1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33
Kantayra
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, everything changes when they're called out to investigate a chain of supernatural murders at Cascade Mountain Lodge and 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?
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. ~_^
“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.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33