Chapter 8 - Revelations
Summary: "War is coming. A slayer leads the way, a son of darkness heralds shadows, and a young girl claims her birthright as the light of all lights. These heroes, and others, in a last stand against the ancient evil; all corrupting and all consuming, poised to devour the world."
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Hellmouth Ascendant Trilogy: Revamped Edition
Book One:
Dusk
Chapter Eight
Revelations
“There’s Alec,” Buffy said as she pointed to the young man reclining against his bike in front of the Bronze. “Looks all right,” she observed.
Giles nodded assent and gently pulled the car over to the side of the street. Before shutting off the engine, he looked to Alec for some signal that all was well. Alec caught his look and flashed him a quick reassuring thumbs-up. Giles sighed and, releasing a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, shut off the car engine and got out, taking a few minutes to look around.
“How’s it look, bro?” Buffy asked Alec, walking towards him.
Alec shrugged. “Not a soul in sight.” He checked his watch.
“That’s comforting” Buffy snorted.
“Right, forgot, vampires lack souls.”
POW!
“Hey!” Alec cried out as he rubbed the spot on his arm where Buffy had just punched him. “What the hell was that for?” he demanded.
Buffy just glared daggers at him, waiting for the revelation to come to her brother; it did.
“Angel.” Alec said simply.
Buffy nodded and didn’t say anything else as Giles approached them.
“No sign of our esteemed host?” the older man asked.
Alec shook his head. “Negative. We are a few minutes early though.”
Giles nodded as Buffy gave the building a quick look.
“So, are we breaking in and taking the stairs or are we fire-escaping it?” she asked.
Alec gestured to the front doors.
“I’ve already unlocked them. Shall we?” Heading towards the doors, he turned and regarded his father for a beat.
“Ready to meet the most famous vampire of all time?” he asked dryly.
“Thrilled,” Giles responded just as dryly.
Alec chuckled and held the door for the others as they entered.
The group made their way through the deserted club, found the stairwell rooftop access, and trudged up the stairs. A little quick shadow play from Alec unlocked the door and they were up on the rooftop. Alec inhaled a deep breath of night air and gazed up at the stars.
“Well, here we are… now what?” Buffy asked.
“It would seem that we wait,” Giles responded.
“Guys?”
It was Alec and there was a strange tone in his voice. Slayer and Watcher turned to face him.
“I don’t think we have to wait long.”
He pointed up at the night sky. Confused, the others followed his gaze and stiffened when they saw it.
A long trail of green and white mist lazily curled through the air, coming down out of the sky and pooling opposite the three. The mist piled higher and higher onto itself, slowly taking on a more definite shape. Finally, as if he were stepping out of a fog into clear view, Dracula stood before them. He bowed sweepingly.
“Good evening,” he said in a voice that rumbled, the sound changing to a purr as he noticed Buffy. His blue eyes danced with amusement.
“Ah, Buffy. How nice it is to see you again,” he growled, flashing her his most dazzling smile.
Buffy, however, had long since been immune to his charms.
“Pleasure’s all yours, Count,” she retorted.
Dracula chuckled and regarded the eldest of the group.
“Ah, the infamous Rupert Giles. Van Helsing of the modern world.” He bowed cordially. “I pay homage to such a learned man.”
Giles, far from being flustered by the regal behavior, rose to the occasion.
“And I pay respect to the Vampire Prince,” he returned, mirroring the Count's bow with a dignified nod of the head.
Dracula chuckled in amusement, for a moment ignoring Buffy, to regard father and son.
“There is much of your father in you, young Alec Giles. Even without your demonic essence, I sense a great power.” His fangs flashed in that same display of predatory appreciation. “You would have made a formidable vampire.”
All three of the humans narrowed their eyes at this comment.
Alec cleared his throat and enquired, “I believe you had some information for us?”
Dracula conceded to the heavy-handed attempt at changing the subject with his usual unflappable grace. “Just so, young Giles, what is it you would like to know?”
Alec gestured to Buffy, allowing her to speak.
“What happened to everything that was living in the sewers and caves before this?” she demanded.
Dracula smiled unpleasantly. “Alas, those that did not flee fast enough were made part of a larger whole. I imagine it was quite unwilling,” he informed her cryptically.
Buffy frowned. “What do you mean ‘part of a larger whole’? Are you saying they were killed?”
A faint smile graced the Count’s lips. “If they were vampires, were they not already dead?”
Buffy growled in frustration and was about to speak when Giles interrupted her.
“What of the Key? Why does the Hellmouth fear it, Count Dracula?”
Dracula’s head inclined slightly in appreciation of the genial courtesy in his tone.
“Ah, so there is one amongst you with some knowledge of proper decorum, this is good. Proof that etiquette truly is the purview of the elder.” Dracula smiled appreciatively at Giles before continuing.
“The Key, like any key, can serve two functions.” He held up two long and perfectly manicured fingers to signify this. “It can unlock a door or it can lock it. The Hellmouth, in some ways, is such a door. The Key could either open it, unleashing demonic wrath upon the world, or it could close and lock it forever,” the Count finished. “But this analogy only applies if you consider the Hellmouth as a door, and such an analogy has its flaws, I’m afraid.”
“Why now, though?” Buffy interrupted the Vampire Prince who scowled in disapproval but let it go. “Why is now so important?”
Dracula sighed patiently and spoke as if he was addressing a small and not terribly bright child.
“Because now it has the energy to do so, energy that you have helped provide,” he replied, pointing a long pale finger at her like a knife.
Buffy leapt back as if stung.
“Me? What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything!” she protested.
Dracula chortled.
“Really? For over five years, you have been the most successful Slayer in the history of the world; every manner of demon or vampire has fallen to you in combat. Did you really think that that would account for nothing?” he asked incredulously.
There was something he wasn’t telling them, something he wanted them to figure out. Alec reached it first.
“It’s been giving the Hellmouth strength hasn’t it? All those slain vampires and demons?” he answered quietly.
Dracula clapped his hands together approvingly.
“Ah, the blood of the Watchers has graced you with a keen mind, young hybrid.” The vampire laughed quietly. “To answer your question - yes, the Slayer's astonishing success rate has given it a steady diet of negative energy to feed from.”
“Negative energy?” Giles inquired, unfamiliar with the term.
Dracula smiled indulgently.
“Yes, as opposed to positive energy. Call it life force, mana vitae; it makes little difference. Positive energy is that which animates all life, from plants to people, and it is this energy that a vampire gains sustenance from when he feeds on the living. The blood is merely a method of conveyance. The sun is also a source of positive energy, though it is far too powerful to be utilized in the same fashion.” Dracula gestured to himself. “Hence the somewhat volatile reaction a vampire has to the rays of the sun.”
Alec spoke up. “So, if positive energy is what animates the living, then negative energy…” His thoughts trailed off.
“…Is that which animates the dead. It is the power of darkness, of death and of the night,” Dracula finished. He raised a finger to gesture at Alec. “You, my friend, are such a creature, to some degree. The power that flows in your veins is not that of sun and life, but that of shadows and the cold void between the stars.”
“But Alec can go out during the day without being burned alive,” Buffy interjected, shaking herself out of her grim reverie.
Dracula sighed and nodded indulgently.
“Yes, because, despite this, he is still alive. His heart beats, his lungs breathe, and blood flows in his veins. Vampires are beings powered entirely by negative energy, as are ghosts and most demons. A vampire that ventures into the sun is bombarded by its positive energy, which reacts violently to the vampire’s negative energy; this is what causes the vampire to combust upon being exposed to the light of day.” He smiled a cold bemused smile. “Please bear in mind, that this is a terribly simplistic view of things. However, I do not believe you are yet ready for the more comprehensive explanation.”
“So, every time Buffy killed a vampire, its negative energy was released to be absorbed by the Hellmouth,” Alec finished quietly.
Dracula nodded.
“Correct. Sunnydale, and to a lesser extent, all of California, has a most peculiar effect on the newly risen. Something happens to these vampires after they are put to into the earth but before they arise for the first time. Some sort of... infection stains their minds and souls, rendering them vicious and beastlike…” Dracula smiled slightly, “well more vicious anyhow. In my homeland of Transylvania, the very soil has power. It is fortified with the essence of the people there, their resilience, their… strength of heart.”
Alec thought he detected a hint of native pride creeping into the Count’s voice. His interest now peaked, the young man listened intently as Dracula continued to speak.
“And so, a vampire that hails from that region may sleep in the earth of his homeland and awaken rejuvenated.” He concluded.
“The legends of vampires gaining power by sleeping in their native earth are true then?” Giles asked.
Dracula nodded.
“To an extent, yes. My home possesses great power. In every patch of soil, in every tree and drop of lake water - power.” Dracula’s face darkened. “The land here though is… tainted somehow. Corrupted by the Hellmouth’s foul touch, I assume.” A look of extreme distaste crossed the Count's features before he continued. “The vampires here are unlike any other in the world. It is as if their demon has completely taken control, robbing them of their rational mind.”
“Isn’t that the norm for vampires?” Buffy asked sarcastically.
Dracula shook his head.
“Not necessarily. A vampire, freshly risen, is as a newborn child. It has no concept of right or wrong. The slate upon which was written its living moral code has been wiped clean. It knows only the hunger that wracks its body. For most vampires, hunting down a human for food remedies this. Unfortunately for humanity, this ingrains a deep sense of amorality into the vampire once a newborn vampire learns to regard humans as food; that is what they shall ever be to him - cattle to be slaughtered for sustenance and nothing more. Thus, the vampire loses touch with their humanity, becoming instead beasts and not men. That is what makes most vampires inherently evil. That one deed, in order to satisfy their appetites, eventually leads to the vampire’s eternal servitude to evil.”
Buffy snorted in disbelief; a coarse sound coming from such a delicate-looking woman and one that raised the ire of the Count, who narrowed his eyes in displeasure at the unladylike display. Clearly disturbed by what she was hearing, Buffy did not appear to notice.
“So, what you’re saying is that vampires that are born outside of California are nicer?” she asked in disbelief.
“That they are nicer, no. This is not so,” Dracula corrected. “Only that they are more balanced, less disposed to one moral extreme or the other. I have known vampires that were greeted by their sires who had the foresight to procure jars filled with blood for them to sup upon. Once having done so, the vampire does not then automatically associate human beings with food. A vampire may still decide to kill for their meals, most do so, but it is at least aware that there is an alternative. The vampires I’ve seen here however are hence unaware of such alternative. They know only that in order to live, the living must die,” he finished.
Giles had grown a rather pasty white through all of this as some of the most base Watchers’ beliefs were shaken down to their very core.
Alec turned to Buffy.
“Buffy, have you ever noticed that every vampire that comes out of its grave, their face has already undergone the change?”
Buffy shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, so?”
Alec smiled grimly and turned back to Dracula.
“That’s not normal, is it, Count? Vampires where you’re from do not rise from the grave with their faces already distorted by the demon, do they?”
Dracula smiled in obvious pleasure at the young man’s perceptiveness.
“This is so. The face of a freshly risen vampire is as smooth as yours or mine; its first emotion is confusion, not demonic, homicidal mania.”
Giles cleared his throat.
“Let me see if I understand this clearly, Count. The Hellmouth corrupts vampires in their graves. Since a vampire already has predatory tendencies, it simply takes these tendencies and infuses them with the demonic essence, which is evidenced by the distortion of their faces?”
Dracula nodded. “This is so.”
Giles continued. “And so, when they arise they immediately attack, because their first impulse - what has been programmed into their minds - is that they need to kill to feed.”
He looked up at the Count for confirmation and received a slow nod.
The Watcher continued his train of thought.
“Which means, that since the Hellmouth knows the Slayer is here and usually waiting for them when they awake, it is essentially convincing them to commit suicide, thus releasing the very demonic energy that animates it, the same demonic energy that twists its mind,” he looked up at Dracula, “the same demonic energy that the Hellmouth itself put into it in the first place.”
Dracula smiled, pleased. “Thus it grows stronger,” the vampire finished for him.
Buffy frowned, puzzled.
“Wait a second, how can it grow stronger if it just animates a vampire that gets killed five seconds later anyway?” she asked.
Alec answered.
“Because, in the very act of killing a vampire, or killing anything for that matter, more negative energy is produced. Vampire, demon, human being, it’s all the same. When something dies - violently, I’m guessing - there must be some kind of resonance that finds its way back to the Hellmouth.”
He turned to regard Buffy.
“It’s the perfect cycle, sis. When a vampire kills and turns someone, that negative energy, released from the violent death of the living, breathing person, is absorbed by the Hellmouth. Once the vampire-to-be is buried, the Hellmouth twists its mind, riling it up into a frenzy. It emerges and, instead of running away or trying to communicate with you - as I imagine most vampires would…” Alec turned to the Count to verify this; Dracula only smiled encouragingly and gestured for him to continue. Alec resumed, “...it attacks you, seeing you only as food. You kill it and, in the act of doing so, release more negative energy for the Hellmouth to consume. In essence, the Hellmouth is getting two deaths from one person with all the accompanying negative energy.”
He turned his eyes back to the Count and asked. “And this has been going for how long?”
Dracula spread his arms in a grand gesture.
“Since time immortal. It is only recently, however, that the Slayer’s success has reached such levels that the Hellmouth finds itself well-fed and fully sentient, ready to free itself once and for all,” he informed them.
“It’s been playing me this whole time,” Buffy whispered in shock. “It’s been getting me to do its dirty work, sending it more death to make itself stronger.”
Dracula nodded and smiled.
“Brilliant, is it not? If you slay the vampires, it gains life from their death. If you do not slay them, the vampires kill the living, make more of their own twisted kind, and the Hellmouth reaps the power of all these deaths. Truly, the Hellmouth possess a diabolical mind.”
“But,” the Dark Prince held up a finger and smiled slyly, “it has made a mistake; or rather it has taken a calculated risk. For, while at this very instant it stands at the threshold of ascension, it is now also at its most vulnerable,” the Count explained.
Giles scratched his chin thoughtfully. “As it was in the case involving Mayor Wilkins - invulnerable until he transformed,” he commented.
Buffy nodded her agreement, still a little dazed by the sheer scope of the Hellmouth’s deception. Alec, however, scrutinized Dracula.
“You said the Hellmouth was now at its most vulnerable. How?” he asked intently.
The Count nodded and began.
“The Hellmouth does not exist on merely one plane of existence. In the distant ages, when the world was still young, the Hellmouth resided mostly in the negative material plane; a plane of existence where there is only the energies of entropy and decay - a so-called ‘demon dimension.’ In that place it would feed on deaths from the prime material plane - this plane, this earth - that would trickle down into the negative plane from time to time.”
Buffy’s brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t understand,” she said, sounding befuddled.
Dracula sighed with an air of strained patience and tried again. “Think of a weed; its roots deep in the soil and its stem and leaves in the air. When it rains, water falls from the air and soaks into the ground to be absorbed by the roots of the weed, yes?”
Buffy bobbed her head slowly in half-understanding whilst Alec and Giles were hanging onto the Count’s every word.
“Now picture that the soil, from whence the weed grows, is the negative material plane. This is where the roots of the Hellmouth lay. The point where stalk and shoots sprout, emerging from soil into air, is the prime material plane. Imagine then, that the Hellmouth itself is the weed, from roots to stem; in the beginning, nothing more than a seed. However, instead of rain, death, hate, entropy, decay, and necromantic power trickled down from your world into its world. There, these energies of evil soaked into the roots of the Hellmouth.”
“The weed now grows larger; more and more of it breaks through the barrier between dimensions and climbs higher and higher into the sky, the sky once again being this dimension here. Over eons and eons, the Hellmouth grew - every unnatural death, every murder, every black hex cast was just more proverbial rain to be soaked up by hungry roots, making this weed of evil stronger. Until at last, the weed is no longer a simple weed, but instead has become a vast underground network with its roots stretched out across the entire state of California.” Dracula snorted quietly. “I imagine it had quite the feeding frenzy once its roots reached Los Angeles. ‘City of the Angels’ indeed.”
He waved a hand in dismissal and continued.
“With humans butchering each other in the streets, it would have grown quickly, true, but still would not have reached maturity this rapidly. However, if the death of a human is as a trickle of rainwater…”
“…Then demonic and vampiric death is like a flood to it, especially since the Hellmouth can control how much sustenance it gets by riling up vampires into suicidal frenzy. Once the vampires are killed, I imagine it has no problem assimilating the negative energy released. After all, this thing has already had its roots in these vampires since the beginning. This is simply the Hellmouth taking back what already belongs to it, plus a little interest on the side,” Alec finished.
Dracula smiled and grinned evilly at Buffy as if he were enjoying a private joke at her expense.
“And what better tender of the garden than the Slayer, who is bound by sacred duty to provide the Hellmouth with what it so desperately needs - unnatural death of creatures abundant with negative energy.” The vampire crowed with all the flourish of a triumphant stage magician.
Giles, Alec, and Buffy looked mildly ill, but the Count's logic tracked clean. They - the entire Watcher organization, the Slayers, and every bit of accumulated lore over countless generations - had been twisted to serve the Hellmouth’s purposes. Buffy recovered from the shock first.
“So, how do we stop it?” she demanded.
Dracula nodded and smiled.
“Ah, thus we get to the heart of the matter. I will continue with my plant analogy. The plant has now reached maturity, so much so that it now has the capacity to influence things more directly. It can kill on its own, no longer requiring the Slayer’s diligent ministrations. It has ceased to be like the Venus Fly trap, merely awaiting the arrival of the next batch of the Slayer’s kills. It has now achieved full sentience. It can think more clearly now, it can manipulate its surroundings with greater efficiency, and it can manifest more directly.”
“The sudden disappearance of everything living in the sewers and underground,” Alec blurted out.
Dracula nodded.
“I imagine that it is the result of the Hellmouth stretching its vines and opening its petals so to speak. However, this newfound freedom has not come without a cost. In order to do this, the Hellmouth has pulled itself up by the roots, as it were. It can no longer draw substance from all that dies unnaturally; it must feed directly to gain the strength it needs to finally emerge unto the surface. It must kill with its own ‘hands’ in a manner of speaking.”
“So, what you’re saying is that the Hellmouth isn’t getting its jollies from me sending it morsels anymore. It has to get its own before it can fully come into this world?” Buffy asked him.
Dracula shook his head, remorsefully.
“No child, it has already fully entered this world. The Hellmouth has awakened and emerged; it writhes and grows under our very feet.”
Buffy paled and, into the silence, her brother spoke.
“But if it’s fully in our realm that means…” Alec stopped short and shot a look to Buffy.
Dracula smiled.
“That is correct. For the first time since its birth, the Hellmouth is vulnerable. For the first time in the history of the world, only now can it kill directly… and only now can it die. All it lacks is freedom from its underground prison, the freedom to move through the race of man, like locusts move amongst crops: devouring all in their path and growing stronger for it. It cannot do so yet. The Hellmouth’s strength has not quite reached that point. It still requires one more element.”
“The Key. Dawn,” Alec breathed.
“If the Hellmouth succeeds in consuming young Dawn, it will have all the power it needs to free itself and begin to devour the world; returning this world to its demonic state,” Dracula replied.
Alec’s face went numb with horror.
“No, not for anything, not for the world, it is not taking her,” he growled with a vehemence that caused odd looks to cross the faces of Buffy and Giles.
Dracula just smiled as if he was not surprised by Alec’s behavior.
“However, all is not lost, for, like fish bone on a dinner plate, what it attempts to swallow may instead choke it. Dawn contains the power to utterly destroy the Hellmouth, once and for all. But not alone.”
Dracula held up three fingers.
“She needs three items of great power, three talismans, as it were. Alone they are quite powerful, but together with Dawn, they have the power to annihilate the Hellmouth.”
“The first is a gem, whose location is known by no man. It is known only as the Everstone - that which balances light and dark. The second is a sacred text, a benediction that contains no words, was written by no quill, and exists on no parchment in the world, yet contains the power of absolute holiness. And the third,” Dracula smiled slightly, “the most potent of all - the blood of the Neverborn. Said to be ‘of the darkness to defy the darkness’.” Dracula quoted as he closed his hand into a fist.
“These three things, combined with Dawn and in the presence of the Hellmouth, will eradicate its taint from the prime material plane utterly. Furthermore, because it has already abandoned its home plane, the Hellmouth will wither and simply cease to be.”
Buffy looked overwhelmed by it all; her companions did not appear much better off.
“Terrific, so all we need to stop the Hellmouth from devouring the world is a stone that no one knows where to find, a prayer that was never written, the blood of someone that was never born, and my kid sister, who, as we speak, is probably throwing a temper tantrum to my mother about going to bed,” Buffy finished, exasperated.
“Precisely,” Dracula replied simply, earning him a withering glare from the woman. “Beware though, Slayer,” he warned in a dark tone, “the Hellmouth is not unaware of its sudden vulnerability. I would say that it is very much aware now, perhaps for the first time since its birth. And being aware as it is, it can now both hunt and kill. It commands the forces of rot, entropy, decay, and death. All that is impure or corrupt answers its call. You must find these artifacts, Slayer, before the Hellmouth or its servants find you… or Dawn,” Dracula stated, his voice now lowered to an ominous rumble that filled Buffy with dread.
“Question,” Alec interjected. “What’s in it for you? I mean, you’re still a vampire, surely you wouldn’t object to having your species being given free reign over the world once again?”
Dracula straightened proudly and his voice became regal as he spoke.
“I love my people, young Giles, I love my homeland. I will not see the Hellmouth’s infernal taint corrupt the very soil that has granted me life twice over. I will not see it twist my country as it has twisted hers,” he spat, pointing at Buffy, “and I will not see it twist the hearts and minds of my countrymen for whom I once fought for and sacrificed so much to protect. The Hellmouth is an abomination. It must be destroyed. For the sake of my people and my home, for all that is left that I love and cherish still, the Hellmouth must never bury its roots in the native earth of my home.”
Alec acquiesced to the point with a nod.
“So, now what do we do?” Buffy asked, still sounding forlorn.
Dracula considered.
“As to the nature of the prayer and the blood, I cannot help you, but to the stone I have a name - Grigori Estate - a name that has come to me only through much time and divination. There you should perhaps find a clue that will point you in the correct direction.”
Buffy snorted. “Terrific, where is it?”
Dracula shook his head. “This I do not know.”
Buffy threw her hands into the air, exasperated.
“Well, that’s helpful!” she exclaimed before sighing heavily.
As she brought her hands back down she was surprised to see that they were shaking. And in that moment, the full scope and size of the forces she was pitted against washed over her like a wave, threatening to crush her, to drag her down and drown her deep in the cold dark. She heard a whimper of fear and was shocked to realize that it came from her. Instantly she felt two pairs of strong arms wrap around her as the elder and younger Giles held her tightly.
“We can do this, Buffy,” Alec whispered fiercely.
Giles nodded and squeezed Buffy tighter, united with his son in his unwillingness to allow the woman he’d come to love as his own daughter to succumb to despair.
“Indeed you can, young warrior,” Dracula declared before he turned his attention from Alec to Buffy.
“You are a light, Slayer, the light of all lights. You are a warrior who does not know death. And even as the Hellmouth’s strength grows, so, too, shall your own strength grow.”
Dracula shook his long mane of hair in a gesture of admonition.
“Do not forget that for every generation, there has been a Slayer, the chosen warrior for the forces of light. You descend from a long and noble line of warrior women. Cry out to them and they shall hear you, my child.”
In a single fluid motion, Dracula crossed the distance between them and, reaching out, touched Buffy’s hair gently, almost reverently. Buffy started at the touch as Giles’ and Alec’s arms fell away from her.
“I know this power is within you. I have known this power for generations upon generations,” the Vampire Prince stated and, for a moment, his face lost its usual cold regality and was replaced by something that could only be called longing. “Oh, yes. I know this power.” Dracula smiled slightly before regaining his former poise. “Never forget what blood runs hot through your veins. It is the blood of ages and of iron, young woman, the blood of noble crusaders and those who stood against the forces of darkness; beating the forces of Hell back with might and honor.”
Buffy found herself entranced by his words, and within her, somewhere deep in her heart, she felt a spark of hope. She inhaled deeply, her back straightened from its defeated slump, and her eyes cleared of despair.
“Thank you,” she murmured softly.
Dracula started to reach out again as if to caress her face before he seemed to catch himself. The hand dropped and a twisted, self-mocking smile formed upon the vampire’s lips.
“It is I, who should thank you, Buffy Summers. It will be you that saves all that I love from this unspeakable evil.”
His reverential tone of voice wildly contrasting with the bitter expression etched upon his pale features. Taking her hand in his, he bent low and kissed it before moving back, his fingertips lightly dancing against the skin of her hand.
Buffy was suddenly seized by a strong impulse to go to the Vampire Prince, to comfort him, and she had to stop herself from reaching out.
Dracula straightened from his bow to regard the two men proudly.
“Protect her, gentlemen, and protect her kin. Never forget that these women shall be the salvation of the world,” he told them both gravely and, with a cordial nod to each of them, he turned and walked towards the roof’s ledge.
“Hang on a second,” Alec called out, detaching himself from the rest of the group to confront the Count.
“You told me the other night that I would receive answers tonight,” Alec whispered as he shot a wary look to Giles and Buffy. Satisfied that they were not listening, he continued in a hushed tone. “You haven’t explained to me why I have these… feelings for Dawn.”
The Count smiled enigmatically at him.
“Ah, but you forget, young Giles, I said tonight you would receive answers. I never said to which questions though, did I?” he taunted.
Alec’s face darkened dangerously, seeing that, Dracula held up a placating hand.
“You will know what you must, when you must, young Giles. That will have to satisfy you for now,” he said simply.
With another regal nod, he stepped up onto the ledge… and out into empty space, dropping from sight.
Alec walked carefully to the ledge and peered over. The Count was nowhere to be seen. As he strained to detect some hint of the Vampire Prince, his ears picked up a whisper of a sound, carried on the night air - laughter; rich and dark, with an edged tone that sounded like a man enjoying a private joke at another’s expense.
With a sigh, Alec pushed away from the ledge and headed back to the Slayer and her Watcher.
Chapter 9 - Kind Lies
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Link to previous chapter
Hellmouth Ascendant Trilogy: Revamped Edition
Book One:
Dusk
Chapter Eight
Revelations
“There’s Alec,” Buffy said as she pointed to the young man reclining against his bike in front of the Bronze. “Looks all right,” she observed.
Giles nodded assent and gently pulled the car over to the side of the street. Before shutting off the engine, he looked to Alec for some signal that all was well. Alec caught his look and flashed him a quick reassuring thumbs-up. Giles sighed and, releasing a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, shut off the car engine and got out, taking a few minutes to look around.
“How’s it look, bro?” Buffy asked Alec, walking towards him.
Alec shrugged. “Not a soul in sight.” He checked his watch.
“That’s comforting” Buffy snorted.
“Right, forgot, vampires lack souls.”
POW!
“Hey!” Alec cried out as he rubbed the spot on his arm where Buffy had just punched him. “What the hell was that for?” he demanded.
Buffy just glared daggers at him, waiting for the revelation to come to her brother; it did.
“Angel.” Alec said simply.
Buffy nodded and didn’t say anything else as Giles approached them.
“No sign of our esteemed host?” the older man asked.
Alec shook his head. “Negative. We are a few minutes early though.”
Giles nodded as Buffy gave the building a quick look.
“So, are we breaking in and taking the stairs or are we fire-escaping it?” she asked.
Alec gestured to the front doors.
“I’ve already unlocked them. Shall we?” Heading towards the doors, he turned and regarded his father for a beat.
“Ready to meet the most famous vampire of all time?” he asked dryly.
“Thrilled,” Giles responded just as dryly.
Alec chuckled and held the door for the others as they entered.
The group made their way through the deserted club, found the stairwell rooftop access, and trudged up the stairs. A little quick shadow play from Alec unlocked the door and they were up on the rooftop. Alec inhaled a deep breath of night air and gazed up at the stars.
“Well, here we are… now what?” Buffy asked.
“It would seem that we wait,” Giles responded.
“Guys?”
It was Alec and there was a strange tone in his voice. Slayer and Watcher turned to face him.
“I don’t think we have to wait long.”
He pointed up at the night sky. Confused, the others followed his gaze and stiffened when they saw it.
A long trail of green and white mist lazily curled through the air, coming down out of the sky and pooling opposite the three. The mist piled higher and higher onto itself, slowly taking on a more definite shape. Finally, as if he were stepping out of a fog into clear view, Dracula stood before them. He bowed sweepingly.
“Good evening,” he said in a voice that rumbled, the sound changing to a purr as he noticed Buffy. His blue eyes danced with amusement.
“Ah, Buffy. How nice it is to see you again,” he growled, flashing her his most dazzling smile.
Buffy, however, had long since been immune to his charms.
“Pleasure’s all yours, Count,” she retorted.
Dracula chuckled and regarded the eldest of the group.
“Ah, the infamous Rupert Giles. Van Helsing of the modern world.” He bowed cordially. “I pay homage to such a learned man.”
Giles, far from being flustered by the regal behavior, rose to the occasion.
“And I pay respect to the Vampire Prince,” he returned, mirroring the Count's bow with a dignified nod of the head.
Dracula chuckled in amusement, for a moment ignoring Buffy, to regard father and son.
“There is much of your father in you, young Alec Giles. Even without your demonic essence, I sense a great power.” His fangs flashed in that same display of predatory appreciation. “You would have made a formidable vampire.”
All three of the humans narrowed their eyes at this comment.
Alec cleared his throat and enquired, “I believe you had some information for us?”
Dracula conceded to the heavy-handed attempt at changing the subject with his usual unflappable grace. “Just so, young Giles, what is it you would like to know?”
Alec gestured to Buffy, allowing her to speak.
“What happened to everything that was living in the sewers and caves before this?” she demanded.
Dracula smiled unpleasantly. “Alas, those that did not flee fast enough were made part of a larger whole. I imagine it was quite unwilling,” he informed her cryptically.
Buffy frowned. “What do you mean ‘part of a larger whole’? Are you saying they were killed?”
A faint smile graced the Count’s lips. “If they were vampires, were they not already dead?”
Buffy growled in frustration and was about to speak when Giles interrupted her.
“What of the Key? Why does the Hellmouth fear it, Count Dracula?”
Dracula’s head inclined slightly in appreciation of the genial courtesy in his tone.
“Ah, so there is one amongst you with some knowledge of proper decorum, this is good. Proof that etiquette truly is the purview of the elder.” Dracula smiled appreciatively at Giles before continuing.
“The Key, like any key, can serve two functions.” He held up two long and perfectly manicured fingers to signify this. “It can unlock a door or it can lock it. The Hellmouth, in some ways, is such a door. The Key could either open it, unleashing demonic wrath upon the world, or it could close and lock it forever,” the Count finished. “But this analogy only applies if you consider the Hellmouth as a door, and such an analogy has its flaws, I’m afraid.”
“Why now, though?” Buffy interrupted the Vampire Prince who scowled in disapproval but let it go. “Why is now so important?”
Dracula sighed patiently and spoke as if he was addressing a small and not terribly bright child.
“Because now it has the energy to do so, energy that you have helped provide,” he replied, pointing a long pale finger at her like a knife.
Buffy leapt back as if stung.
“Me? What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything!” she protested.
Dracula chortled.
“Really? For over five years, you have been the most successful Slayer in the history of the world; every manner of demon or vampire has fallen to you in combat. Did you really think that that would account for nothing?” he asked incredulously.
There was something he wasn’t telling them, something he wanted them to figure out. Alec reached it first.
“It’s been giving the Hellmouth strength hasn’t it? All those slain vampires and demons?” he answered quietly.
Dracula clapped his hands together approvingly.
“Ah, the blood of the Watchers has graced you with a keen mind, young hybrid.” The vampire laughed quietly. “To answer your question - yes, the Slayer's astonishing success rate has given it a steady diet of negative energy to feed from.”
“Negative energy?” Giles inquired, unfamiliar with the term.
Dracula smiled indulgently.
“Yes, as opposed to positive energy. Call it life force, mana vitae; it makes little difference. Positive energy is that which animates all life, from plants to people, and it is this energy that a vampire gains sustenance from when he feeds on the living. The blood is merely a method of conveyance. The sun is also a source of positive energy, though it is far too powerful to be utilized in the same fashion.” Dracula gestured to himself. “Hence the somewhat volatile reaction a vampire has to the rays of the sun.”
Alec spoke up. “So, if positive energy is what animates the living, then negative energy…” His thoughts trailed off.
“…Is that which animates the dead. It is the power of darkness, of death and of the night,” Dracula finished. He raised a finger to gesture at Alec. “You, my friend, are such a creature, to some degree. The power that flows in your veins is not that of sun and life, but that of shadows and the cold void between the stars.”
“But Alec can go out during the day without being burned alive,” Buffy interjected, shaking herself out of her grim reverie.
Dracula sighed and nodded indulgently.
“Yes, because, despite this, he is still alive. His heart beats, his lungs breathe, and blood flows in his veins. Vampires are beings powered entirely by negative energy, as are ghosts and most demons. A vampire that ventures into the sun is bombarded by its positive energy, which reacts violently to the vampire’s negative energy; this is what causes the vampire to combust upon being exposed to the light of day.” He smiled a cold bemused smile. “Please bear in mind, that this is a terribly simplistic view of things. However, I do not believe you are yet ready for the more comprehensive explanation.”
“So, every time Buffy killed a vampire, its negative energy was released to be absorbed by the Hellmouth,” Alec finished quietly.
Dracula nodded.
“Correct. Sunnydale, and to a lesser extent, all of California, has a most peculiar effect on the newly risen. Something happens to these vampires after they are put to into the earth but before they arise for the first time. Some sort of... infection stains their minds and souls, rendering them vicious and beastlike…” Dracula smiled slightly, “well more vicious anyhow. In my homeland of Transylvania, the very soil has power. It is fortified with the essence of the people there, their resilience, their… strength of heart.”
Alec thought he detected a hint of native pride creeping into the Count’s voice. His interest now peaked, the young man listened intently as Dracula continued to speak.
“And so, a vampire that hails from that region may sleep in the earth of his homeland and awaken rejuvenated.” He concluded.
“The legends of vampires gaining power by sleeping in their native earth are true then?” Giles asked.
Dracula nodded.
“To an extent, yes. My home possesses great power. In every patch of soil, in every tree and drop of lake water - power.” Dracula’s face darkened. “The land here though is… tainted somehow. Corrupted by the Hellmouth’s foul touch, I assume.” A look of extreme distaste crossed the Count's features before he continued. “The vampires here are unlike any other in the world. It is as if their demon has completely taken control, robbing them of their rational mind.”
“Isn’t that the norm for vampires?” Buffy asked sarcastically.
Dracula shook his head.
“Not necessarily. A vampire, freshly risen, is as a newborn child. It has no concept of right or wrong. The slate upon which was written its living moral code has been wiped clean. It knows only the hunger that wracks its body. For most vampires, hunting down a human for food remedies this. Unfortunately for humanity, this ingrains a deep sense of amorality into the vampire once a newborn vampire learns to regard humans as food; that is what they shall ever be to him - cattle to be slaughtered for sustenance and nothing more. Thus, the vampire loses touch with their humanity, becoming instead beasts and not men. That is what makes most vampires inherently evil. That one deed, in order to satisfy their appetites, eventually leads to the vampire’s eternal servitude to evil.”
Buffy snorted in disbelief; a coarse sound coming from such a delicate-looking woman and one that raised the ire of the Count, who narrowed his eyes in displeasure at the unladylike display. Clearly disturbed by what she was hearing, Buffy did not appear to notice.
“So, what you’re saying is that vampires that are born outside of California are nicer?” she asked in disbelief.
“That they are nicer, no. This is not so,” Dracula corrected. “Only that they are more balanced, less disposed to one moral extreme or the other. I have known vampires that were greeted by their sires who had the foresight to procure jars filled with blood for them to sup upon. Once having done so, the vampire does not then automatically associate human beings with food. A vampire may still decide to kill for their meals, most do so, but it is at least aware that there is an alternative. The vampires I’ve seen here however are hence unaware of such alternative. They know only that in order to live, the living must die,” he finished.
Giles had grown a rather pasty white through all of this as some of the most base Watchers’ beliefs were shaken down to their very core.
Alec turned to Buffy.
“Buffy, have you ever noticed that every vampire that comes out of its grave, their face has already undergone the change?”
Buffy shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, so?”
Alec smiled grimly and turned back to Dracula.
“That’s not normal, is it, Count? Vampires where you’re from do not rise from the grave with their faces already distorted by the demon, do they?”
Dracula smiled in obvious pleasure at the young man’s perceptiveness.
“This is so. The face of a freshly risen vampire is as smooth as yours or mine; its first emotion is confusion, not demonic, homicidal mania.”
Giles cleared his throat.
“Let me see if I understand this clearly, Count. The Hellmouth corrupts vampires in their graves. Since a vampire already has predatory tendencies, it simply takes these tendencies and infuses them with the demonic essence, which is evidenced by the distortion of their faces?”
Dracula nodded. “This is so.”
Giles continued. “And so, when they arise they immediately attack, because their first impulse - what has been programmed into their minds - is that they need to kill to feed.”
He looked up at the Count for confirmation and received a slow nod.
The Watcher continued his train of thought.
“Which means, that since the Hellmouth knows the Slayer is here and usually waiting for them when they awake, it is essentially convincing them to commit suicide, thus releasing the very demonic energy that animates it, the same demonic energy that twists its mind,” he looked up at Dracula, “the same demonic energy that the Hellmouth itself put into it in the first place.”
Dracula smiled, pleased. “Thus it grows stronger,” the vampire finished for him.
Buffy frowned, puzzled.
“Wait a second, how can it grow stronger if it just animates a vampire that gets killed five seconds later anyway?” she asked.
Alec answered.
“Because, in the very act of killing a vampire, or killing anything for that matter, more negative energy is produced. Vampire, demon, human being, it’s all the same. When something dies - violently, I’m guessing - there must be some kind of resonance that finds its way back to the Hellmouth.”
He turned to regard Buffy.
“It’s the perfect cycle, sis. When a vampire kills and turns someone, that negative energy, released from the violent death of the living, breathing person, is absorbed by the Hellmouth. Once the vampire-to-be is buried, the Hellmouth twists its mind, riling it up into a frenzy. It emerges and, instead of running away or trying to communicate with you - as I imagine most vampires would…” Alec turned to the Count to verify this; Dracula only smiled encouragingly and gestured for him to continue. Alec resumed, “...it attacks you, seeing you only as food. You kill it and, in the act of doing so, release more negative energy for the Hellmouth to consume. In essence, the Hellmouth is getting two deaths from one person with all the accompanying negative energy.”
He turned his eyes back to the Count and asked. “And this has been going for how long?”
Dracula spread his arms in a grand gesture.
“Since time immortal. It is only recently, however, that the Slayer’s success has reached such levels that the Hellmouth finds itself well-fed and fully sentient, ready to free itself once and for all,” he informed them.
“It’s been playing me this whole time,” Buffy whispered in shock. “It’s been getting me to do its dirty work, sending it more death to make itself stronger.”
Dracula nodded and smiled.
“Brilliant, is it not? If you slay the vampires, it gains life from their death. If you do not slay them, the vampires kill the living, make more of their own twisted kind, and the Hellmouth reaps the power of all these deaths. Truly, the Hellmouth possess a diabolical mind.”
“But,” the Dark Prince held up a finger and smiled slyly, “it has made a mistake; or rather it has taken a calculated risk. For, while at this very instant it stands at the threshold of ascension, it is now also at its most vulnerable,” the Count explained.
Giles scratched his chin thoughtfully. “As it was in the case involving Mayor Wilkins - invulnerable until he transformed,” he commented.
Buffy nodded her agreement, still a little dazed by the sheer scope of the Hellmouth’s deception. Alec, however, scrutinized Dracula.
“You said the Hellmouth was now at its most vulnerable. How?” he asked intently.
The Count nodded and began.
“The Hellmouth does not exist on merely one plane of existence. In the distant ages, when the world was still young, the Hellmouth resided mostly in the negative material plane; a plane of existence where there is only the energies of entropy and decay - a so-called ‘demon dimension.’ In that place it would feed on deaths from the prime material plane - this plane, this earth - that would trickle down into the negative plane from time to time.”
Buffy’s brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t understand,” she said, sounding befuddled.
Dracula sighed with an air of strained patience and tried again. “Think of a weed; its roots deep in the soil and its stem and leaves in the air. When it rains, water falls from the air and soaks into the ground to be absorbed by the roots of the weed, yes?”
Buffy bobbed her head slowly in half-understanding whilst Alec and Giles were hanging onto the Count’s every word.
“Now picture that the soil, from whence the weed grows, is the negative material plane. This is where the roots of the Hellmouth lay. The point where stalk and shoots sprout, emerging from soil into air, is the prime material plane. Imagine then, that the Hellmouth itself is the weed, from roots to stem; in the beginning, nothing more than a seed. However, instead of rain, death, hate, entropy, decay, and necromantic power trickled down from your world into its world. There, these energies of evil soaked into the roots of the Hellmouth.”
“The weed now grows larger; more and more of it breaks through the barrier between dimensions and climbs higher and higher into the sky, the sky once again being this dimension here. Over eons and eons, the Hellmouth grew - every unnatural death, every murder, every black hex cast was just more proverbial rain to be soaked up by hungry roots, making this weed of evil stronger. Until at last, the weed is no longer a simple weed, but instead has become a vast underground network with its roots stretched out across the entire state of California.” Dracula snorted quietly. “I imagine it had quite the feeding frenzy once its roots reached Los Angeles. ‘City of the Angels’ indeed.”
He waved a hand in dismissal and continued.
“With humans butchering each other in the streets, it would have grown quickly, true, but still would not have reached maturity this rapidly. However, if the death of a human is as a trickle of rainwater…”
“…Then demonic and vampiric death is like a flood to it, especially since the Hellmouth can control how much sustenance it gets by riling up vampires into suicidal frenzy. Once the vampires are killed, I imagine it has no problem assimilating the negative energy released. After all, this thing has already had its roots in these vampires since the beginning. This is simply the Hellmouth taking back what already belongs to it, plus a little interest on the side,” Alec finished.
Dracula smiled and grinned evilly at Buffy as if he were enjoying a private joke at her expense.
“And what better tender of the garden than the Slayer, who is bound by sacred duty to provide the Hellmouth with what it so desperately needs - unnatural death of creatures abundant with negative energy.” The vampire crowed with all the flourish of a triumphant stage magician.
Giles, Alec, and Buffy looked mildly ill, but the Count's logic tracked clean. They - the entire Watcher organization, the Slayers, and every bit of accumulated lore over countless generations - had been twisted to serve the Hellmouth’s purposes. Buffy recovered from the shock first.
“So, how do we stop it?” she demanded.
Dracula nodded and smiled.
“Ah, thus we get to the heart of the matter. I will continue with my plant analogy. The plant has now reached maturity, so much so that it now has the capacity to influence things more directly. It can kill on its own, no longer requiring the Slayer’s diligent ministrations. It has ceased to be like the Venus Fly trap, merely awaiting the arrival of the next batch of the Slayer’s kills. It has now achieved full sentience. It can think more clearly now, it can manipulate its surroundings with greater efficiency, and it can manifest more directly.”
“The sudden disappearance of everything living in the sewers and underground,” Alec blurted out.
Dracula nodded.
“I imagine that it is the result of the Hellmouth stretching its vines and opening its petals so to speak. However, this newfound freedom has not come without a cost. In order to do this, the Hellmouth has pulled itself up by the roots, as it were. It can no longer draw substance from all that dies unnaturally; it must feed directly to gain the strength it needs to finally emerge unto the surface. It must kill with its own ‘hands’ in a manner of speaking.”
“So, what you’re saying is that the Hellmouth isn’t getting its jollies from me sending it morsels anymore. It has to get its own before it can fully come into this world?” Buffy asked him.
Dracula shook his head, remorsefully.
“No child, it has already fully entered this world. The Hellmouth has awakened and emerged; it writhes and grows under our very feet.”
Buffy paled and, into the silence, her brother spoke.
“But if it’s fully in our realm that means…” Alec stopped short and shot a look to Buffy.
Dracula smiled.
“That is correct. For the first time since its birth, the Hellmouth is vulnerable. For the first time in the history of the world, only now can it kill directly… and only now can it die. All it lacks is freedom from its underground prison, the freedom to move through the race of man, like locusts move amongst crops: devouring all in their path and growing stronger for it. It cannot do so yet. The Hellmouth’s strength has not quite reached that point. It still requires one more element.”
“The Key. Dawn,” Alec breathed.
“If the Hellmouth succeeds in consuming young Dawn, it will have all the power it needs to free itself and begin to devour the world; returning this world to its demonic state,” Dracula replied.
Alec’s face went numb with horror.
“No, not for anything, not for the world, it is not taking her,” he growled with a vehemence that caused odd looks to cross the faces of Buffy and Giles.
Dracula just smiled as if he was not surprised by Alec’s behavior.
“However, all is not lost, for, like fish bone on a dinner plate, what it attempts to swallow may instead choke it. Dawn contains the power to utterly destroy the Hellmouth, once and for all. But not alone.”
Dracula held up three fingers.
“She needs three items of great power, three talismans, as it were. Alone they are quite powerful, but together with Dawn, they have the power to annihilate the Hellmouth.”
“The first is a gem, whose location is known by no man. It is known only as the Everstone - that which balances light and dark. The second is a sacred text, a benediction that contains no words, was written by no quill, and exists on no parchment in the world, yet contains the power of absolute holiness. And the third,” Dracula smiled slightly, “the most potent of all - the blood of the Neverborn. Said to be ‘of the darkness to defy the darkness’.” Dracula quoted as he closed his hand into a fist.
“These three things, combined with Dawn and in the presence of the Hellmouth, will eradicate its taint from the prime material plane utterly. Furthermore, because it has already abandoned its home plane, the Hellmouth will wither and simply cease to be.”
Buffy looked overwhelmed by it all; her companions did not appear much better off.
“Terrific, so all we need to stop the Hellmouth from devouring the world is a stone that no one knows where to find, a prayer that was never written, the blood of someone that was never born, and my kid sister, who, as we speak, is probably throwing a temper tantrum to my mother about going to bed,” Buffy finished, exasperated.
“Precisely,” Dracula replied simply, earning him a withering glare from the woman. “Beware though, Slayer,” he warned in a dark tone, “the Hellmouth is not unaware of its sudden vulnerability. I would say that it is very much aware now, perhaps for the first time since its birth. And being aware as it is, it can now both hunt and kill. It commands the forces of rot, entropy, decay, and death. All that is impure or corrupt answers its call. You must find these artifacts, Slayer, before the Hellmouth or its servants find you… or Dawn,” Dracula stated, his voice now lowered to an ominous rumble that filled Buffy with dread.
“Question,” Alec interjected. “What’s in it for you? I mean, you’re still a vampire, surely you wouldn’t object to having your species being given free reign over the world once again?”
Dracula straightened proudly and his voice became regal as he spoke.
“I love my people, young Giles, I love my homeland. I will not see the Hellmouth’s infernal taint corrupt the very soil that has granted me life twice over. I will not see it twist my country as it has twisted hers,” he spat, pointing at Buffy, “and I will not see it twist the hearts and minds of my countrymen for whom I once fought for and sacrificed so much to protect. The Hellmouth is an abomination. It must be destroyed. For the sake of my people and my home, for all that is left that I love and cherish still, the Hellmouth must never bury its roots in the native earth of my home.”
Alec acquiesced to the point with a nod.
“So, now what do we do?” Buffy asked, still sounding forlorn.
Dracula considered.
“As to the nature of the prayer and the blood, I cannot help you, but to the stone I have a name - Grigori Estate - a name that has come to me only through much time and divination. There you should perhaps find a clue that will point you in the correct direction.”
Buffy snorted. “Terrific, where is it?”
Dracula shook his head. “This I do not know.”
Buffy threw her hands into the air, exasperated.
“Well, that’s helpful!” she exclaimed before sighing heavily.
As she brought her hands back down she was surprised to see that they were shaking. And in that moment, the full scope and size of the forces she was pitted against washed over her like a wave, threatening to crush her, to drag her down and drown her deep in the cold dark. She heard a whimper of fear and was shocked to realize that it came from her. Instantly she felt two pairs of strong arms wrap around her as the elder and younger Giles held her tightly.
“We can do this, Buffy,” Alec whispered fiercely.
Giles nodded and squeezed Buffy tighter, united with his son in his unwillingness to allow the woman he’d come to love as his own daughter to succumb to despair.
“Indeed you can, young warrior,” Dracula declared before he turned his attention from Alec to Buffy.
“You are a light, Slayer, the light of all lights. You are a warrior who does not know death. And even as the Hellmouth’s strength grows, so, too, shall your own strength grow.”
Dracula shook his long mane of hair in a gesture of admonition.
“Do not forget that for every generation, there has been a Slayer, the chosen warrior for the forces of light. You descend from a long and noble line of warrior women. Cry out to them and they shall hear you, my child.”
In a single fluid motion, Dracula crossed the distance between them and, reaching out, touched Buffy’s hair gently, almost reverently. Buffy started at the touch as Giles’ and Alec’s arms fell away from her.
“I know this power is within you. I have known this power for generations upon generations,” the Vampire Prince stated and, for a moment, his face lost its usual cold regality and was replaced by something that could only be called longing. “Oh, yes. I know this power.” Dracula smiled slightly before regaining his former poise. “Never forget what blood runs hot through your veins. It is the blood of ages and of iron, young woman, the blood of noble crusaders and those who stood against the forces of darkness; beating the forces of Hell back with might and honor.”
Buffy found herself entranced by his words, and within her, somewhere deep in her heart, she felt a spark of hope. She inhaled deeply, her back straightened from its defeated slump, and her eyes cleared of despair.
“Thank you,” she murmured softly.
Dracula started to reach out again as if to caress her face before he seemed to catch himself. The hand dropped and a twisted, self-mocking smile formed upon the vampire’s lips.
“It is I, who should thank you, Buffy Summers. It will be you that saves all that I love from this unspeakable evil.”
His reverential tone of voice wildly contrasting with the bitter expression etched upon his pale features. Taking her hand in his, he bent low and kissed it before moving back, his fingertips lightly dancing against the skin of her hand.
Buffy was suddenly seized by a strong impulse to go to the Vampire Prince, to comfort him, and she had to stop herself from reaching out.
Dracula straightened from his bow to regard the two men proudly.
“Protect her, gentlemen, and protect her kin. Never forget that these women shall be the salvation of the world,” he told them both gravely and, with a cordial nod to each of them, he turned and walked towards the roof’s ledge.
“Hang on a second,” Alec called out, detaching himself from the rest of the group to confront the Count.
“You told me the other night that I would receive answers tonight,” Alec whispered as he shot a wary look to Giles and Buffy. Satisfied that they were not listening, he continued in a hushed tone. “You haven’t explained to me why I have these… feelings for Dawn.”
The Count smiled enigmatically at him.
“Ah, but you forget, young Giles, I said tonight you would receive answers. I never said to which questions though, did I?” he taunted.
Alec’s face darkened dangerously, seeing that, Dracula held up a placating hand.
“You will know what you must, when you must, young Giles. That will have to satisfy you for now,” he said simply.
With another regal nod, he stepped up onto the ledge… and out into empty space, dropping from sight.
Alec walked carefully to the ledge and peered over. The Count was nowhere to be seen. As he strained to detect some hint of the Vampire Prince, his ears picked up a whisper of a sound, carried on the night air - laughter; rich and dark, with an edged tone that sounded like a man enjoying a private joke at another’s expense.
With a sigh, Alec pushed away from the ledge and headed back to the Slayer and her Watcher.
Chapter 9 - Kind Lies