FIC: Carpe Noctem Series - Tanz der Vampire/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
TITLE: The Gathering
RATING: PG
FANDOMS: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series & Tanz der Vampire
SPOILERS: Buffy S1-7, Angel S1-5.
SUMMARY: Dawn gets a surprise.
SERIES: Part of Carpe Noctem series.
In order: As Aught of Mortal Birth, Over Troubled Waters, Per Ipsum, et cum Ipso, et in Ipso, Til The Moon Is Abed, Unwritten Words, What Remains, The Gentler Sex, Visitation, After the Storm, In The Name Of, In The Air, Makes Us Stronger, Three's a Crowd, Tis The Season, Divergence, Things Fall Apart, Broken Glass, Bleed For You, Even Angels Fall, Will Set You Free, Contact, Vampires on a Plane, Age of Innocence, In The Shadows, Expecting the Unexpected then this chapter.
PAIRINGS: Von Krolock/Dawn, Spike/Herbert, Sarah/Alfred with a side of implied Sarah/VK, Chagal/Magda
NOTES: *coughs* Yes. It's been a while. Almost 2.5 years. Oops? And I just found this chapter and managed to finish it :) Enjoy!
_______________________
“Herbert!” Kicking at the door, Dawn swore. “Herbert, you jackass! Let me out!”
“Only if you promise to behave, cherie,” Herbert’s voice drifted back through the door of her bathroom that he had locked her in fifteen minutes earlier. “Honestly, you would think a vampire had never put you in curlers before.”
“You tell me why I need to look like I got slinkies all over my head and I’ll think about behaving,” she called back, pushing a handful of bent hairpins into a pile. Dumb things hadn’t helped unlocking the door.
Herbert laughed. “You seem to miss the point of this imprisonment,” he replied, his voice muffled through the thick wood. She made a face at the door. “I have no real need to let you out until you are too exhausted too fight, but really, I would consider it a personal favour if you would be charming enough to let me dress your hair.”
“What for?”
“After all, I went to all the effort of putting some curls in my own hair...”
“What...” Dawn blinked. “You’ve got curlers in?”
“Well, one does find being of the straight persuasion quite tiresome.”
Her forehead hit the door with a dull thump. “You...”
He laughed again. “In truth, darling? I want you to look ravishing.”
“What with you being all curly...”
“Oh, not for me, my silly little mortal morsel,” he replied and she could visualise the grin. “I forgot to mention we are having a small party downstairs, did I not? With a chance for you to wear that exquisite red ball gown father spoiled you with.”
Staring at the door, Dawn frowned. “A party? How come I didn’t know?”
There was a long silence. “My darling fool, what date is it?”
Mentally counting the days of the trip to Vienna, her eyes widened in shock. Already? But it was hardly any time since her last birthday! “Oh God. You totally did not throw me a surprise party!”
“I did not,” Herbert said happily. She heard the locks clicking and the door was thrown wide open. “Yet. Because you have to be there for it to officially count. So...” He managed to steer her out into her room, pushing her into a seat. “What shall we do with this bush?”
“Let it kill you?” she asked weakly.
The vampire patted her on the head. “You are so adorable when you are vexed, cherie,” he said amiably. “Now, just stay quite still and I will have you looking as glamorous as any female you care to name.”
“Mother Teresa?” she said, then yelped when he pinched her earlobe. “Herbert!”
“You are being quite supercilious,” he sniffed haughtily. “Now, would you prefer your hair up or down?”
Dawn snorted. “You know how to do girlie hair?”
Herbert laughed, then kissed her wetly on the cheek, making her yell and swat at him. “My dear, I did not survive eighteenth century without wigs without making a great deal of effort and development in the hair-styling process.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I’m going to trust you this once, but if you make me look dumb, I have a stake in my desk drawer, and I’ll put it somewhere that’s definitely somewhere that isn’t your heart.”
He grinned down at her, snatching up a brush from the back of the couch. “Darling, with an offer like that, I’m almost tempted to give you an afro.”
“Ew! Herbert!”
His free hand clasped firmly over her mouth, and he ignored her biting at him to sagely say, “Darling, if you look bad, then I will look abysmal. I do not need to tell you that I am quite a vain creature.”
“Mmpf mm ng!”
“Quite,” he replied. “So, sit still, shut up and let me make you beautiful.” She nodded, then bit him vengefully again when he added, “It could take some time.”
*~*~*
“So. All vampires, huh?”
Buffy shook her head. “A lot, but not all,” she replied, looking around the hall. “The little guy hanging off the Graf’s coat is human.”
Xander squinted around until he saw the Graf standing at a point part of the way up the stairs of the huge ballroom. Several steps below him, there was a slight figure sitting on a step at his feet. “The one in the mask?”
“Yeah,” Buffy agreed. “I think Dawnie said he was called Matthias. He lives here too, now.”
“He keeps mortals here?” Giles said, brows rising. “How interesting.”
“And when you say interesting, you mean ‘how practical to have a ready snack bar that hangs around like a bad smell’?” Xander suggested, watching the boy. “Is it just me or does he look like he’d be hugging the Graf’s leg if he could?”
“Thrall?” Buffy suggested, looking up at Giles, who looked down at his drink.
“It is quite possible,” he agreed, frowning at the surface of the wine. “After all, the elder vampires were quite famed for their magical abilities and powers over the mind.”
“Are we bringing him up again?” Xander asked with a shudder.
“You speak of Draculea?” A new voice spoke from behind Giles.
“Oh, so it’s pronounced all different here,” Xander said, turning to the speaker. He blinked then rubbed his eye and looked from the staircase on the far side of the room, where Matthias still sat, to the vampire standing less than two feet from him. “Uh.”
The Graf inclined his head. His lips were curled in the approximation of a polite smile, his black eyes moving from face to face. “You seem... surprised?” he murmured, then inclined his head to Buffy. “Miss Summers.”
“Sir Graf,” she acknowledged, staring at him. “How did you...?”
“Your teacher spoke wisely,” the vampire said mildly, turning his gaze to Giles. “Of magical abilities and the powers over the mind. And you speak of the one you call Dracula, yet even here in my stronghold, you are surprised that I hold powers to match his?”
“So you can... uh... do the bat things as well?”
Von Krolock laughed quietly. “I am afraid, Alexander, that I do not partake of frippery and childish parlour tricks to startle and shock,” he murmured. “It is purely self-indulgence to do such things for amusement.”
“Dracula did it,” Buffy said, then made an expressive gesture. “He went all... batty.”
The vampire laughed again, dark eyes glittering. “So you were impressed by him? Child, you have seen nothing. When he sought you, he was driven half-mad and had scarce half his power left to him. He was weak and there were foolish displays.”
“You mean to say that he would normally be a great deal stronger?” Giles inquired, looking faint.
Von Krolock tilted his head gravely. “Surely you wondered at your ease in defeating him when he came to you? Barely a handful of days and your combat was done?” He lazily smoothed his cloak over his forearm. “Had he been as he was when first I knew him, your will would have been broken and he would have taken all that he willed and more.”
“Comforting...” Buffy said with a grimace. “He’s not here, is he?”
The Graf looked around the halls, as if seeking someone, then returned his gaze to the Slayer. “He has been forbidden from these halls for many generations now,” he murmured. “For a time, he fought to gain entrance, but my son can be most persuasive in his arguments.”
“Herbert got him banned?”
Von Krolock shook his head with his mild smile still in place. “Herbert drove him from this place without even exhausting himself,” he murmured. “It was almost pitiful to see how far he had fallen.” His lips shifted slightly, showing fangs. “Though all this talk of business and duties is most tiresome, do you not think? This is, after all, a celebration.”
“Got it,” Buffy said with a nod. “No more work talk. And Dawnie...?”
“Will grace us with her presence shortly.” He bowed his head. “If you will excuse me.”
He seemed to step between them, then somehow, was on the other side of the hall once more, his hand laid on Matthias’ head. The boy looked up at him, as if he had expected it, leaning into the touch.
“Do we all agree never to ever piss him off?” Xander asked, a fixed smile in place.
“And then some,” Buffy agreed in an undertone. “Because you just know Dawnie would totally kill me.”
Xander gave her a look.
“Oh, and because he’s scary powerful,” she added.
Beside them, Giles drained his drink, then looked at it as if it had betrayed him.
*~*~*
There was one particular target who was the focus of at least a dozen Slayers of varying age.
Sweeping about in a cloak and extravagant suit, Herbert von Krolock seemed to be oblivious to his audience as he greeted guests and friends, then dealt them out to other guests, be they mortal or vampire. Though he had not been present as the guests arrived, he had certainly made sure he was noticed when he descended the grand staircase.
Gathering around the doors of the ballroom, in the pretence of watching the guests, the Slayers eyed him as he swept towards a small, plump figure who was hurrying towards him, arms spread wide. A notably female figure. Definitely not male.
“Herbert!”
“Olga, my little Russian cherry! My plum! My sweet, ripe apricot!” Swinging the pink-clad woman up in his arms, Herbert kissed her warmly and noisily on each cheek, then firmly on them mouth.
“Fah!” Swatting his face away, the woman laughed, blue eyes dancing, plump pink cheeks dimpled. “Take that thing away from me! I do not know where you have been putting it!”
Herbert deposited the woman and then looked around and pointed, then muttered something in a language that only one of the Slayers recognised. The Russian Slayer, Natalya, went scarlet and clapped her hands over her mouth, while Olga erupted in contagious mirth.
“Then you shall keep those lips of yours from mine, hey?” she said, reaching up to poke the tall vampire in the middle of the chest.
“I think I can resist your... ample charms,” Herbert replied with mock-virtue, then pointedly examined those charms. “Darling, I don’t know if anyone told you, but there is such a thing as too much bosom.”
“Ha!” Olga grinned widely at him, lifting plump hands to squeeze the generous breasts which had been clearly forced into the baby-pink gown she was wearing. “I do not know who it is you have been talking to, Herbert, but all others I have been talking to find it very interesting.”
“Brazen harlot!”
“Da,” she agreed, then laughed afresh as she was embraced again. “Next time, you do not wait so long before you invite me to visit, yes? You think I will just sit and wait for your invitation? You think I have nothing to do but this?”
“Well, obviously, my darling,” Herbert kissed her fondly on the forehead. “And did you bring them?”
The tiny blonde woman rolled her eyes. “You think I am just walking breasts?” she said, opening a capacious bag that hung from her arm. “Or perhaps stupid?” She pulled out a package and handed it to him. “They are your favourite.”
Herbert’s eyes lit up and he squealed, whirling the woman off her feet. “Oh, darling, if you had not forbidden it, I would kiss you!”
In the ranks of Slayers, bewildered looks were exchanged. The parcel wasn’t a big one, and it looked fairly shapeless and soft. It was wrapped in pink and purple floral paper with a ridiculously large pink ribbon on it. What could it be to make a four-hundred year old vampire squeal like an excited school girl?
“Oh, darling... is there anything I can do to repay you?”
Olga’s toothy grin was visible again, bright eyes dancing. “You know that I am always looking for a man, Herbert,” she said sweetly. Her eyes wandered the rapidly filling ballroom and her pink lips gleamed as she licked them. “Ah!”
The vampire turned and looked in the direction she was looking in. “Ah, indeed, my little sausage,” he said, grinning. “You have spotted the head of the Watchers Council and his lover.”
“No, no, silly boy,” Olga waved a hand dismissively. “No lover. Just him.” Without even looking, she grasped Herbert’s arm, her eyes bright, white-blonde ringlets bouncing against her cheeks. “Come! You must introduce me.”
“Surely, there are younger...”
“You want to keep him for yourself, hey?” Olga made a face. “Such fine flesh on this one! And you are wanting his rear, I know.” She grinned broadly. “It would be like biting a peach, yes?”
Several Slayers squeaked at the images provided by the words and hastily tried to feign interest in arriving guests when Herbert shot an amused look over at them.
“An old peach, perhaps,” he murmured. “The texture would be... interesting.” His tongue snaked between his teeth and moistened his lower lip. “Oh, darling, now that I think of it, wouldn’t it be marvellous to just grab it and squeeze?”
Three of the watching Slayers went crimson, one went green and two others uttered dismayed squeaks and scurried away. Olga ignored them, smoothing the lace around her cleavage.
“You are giving me many ideas,” she replied thoughtfully. “And I have not had a bite for so long.” Reprimanding grey eyes flicked down to her and she pouted coyly at him. “Only a little one.”
“A nibble, I can grant you,” Herbert sighed. “But I fear there are too many Slayers present for anything more.”
“Then I am made to behave like a lady.” Olga matched his woeful sigh. “It is a cruel time for me. First, I cannot find mauve cashmere and now, I am not allowed to nibble the buttocks of handsome man.”
“Well, if you insist, I am sure I could tie him up for you... naked or would you prefer to do that yourself?”
Only two of the Slayers remained, the others unable to take further discussion of their head teacher in such terms. They were rewarded with knowing grins from the vampire and the small blonde, before they too retreated into the ballroom.
*~*~*
Sitting in her bedroom, Dawn was putting the last touches to her make-up while mentally plotting the million ways she would kill Herbert after their guests were gone. It wasn't like she'd asked for a big deal, and she totally didn't mind if it had just been her, Johannes and the guys.
Herbert hadn't bothered telling her who was all there, but he did say her sister might maybe perhaps sort of made it.
She put down her lipstick and studied herself in the mirror. For a vampire with no reflection, Herbert was pretty good at doing hair. Not that she would ever admit that to him. She touched a perfect ringlet, then smiled. It looked good: the dress, the make-up, the hair. Now, it was all up to her to look good enough to impress not only her sister and friends, but Johannes' as well.
Feeling like live bait walking into a lion's cage, she headed for the door. She drew a slow, steady breath, straightened her back, shook out her curls and walked out into the castle, knowing exactly where she needed to be and how she needed to make her big entrance.
She could hear music and the sound of voices from two staircases away. There was even some laughter, and no screams, which had to be a good sign.
Taking the back hallway, she reached the top of the staircase inside the ballroom, and snuck a peek down at the gathering of vampires, demons and slayers. Giles was visible, talking to a small, plump lady in pink, while Xander was trying to look inconspicuous, leaning against a pillar in the shadows nearby. Dawn grinned to herself, then hunted out Buffy in the crowd. Her sister looked surprisingly at ease, though she was glancing at her watch occasionally.
On the staircase, however, someone noticed her.
Johannes turned with a smile, and as one, every person in the hall fell silent, even the musicians. He held up a hand to her, hidden as she was. With another deep, shivering breath, she stepped out into the light, dazzled for a moment, and began her descent.
Perhaps there were other people in the room, but all she could see was Johannes, gazing at her with barely restrained hunger, his eyes gleaming, as she approached him. She laid her gloved fingertips delicately into his and smiled. "How do I look?"
"There are no words," he replied, his voice so low it was barely above a growl.
She remembered that tone of voice, and her smile widened even more.
It was going to be a good night.
*~*~*
Sarah was... irate.
No. No, that simple combination of two syllables did not quite do justice to the pure anger that was tensing her whole body until she felt she would vibrate like a plucked wire if someone touched her or even spoke to her.
Yet, she could not show it, at least not openly. Johannes had deigned to look at her but once before his little mortal had arrived, and flash of chastising ire and warning that rang in her mind had been clear. This was his mortal’s night. If Sarah caused any manner of upset, he would be merciless in his dealing with her.
So, she stood in the sidelines, her arms folded over her breast, as Johannes all but ignored her for this new mortal with her dark, coiled hair and rich red gown and her strong, independent manner.
Even Alfred was dancing while she was not.
Somewhere in the dizzying spins of the minuet, Alfred had been swept from her by Johannes’ girl. In the same moment, Herbert had caught his father, and that was when the music had changed and the pairs were left to something new.
She could see Alfred and the girl, so much taller than him. They were both smiling and talking, and Alfred’s eyes dropped shyly. Sarah’s teeth ground together at the sight of that timid expression. Alfred was hers and no woman, be she Johannes’ lover or not, would take him.
Her eyes moved to Johannes, who was being steered around the dance floor by his son, his black eyes lingering on Herbert’s face, his lips twitching with amusement at whatever his son was saying.
“Oh, what is this I see?”
Sarah went rigid. Not that voice. Not now. Not here.
Firm, rough hands grasped her shoulders and she felt the tickle of a beard against her skin. “No hello for your old papa, Sarah?” her father asked, his voice already laced with the scent of wines too fine for him.
“Hello, papa,” she muttered, shrugging his hands off her shoulders.
“Ah, ah!” She was pulled around to face him and glared at him as he grinned widely at her. “I raised my daughter to have more respect for her father, Süße,” he said, chucking her chin with his forefinger, then wagged it in front of her. “You see so little of me and now, you treat me so rudely in my old age!”
Sarah struck his hand away, snarling. “You were a drunken pig,” she said sharply. “And still are!”
He clapped his hand to his chest, feigning dismay. “Oi vey iz mir!” he lamented, shaking his head. The floppy hat draped on his head slid sideways. “What time is this that a father is treated so cruelly by his child?”
Sarah hissed through her teeth and whirled away from him.
“Still a whining brat, little Sarah?”
Sarah shied back from Magda’s grinning face. “You were invited?”
“Us?” Magda laughed as Sarah’s father’s hands settled on Sarah’s shoulders again, and Sarah wanted to rake her mocking face open with her nails. “But of course! We are family after all!”
The epithet Sarah spat at her made Magda’s brows rise. “Such a temper.”
Curling her fingers, Sarah growled low in her throat. “Get away from me, both of you.”
“And leave you all alone?” her father said with mock-sorrow. “Oh, what has this world come to when my beautiful daughter is shunned by her lover...
“Lovers,” Magda corrected maliciously, smiling broadly.
“Lovers,” her father agreed, shaking his head heavily and clicking his tongue. “And all for a little slip of a mortal morsel.” His fingers dug into her shoulders, almost painfully, and she felt his wine-scanted breath against her ear. “And here you stand and let her take them.”
“I let her do nothing,” Sarah hissed, reaching up and ripping her father’s hands from her shoulders, her nails scratching his skin. She turned to face him, her eyes flashing close to his. “I acquiesce only to Johannes’ request for peace this night.”
Magda and her father exchanged looks that said more than even their mocking words could, both of them smirking. Stepping closer to Sarah’s father, Magda draped her arm around his shoulders and whispered something to him.
He laughed that familiar raucous laugh. “How did he ask, I wonder,” he said, his dark eyes gleaming. “What could he have done to make you obey so readily?” He looked over Sarah’s shoulder at the dance floor. “Holding your peace while he lets his little vixen take whatever is yours...” He laughed again. “Such persuasion.”
Despite herself, her teeth grinding together in rage, Sarah glanced round. Alfred was hiding his face in Dawn’s shoulder as the mortal girl laughed and wrapped her arms around him.
Bloody rage descended and abruptly, her father’s laughter was stifled as her hand caught his throat and squeezed until something gave. Magda squealed, scratching at Sarah’s wrist with her nails.
“Let him go!”
Sarah’s other hand caught Magda’s wrist, twisting until the blonde vampire whined in pain. “Leave me alone,” Sarah hissed, pushing her father away and tossing Magda aside. Both of them shied away from her, something in her expression driving them back. “Get away.”
Magda grabbed her lover’s arm, though Sarah’s father was staring at his daughter, strange wariness in his eyes. One hand clutched his damaged throat as he was pulled away into the whirling crowd by the blonde vampire.
Curling her hands into fists, Sarah staggered backwards into the shadows of the columns that lined the ballroom, leaning against one of the engraved lengths of polished stone. She wanted to kill, wanted to plunge herself into the blood of something, someone, anyone. Her body was screaming for it.
Not here. Not this night.
Stumbling along the wall towards the door that opened onto the grounds, she half-fell out into the quiet night, her long skirts tangling around her feet, one shoe lost, forgotten, as she fled.
Sobs of rage, of hunger, of pain at hunger denied, of loathing, ripped through her and she tripped down one of the staircases, falling heavily on her knees on the veranda. A scream tore from her throat and she slammed her fists down on the moonlight-washed slabs, over and over, until pain gave way to blood and screams gave away to choked off sounds of misery.
Dropping her head to rest on her arms, her body shook with the force of it, and even when she heard someone approaching, she couldn’t lift her face, nor look around to order them away from her.
“Sarah?”
“Go away!”
He wouldn’t. He never would.
She felt him kneeling down beside her, her little Alfred, and felt his slim hands touching her shoulders gently, stroking softly. “Sarah, I’m sorry if I upset you,” he whispered and that pulled another sob from her. “Oh, please... please don’t...”
Forcing herself to sit up, she stared wildly at him. “Go away! Go back to her!” she screamed out, and somewhere, beyond the rage and misery, there was part of her that knew she was being foolish.
“Oh, Sarah...” His hands reached for hers. “You’re hurt.”
Jerking her hands away, she slapped him.
His cheek blazed scarlet, but he turned his face back to her at once and reached for her hands again. They were shaking and he slid closer to her, gently soothing her offended digits. “You’re hurt,” he repeated softly. “Did you fall?”
Sinking back against the balustrade, she shook her head. Tears were still running down her cheeks, but she said nothing as Alfred tenderly licked the blood from her wounded knuckles, then pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed the grazes.
His brown eyes rose to her face. She didn’t have to look to know he was watching her with his eternal concern. “What is it, Sarah?” he asked, covering one of her hands with his own. “Why are you so upset?”
“You were with her,” she muttered. “Dancing... dancing...” She laughed suddenly, sharply, and pulled her hands back. “Will he abandon her too? Will everyone abandon her and her red dress and red shoes? Will they get bored of her and push her away for another one in a red dress and red shoes, with hair in curls and dreams?”
“Oh, Sarah... Sarah...” Reaching out, Alfred touched her face and though she tried to shy away from him, she had nowhere to go. His fingers stroked her cheek and brushed back her hair, which had come unpinned, wild around her face. “Sarah, I love you.”
She grasped his wrist, a lifeline, her one true connection. “Only me?” she demanded, her voice shrill. “Do you love only me?”
“Always and ever only you,” he confirmed and she knew he was not lying. He was a plaything for Johannes’ son and the son’s boy, but he always returned to her and he always, always loved her and held her and was hers.
Her mouth claimed his, hard, relentless, bloodlust giving way to another manner of hunger, a hunger her Alfred could slake for her, without threat of retribution or rage from their Master.
Reaching down, she pulled her skirts up over her thighs and pulled Alfred closer. His hands touched her and she ached with want, whining against his mouth. She squirmed and panted and as he moved against her, she knew he would always be hers and no one would take him away or make him forget it.
RATING: PG
FANDOMS: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series & Tanz der Vampire
SPOILERS: Buffy S1-7, Angel S1-5.
SUMMARY: Dawn gets a surprise.
SERIES: Part of Carpe Noctem series.
In order: As Aught of Mortal Birth, Over Troubled Waters, Per Ipsum, et cum Ipso, et in Ipso, Til The Moon Is Abed, Unwritten Words, What Remains, The Gentler Sex, Visitation, After the Storm, In The Name Of, In The Air, Makes Us Stronger, Three's a Crowd, Tis The Season, Divergence, Things Fall Apart, Broken Glass, Bleed For You, Even Angels Fall, Will Set You Free, Contact, Vampires on a Plane, Age of Innocence, In The Shadows, Expecting the Unexpected then this chapter.
PAIRINGS: Von Krolock/Dawn, Spike/Herbert, Sarah/Alfred with a side of implied Sarah/VK, Chagal/Magda
NOTES: *coughs* Yes. It's been a while. Almost 2.5 years. Oops? And I just found this chapter and managed to finish it :) Enjoy!
_______________________
“Herbert!” Kicking at the door, Dawn swore. “Herbert, you jackass! Let me out!”
“Only if you promise to behave, cherie,” Herbert’s voice drifted back through the door of her bathroom that he had locked her in fifteen minutes earlier. “Honestly, you would think a vampire had never put you in curlers before.”
“You tell me why I need to look like I got slinkies all over my head and I’ll think about behaving,” she called back, pushing a handful of bent hairpins into a pile. Dumb things hadn’t helped unlocking the door.
Herbert laughed. “You seem to miss the point of this imprisonment,” he replied, his voice muffled through the thick wood. She made a face at the door. “I have no real need to let you out until you are too exhausted too fight, but really, I would consider it a personal favour if you would be charming enough to let me dress your hair.”
“What for?”
“After all, I went to all the effort of putting some curls in my own hair...”
“What...” Dawn blinked. “You’ve got curlers in?”
“Well, one does find being of the straight persuasion quite tiresome.”
Her forehead hit the door with a dull thump. “You...”
He laughed again. “In truth, darling? I want you to look ravishing.”
“What with you being all curly...”
“Oh, not for me, my silly little mortal morsel,” he replied and she could visualise the grin. “I forgot to mention we are having a small party downstairs, did I not? With a chance for you to wear that exquisite red ball gown father spoiled you with.”
Staring at the door, Dawn frowned. “A party? How come I didn’t know?”
There was a long silence. “My darling fool, what date is it?”
Mentally counting the days of the trip to Vienna, her eyes widened in shock. Already? But it was hardly any time since her last birthday! “Oh God. You totally did not throw me a surprise party!”
“I did not,” Herbert said happily. She heard the locks clicking and the door was thrown wide open. “Yet. Because you have to be there for it to officially count. So...” He managed to steer her out into her room, pushing her into a seat. “What shall we do with this bush?”
“Let it kill you?” she asked weakly.
The vampire patted her on the head. “You are so adorable when you are vexed, cherie,” he said amiably. “Now, just stay quite still and I will have you looking as glamorous as any female you care to name.”
“Mother Teresa?” she said, then yelped when he pinched her earlobe. “Herbert!”
“You are being quite supercilious,” he sniffed haughtily. “Now, would you prefer your hair up or down?”
Dawn snorted. “You know how to do girlie hair?”
Herbert laughed, then kissed her wetly on the cheek, making her yell and swat at him. “My dear, I did not survive eighteenth century without wigs without making a great deal of effort and development in the hair-styling process.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Okay,” she said slowly. “I’m going to trust you this once, but if you make me look dumb, I have a stake in my desk drawer, and I’ll put it somewhere that’s definitely somewhere that isn’t your heart.”
He grinned down at her, snatching up a brush from the back of the couch. “Darling, with an offer like that, I’m almost tempted to give you an afro.”
“Ew! Herbert!”
His free hand clasped firmly over her mouth, and he ignored her biting at him to sagely say, “Darling, if you look bad, then I will look abysmal. I do not need to tell you that I am quite a vain creature.”
“Mmpf mm ng!”
“Quite,” he replied. “So, sit still, shut up and let me make you beautiful.” She nodded, then bit him vengefully again when he added, “It could take some time.”
*~*~*
“So. All vampires, huh?”
Buffy shook her head. “A lot, but not all,” she replied, looking around the hall. “The little guy hanging off the Graf’s coat is human.”
Xander squinted around until he saw the Graf standing at a point part of the way up the stairs of the huge ballroom. Several steps below him, there was a slight figure sitting on a step at his feet. “The one in the mask?”
“Yeah,” Buffy agreed. “I think Dawnie said he was called Matthias. He lives here too, now.”
“He keeps mortals here?” Giles said, brows rising. “How interesting.”
“And when you say interesting, you mean ‘how practical to have a ready snack bar that hangs around like a bad smell’?” Xander suggested, watching the boy. “Is it just me or does he look like he’d be hugging the Graf’s leg if he could?”
“Thrall?” Buffy suggested, looking up at Giles, who looked down at his drink.
“It is quite possible,” he agreed, frowning at the surface of the wine. “After all, the elder vampires were quite famed for their magical abilities and powers over the mind.”
“Are we bringing him up again?” Xander asked with a shudder.
“You speak of Draculea?” A new voice spoke from behind Giles.
“Oh, so it’s pronounced all different here,” Xander said, turning to the speaker. He blinked then rubbed his eye and looked from the staircase on the far side of the room, where Matthias still sat, to the vampire standing less than two feet from him. “Uh.”
The Graf inclined his head. His lips were curled in the approximation of a polite smile, his black eyes moving from face to face. “You seem... surprised?” he murmured, then inclined his head to Buffy. “Miss Summers.”
“Sir Graf,” she acknowledged, staring at him. “How did you...?”
“Your teacher spoke wisely,” the vampire said mildly, turning his gaze to Giles. “Of magical abilities and the powers over the mind. And you speak of the one you call Dracula, yet even here in my stronghold, you are surprised that I hold powers to match his?”
“So you can... uh... do the bat things as well?”
Von Krolock laughed quietly. “I am afraid, Alexander, that I do not partake of frippery and childish parlour tricks to startle and shock,” he murmured. “It is purely self-indulgence to do such things for amusement.”
“Dracula did it,” Buffy said, then made an expressive gesture. “He went all... batty.”
The vampire laughed again, dark eyes glittering. “So you were impressed by him? Child, you have seen nothing. When he sought you, he was driven half-mad and had scarce half his power left to him. He was weak and there were foolish displays.”
“You mean to say that he would normally be a great deal stronger?” Giles inquired, looking faint.
Von Krolock tilted his head gravely. “Surely you wondered at your ease in defeating him when he came to you? Barely a handful of days and your combat was done?” He lazily smoothed his cloak over his forearm. “Had he been as he was when first I knew him, your will would have been broken and he would have taken all that he willed and more.”
“Comforting...” Buffy said with a grimace. “He’s not here, is he?”
The Graf looked around the halls, as if seeking someone, then returned his gaze to the Slayer. “He has been forbidden from these halls for many generations now,” he murmured. “For a time, he fought to gain entrance, but my son can be most persuasive in his arguments.”
“Herbert got him banned?”
Von Krolock shook his head with his mild smile still in place. “Herbert drove him from this place without even exhausting himself,” he murmured. “It was almost pitiful to see how far he had fallen.” His lips shifted slightly, showing fangs. “Though all this talk of business and duties is most tiresome, do you not think? This is, after all, a celebration.”
“Got it,” Buffy said with a nod. “No more work talk. And Dawnie...?”
“Will grace us with her presence shortly.” He bowed his head. “If you will excuse me.”
He seemed to step between them, then somehow, was on the other side of the hall once more, his hand laid on Matthias’ head. The boy looked up at him, as if he had expected it, leaning into the touch.
“Do we all agree never to ever piss him off?” Xander asked, a fixed smile in place.
“And then some,” Buffy agreed in an undertone. “Because you just know Dawnie would totally kill me.”
Xander gave her a look.
“Oh, and because he’s scary powerful,” she added.
Beside them, Giles drained his drink, then looked at it as if it had betrayed him.
*~*~*
There was one particular target who was the focus of at least a dozen Slayers of varying age.
Sweeping about in a cloak and extravagant suit, Herbert von Krolock seemed to be oblivious to his audience as he greeted guests and friends, then dealt them out to other guests, be they mortal or vampire. Though he had not been present as the guests arrived, he had certainly made sure he was noticed when he descended the grand staircase.
Gathering around the doors of the ballroom, in the pretence of watching the guests, the Slayers eyed him as he swept towards a small, plump figure who was hurrying towards him, arms spread wide. A notably female figure. Definitely not male.
“Herbert!”
“Olga, my little Russian cherry! My plum! My sweet, ripe apricot!” Swinging the pink-clad woman up in his arms, Herbert kissed her warmly and noisily on each cheek, then firmly on them mouth.
“Fah!” Swatting his face away, the woman laughed, blue eyes dancing, plump pink cheeks dimpled. “Take that thing away from me! I do not know where you have been putting it!”
Herbert deposited the woman and then looked around and pointed, then muttered something in a language that only one of the Slayers recognised. The Russian Slayer, Natalya, went scarlet and clapped her hands over her mouth, while Olga erupted in contagious mirth.
“Then you shall keep those lips of yours from mine, hey?” she said, reaching up to poke the tall vampire in the middle of the chest.
“I think I can resist your... ample charms,” Herbert replied with mock-virtue, then pointedly examined those charms. “Darling, I don’t know if anyone told you, but there is such a thing as too much bosom.”
“Ha!” Olga grinned widely at him, lifting plump hands to squeeze the generous breasts which had been clearly forced into the baby-pink gown she was wearing. “I do not know who it is you have been talking to, Herbert, but all others I have been talking to find it very interesting.”
“Brazen harlot!”
“Da,” she agreed, then laughed afresh as she was embraced again. “Next time, you do not wait so long before you invite me to visit, yes? You think I will just sit and wait for your invitation? You think I have nothing to do but this?”
“Well, obviously, my darling,” Herbert kissed her fondly on the forehead. “And did you bring them?”
The tiny blonde woman rolled her eyes. “You think I am just walking breasts?” she said, opening a capacious bag that hung from her arm. “Or perhaps stupid?” She pulled out a package and handed it to him. “They are your favourite.”
Herbert’s eyes lit up and he squealed, whirling the woman off her feet. “Oh, darling, if you had not forbidden it, I would kiss you!”
In the ranks of Slayers, bewildered looks were exchanged. The parcel wasn’t a big one, and it looked fairly shapeless and soft. It was wrapped in pink and purple floral paper with a ridiculously large pink ribbon on it. What could it be to make a four-hundred year old vampire squeal like an excited school girl?
“Oh, darling... is there anything I can do to repay you?”
Olga’s toothy grin was visible again, bright eyes dancing. “You know that I am always looking for a man, Herbert,” she said sweetly. Her eyes wandered the rapidly filling ballroom and her pink lips gleamed as she licked them. “Ah!”
The vampire turned and looked in the direction she was looking in. “Ah, indeed, my little sausage,” he said, grinning. “You have spotted the head of the Watchers Council and his lover.”
“No, no, silly boy,” Olga waved a hand dismissively. “No lover. Just him.” Without even looking, she grasped Herbert’s arm, her eyes bright, white-blonde ringlets bouncing against her cheeks. “Come! You must introduce me.”
“Surely, there are younger...”
“You want to keep him for yourself, hey?” Olga made a face. “Such fine flesh on this one! And you are wanting his rear, I know.” She grinned broadly. “It would be like biting a peach, yes?”
Several Slayers squeaked at the images provided by the words and hastily tried to feign interest in arriving guests when Herbert shot an amused look over at them.
“An old peach, perhaps,” he murmured. “The texture would be... interesting.” His tongue snaked between his teeth and moistened his lower lip. “Oh, darling, now that I think of it, wouldn’t it be marvellous to just grab it and squeeze?”
Three of the watching Slayers went crimson, one went green and two others uttered dismayed squeaks and scurried away. Olga ignored them, smoothing the lace around her cleavage.
“You are giving me many ideas,” she replied thoughtfully. “And I have not had a bite for so long.” Reprimanding grey eyes flicked down to her and she pouted coyly at him. “Only a little one.”
“A nibble, I can grant you,” Herbert sighed. “But I fear there are too many Slayers present for anything more.”
“Then I am made to behave like a lady.” Olga matched his woeful sigh. “It is a cruel time for me. First, I cannot find mauve cashmere and now, I am not allowed to nibble the buttocks of handsome man.”
“Well, if you insist, I am sure I could tie him up for you... naked or would you prefer to do that yourself?”
Only two of the Slayers remained, the others unable to take further discussion of their head teacher in such terms. They were rewarded with knowing grins from the vampire and the small blonde, before they too retreated into the ballroom.
*~*~*
Sitting in her bedroom, Dawn was putting the last touches to her make-up while mentally plotting the million ways she would kill Herbert after their guests were gone. It wasn't like she'd asked for a big deal, and she totally didn't mind if it had just been her, Johannes and the guys.
Herbert hadn't bothered telling her who was all there, but he did say her sister might maybe perhaps sort of made it.
She put down her lipstick and studied herself in the mirror. For a vampire with no reflection, Herbert was pretty good at doing hair. Not that she would ever admit that to him. She touched a perfect ringlet, then smiled. It looked good: the dress, the make-up, the hair. Now, it was all up to her to look good enough to impress not only her sister and friends, but Johannes' as well.
Feeling like live bait walking into a lion's cage, she headed for the door. She drew a slow, steady breath, straightened her back, shook out her curls and walked out into the castle, knowing exactly where she needed to be and how she needed to make her big entrance.
She could hear music and the sound of voices from two staircases away. There was even some laughter, and no screams, which had to be a good sign.
Taking the back hallway, she reached the top of the staircase inside the ballroom, and snuck a peek down at the gathering of vampires, demons and slayers. Giles was visible, talking to a small, plump lady in pink, while Xander was trying to look inconspicuous, leaning against a pillar in the shadows nearby. Dawn grinned to herself, then hunted out Buffy in the crowd. Her sister looked surprisingly at ease, though she was glancing at her watch occasionally.
On the staircase, however, someone noticed her.
Johannes turned with a smile, and as one, every person in the hall fell silent, even the musicians. He held up a hand to her, hidden as she was. With another deep, shivering breath, she stepped out into the light, dazzled for a moment, and began her descent.
Perhaps there were other people in the room, but all she could see was Johannes, gazing at her with barely restrained hunger, his eyes gleaming, as she approached him. She laid her gloved fingertips delicately into his and smiled. "How do I look?"
"There are no words," he replied, his voice so low it was barely above a growl.
She remembered that tone of voice, and her smile widened even more.
It was going to be a good night.
*~*~*
Sarah was... irate.
No. No, that simple combination of two syllables did not quite do justice to the pure anger that was tensing her whole body until she felt she would vibrate like a plucked wire if someone touched her or even spoke to her.
Yet, she could not show it, at least not openly. Johannes had deigned to look at her but once before his little mortal had arrived, and flash of chastising ire and warning that rang in her mind had been clear. This was his mortal’s night. If Sarah caused any manner of upset, he would be merciless in his dealing with her.
So, she stood in the sidelines, her arms folded over her breast, as Johannes all but ignored her for this new mortal with her dark, coiled hair and rich red gown and her strong, independent manner.
Even Alfred was dancing while she was not.
Somewhere in the dizzying spins of the minuet, Alfred had been swept from her by Johannes’ girl. In the same moment, Herbert had caught his father, and that was when the music had changed and the pairs were left to something new.
She could see Alfred and the girl, so much taller than him. They were both smiling and talking, and Alfred’s eyes dropped shyly. Sarah’s teeth ground together at the sight of that timid expression. Alfred was hers and no woman, be she Johannes’ lover or not, would take him.
Her eyes moved to Johannes, who was being steered around the dance floor by his son, his black eyes lingering on Herbert’s face, his lips twitching with amusement at whatever his son was saying.
“Oh, what is this I see?”
Sarah went rigid. Not that voice. Not now. Not here.
Firm, rough hands grasped her shoulders and she felt the tickle of a beard against her skin. “No hello for your old papa, Sarah?” her father asked, his voice already laced with the scent of wines too fine for him.
“Hello, papa,” she muttered, shrugging his hands off her shoulders.
“Ah, ah!” She was pulled around to face him and glared at him as he grinned widely at her. “I raised my daughter to have more respect for her father, Süße,” he said, chucking her chin with his forefinger, then wagged it in front of her. “You see so little of me and now, you treat me so rudely in my old age!”
Sarah struck his hand away, snarling. “You were a drunken pig,” she said sharply. “And still are!”
He clapped his hand to his chest, feigning dismay. “Oi vey iz mir!” he lamented, shaking his head. The floppy hat draped on his head slid sideways. “What time is this that a father is treated so cruelly by his child?”
Sarah hissed through her teeth and whirled away from him.
“Still a whining brat, little Sarah?”
Sarah shied back from Magda’s grinning face. “You were invited?”
“Us?” Magda laughed as Sarah’s father’s hands settled on Sarah’s shoulders again, and Sarah wanted to rake her mocking face open with her nails. “But of course! We are family after all!”
The epithet Sarah spat at her made Magda’s brows rise. “Such a temper.”
Curling her fingers, Sarah growled low in her throat. “Get away from me, both of you.”
“And leave you all alone?” her father said with mock-sorrow. “Oh, what has this world come to when my beautiful daughter is shunned by her lover...
“Lovers,” Magda corrected maliciously, smiling broadly.
“Lovers,” her father agreed, shaking his head heavily and clicking his tongue. “And all for a little slip of a mortal morsel.” His fingers dug into her shoulders, almost painfully, and she felt his wine-scanted breath against her ear. “And here you stand and let her take them.”
“I let her do nothing,” Sarah hissed, reaching up and ripping her father’s hands from her shoulders, her nails scratching his skin. She turned to face him, her eyes flashing close to his. “I acquiesce only to Johannes’ request for peace this night.”
Magda and her father exchanged looks that said more than even their mocking words could, both of them smirking. Stepping closer to Sarah’s father, Magda draped her arm around his shoulders and whispered something to him.
He laughed that familiar raucous laugh. “How did he ask, I wonder,” he said, his dark eyes gleaming. “What could he have done to make you obey so readily?” He looked over Sarah’s shoulder at the dance floor. “Holding your peace while he lets his little vixen take whatever is yours...” He laughed again. “Such persuasion.”
Despite herself, her teeth grinding together in rage, Sarah glanced round. Alfred was hiding his face in Dawn’s shoulder as the mortal girl laughed and wrapped her arms around him.
Bloody rage descended and abruptly, her father’s laughter was stifled as her hand caught his throat and squeezed until something gave. Magda squealed, scratching at Sarah’s wrist with her nails.
“Let him go!”
Sarah’s other hand caught Magda’s wrist, twisting until the blonde vampire whined in pain. “Leave me alone,” Sarah hissed, pushing her father away and tossing Magda aside. Both of them shied away from her, something in her expression driving them back. “Get away.”
Magda grabbed her lover’s arm, though Sarah’s father was staring at his daughter, strange wariness in his eyes. One hand clutched his damaged throat as he was pulled away into the whirling crowd by the blonde vampire.
Curling her hands into fists, Sarah staggered backwards into the shadows of the columns that lined the ballroom, leaning against one of the engraved lengths of polished stone. She wanted to kill, wanted to plunge herself into the blood of something, someone, anyone. Her body was screaming for it.
Not here. Not this night.
Stumbling along the wall towards the door that opened onto the grounds, she half-fell out into the quiet night, her long skirts tangling around her feet, one shoe lost, forgotten, as she fled.
Sobs of rage, of hunger, of pain at hunger denied, of loathing, ripped through her and she tripped down one of the staircases, falling heavily on her knees on the veranda. A scream tore from her throat and she slammed her fists down on the moonlight-washed slabs, over and over, until pain gave way to blood and screams gave away to choked off sounds of misery.
Dropping her head to rest on her arms, her body shook with the force of it, and even when she heard someone approaching, she couldn’t lift her face, nor look around to order them away from her.
“Sarah?”
“Go away!”
He wouldn’t. He never would.
She felt him kneeling down beside her, her little Alfred, and felt his slim hands touching her shoulders gently, stroking softly. “Sarah, I’m sorry if I upset you,” he whispered and that pulled another sob from her. “Oh, please... please don’t...”
Forcing herself to sit up, she stared wildly at him. “Go away! Go back to her!” she screamed out, and somewhere, beyond the rage and misery, there was part of her that knew she was being foolish.
“Oh, Sarah...” His hands reached for hers. “You’re hurt.”
Jerking her hands away, she slapped him.
His cheek blazed scarlet, but he turned his face back to her at once and reached for her hands again. They were shaking and he slid closer to her, gently soothing her offended digits. “You’re hurt,” he repeated softly. “Did you fall?”
Sinking back against the balustrade, she shook her head. Tears were still running down her cheeks, but she said nothing as Alfred tenderly licked the blood from her wounded knuckles, then pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed the grazes.
His brown eyes rose to her face. She didn’t have to look to know he was watching her with his eternal concern. “What is it, Sarah?” he asked, covering one of her hands with his own. “Why are you so upset?”
“You were with her,” she muttered. “Dancing... dancing...” She laughed suddenly, sharply, and pulled her hands back. “Will he abandon her too? Will everyone abandon her and her red dress and red shoes? Will they get bored of her and push her away for another one in a red dress and red shoes, with hair in curls and dreams?”
“Oh, Sarah... Sarah...” Reaching out, Alfred touched her face and though she tried to shy away from him, she had nowhere to go. His fingers stroked her cheek and brushed back her hair, which had come unpinned, wild around her face. “Sarah, I love you.”
She grasped his wrist, a lifeline, her one true connection. “Only me?” she demanded, her voice shrill. “Do you love only me?”
“Always and ever only you,” he confirmed and she knew he was not lying. He was a plaything for Johannes’ son and the son’s boy, but he always returned to her and he always, always loved her and held her and was hers.
Her mouth claimed his, hard, relentless, bloodlust giving way to another manner of hunger, a hunger her Alfred could slake for her, without threat of retribution or rage from their Master.
Reaching down, she pulled her skirts up over her thighs and pulled Alfred closer. His hands touched her and she ached with want, whining against his mouth. She squirmed and panted and as he moved against her, she knew he would always be hers and no one would take him away or make him forget it.