly fast but armed as well.

“Did you see where he went?” Dawn demanded, searching the whiteout for their foe in vain.

“I was a bit busy freezing to death,” Veronica retorted icily, brushing the snow off of herself as she stood up.

“This is not good…” Xel murmured under his breath.

Tucker nodded with a grimace and then cocked his ear to one side. “He’s run off again,” he announced with a bit of relief.

“Guess he just wanted to even up the odds a bit,” Dawn agreed.

“Well, he didn’t entirely succeed,” Veronica revealed, pulling a back-up knife from the sheath at her hip.

“So, we’re going back now, right?” Xel demanded nervously. “I mean, it’s obvious we can’t fight-”

“We’re keeping after him,” Dawn insisted with grim determination. “Tucker?”

“On it.” The hunter took off into the woods once more. He came to a halt after only a few dozen yards, however. “Dammit!” he swore.

“What is it?” Dawn pushed forward until she was at his side.

“He’s circling around,” Tucker informed her. “We’ve been on this path before. He’s tryin’ to lose us.”

“He either doubled back to the inn, or he’s circled back into the woods,” Veronica agreed. “All the trails leading from this position are old.”

Dawn blinked at her in surprise. “You can follow these tracks?” she asked.

Veronica looked equally surprised. “You can’t?” she said, disbelieving.

Dawn shook her head. “All right, we’ll have to split up,” she determined. “Veronica, you follow the trail back to the inn. Take Xel with you, and remember that we’re trying to capture Rick alive.”

Veronica nodded.

Dawn turned to Tucker. “You’re with me,” she instructed. “We go back out into the woods.”

Tucker shrugged it off like it was no difficulty.

“Right, let’s go,” Dawn instructed, heading off after Tucker. “Oh,” she turned back to Xel and Veronica for one last order, “and if you see Buffy and Spike, will you tell them to hurry their asses up?”

Veronica shivered slightly. “It is so unfair that we’re all freezing out here by ourselves,” she agreed.

Dawn frowned slightly. “Can’t imagine where they’ve gotten off to,” she began before following Tucker through the snow…

* * *

The wind whipped waves of snow against the windowpane, creating a chilled rattling vibration.

Buffy murmured slightly in response and buried her head deeper into the chest of the man beside her, a soft smile on her face as his body continued to reflect her own body heat back at her. Unconsciously, one leg slipped over his waist, pulling him more tightly into her.

A brief trill escaped Spike’s throat when her fingers moved slightly to find one of his flat male nipples. In his sleep, he breathed deep of the soft perfume of her hair and continued to dream.

Buffy’s own dreams were the most contented in years, almost as if she knew whose arms she was in even in unconsciousness. Her sleeping thoughts not drifting any further than the man beside her, she remained safe, warm, and comfortable in bed, oblivious to all that was happening outside…

* * *

Xel and Veronica both let out audible sighs of relief when the dark outline of the lodge finally emerged from the snow-white night.

“Looks like Dawn and Tucker are stuck with our little Kayeri,” Veronica commented wryly, opening the patio doors and savoring the warmth of centralized heating as they entered the recreation room.

Xel shook the snow out of his antennae and agreed. “Hopefully, they’ll catch a bit of common sense and come back soon.”

Veronica shivered slightly, clothes still damp from when Rick had shoved her into that snow bank. “I’m hot shower bound,” she informed him. “Be a dear, and go make sure Dawn’s back-up is on the way, won’t you?”

Xel grumbled but let her proceed him down the hallways, stopping only briefing to knock on the doors of Buffy’s and then Dawn and Spike’s room. Neither yielded an answer.

With a resigned sigh and a last longing look at where Veronica’s dress clung to her lean thighs, he returned to his own room and collapsed on the bed. So tired was he that it didn’t even cross his mind as odd that Lena hadn’t come back yet…

* * *

“I don’t like bein’ toyed with,” Tucker grumbled as another of the false trails that led off into the woods came to a dead end. He quickly stalked back past Dawn, returning to the previous trail.

“He’s going to a lot of effort to lead us astray,” Dawn pointed out, biting her lip thoughtfully. “That’s got to mean that he’s headed somewhere - somewhere that he doesn’t want us to find.”

“Great,” Tucker said sarcastically. “That means he’ll get more and more desperate the closer we get.”

Dawn grimaced at that; the thought hadn’t occurred to her. And then, as if to prove that Tucker was right, a dark form suddenly leapt at her from the trees, its menacing red eyes boring right into her.

Only years of well-honed instincts allowed Dawn to roll to the side in time. She spat the snow from her mouth and wiped it from her eyes just as two shots from Tucker’s rifle sounded in the deathly silence of the forest.

“You hit him?” Dawn gasped, shakily gripping her blade with both hands and looking nervously around.

“No such luck.” Tucker reloaded with a snap of the barrel. “He’s coming back in, though.”

Dawn held herself ready but even still was shocked by the speed at which Rick dove at her. She swung with her blade, but he ducked it easily, rolling across the ground with knife bared to strike at Tucker. The other man fired mere inches from where Rick’s head had been, only to feel the demon’s blade in his flesh.

Tucker let out a roar and dropped his rifle. Immediately, Rick scooped it up and leapt up into the tree branches once more, invisible from their view.

Dawn instantly ran over to Tucker to see how badly wounded his was. The swirl of the wind meant that she hadn’t seen Rick’s strike and had no idea whether Tucker had been mortally injured. She was surprised, then, to see that the knife cut had just been a glancing blow to Tucker’s right hand. It was bleeding and undoubtedly painful, but not serious in the slightest.

“I’ll be fine,” Tucker confirmed her own opinion. “He just wanted me to drop the gun. Think you can cover me?” he inquired, pulling out a bandana and tying it around the bleeding cut on his hand.

Dawn held her blade up and scanned the near total whiteout around them. “Against a gun?” she pointed out ruefully. Although there was a lingering doubt in her mind. So far, all of Rick’s attacks against them had been defensive…

“Remind me to bring a net and a good dozen traps the next time I fight one of these things,” Tucker agreed, hand bound and knife from belt now firmly in hand.

Slowly, the two of them circled round back-to-back, each poised for another lightning-quick strike.

“I’m really starting to wish Buffy and Spike would hurry up,” Dawn agreed. “A little super-strength and super-speed would be nice right about now…”

Personal issues with the bleached pair aside, Tucker couldn’t do anything but nod. Facing a demon with just a girl as back-up and no gun wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time.

The two of them continued to circle warily and then froze…

Amidst the swirling cascade of snowflakes, a pinkish glow slowly emerged. It became brighter and brighter, the light turning red as it became less obscure and narrowing into the twin points of Rick’s eyes.

“If you do not wish to be hurt,” he began in his usual soft-spoken tones, “I suggest you drop your weapons.”

He was less than fifteen feet away now, just far enough out of range that he could instantly escape any attack. Dawn and Tucker merely turned their blades to face him, however, neither gaze leaving his blood-red eyes.

A frown furrowed Rick’s brow at their resistance, but then a swirling red light shone behind him as the Haunting alighted on the scene. The swirling red mist dove into Rick’s body, causing his entire form to shine with an unearthly crimson light.

“They’re working together!” Tucker shouted out. Recognizing their ultimate foe, he and Dawn both lunged.

Instantly, Rick leapt free of their attack, landing hard on Tucker’s back and forcing his face down into the snow. Tucker’s knife skittered off into a snow bank and vanished beneath the relentlessly falling snow.

Dawn dove at Rick, swinging her sword high. He leapt back from her attack, causing her to overswing and lose her balance on the slick ground that covered the site of their battle. Rick instantly caught her right wrist in his hand and gave it a painful twist that sent her blade plummeting to the ground.

Dawn’s foot struck out in retaliation, the heel of her boot just grazing his shoulder. He let out a yelp of pain and vanished back into the dark, leaving Dawn scrambling desperately in the white for a weapon and Tucker still trying to force the wind back into his lungs.

Just as Dawn uncovered the hilt of her sword, however, she was suddenly tackled from behind. She let out a screech and a vicious kick before Rick’s whispered voice murmured “Sleep” into her ear, and everything faded to blackness.

Swearing, Tucker leapt to his feet despite the pain in his ribs and tried to run off after the demon, but it was too late. Rick had vanished into the trees and taken Dawn with him…

And the cliffhanger continues... (Hey, I tried to resolve more this chapter, but it's a lot of plot...) So be sure to review to see what happens next. ~_^

Disclaimer: The usual.

Author's Note: Just a friendly reminder about the angst warnings I put waaay at the beginning of this story. I really did mean them, and most of the angsty stuff hasn't even occurred yet. Which isn't to say that this chapter or even the next few will be angsty. I just wanted to make sure everyone still remembered that this isn't going to exactly follow the simple path to romantic happiness that other stories of mine have had in the past. Which, also, doesn't mean that there won't be a happy ending, but... Ack! So, in short, don't expect romantic fluff, but don't expect complete angst, either, and, yes, it is still a Spuffy story. (There, hopefully that should clear up at least some of the questions I've gotten about this one. Either that, or everyone will just freak out more... -_-;;)

Previously: The Haunting put Buffy and Spike to sleep in Spike's bed. Naked. Entertaining practical joke, ne? ^_^ Lena fell down a hole; there were glowy red eyes. Xel and Veronica arrived back at the inn, cold and wet. Not realizing how serious things were, they went off to sleep, too. Tucker and Dawn continued to chase after Rick, who was revealed as a Kayeri - nasty demons that lure women off to their doom. Rick attacked Dawn and Tucker. Rick commanded Dawn to go to sleep before kidnapping her. It was not a happy night...

Haunted
Chapter Sixteen - Pawns

Dawn awoke with a groan, pushing herself up off of the dirt floor with shaky arms.

“For a minute there I wondered if you would ever wake up,” Rick’s softly-accented voice echoed through the small cavern.

Dawn’s head still spun with the hypnotic force that had pushed her into unconsciousness, but she managed to rise to her knees anyway to face her captor. “They’re all coming after me,” she informed him right off the bat. “You’re not going to get away with this.”

Rick looked down at her from his position above the cave entrance and sighed. The cave they were concealed in appeared to be a small enclave in the side of a rocky hill. The dirt floor and walls were littered with stone outcroppings, but there was still enough soil for tree roots to line the high ceiling.

Rick was crouched back on one of these roots, far out of her weaponless reach and also easily able to block her from reaching the exit. Even more damning was the fact that her jacket hung up on the root beside him; it was warm enough in the cave itself that she wasn’t uncomfortable, but she could still hear the wind howling outside and had no doubt that she would freeze before she could make her way home.

Dawn grimaced. Without some kind of back-up, she didn’t see how she could escape. He’d already proven much faster than her, and she doubted her strength would match up to his, either.

“You have noticed by now that you cannot escape without my permission?” Rick questioned softly, staring down at her with those eyes like red marble, gaze emotionless, distant, inhuman.

Dawn backed up against the far wall in case she needed to make a fighting stand and scowled up at him. “Whatever you want from me,” she snapped, “you’re not going to get it.”

Rick shook his head at that. “I had hoped that you would try to understand,” he said with a weary sigh. “After all, you are not entirely human yourself, are you?” Through the red filter of his eyes, the bright green light that shimmered around Dawn glowed even brighter with the adrenaline rushing through her system.

Dawn bit back a gulp at that. “Wh-What do you mean?” she asked shakily.

Her mind was reeling at the implications, however. The last time her existence as the Key had been important… She could still see her sister’s lifeless form at the bottom of that tower, Spike’s broken and battered body sobbing over the woman he loved, the hot red blood dripping down her stomach…

She had felt more helpless that night that she ever had in her existence, and ever since she had sworn that she would never put those she loved in danger again. Despite the apocalyptic force that stirred in her very blood, she would be an agent to save this world, not destroy it.

One of Rick’s eyebrows rose in response to the slight tremor in her voice. That obviously hadn’t been the response he’d been expecting. “I can see it, you know,” he said, somewhat puzzled. “The energy that surrounds you, composes you. It shines like a beacon.”

“Stay away from me.” Dawn’s voice sounded hollow and scared even to her own ears, but she couldn’t let this happen to her. Not again.

“You think I judge you?” Rick asked, concerned now. “Surely, they have told you by now what I am…”

“All the more reason for you to stay away from me,” Dawn hissed vehemently.

Rick sighed in that tired way once more. “I would have thought you more tolerant,” he commented sadly, “given that you treat a vampire as family.”

“You’re nothing like Spike!” Dawn shot back. “He would never hurt me.”

“And I have done you such great harm, have I?” Rick countered.

“Kidnapping, putting me to sleep, and let’s not forget all the attacks earlier,” she said coldly. “If you think I’m letting my guard down around you for one second…” She let the threat trail off. Given the horror stories Veronica told her, she was thoroughly prepared to fight to death if that was what it took.

“I should not have attacked and instead sacrificed my own life?” Rick countered. “And it was not I who put you to sleep - you saw the Haunting take me.”

“Oh, and that makes me feel a lot better,” Dawn retorted with a roll of her eyes. “Is that what it traded you for your aid? Me?”

Rick’s brow furrowed at that. “I have aided the Haunting no more than you have,” he insisted.

“Don’t lie to me,” Dawn countered wearily. “I saw the two of you join forces.”

“You mean you saw it possess me,” Rick shot back defensively. “I barely fought it off before it used my body to kill you!”

Dawn frowned slightly at this. Rick was caught. Didn’t he know that? Why was he still bothering to defend himself? “We know you’ve been working together,” she insisted a bit more hesitantly. “Your cover’s blown.”

“My cover, yes,” Rick agreed, gesturing to his vacant red eyes. “But I’ve got nothing whatsoever to do with-”

“The book!” Dawn countered with triumph, overcoming the foolish doubts that were creeping into her mind. “We know you took it.”

Rick blinked at that, puzzlement apparent on his brow now. “What book?” he asked, baffled.

“The one you stole from my room this afternoon?” Dawn provided sarcastically.

Rick merely shook his head.

“While Buffy was distracted?” she hinted.

“I have no clue what you are talking about,” he insisted. “I stopped by to see if you were there, and since you weren’t and your sister was otherwise occupied, I left.”

“With the spell book,” Dawn insisted.

A worried look crossed Rick’s features at that. “The one that would tell us how to kill the Haunting?” he asked. “How can we kill it without the book?”

“Exactly why you stole it,” Dawn said, but her voice was getting more hesitant. Rick was already found out. There was no reason for him to deny this, unless…

“I want it gone as much as you do,” Rick insisted vehemently.

Dawn’s voice wavered now. “B-But you’re helping it,” she countered. “Working for it?”

“It’s trying to kill us all!” Rick seemed shocked at the accusation.

Dawn’s brow furrowed as she reassessed the situation. “You’re not working with the Haunting?” she said, puzzled.

“No!” Rick exclaimed in relief that she seemed to be catching on at last.

“Th-Then why are you…?” Dawn began before her eyes widened. “It was just me you were after, then,” she accused.

“You are surprised?” Rick countered, his voice its usual quiet timbre.

Dawn instantly took up a defensive stance. “Sadly so,” she agreed, “but you’re not going to take me without a fight.”

A scowl crossed Rick’s brow, and his reddened eyes narrowed. “You do not understand…” he began.

“I think I understand perfectly,” Dawn countered with a look of grim determination. “And you’re either going to let me out of here,” she informed him matter-of-factly, “or you’ll have to kill me while I escape.” A deep breath, and she ran for the exit.

Rick started in surprise for a second before he leapt down at her…

* * *

Lena awoke with a groan, rubbing at where one of her antennae had been painfully nicked in the fall. She blinked twice, opened her eyes, and…

“Aaaaiiieeeee!”

The sudden wail halted Tucker right in his tracks outside the door to the lodge. “What in tarnation…?” he paused in his efforts to find some decent back-up to help save Dawn and scanned the snow-covered front yard in vain.

Lena’s ears perked up at the distant voice, however, and she let out another scream. “Help!” She nervously spun around in place in the underground room, watching the red eyes that surrounded her in terror.

Tucker frowned at the cry, recognizing the nasal pitch of Lena’s voice. “Where the hell are you?” he demanded, trudging off into the snow in the direction where he’d heard the cry for help.

“They’re closing in!” Lena screamed back, fumbling in vain for any weapon she might have on her person. She came up empty and screamed again.

“Where are you?!” Tucker shouted back, slightly alarmed now.

“Underground!” Lena shouted out. “There’s a hole beneath the snow!” She watched the eyes warily.

Tucker instantly froze in his tracks. “And what good’s it gonna do if I fall in it?” he demanded, irritated.

“You can help me fight…” Lena began before she froze mid-speech. It suddenly occurred to her that the red lights around her hadn’t moved once during their little shouting match. In fact, she didn’t think they’d moved at all since she’d woken up. “Wait a minute…” she began, slightly confused.

The red eyes didn’t respond in the slightest.

“You still out there?” Tucker’s voice sounded through the layer of snow that had formed over the opening to the underground room.

“Be careful of the trapdoor!” Looking up now, Lena could see that was what she’d fallen through. By some magical force, the snow wasn’t falling into the underground room but rather concealed the entrance.

“Duh!” Tucker shot back, long branch now in hand as he felt around on the ground before him. “You under attack or what?”

Lena frowned and took a cautious step towards one of the pairs of red eyes. “Not sure,” she replied. Nervously, she reached out one hand when she stood directly before the eyes and felt…wood? “It’s a statue…” she realized slowly, tracing the carved outline of one humanoid form.

At that moment, Tucker’s branch landed right on the opening. “Shit!” he exclaimed as the ground suddenly gave way beneath his support.

“You’re right above me,” Lena provided.

“Noticed,” Tucker agreed. “How far down are you?”

“About ten feet.”

Tucker let out a weary sigh. “You got a light?”

“No,” Lena shook her head before looking at the glowing red around her, “not really.”

“I’m dropping down my flashlight,” Tucker informed her, “and then I’m gonna get some rope. Just shine the light up through the snow so I can find you again, all right?”

“All right,” Lena agreed, watching the flashlight fall through the snow-covered opening above and deftly catching it.

“You got it?”

She turned on the light. “I got it,” she agreed.

“I’ll be right back, then,” Tucker said before heading back to the inn. Honestly, how many women needed saving tonight?

Lena let out a weary sigh and directed the light at the statues surrounding her, fully able to see them for the first time. A shiver ran up her spine at the demonic figures that circled her. Most were humanoid in shape but sported features of animals, demons, and some hideous deformities she didn’t even want to begin to guess at. The only things the figures held in common were the glowing, red eyes and rows of horns that crowned their heads.

Lena shivered slightly, and not from the cold. There was no doubt whatsoever in her mind that this place was the site of some ritual, and whatever it was, it felt old, powerful, and dangerous…

* * *

Rick was faster, but Dawn was more desperate. He landed right on her back, but she managed to twist beneath him and knee him right between the legs. He let out the characteristic ‘oof!’ of universal male pain, and she shoved him off, aiming a hard fist to his jaw.

Her hand stung from the force of her blow but, more importantly, Rick slumped to the ground for an instant, arms limp. It was the only second she needed to yank his jacket from his shoulders and pull the knife he’d stolen from Veronica from his belt.

By the time Rick returned to rather painful reality, Dawn had the blade at his throat and easy access to the escape route. He winced inwardly at his miscalculation of her abilities.

“All right now,” Dawn panted, a dangerous hint in her voice, “you are going to tell me exactly what is going on right now, or I’ll slit your throat and sort it out back at the nice, safe inn.”

“It’s safer here,” Rick countered automatically.

The blade at his throat dug into the skin slightly. “Explain,” she demanded in a no-nonsense tone.

“The Haunting,” Rick hastened to do so. “It has never reached me out this far.”

“Yeah, great,” Dawn said sarcastically, “so out of the frying pan and-”

“I meant you no harm,” Rick insisted.

“That’s a funny definition of ‘harm’ you’ve got.” Dawn’s grip tightened. “And I’m losing patience,” she informed him.

“Then, what do you want me to tell you?” Rick demanded, exasperated.

“What exactly it is we’re doing out here would be a nice start,” Dawn suggested, looking around somewhat anxiously. “You working alone?”

“I’m not ‘working’ anywhere!” Rick protested. “You chased me out here. And then I was possessed, and the Haunting nearly killed you, so I figured it would be a good idea to retreat to safety.”

“That’s a nice story,” Dawn scoffed, “except for the kidnapping and attacks.”

“I feared for my own safety,” Rick countered. “Would you have acted differently?”

“Nice try,” Dawn said sarcastically, “but the games you’ve been playing with me are hardly innocent.”

“What games?” Rick demanded.

The knife cut deeper, causing one drop of red blood to slide down the metal edge. “I know what your kind does,” Dawn hissed.

Rick’s own eyes narrowed at that. “And I thought you were different,” he retorted, anger in his voice.

Dawn had never heard him sound so passionate about anything before. It surprised her. “You lied to me,” she insisted.

“Of course, I lied to you,” he shot back. “Everyone who knows the Kayeri thinks them an abomination. How else can I survive but to conceal what I am?”

“Yeah, that must be rough,” Dawn retorted coldly. “None of you victims like you. How truly tragic.”

“I have no victims,” Rick insisted. “If I lived as a Kayeri, do you honestly think I would be trapped in this frozen wilderness working as a demon hunter?”

“So you’re…what then?” Dawn demanded. “Just a misunderstood innocent?”

“Yes,” Rick said vehemently.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “You honestly expect me to believe that?” she countered.

“You trusted me well enough before you learned what I was,” he pointed out.

“Except for the whole lying to me part. And stealing the book.”

“I didn’t steal the book!” he persisted. “And I had to lie to you.”

“Oh? Really?” Dawn didn’t sound pleased with the admission.

“This is what always happens,” he insisted vehemently. “Everyone who finds out what my father was… Do you know how many hunts I have had to evade? How many times I have fled for my life? They killed my mother when they found out that she had willingly bedded a Kayeri, you know. They would just as easily kill me. Just like you.” He tensed against the blade before closing his eyes wearily. “I merely wished to help. I-I didn’t plan to get close. I just…you were so kind, and then I saw that you were concealing your own identity, and I watched how you could trust a vampire, and I thought that maybe, just maybe, you would understand…”

It was easily the longest speech Dawn had ever heard from him. There was also this note of pleading in his voice - of finality - that made her for the first time doubt her presuppositions about what had happened tonight.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, though, does it?” Rick countered. “I am tired of running, tired of hiding - especially from you…” He trailed off.

And Dawn loosened her grip on his throat.

His demon eyes opened wide in response to that, and he turned to look at her in disbelief.

“I shouldn’t believe you,” Dawn pointed out, still keeping the tip of her knife trained on him.

“Then why do you?” he countered curiously, head cocked to one side in a manner oddly reminiscent of Spike.

“Because I know all too well that even demons with the worst reputations aren’t always all bad,” she countered before her brow furrowed. “That, and we’ve been set at each other’s throats all evening. It smells suspiciously like Haunting work to me.”

“It plays with us as pawns,” Rick agreed.

Dawn nodded grimly. “So you get one more chance to work with the team,” she decided. “But keep anything from me again…”

“You do not hold your own secret?” Rick countered, focusing intently on the green light that surrounded her. “Or perhaps you also understand what it means for the very nature of your existence to put you in danger…”

“Perhaps,” Dawn responded evenly. She gestured up to the ceiling with her knife. “Get my jacket,” she requested, watching his leap up to the ceiling with an impressed whistle. She took her coat gratefully from his hand and returned his own jacket to him. “We need to get back to the lodge,” she decided. “If the Haunting’s been using us as puppets all night, I don’t even want to think what it’s been doing to the others…”

* * *

And, back in the soft, warm bed in the lodge, Buffy stirred slightly into wakefulness. A terrific yawn, a few smacks of her lips, and she awoke to find…

Yup, next chapter Buffy and Spike finally wake. Won't that be fun to watch? ~_^

Disclamer & Author's Note: The usual.

Previously: There were people running around in the woods. They had weapons. But Tucker went back to help pull Lena out of the hole she fell into, and after Rick kidnapped Dawn, that whole mess got sorted out, and it looks like Rick might not be a baddie after all. That leaves Buffy and Spike, who got put to sleep last night by the Haunting and whose clothes were strategically removed. And so our lovely not-quite-yet couple awakens...

Haunted
Chapter Seventeen - Hangovers

“Mmm,” Buffy sighed contentedly, coiling her body further around Spike’s. Semi-consciously, she brushed a gentle kiss over the strong muscles of his chest before hunkering back down for a lazy morning.

Spike stirred lightly at her actions as well, looping one arm around her waist as he turned to face her and…

“Wait a minute!”

The exclamations were made almost simultaneously, accompanied by twin pairs of round, startled eyes.

“How on-?”

“Bloody-!”

With comical synchronicity, they both noticed that the other was naked at the same time, then both glanced down at their own bodies before scrambling desperately for the sheets. After much chaos and a bit of childish sheet tugging, they were both covered well enough to risk looking at the other again.

Buffy gulped, face still flushed from seeing Spike Junior long, hard, and fully erect. “Um…don’t take this the wrong way,” she began, staring studiously at the headboard just to the right of Spike’s head, “but I don’t remember a thing that happened last night…”

“Good,” Spike let out a sigh of relief, his own eyes boring intently into the sheets between them, “’s not just me, then.”

Buffy frowned. “What do you mean?” she whimpered illogically. “I was really that unmemorable?”

“You just said I was!” Spike shot back defensively, cheeks tinged slightly pink in embarrassment.

Buffy ventured to look at him at that, and the sight of Spike, of all people, with the sheet pulled up around his chin like a blushing virgin, face flushed with mortification, and eyes studiously avoiding her body at all costs, sent a little chortle of laughter from her lips. She hastily brought her hand to her mouth, trying to cover it up, but it was too late.

He shot her an offended look and clutched the sheet to himself more tightly.

Unable to deny the complete ridiculousness of their behavior any longer, Buffy burst into all-out hysterical laughter. “You don’t,” giggle, “have to,” snort, “look so…hee-hee…scandalized,” she shot out amidst her mirth.

Spike opened his mouth to protest when suddenly the humor of the situation struck him as well. Unbidden, a chuckle escaped his throat, and half in horror he felt himself slowly began to crack up until he and Buffy were both overcome with irrepressible laughter, still naked in bed together with defensive sheets wrapped around their bodies tightly.

“It’s not like,” Spike pointed out, trying desperately to speak amidst his own laughter now, “we’ve never,” snicker, “seen it all before.”

Buffy nodded and banged her fist on the bed with newfound amusement. “You should’ve seen yourself!” she countered. “You were all, like: ‘Augh! My bloody honor!’” She did an absolutely horrible imitation of his accent.

“Me?!” he retorted in disbelief. “You got this ‘Ew, boy cooties!’ expression on your face! What are you, Slayer, six?”

She managed to scowl amidst her laughter and batted him playfully in the arm, before chortling anew. “You know what’s even funnier?” she asked, thighs shifting experimentally under the sheet.

“What?” he asked curiously, stifling his own convulsions.

“I don’t think we even had sex,” Buffy countered. One hand slipped under the covers to check. She found herself practically dripping with eagerness from sleeping in Spike’s arms all night, but she still found the woeful tightness of one who hasn’t had a lover for far too long. “Nope,” she shook her head with a giddy little giggle.

“Then what the bloody hell ‘re we doin’ in bed together?” he demanded, sniggering still as his head fell back down onto the pillow and he let the sheet slip back down his chest.

“I have no clue,” Buffy agreed, quieting her own mirth and taking up a parallel position beside him. She frowned slightly and dug her thumbs into her temples. “What happened last night?” she groaned.

“There was that ball,” Spike had no difficulty placing down the earlier events of the evening. “We were dancin’… Did we get drunk?”

Buffy frowned. “I only had half a glass of champagne,” she concluded.

He gave her a pointed look.

“No, that’s not enough to get me drunk!” she shot back defensively.

“Really,” he retorted sarcastically, “’cause I seem to recall someone gettin’ loopy off my whisky and runnin’ around town drunk until she barfed all over my boots…”

“You gave me, like, three bottles that night!” she defended herself. “And it was you who suggested that we go to that bar. And it is so not my fault that you drive that motorcycle so fast…”

“Oh yeah, sure,” he rolled his eyes heavenwards, “’s all Spike’s fault, as usual.”

A shy smile lit up her face at that. They hadn’t been this easygoing with each other since before that fateful day when they first tore down that abandoned house. It was nice to see him referring to their past lives together, joking and snarking with the best of them, that amused little dimpled smile on his face. His sparkling blue eyes met hers for an instant, and she realized that this was him - this was the Spike who had stolen her heart all those years ago…

“So, on a more serious note,” he cut through her dreamy speculations, “what ‘xactly did happen last night?”

Buffy sighed and tried to remember. “Well, we were dancing,” she began, “…and then the chandelier fell!”

“That’s right,” Spike’s own excitement began to pick up at this revelation. “There was a stampede…”

“…’cause the Haunting did the blood covering the walls act again,” Buffy finished. “And then Rick…”

Spike’s eyes instantly flashed with anger. “Kayeri,” he remembered with a hiss. “After my Bit. We were goin’ after him.” He instantly began looking around for his pants as the vitality of their mission hit him once more.

“Spike,” Buffy cut off his search with a small hand curved around one of his well-muscled biceps.

He stilled at the touch, hardly able to believe how good it felt. Desire flooded through his veins anew, and he desperately fought it back to try to make out what she was saying.

“It’s morning.” She gestured over to the open curtains which, fortunately, weren’t causing Spike to be burned to dust since the clouds that had accompanied last night’s storm were still shadowing the world in a dark gray. The faint light of morning could definitely be seen through the cloud-cover, however. “We slept through the whole night. Whatever hunt was on last night…” she trailed off apologetically.

He sighed and slumped back down onto the bed. “’s all over now,” he agreed wearily. “So how’d we end up snoozin’ the night away in each other’s arms, then?”

“We came back to get weapons,” Buffy remembered slowly.

“The tranquilizers,” Spike nodded.

“And then…” Buffy trailed off.

“You fell asleep,” he recalled, pointing at her accusingly.

“I did?” Buffy was drawing a complete mental blank.

“I-I tried to wake you, and then…”

“You took our clothes off?” she asked in suspicious disbelief.

He gave her an offended look. “I bloody well did not!” he exclaimed in outrage.

“Then how did we…?” She gestured back and forth to where they were both still covered by the sheets.

He frowned. “Don’t know,” he agreed. “I couldn’t wake you, and then…I fell asleep, too. Tried to fight it, but…”

“The Haunting?” Buffy inquired.

He nodded.

They both looked to where their clothes had been scattered about the room.

“You don’t think…?” Buffy began hesitantly.

“Either that, or someone thought it’d be a right funny practical joke to pull on us,” Spike countered.

She frowned. “It wasn’t funny.”

His scarred eyebrow cocked in her direction.

Another unwitting giggle escaped her lips. “Okay, so it was kinda funny,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Great,” Spike sighed, “so our spook’s got a sense of humor… What do we do now?”

Buffy let out a little sigh of her own, looked over to where the man she desired lay naked beside her, and felt the wetness pool between her thighs with renewed urgency. “Well…” she began hesitantly, leaning in over him…

* * *

A black BMW swerved around the last departing ambulance to come to a screeching halt in the snow-filled parking lot outside the Cascade Mountain Lodge. Fortunately, the nearly constant arrival and departure of the emergency vehicles that evening had kept the lot largely clear of last night’s blizzard.

The door opened, and a figure of medium height stepped out, feet easily tracking through the snow in the well-worn Sorrel boots she sported for just such a winter emergency. One eyebrow raised at the ambulance whose lights and sirens were just now vanishing off into the distance, she headed for the inn itself.

The sight that met her as she rounded the corner of the grand log building had her eyebrows raised even further. A man in a camouflage army jacket, blue jeans, and combat boots stood out in the middle of a snowy field, yanking at a thick rope he’d attached to a nearby tree. As she watched, the man pulled hard on the rope and from the other end, which had previously seemed to be buried in the snow, a hand emerged.

She approached the man, watching with curious disinterest as a female D’vorak Demon, of all things, suddenly materialized from the hole in the ground, wearing a black evening dress and high-heeled boots.

“Excuse me?” she asked politely of the man, who now sat back against the tree huffing for breath.

Tucker cast the buxom blond in front of him a disbelieving look. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded. He couldn’t help himself from appraising her, however, and finding himself slightly flustered at the beauty before him.

“You could help me, perhaps?” she requested hopefully. “I am looking for a Dawn and Spike Summers?”

Tucker let out a weary sigh. “Dawn was kidnapped by a Kayeri Demon ‘round midnight,” he provided. “They’re out lost in the woods somewhere. Spike vanished into thin air a few hours before that. The Slayer vanished with him. Whether that means he’s more or less likely to be alive…” He shrugged.

Siggy let out a resigned sigh and rolled her eyes, perfectly used to this sort of odd circumstance. “I knew I should have never let the two of them leave home alone,” she decided…

* * *

With a breathless gasp, Dawn opened her eyes to find that they were on solid ground once more. Shakily, she slipped free of Rick’s arms and promptly decided that ricocheting off of tree trunks at lightning speed was not the mode of transportation for her.

“You are all right?” Rick asked hesitantly, the steadying hand at her waist lingering a bit longer than was absolutely necessary.

Dawn nodded and composed herself, turning toward the lodge. “Well, at least you weren’t lying about the fact that that’s a hell of a lot faster,” she commented with a wry smile.

Rick ventured a nervous smile as well and took his place beside her as the walked up to the glass doors of the recreation room. “I cannot imagine where the others went,” he commented, holding the door open for her…

And he was instantly met by the click of a gun barrel.

“Um…a little help?” he said nervously, staring intently at where the end of Tucker’s spare rifle was just inches from his face.

Dawn brushed aside the weapon with a roll of her eyes. “He’s on our side,” she informed a very suspicious Tucker.

“What?!” Tucker exclaimed in complete disbelief.

“See, I told you that she would return home when she got tired of being kidnapped,” Siggy said reasonably, snacking on a bag of pretzels.

“Siggy!” Dawn exclaimed in delight, catching the other woman up in a hug.

“What’s a ‘Siggy’?” Tucker asked, puzzled.

“That is,” Rick replied matter-of-factly. “But someone who is not me stole the book for her to read…”

“Uh…what happened to your eyes?” Lena inquired of him, also confused.

“And who am I s’posed to shoot?” Tucker wondered, gun still half pointed at Rick.

“You’re in early!” Dawn pointed out in obvious delight.

“You are crushing the pretzels,” Siggy informed her, dangling the snack food up before her before taking another handful.

“His eyes are red ‘cause he’s a Kayeri,” Tucker informed Lena.

“Will you stop pointing that gun at me?” Rick pleaded.

“Rrricardo’s a demon?” Lena asked in surprise.

“Where’d you get those?” Dawn eyed the familiar pretzel bag suspiciously.

“I’m only half Kayeri!” Rick insisted.

“The lady at the front desk kindly gave me the key to your room,” Siggy informed Dawn.

“No wonder I was so attracted to him…” Lena pondered.

“Spike is sooo going to kill you for stealing his junk food,” Dawn told Siggy.

“If we can ever find him, that is,” Tucker pointed out.

“So, what kind of demon did you say you were?” Lena asked flirtatiously.

“Spike can kill me all he wants,” Siggy brushed off the threat with an unconcerned wave of her hand, “after that drive, I was hungry.”

“I’m only half demon!” Rick repeated pleadingly.

“Shut. Up!” Tucker’s rifle went off, shooting out the open window and into the woods.

Everyone froze in their scattered conversations.

“Now,” Tucker began, feeling his blood begin to boil, “am I s’posed to shoot him or what?”

“No, of course not,” Dawn shook her head, slightly baffled as to how Tucker could be at all confused. “Rick’s our ally in defeating the Haunting.”

Tucker blinked. “And when did this happen?” he demanded.

“After he kidnapped me,” Dawn replied matter-of-factly. “Now, what was this about Spike still being missing?”

Siggy tisked her lightly. “Cannot even keep track of one vampire,” she teased.

“Well, he was supposed to help out with the hunt last night,” Dawn countered. “I was too busy to keep tabs on him.”

“This is what you get for chasing your allies around in the forest all night,” Siggy countered.

“I would like to second that,” Rick agreed.

“It is no matter, though,” Siggy teased Dawn. “I shall free you from another of your cucumbers.”

“ ‘Pickles’,” Dawn corrected, following Siggy down the hall. “And what about the others? Have we lost them, too?”

Lena rolled her eyes. “Xel decided to try to scare the Haunting away with his snoring,” she retorted.

“Veronica probably went to bed, too, then,” Dawn decided. “And Buffy was with Spike…”

“So, does that mean that I can go to sleep, too?” Lena demanded in a whiny voice. “Because after last night…”

“Go ahead,” Dawn assured her, scowling at where Siggy had just unlocked the door to their room. “I can’t believe Ms. Danvers just gave you the key,” she shook her head.

“No one ever suspects blondes,” Siggy said simply. She gave Rick a grateful smile when he held the door open for them, and the three of them vanished inside.

“Wait a minute…” Tucker, still flummoxed, stood in the direct center of the hallway. “Why amn’t I s’posed to shoot Rick just ‘cause he kidnapped you?” he demanded of the closed door. “And where were you all night? And what the hell is a ‘Siggy’?!” he exclaimed in despair.

The closed door held no answers for the poor, confused man.

“They’re tryin’ to drive me crazy,” Tucker decided with a shake of his head. “Make me completely lose my mind…” he continued to grumble under his breath. “That’s it, I’m goin’ to bed…” He trudged off in the direction of his own room, leaving the mystery behind.

* * *

“God,” Dawn sighed wearily, rubbing at the knot in her shoulder as she entered the common room of her and Spike’s suite, “where on earth could Spike have possibly gotten to?”

Siggy merely shook her head. “You were up all night, so I will blame this on how tired you are rather than as a reflection upon your deductive capabilities.” She opened the door to Spike’s room…

“Eek!” Dawn squealed at the sight of her sister and Spike naked in bed together. She quickly covered up her eyes.

“Eek!” Buffy made the exact same sound and halted her attempt to kiss the far-too-tempting vampire. She clutched the sheet up around her chest with renewed fervor at their sudden audience.

“Bugger!” Spike exclaimed, fastening the sheet tightly around his waist as well.

“Good morning, short, pale, and not entirely unattractive,” Siggy teased, apparently not put off by the situation in the slightest. “And you, I gather, are the Buffy I have heard so much about?”

Buffy cast a dark look in Spike’s direction. “Who’s she?” she demanded.

“Siggy…” Spike moaned, burying his face in his hands. “’m never gonna hear the end of this, am I?” he inquired.

“Never,” Siggy assured him with a bright smile.

“That’s Siggy?!” Buffy demanded incredulously, taking in the blonde’s model build and ample chest. Green-eyed jealousy began to burn deep in her veins.

“What on earth are you doing?” Dawn demanded, venturing to peek out from between her fingers. Seeing all inappropriate body parts were safely covered up, she put herself full into her enraged rant. “The rest of us are out there freezing our asses off and getting attacked while the two of you are in here having a slumber party?!” she demanded.

Buffy gulped and suddenly felt like a horny, delinquent teenager that had just been busted by mom and dad. “It wasn’t us!” she insisted. “It was the Haunting.”

“Uh-huh.” It was physically impossible to sound more incredulous than Dawn did at that moment. “The Haunting made you go to bed together?”

“It did,” Spike agreed, the same embarrassment taking over him that had Buffy. “Put us both to sleep while we were gettin’ the tranquilizers.”

“And did the Haunting remove your clothes as well?” Siggy added with an amused snicker.

Two vigorous nods.

“Uh-huh.” Dawn’s eyebrows had practically shot to her hairline now. “Are you sure you want to stick with that?” she inquired. “You don’t want to change it to, say, ‘We accidentally tripped and landed on the bed, and our clothes just happened to fall off in the process’?”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Oi!” he complained. “Now I know you’re teasin’ us.”

“We really are telling the truth,” Buffy insisted.

Dawn frowned. “So, our local malevolent, non-corporeal entity decided to give up its evil ways and play matchmaker with the two of you last night?” she demanded.

“Exactly,” Buffy declared.

Behind her, Spike nodded vigorously.

Dawn let out a weary sigh. “I’m going to bed,” she decided. “Maybe when I wake up, this will all make an ounce of sense…”

Siggy yawned as well. “An excellent suggestion.” She cast an amused smile at Buffy and Spike. “If you have no further use of your bed,” she riddled Spike lightly, “perhaps I could borrow it for this afternoon?”

“Uh…right.” Spike’s face was definitely tinged pink by now. He frowned when he noticed Rick trying to look inconspicuous at the back of the watching pack, though. “Oi, Kayeri,” he pointed out.

“I’ll explain later,” Dawn said, sounding completely exhausted. “Now, can the two of you get dressed so that we can all go to sleep and the disaster that was last night will finally be over?”

And, guiltily, Buffy and Spike scrambled for their clothes…

*snicker* This chapter was just so much fun to write. ~_^ Well, until next time...

On To Chapter 18 <haunted18.html>

Disclaimer: The usual.

Author's Note: Whoops, I forgot to cite a source. The inspiration for Rick's Kayeri ancestry comes from A Field Guide to Demons, Fairies, Fallen Angels, and Other Subversive Spirits (Mack, Carol & Dinah. Arcade Publishing, 1998, pp. 121-122). The information provided herein was adapted for this story and any inaccuracies with actual lore should be taken solely as my own imaginative efforts. There, that should keep me law-suit safe. (And, no, you won't find the Haunting's real identity in there as well, so don't even bother looking. ~_^)

Previously: The Haunting had a field day at the ball. Blood dripping from walls, stampeding hordes, Buffy and Spike naked in bed together - it was quite a party. It's the next morning, and everything's sorted out now, though. Dawn's giving Rick a second shot at working with the team, Lena found an underground temple hidden out in the yard, Siggy's arrived, and Buffy and Spike finally found their clothes. And so the investigation continues...

Haunted
Chapter Eighteen - Cold Hands…

“No. Bleedin’. Way.”

Spike’s vehement objection was followed by a weary roll of Dawn’s eyes.

“I mean it this time!” Spike insisted.

“Look,” Dawn’s patience faded, “it’s not really your decision to make. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m in charge here.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Kayeri,” he hissed. “Do I hafta spell it out for you?”

“He’s not in league with the Haunting, and he wants to help us out!” Dawn insisted.

“That part’s not bein’ disputed,” Spike shot back.

Dawn brought her hand up to her forehead and shook her head. “What then?” she demanded.

“Don’t think I haven’t seen the way he looks at you,” Spike muttered in a gruff voice.

“Spike, you’re convinced our grocer’s a psycho serial rapist just because he helped me carry my bags to the car that one time!” she exclaimed.

“He is, too,” Spike insisted. “The way he thanks you for your business every time you go in. An’ I saw him read your address off that check you gave him.”

Dawn gave him an incredulous look. “Spike…” she began in a warning tone.

“But this is different,” he turned the subject back on course. “Those things prey upon innocent, young things like you. Do all sorts ‘f nasty things.”

“I’m not a kid,” Dawn pointed out. “I can handle myself if - and that’s a big ‘if’ - he tries anything inappropriate.”

“Still say we can’t trust the wanker,” Spike insisted.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “You don’t trust anybody,” she countered. “And, honestly, you can’t chase every potential boyfriend of mine away for the rest of my life.”

“Boyfriend?! Damn right, I don’t trust ‘im!” he exclaimed, rising up off the couch as his argument took on newfound energy. “Demons - real insidious lot, make you think they care about you, but all the time all they care about is themselves. You can’t ever believe anythin’ a demon tells you!”

Dawn looked him skeptically up and down.

“Oh, bugger,” Spike cut off in sudden realization, rolling his eyes heavenwards. He turned to their intent audience. “Anyone wanna give this a shot that hasn’t just lost all credibility?”

Buffy just stared blankly at the sudden explosion that had occurred between Spike and her sister. Beside her, Siggy was trying not-too-hard not to laugh out loud.

“They do this often?” Buffy inquired, still somewhat stunned at the bizarre little argument that had just taken place before her eyes.

“All the time,” Siggy agreed, giggling slightly at the defeated expression on Spike’s face.

“Should’ve known I wouldn’t get any help from bossy birds like you two,” he grumbled under his breath before flopping back down on the couch beside Buffy, arms crossed over his chest in a defensive manner.

Dawn gave him a soft smile. “I really do know how to take care of myself, Spike,” she pointed out in a forgiving tone.

“I know.” The comment was muttered under his breath so that it was almost entirely inaudible, but everyone heard it nonetheless. Embarrassed by the complete pansy he was turning out to be, he turned to bury himself in a bag of Doritos.

Buffy bit her lip and fought the tingling desire in her fingers to just reach over and rest a comforting hand on his thigh. She clutched her hands tighter together, resisting the urge. After all, one nude practical joke by an evil poltergeist didn’t grant her touching rights.

“I would like to see this temple,” Siggy was commenting when Buffy finally forced her attention away from the cool, lean thigh that was just barely brushing hers and back to the discussion at hand.

Dawn nodded. “You remember where it is?”

“Of course,” Siggy agreed. “It might be advisable to place some sort of warning around the opening as well. There is a danger that civilians could fall in.”

“Speaking of civilians,” Dawn agreed with a sigh, “what does dear, stubborn, old Ms. Danvers say now?”

“Uh…what?” Buffy was dimly aware that the question had been directed at her. Her attention had drifted again, however, when she noticed the way Spike’s prominent Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed. Her mouth practically watered, thirsting for the taste of the pale, white skin there. And she reinvented the scene between them that morning - him naked and beneath her, grinding his hardness against her inner thigh as she savored the taste of his skin, moaning aloud in need when she took his Adam’s Apple fully into her mouth and sucked, his hips thrusting up into hers and…

“…like I asked you to?” Dawn repeated the question.

“Huh?” Buffy blinked up at her and shook her head. “Uh, I mean, yeah, I talked to Ms. Danvers. Turns out there was a spontaneous evacuation after last night, anyway. So, I guess she really had no choice but to close down.”

Dawn breathed a sigh of relief. “At least that’s something,” she agreed. “Because looking after ourselves is turning out to be a big enough job.”

“A near impossible one without that book,” Buffy pointed out.

“Book?” Siggy inquired. “Has it gone missing, then?”

“Yesterday afternoon,” Buffy informed her primly, glad to some knowledge that the other woman didn’t. “And what’s our opinion on whether Rick stole it, anyway?”

“Yeah, Bit,” Spike said with a satisfied smile on his face, “what’s the verdict there?”

“He says he didn’t take it,” Dawn insisted.

Spike rolled his eyes. “And of course we believe ‘im,” he said sarcastically.

“We’re not sure,” Dawn countered. “If nothing else, it’s possible the Haunting possessed someone long enough for them to steal it…”

“Oh sure, just so long as Rrrrricardo’s in the clear,” Spike sulked.

Dawn gave him an annoyed look. “Are you ever going to drop this?” she demanded.

“No,” he insisted petulantly.

“At least he is honest about it,” Siggy teased, obviously more entertained by the situation than concerned.

Buffy bit her lip and contemplated the distance between her hand and Spike’s thigh once more.

“That’s one thing no one can deny,” Dawn agreed, sparing Spike an amused smile. “So, are we done arguing now? ‘Cause there’s a lot of work to be done…”

Spike raised a scarred eyebrow in her direction and dropped the bag of Doritos. “Yeah, yeah,” he agreed.

“Right then,” Dawn nodded. “Siggy better go check out that temple. Buffy, why don’t you wait go along to help pull her back out?”

“I’m good with the super strength,” Buffy agreed reluctantly. “What about the others?”

Dawn checked the clock. “Let them sleep this afternoon. If tonight’s anywhere near as disastrous as last night, they’ll need their rest.”

“And you two don’t?” Spike countered, gesturing to where the two women were clearly awake, despite having only gotten four hours of sleep that morning.

“We’ll live,” Dawn insisted. “We had far less during the Rusalka affair.”

A grudging snort in response. Spike was apparently going all-out in his impression of a Neanderthal male.

“Let us go, then,” Siggy stood up, plan well-defined in her mind.

Buffy reluctantly rose from her position beside Spike as well. “What are you guys going to do?” she asked, directing her question hopefully at Spike.

“Gotta get Siggy that text to translate, don’t we?” he commented.

Buffy frowned. “You know where it is?” she demanded, curious.

Spike and Dawn exchanged a conspiratorial grin. “Not a clue, luv.”

“Then, how…?” she began.

“Think we were just wastin’ our time starin’ at that gibberish?” Spike retorted.

Buffy blinked extra slowly.

“We took turns memorizing the whole thing,” Dawn provided for her. “We just need to write it all out, and Siggy’s got her text back.”

“You memorized all that?” Buffy repeated incredulously. “Why?”

“Well, it’s not exactly the first time something like this has happened,” Dawn pointed out. “And it often lulls the enemy into a false sense of security if they don’t know we’ve still got vital information.”

Siggy merely rolled her eyes. “We must leave these two to gloat to each other,” she said in her accented voice, opening the door. “A hidden temple awaits our investigation.”

With one last furtive glance in Spike’s direction, Buffy reluctantly followed Siggy out of the door…

* * *

“Well?” Buffy had never been more bored in her life, and after half an hour she couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice any longer. “You find anything?”

“It is quite obviously a cult temple,” Siggy’s voice echoed up from the hole in the snow.

“Oh, obviously,” Buffy grumbled slightly.

“Did you say something?” Siggy inquired.

“Nothing,” Buffy assured her in a too-sweet voice. Going with the incredibly immature impulses that had first taken over her when she realized how absolutely gorgeous Spike’s ‘secretary’ was, she stuck out her tongue in the general direction where she guessed Siggy was.

“It might be less dull for you if you were to help me investigate,” Siggy suggested.

“Then, how would we get out exactly?” Buffy shot back a bit snidely.

“I presumed you would be able to pull yourself back out on the rope,” Siggy said simply, “but if you cannot-”

Buffy refused to back down from a challenge by that woman, even an unwitting one. With a graceful leap, she landed in a crouched position at the direct center of the temple.

“Or you could just do that,” Siggy shrugged, returning to her inspection of the text on the back of one of the statues.

Buffy looked around at the eerie wooden statues surrounding her and felt a little shiver run up the back of her spine. “Nice place,” she said sarcastically.

“But fascinating,” Siggy commented, making several notes in a notebook that looked to be the identical twin to Dawn’s.

“Oh, quite,” Buffy grumbled, scrunching up her nose at a bear-like demon with a second head growing out of its stomach.