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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. ~_^
“Had enough yet, Slayer?” Spike was circling in closer to her, dangerous precision in each of his long strides.
Buffy took in a deep breath of air and rose back to her feet, fighting against the painful hitch in her side. Yup, ribs definitely broken. That splintered piece of wood over by the piano was starting to look better every minute, but she resisted the urge. “Spike—” she began.
“Don’t wanna hear it!” The Haunting’s control over the vampire had tightened since that one moment when the real Spike had slipped through. Spike’s body lunged across the room to tackle her back onto the floor, razor-sharp fangs only inches from her jugular.
Buffy managed to get her forearm up against his throat and thrust hard, causing him to gasp at the pain to his windpipe. A strong knee to his stomach, and his grip weakened on her. She quickly took advantage of the situation to turn the tables on him, pinning him to the floor beneath her and trapping him between her straddled thighs.
A low vibration rumbled through the body beneath her, and his hips rolled against hers suggestively. “Thinkin’ of bringin’ down another house?” he insinuated.
Buffy took a moment to calm herself before resorting to the last desperate tactic of a stubborn Slayer: talking. “Spike,” she began again, “we’re not like that anymore, remember? Everything I told you—”
“Was a lie!” a voice hissed from Spike’s lips. It sounded almost solely like the Haunting’s, however, as if the malevolent entity was trying to keep Spike convinced of that fact.
“Everything that I said when we were together is the truth,” Buffy countered vehemently. “You’ve got to listen to me, Spike. This thing… It plays upon your worst fears, your insecurities. And then, while you’re trapped in the pain, it brings out the worst in you, makes you do terrible things. And it’s even worse because you know that somewhere deep inside, those thoughts are yours.”
“You’re not exactly helping your case here,” the Haunting spat out, its voice sounding like a guttural distortion of Spike’s usual rich accent.
“So, yeah, I have doubts,” Buffy shot back. “You think I don’t worry about what would happen in the unlikely event that you go out on a killing spree? Or what if you finally decide that I’m not worth it after all and leave me just like all the others?”
“Sounds like a right good idea,” Spike snarled.
Buffy bit her lip and forced herself to remember that this wasn’t her Spike talking. It was all the worst in him, magnified a thousand-fold for the Haunting’s benefit. “Thinking these things is part of being human,” she insisted doggedly. “But if you let it consume you… Spike, you don’t really want it to end like this.”
“How do you know what I want?” he snapped.
“Because I know that this morning was real,” she insisted. “Please, baby…”
His eyes seemed to soften again for a second, but then he was back as vicious as ever. Fangs and claws flew, and before Buffy knew what was happening, she’d been thrown painfully back against the far wall.
She slumped to the ground and shook her head, but before she could get up, Spike had tackled her once more, clawed hand at her throat. Her eyes widened as he raised a hand to strike. “I love you,” she repeated.
Another flash of blue within his eyes. “Stop saying that!” the Haunting exclaimed, burning a deep red within Spike’s body and completely consuming the vampire’s gentler side. Narrowed crimson eyes bored into Buffy before the hand at her throat slowly began to squeeze. “Maybe you need a bitta help shuttin’ that mouth of yours, eh, luv?” he said in a falsely jovial voice.
Buffy opened her mouth to gasp for air, but she couldn’t breathe through his stranglehold.
Spike tisked her softly. “Shoulda grabbed the stake when you could,” he taunted mercilessly. “’Cause all those fears: the killin’ spree, you not bein’ worth it?” A nasty leer. “They’re all about to come true…”
* * *
The floor shook violently, as if from the force of an earthquake, and the three women struggled to maintain their positions. Vibrations buffeted the circle, yet only a single candle fell at the seismic force.
Inwardly, Siggy praised Eustacia Collins for setting up so many effective defensive spells around them for when they were too wrapped up in the ritual to protect themselves.
The Haunting’s violent objection was followed by the largest influx of red energy into the portal yet. The glowing white opening turned a thick red for an instant, like a drain too clogged up to work quickly enough.
To the three women, the experience was agonizing. Siggy and Veronica directed the brunt of the magical recoil Collins’ way, but they could still feel the mystical claws, digging slowly at them from the inside out.
Eustacia Collins, on the other hand, half crumbled at the force of the blow. The magical attacks took physical form as shallow cuts appeared across her arms and face, slowly dribbling thick, red blood.
“We cannot do this!” Siggy’s mental voice began to panic. “We must stop—”
“NO!” Eustacia Collins insisted vehemently. “If we stop now, we’ll never be free of it.” She managed to rise to her seated position once more, never once breaking the spell.
Siggy and Veronica exchanged a skeptical look. The old woman was still bleeding shallowly from her cuts, and her face looked gray and haggard.
“Perhaps we could stop and take a break before recasting?” Siggy suggested tentatively.
“We have it,” Eustacia Collins countered. “We’re so close. I can feel it struggling against us…”
A loud rattling accompanied her pronouncement, indicating all too clearly just how much the Haunting didn’t like this spell.
“We can hold out a while longer,” Veronica offered. “It’s not critical yet.”
Siggy grudgingly conceded the point but kept a wary eye on Eustacia Collins. The old witch wasn’t anywhere near as physically fit as they were, and this spell’s toll was obviously hitting her hard.
“Trust me.” Ms. Collins had obviously caught Siggy’s speculative look. “I will not fail again.”
The vehemence in her mind calmed Siggy’s doubts for the time being, and she closed her eyes once more, bracing herself for yet another tremendous impact…
* * *
Laura Danvers’ skeletal form lunged, cutting edge of her knife gleaming in the eerie red light that shrouded the temple.
Rick barely had time to push Dawn behind him before his lightning-quick reflexes blocked the blade at the last split second, taking the gash on the back of his arm instead of deep through his gut.
With a hiss, Haunting/Danvers retreated again into the darkness, carefully planning her next moment to strike.
“You arm…” Dawn murmured in alarm, reaching out to touch Rick’s elbow.
“Stay behind me,” he warned her off, his tone deadly serious. “I must be prepared—” He cut off in mid-sentence, flinching backward so that Haunting/Danvers’ strike fell just short.
Dawn nodded with jaw clenched, hating that she had to wait helplessly in the background but also knowing full well that his reflexes were much faster than hers. “Try to get her knife,” she whispered softly enough that their attacker couldn’t hear.
Rick circled around, demonic ears following the path of their foe as she circled. The red light that held them captive had faded ever since the spell casting had begun. It offered Dawn and Rick about a six-foot circle in which to move now. However, it also meant that the hole in the ground was almost completely dark, leaving them nearly blind to the danger.
The quick glint of the blade in the moonlight was the only warning Rick got, and he managed to deflect another blow before Laura Danvers vanished back off into the darkness once more.
“I can’t see her,” Rick complained.
Dawn blinked. “Maybe you should try taking off the sunglasses, then,” she countered, managing to smile despite their dire circumstances.
Rick quickly reached up to discover that, yes, he was still wearing his sunglasses. Force of habit. He quickly removed them and the nearer shadows were illuminated. “Yes, I am an idiot,” he chided himself lightly.
“Don’t worry about it,” Dawn grinned, staying behind him as he slowly circled. “I’ve had to live with Spike for the past five years. I’m used to it.”
A small smile curved the edges of his lips before he saw a movement in the shadows and kicked forward in time with the latest attack. The blade went flying from Laura Danvers’ hand but skittered across the floor and back into the darkness, well out of their reach. The demon-possessed woman vanished into the darkness after it with a hiss.
The hunt began anew.
“This is no fun,” Dawn concluded in a low voice, taking her cues from Rick and moving within their circle of magical protection slowly.
“We will have to stop her,” Rick agreed.
Dawn grimaced. “We’re beating up on an old lady?” she countered.
“Not so old,” Rick pointed out. The pair of them continued to move carefully, eyes scanning the darkness. The lack of attacks was almost more nerve-wracking than the strikes themselves. “I will attempt to distract her,” Rick whispered to Dawn. “You grab her.”
Dawn nodded in agreement just as Laura Danvers burst from the shadows once more, wailing like a banshee and brandishing the knife high above her head. Rick dodged, and Dawn lunged, tackling the woman from the side. The knife clattered away once more, but just as Dawn exclaimed in victory, angry nails scratched deep into her cheek.
She let out a cry and, a second later, was bucked clean off of the older woman. The Key forced moved with Dawn, and for a second Rick was beyond its protection. He cried out in pain as his skin turned an angry red color and dove back to the protective green light.
Dawn looked up and winced when she saw the burns that covered Rick’s hands and face from just that brief encounter with the malevolent red light. He looked like he’d baked badly in the sun.
Laura Danvers, meanwhile, had turned into a raging fury. Her long, ragged nails gouged into Rick’s hand when he tried to hold her, and she thrashed violently in his grip. Dawn moved to help and got a kick in their stomach for her troubles, right before Haunting/Danvers landed a heel in a significantly more sensitive part of Rick’s anatomy.
Rick grip weakened as he gasped in pain, and the old woman slipped away before attacking again with fists, nails, feet, and teeth.
Dawn lunged forward to grab her from behind and quickly discovered that Laura Danvers was stronger than should be humanly possible. She took several painful hits before Rick regained control over the pain and helped her hold the old woman.
Laura Danvers continued to thrash and shriek and bite, however, inflicting as much pain upon the pair as possible.
“You know,” Dawn began between gasps for air, “I’m starting to think this wasn’t such a good idea…”
* * *
Spike… Buffy felt her vision blackening as her brain became deprived of oxygen. The only advantage she could see to this situation was that in order to choke her his hand had to cover his scar on her neck, making mental communication between them possible. Buffy knew only too well that it was her last chance to stop him. Already, her body was starting to feel distant, almost as if she were moving beyond it. I love you, Spike. Please, you know this is true, that I’m not lying to you…
Stop it. The voice in his head sounded weak, though, distant…
I can’t stop loving you, she countered. Please, Spike, I’ve got to show you…
“What are you doing?” the Haunting’s guttural voice sounded concerned.
Buffy managed to form enough coherent thought to realize that her communications with Spike now were private. The malevolent entity couldn’t break through them. Let me show you, she pleaded, reaching out with her mind to the essence of the man she loved.
Cautiously, he began to relax under her mental caresses, slowly opening his
mind to see the images she was trying so desperately to show him…
A smile lit up Buffy’s face as she opened the door to see the vampire on
the other side. The two met in the center in a desperate kiss, clinging
together. “Angel,” Buffy breathed…
As if burned, Spike’s mental defenses shot back up, tears stinging his eyes at the images of his Slayer in his grandsire’s arms. God, what had she said before? That he was just a cheap Angel replacement? He should’ve known that she would never turn aside that wanker for him…
“W-What’s happening?” the Haunting was speaking as a voice almost entirely separate from Spike’s now. For one harrowing second, it had almost lost its hold on the vampire’s body, and the relentless spell that surrounded the lodge had begun to tug slowly at it. The phenomenon ended quickly, however, and the vampire retreated back into the far recesses of his mind. “Little bitch,” the Haunting spat at Buffy, determining that she was the source of its control slip even if it couldn’t determine how. “Being killed by the man you love is too good for you…” it spat angrily, not realizing its error until it was a second too late.
Even the Haunting knows I love you, Buffy continued to plead with Spike’s withdrawn mind. Please, I just need you to trust me. You have to see the whole story…
I can’t take it anymore. Even Spike’s mental voice sounded close to tears. Knowing that he’ll always come first…
Just let me show you, she countered. I can’t tell you unless you’re willing to see it yourself.
You love him, he accused.
I love you, Buffy corrected. Just give me this one chance…
Almost as if he’d been in a trance, Spike seemed to realize just how close to death she was. He hesitated for a second before slowly opening his mind to her once more…
* * *
Rick cried out as Laura Danvers’ teeth dug deep into his hand. Dawn caught the woman’s hair and tried to yank her back off of him, but her efforts met with limited success. Finally, she managed to claw her own nails into Haunting/Danvers’ throat, and the woman released Rick with a screech.
The two demon hunters continued to try to restrain the woman-turned-hellbeast, taking bruises and cuts in the process. The both cried out in victorious unison when they each caught hold of a wrist, stilling their foe.
It was then that they realized that their victory had another cause, however. Laura Danvers’ body had jerked to a complete halt, eyes wide with horror as a red light began emitting from her mouth and eyes, pulled out by the force of the magical spell.
Dawn and Rick felt the supernatural strength leave their captive’s body as the last of the Haunting was yanked from its host.
“This is it,” Dawn announced, mental fingers crossed.
Rick gulped, praying for their spell casters’ success as well…
* * *
The air seemed to grow thick, almost as if a thick smog had filled the recreation room, making breathing almost impossible. The trio of women had to force out the incantation between parched lips, eyes squeezed tightly shut against the oppressive heat that engulfed them.
“This is going to be nasty,” Veronica thought with trepidation.
“I think that perhaps this is the last of it, however,” Siggy countered. With their previous intake, the glowing light around the inn had faded, leaving the Haunting stripped down to its bare essentials. “Do you not think?” The final question was directed at Eustacia Collins.
However, the elderly woman didn’t respond. She had cut herself off from the mental conversation after the last hit and was reserving her strength solely for forcing the words of the spell passing through her lips. A trickle of blood had begun dribbling down her forehead from the mental strain, and her nose was beginning to bleed now as well.
In response to the primary witch’s failing health, the portal above them was pulsing slowly now, expanding and contracting slightly in a way that almost looked like breathing. However, the portal still stayed open.
“Just a little longer,” Siggy encouraged Eustacia Collins even though she wasn’t sure if the older woman could hear her anymore. Because there wasn’t even a shadow of doubt in her mind that the next few minutes would determine whether they succeeded or the Haunting won…
* * *
“Angel,” Buffy breathed with a sigh, pulling back and rested her cheek against his broad chest. “I can hardly believe you’re really here.”
“It seems like we’ve been waiting forever,” he agreed softly, fingers gently stroking her cheek.
Buffy smiled at the cool touch of his fingers. God, she had dreamed of this for so long. Every man she’d touched had just been a pale imitation of this one. She’d tried dating in the five years since he’d left, but every other man had turned to Angel in her mind’s eye, making all other kisses seemed bittersweet. Well, except for one…
“We can actually be together?” she demanded softly, craning her neck upward to look at him. “No more danger from the curse?”
“Soul fully anchored,” he assured her. “My gift from the Powers…for now, at least. One day I’ll be—”
Buffy pressed a fingertip to his lips. “Later,” she insisted. “Right now… I’ve been waiting for too long.” Their lips met again, harder and deeper this time, lingering as they attempted to stoke the old fire back to life.
Buffy’s eyes drifted closed as she leaned up into his embrace. His lips were cool like she remembered, but had he always been this tall? In her dreams, he’d been shorter, more accessible. Ah well, time did that to memories…
She moved to slip her arms over his shoulders, once again correcting the mental image that had made them narrower, leaner. Her lips pressed more fervently against his, seeking out that fiery passion that burned deep within her belly at merely the thought of his touch. It was oddly elusive tonight, though.
Her fingers moved to tangle in his hair the way she had always loved to, running the soft platinum locks through her fingers and…
Wait a minute…
A frown creased Buffy’s brow at the sudden realization that the man she was picturing kissing most assuredly had platinum hair. And he was shorter and slimmer, and just one look from those clear blue eyes had her hotter than this kiss ever could, and he was supposed to smell of leather and bourbon and cigarette smoke. Her fingers were supposed to find those ridiculous silver chains around his neck, and she was supposed to be able to feel him smirking against her lips as they kissed and…
Angel pulled away abruptly, an anxious look on his face.
Buffy’s eyes opened guiltily, realizing with sudden shock that she’d been imagining Spike, of all people, while she’d been kissing the supposed love of her life.
“B-Buffy…” Angel’s voice sounded shaky now, unsure.
She gulped. Since when was her love for Angel ‘supposed’? Since when did that tender emotion conjure an image, not of the dark, brooding man of her past, but of a peroxide pest, full of swagger and cutting remarks that always left her breathless?
All along, a voice whispered in her head. All those times you imagined that those cool lips belonged to Angel? They always belonged to another…
“W-Were you not really thinking about us, either?” she finally ventured hesitantly, hoping she had correctly identified the same troubled look in his eyes.
A stunned nod. “Buffy, I…” he trailed off helplessly. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I am,” she insisted. “I guess I just…”
“Moved on?” he suggested, his voice sounding as if he was just as surprised by this turn of events as she was.
“It has been a long time,” she agreed apologetically.
He took a deep, unnecessary breath and nodded. “I think maybe I should go,” he finally commented, sounding both troubled and relieved at once.
Buffy felt the same way. This part of her past had been haunting her for so long. It would be such a relief to just let it go… “Yeah, that’s probably best.” She managed a small smile.
“There’s someone I need to…” he trailed off. “There’s someone,” he said simply.
“Yeah,” she agreed softly, still marveling at the beautiful image of Spike that she had in her mind and tentatively attaching the word ‘love’ to it. It felt strange at first. She never would’ve even thought to allow the connection before, but the more she thought about it, the more fitting it seemed. I love Spike. Such a simple phrase, and everything that had seemed slightly off or confusing suddenly fell into place. I love Spike. Oh god, I loved Spike all along…
* * *
A pulse. The building itself seemed to hold its breath on this one moment as if even the woodwork itself could sense all that weighed upon this one instant, and…
* * *
“Buffy, luv?” Spike’s voice was a whimper at first as his hand slowly released her throat. He shook his head fiercely, growling at the red light that tried to enter his body once more. “Buffy?” he repeated, desperately this time, watching the lifeless body that lay beneath his…
* * *
“Yes,” Haunting/Danvers hissed in triumph, abandoning the broken body of Laura Danvers as it felt the culmination of all its careful planning finally pay off. It had not anticipated Spike driving it out in this moment, but it mattered no longer. The instant Spike realized that he’d murdered the woman he loved, his mind would be completely broken, and the Haunting would live forever in the shell of his body…
* * *
“Buffy?” Spike repeated in alarm this time, tentatively reaching out to touch her arm, a horrible fear shooting through his dead veins for a moment and then…
A cough and a gasp.
Spike practically sobbed with relief, pulling Buffy up into his arms and holding her head up against his shoulder so that she could breathe more easily. Her breaths were shallow now, pained from where her throat had been constricted. Her pulse was strong, though, pumping her powerful Slayer blood through her body where it could heal all wounds.
“Oh god, ‘m so sorry, my love,” he whimpered against her, wincing at the bruises he’d left on her neck as if he could feel all her pain physically. “’m so, so sorry…”
A small frown crossed her brow at the pain, yet her body still burrowed instinctively against his, curling tighter up into his arms.
“It’ll be all right, luv,” he soothed her gently. “Spike’s got you…”
The red light that surrounded the pair began to feel a slight tug. It oozed over towards Spike, desperate for the sheltered safety of the vampire’s mind.
Spike caught the motion out of the corner of his eye, and his bones shifted in fury. He let out a low, menacing growl as the red light tried to consume him once more, but it was perfectly clear now that the spirit had guided his doubts and fears before. Odd how hard that had been to determine when he was possessed, but now the only thing that filled his mind was his desire to keep the deceptively fragile woman in his arms safe from this monster.
The Haunting poked at his mind, whispering sweet promises of revenge.
“Never,” Spike hissed at it angrily.
And then, with a yank that almost made it appear as though it were being sucked through the wall by a vacuum cleaner, the Haunting was gone.
“’S gone now,” Spike cooed to Buffy’s unconscious form reassuringly. “My clever Slayer finally freed me from it…”
* * *
“No!” The Haunting’s voice let out an ear-shattering scream from Laura Danvers’ body as the last of it was pulled away. The cry sounded in the guttural, possessed voice for a few seconds before it faded back into a woman’s shrill scream.
Rick and Dawn winced at the sound, holding Laura Danvers’ arms steady as the final beam of red energy shot from her. The Haunting that had been within her vanished through the opening in the ceiling, leaving the old woman’s crumpled form to fall to the floor, a puppet with its strings cut.
Rick and Dawn quickly released her, lowering her gently to the floor, but Dawn knew even before she checked Laura Danvers’ pulse that she was gone. She shook her head ruefully at Rick.
He merely nodded grimly before noticing that the Key glow around Dawn had faded as the last of their trap had fled with the Haunting. “We are free…”
* * *
Eustacia Collins’ words slurred for the first time as the final influx of energy entered the portal. Her voice went silent for a few seconds as she gasped in pain, coughing horribly in her agony.
Siggy and Veronica’s own voices increased in response, struggling as the full brunt of the spell fell fully upon the two inexperienced magic casters for the first time. For a second, they felt the same burn that Eustacia Collins had been subjected to all this time, like their insides were being ripped apart.
And then Eustacia Collins rose one last time, her voice gravelly but strong. A final, powerful convulsion raked her body just as the last of the Haunting’s red energy vanished into the portal. For an instant, the Cascade Mountain Lodge was illuminated by a pure, white light before Eustacia Collins finally gave way and collapsed forward across the circle they’d created.
Veronica and Siggy instantly stopped the spell, and the portal vanished, trapping the Haunting permanently within.
Tentatively, Siggy reached out to support their fallen ally, grimacing at the blood that Eustacia Collins had coughed up after that final jolt of magical backlash.
The old woman surprised her by opening her eyes one last time, a small, satisfied smile lighting up her face. “It’s finally over,” she croaked out, sounding awed and relieved at the same time. Then her eyelids fluttered closed, and she was no more.
“Yes,” Siggy agreed solemnly, “it is.”
* * *
“We have to get out of here,” Rick insisted, looking up to the opening above them.
Dawn rested both her hands squarely on his shoulders and pushed him back down to sit against the wall. “You’re not going anywhere until I see to that cut.” She took his injured arm in her small hands, marveling at the contrast of his dark chocolate skin and her own ivory complexion. She released him for a second to pull off her sweater before ripping the fabric into strips to tie around his wounds.
“A pity you do not have a petticoat,” he teased lightly. “Then we could act out the clichéd nursing scene to perfection.”
Dawn grinned brightly at him. “You know, I kind of think I…” She trailed off, cheeks flushing slightly.
His red, demonic eyes looked up at hers lazily, and she was struck with how beautiful they really were. Strange, true, but so beautiful...
And she realized that this was probably the worst time and place imaginable to make such a declaration. “You’re wonderful,” she said instead, planting a soft kiss on his brow. “If only you’d sit still and let me take care of all this.”
“How will we get out of here, then?” he asked, ceding to her wishes but only because he felt so tired after their ordeal.
“Don’t worry about it,” she assured him softly. “They’ll come back for us. Something just tells me that everything’s gonna be all right now…”
* * *
Spike lifted Buffy’s small body up into his arms as he rose to his feet. She had never seemed so tiny and helpless to him before, given the usual passion and power that burned through her. But, now, as he held her close and walked away from the site of what could have been their final battle, he could finally understand how this woman could be so strong and so vulnerable at once. And he fell in love all over again.
“C’mon, luv,” he purred against her hair softly, “let’s get out of this hellhole…”
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