Chapter 9 - Kind Lies (part 1)
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.
Beautiful banner created by edgehead73
Beta: Rachelia & Basilio
Link to previous chapter
Hellmouth Ascendant Trilogy: Revamped Edition
Book One:
Dusk
Chapter 9
Kind lies
The ride back to Buffy’s house was quiet. Giles and Buffy were lost in thought and Alec behind them on his bike in much the same state. They’d decided that they’d had enough for one night. Calling from her cell phone, Buffy told Willow to let everyone know she’d decided to head home. Willow didn’t ask what had happened, but had let Buffy know that indeed there was a minor incantation protecting the tome taken from the Mayor’s office. She’d been able to take care of it fairly easily. Buffy also told Willow to make sure Spike and Angel would not go into the sewers for any reason whatsoever.
“Is it bad?” Willow asked her when Buffy was finished.
“It's beyond bad,” Buffy replied. “I’ll fill you in tomorrow.”
Willow wished Buffy a good night and hung up.
Giles and Buffy pulled into her driveway with Alec right behind them. After exchanging a few supportive words with both son and daughter, Giles backed out of the driveway and headed back to the shop to begin work on translating the journal.
Alec shut off his bike and walked over to Buffy. “Hell of a night, eh?” he said.
Buffy snorted slightly before responding.
“Yeah, you could say that. You sticking around?”
Alec nodded. “I’m going to go check on Dawn. Figure I’d say hello,” he told her.
“You’ve really got a soft spot for the kid, don’t you?” she asked, amused.
Alec shrugged uncomfortably.
“I suppose. Guess I just don’t think it’s fair for a child to be saddled with such a burden,” he replied as he turned to regard the Slayer. “I’m assuming you can relate.”
Buffy froze; she’d never considered that.
“Yeah. Yeah, I can,” she admitted, exhaling hard. “Guess I should cut her some slack, huh?”
Alec nodded.
“It’d be a good idea. Unlike you, she has absolutely no idea what’s going on. It’s going to be quite a shock,” he said as he shook his head. “It’s not easy to go from Backstreet Boys to H.P. Lovecraft.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. Backstreet boys are way scarier,” Buffy joked.
Alec laughed as he opened the door and he and his sister stepped inside the warm house.
Joyce came out to greet them with a plate of cookies. The whole house had been done up in lights and a large kerosene heater glowed in the corner brightly, staving off the unusually cold weather for California.
“Buffy! You’re home!” the older woman exclaimed as she hugged her daughter.
Buffy looked at her mother, a tad confused.
“Mom, it’s, like, 1 A.M. What are you doing up… and baking?” she asked.
“I know, honey, but I couldn’t sleep, I’m just so excited. The holiday season coming up and all,” Joyce explained.
Buffy nodded solemnly.
“Yeah, way to pre-empt Christmas,” she commented sardonically as she took a cookie from the plate.
Joyce lifted her head to regard Alec.
“Oh, Dusk, I can’t tell you how grateful I am for you watching Dawn the other night, let me get my purse so I can pay you,” she told the other man.
Alec shook his head. “Forget it, Ms. Summers. Consider it a Christmas present,” he told her.
Joyce and Buffy stopped and stared at him, dumbfounded, with Buffy in mid-chew. Neither of them had ever heard of someone watching Dawn who didn’t want to be paid handsomely.
“You sure, bro?” Buffy asked incredulously. “I mean, you stayed with her for hours. You’re at least entitled to hazard pay.”
Alec grinned and took a Christmas cookie from the plate.
“Just keep me in ready supply of these cookies, Ms. Summers, and we’ll call it even. Fair enough?” he asked.
Joyce blushed. “Fair enough, Dusk,” she replied, smiling at the compliment.
Buffy smirked as she patted Alec’s arm.
“Smooth talker,” she commented.
Alec cleared his throat and looked upstairs. “Dawn still awake?” he asked gently.
Joyce nodded. “I decided to let her have one of her presents early. She’s upstairs with it right now.”
Alec nodded, turning back to face them.
“I’m just gonna go upstairs. Wish her a goodnight. Will that be all right?” he asked, gauging their reactions. He was relieved that neither showed any indication that they believed his motivations ran deeper than what he had presented.
Because they do not! Alec thought to himself forcibly.
Buffy gave his arm an affectionate squeeze.
“Go tell the little monstrosity I said hi, would you?” she asked her brother.
Alec nodded ands assured her, “Not a problem.”
Munching contently on his Christmas cookie, he headed up the stairs.
Reaching Dawn’s room, he quietly knocked.
“Go away!” came the response from the other side of the door.
There was a pause, then a familiar voice emitted from the other side of the door.
“Okay. Sorry.”
Dawn’s eyes widened and, nearly dropping her new video camera, she dove for the door, fumbled with the lock, and yanked it open hurriedly to reveal the owner of the voice.
“Alec!” Dawn cried, grinning widely at him. “Hi. Sorry, I thought you were someone else,” she explained, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
Alec smiled slightly. “I figured that. Can I come in?” he asked.
Dawn bobbed her head. “Uh-huh, sure,” she answered, stepping aside for him to enter.
“Cute pajamas, flannel is you,” Alec told her, gesturing at them and flashing her his unique smile.
“They were a gift,” the girl offered as an explanation as she blushed furiously and tried desperately not to go weak in the knees at that smile as she almost always did.
“Ah, I see,” was his only reply.
Alec stepped through the doorway and, as his back was turned, Dawn stuck her head around the door, hurriedly scanning the hallway back and forth to make sure they were, in fact, alone. Upon seeing no one else in the corridor, she nearly hopped with glee before closing it.
I’ve got this guy in my bedroom, at night. This is SO going in my diary, she thought excitedly.
Quickly regaining her composure, she raced past him, jumped back onto her bed and pulled the blankets over herself. Then, as if she’d forgotten he was there - which, in reality, was not very likely - she reached over and patted a place on the bed next to her, indicating for him to sit as she shifted her feet out of the way.
Alec, still smiling, sat down next to the young girl.
“What’s this?” he asked as he picked up Dawn’s new video camera.
“Isn’t it cool? Mom gave it to me,” she replied, with an excited grin. Taking the camera from him, she turned it on and started filming him. “Alec, you’ve just won the World Series, what are you going to do next?” she asked in her best impression of a serious TV reporter.
Alec laughed as he addressed the camera. “Why, I’m going to Disneyland.”
She giggled and continued to film him, every now and then zooming in on his eyes or his lips. She suddenly noticed her heart was pounding and quickly asked more questions in a rush to fill the silence.
“So, what did you do today? Fight vampires? Save the world?”
“Still working on it,” he replied, shaking his head.
Dawn grinned and bit her lower lip in pleasure at the warmth in his tone.
“Oh, come on, you can tell me. How does it feel to be a real-life action hero?” she asked him.
The question struck a chord with Alec and he considered it for a while before answering, looking intently into the camera.
“Dawn, we’re all heroes. We get up in the morning, go to work so we can provide for our families, or go to school and try to learn something about the world we live in; we all do what we have to do. That’s all a hero is, love - someone who simply does what they have to do,” he finished.
“Ommmmmm,” Dawn hummed mantra-like and giggled. They both laughed at that.
“All right, Grasshopper, what do you think qualifies as a hero?” Alec asked her.
It was now Dawn’s turn to consider for a minute.
“Someone who isn’t afraid of anything. Who’ll never quit and never die and will always win in the end,” she said, never taking the camera off him.
Alec smiled and shook his head ruefully.
“You think I’ll never die, eh, love?” he asked, bemused. He tilted his head and looked up at her through the bangs of his hair.
“The good guys never die and you definitely qualify,” she assured him, nodding her head vigorously.
Alec smiled, but this time it was a little sad-looking.
“How I wish that were true,” he said quietly, for a moment lost in an unidentifiable but wholly unpleasant feeling. He gave himself a good mental shake to snap out of it, and turned his attentions back to the girl next to him. “You’re wrong about the other part though, Dawn,” he continued.
Dawn frowned a little. “What do you mean?” she asked, confused.
“Being a hero doesn’t mean you’re never afraid,” he explained. “It means doing the right thing despite being afraid. It means you’re willing to give everything you’ve got and more to do the right thing, the thing that needs doing, you know? ‘Fighting the good fight’.”
Alec paused a moment in his explanation to make sure he wasn’t boring the young girl. Dawn eagerly nodded to indicate that she wasn’t bored and gestured for him to continue speaking.
“A hero is also someone who, after they're gone, people will still remember. The ones they left behind try to live as their hero had lived. Heroes inspire others to do the right thing, because they themselves do all they can to do the same. They don’t always succeed, but the point is that they try and try and try again, doing whatever it takes and giving it their all,” Alec told her with a smile. “I imagine, in a way, heroes never really die. They live on forever in the hearts and the actions of the people they inspire.”
Dawn’s smile, which had yet to leave her face since Alec had first entered her room, now turned impish.
“Wow. That was deep,” she joked.
He laughed. “Oh, you’re tough,” he said.
“On that note, this is Dawn Summers, live with Alec “Dusk” Giles, signing off,” she informed all her imaginary viewers in her TV reporter voice.
Pressing a button on the camera, she zoomed out to get as much of the young man as possible in the frame before speaking.
“Say goodbye, Alec.”
Alec gave her his infamous ‘Warm-Fuzzies-Causing’ crooked smile as she liked to think of it and he looked intently into the camera again before speaking quietly.
“Goodbye, Dawn.”
Smiling, Dawn shut off the camera and put it down.
“You think I’d make a good reporter?” she asked Alec, still grinning.
He nodded. “I know I wouldn’t be able to refuse you an interview,” he assured her as he tousled her hair affectionately.
She smiled and gently nuzzled her head into his palm like an affectionate cat. For a time, he just sat there, gently stroking her hair, and Dawn’s expression went from blissful to serene. Her eyes closed and her grin became a small smile: a fragile thing, innocent and gentle, a perfect expression of utter peace, warmth, and contentment.
“Dusk? Dawn?” Joyce called from downstairs.
Abruptly, Alec snatched his hand from Dawn’s head, causing her eyes to snap open and she gasped in displeasure as if she had been rudely awakened from a nice dream. Alec didn’t seem to have noticed as he reached over to open the door.
“Yes, Ms. Summers?” he called out.
“Why don’t you and Dawn come down for some more cookies and hot chocolate? I’ve even got those little marshmallows everyone seems to like.”
Alec snorted with amusement; Spike’s love of those little marshmallows was legendary, apparently it was also well-known.
Contemplating killer vampire berserkers and their love of little marshmallows, Alec laughed quietly as he got up from the bed and turned to Dawn.
“You feel like som -”
He stopped short and nearly gasped at what he saw then.
Like a sudden and violent car wreck, Dawn’s delicate face had crumpled into an utter wreckage of an expression. It was pure agony, a soul-hurt - a visage of pain and of loss, total and complete in its desolation. The kind of suffering that didn’t die but lingered cancerously in someone until it consumed them utterly.
It was horrific for Alec to see such a look on features as innocent as hers. No one should ever look as the young girl did right now and especially not Dawn.
“Hey,” Alec whispered, sitting back down next to her and trying not to let on how disturbed he was by what he was seeing. “Are you okay?”
Without replying, Dawn burst into frantic action; she clawed at her blankets in desperation, they tangled and writhed at her frenzied assault and, with a cry like a wounded animal, she hurled the tangled mass of fabric from her.
Alec didn’t have time to finish gaping at the sheer ferocious intensity of what he was seeing as Dawn threw herself against him hard, wrapping her thin arms around his body and squeezing as tightly as she could. Stunned, Alec put his arms around her and held her, not really knowing what else to do.
“You’ll always be my hero, Alec,” Dawn whispered in voice that was the tonal equivalent of her earlier tortured expression.
It was not the tone of a lost little girl as Alec had expected, but that of a grown woman, shed of all childish naiveté and immaturity, a woman that had her innocence forcibly replaced with a hard-won wisdom and strength.
A woman that had lost all she held dear in this world.
“Alec…” she whispered again, still holding him.
Alec frowned; she had rarely called him by his human moniker in the past and hearing her say it as she sounded now only added more fuel to his already disturbed thoughts.
He rocked her soothingly.
“Hey, come on, love,” he coaxed gently as he pulled away from her gently, touching her face. Alarmed to see tears welling in her eyes, he tried to smile comfortingly. “Why the waterworks?” he joked.
His efforts were rewarded and the quip had the intended effect as, with an embarrassed little laugh, Dawn pulled away, sniffling slightly. The moment, and all the painful seconds that composed it, had been broken.
“I don’t know, I guess I’m just tired,” she told him as she sniffled again. “It’s nothing. Really, I’m fine,” she put on a brave smile to reassure him and, perhaps, to reassure them both.
“A disturbance in the Force then?” he replied in a dead-pan Obi-Wan Kenobi impression.
Dawn scoffed and rolled her eyes in an attempt to sound exasperated by his bad crack.
“You are such a sci-fi dork,” she replied in a mock-scolding tone.
Alec smirked indulgently as he spoke. “Guilty as charged, I’m afraid.”
He leaned over and placed a lingering kiss against her forehead. Dawn closed her eyes and smiled, the last of the misery seemed to drain from her features, replaced by contentment.
A few moments later, his lips left her brow and he gave her hair a gentle stroke.
“Come now, little one,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual.
But the pet name now seemed to leave a cheap taste his mouth, like a greasy coin between his teeth. Alec smiled just a little harder in an attempt to sell his demeanor of confidence and, inwardly, he was grateful that she had her eyes closed as she was unable to see how miserably he was failing at his kind lie.
“I bet I can eat more Christmas cookies than you can,” Alec added, managing a fair approximation of a playful and challenging tone in an attempt to cheer her.
Once again, his efforts were rewarded, much to his relief.
Dawn’s eyes opened; the tears from them gone and replaced by her usual child-like mischief.
“Not if I get there first!” Dawn yelled.
She gave him a hard shove and he tumbled off the bed onto the plush carpet below.
As she raced past him, Dusk made a futile grab at her leg.
“She takes after her sister,” he observed dryly from the floor.
Dawn stopped as she reached the doorway and turned to look down at him.
“Well, are you coming?” she demanded querulously.
With a small laugh, Alec got to his feet.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, crossing the threshold and exiting her room.
Dawn followed for a few steps when she suddenly sighed in exasperation. “Ugh!” she cried.
“Dawn?” Alec asked her, turning with a frown.
“Yeah, no, I’m okay, I just forgot to plug in my camera,” she explained. “I’ll be right down. You better save me a cookie!” she warned him direly, waving a small finger under his nose.
Alec nodded solemnly and bowed deep at the waist.
“It shall be as you command, your highness,” he replied.
“And don’t you forget it. Off with you then, lowly peasant,” she commanded as she made a regal gesture of dismissal.
Alec laughed, this time it was the boisterous, exuberant laugh that Dawn always associated with him.
“Definitely takes after her sister,” he said to himself as he bowed again to Queen Dawn and walked away.
Dawn made sure he was out of sight before stepping back into her room and closing the door. At the click of the closed door, all the strength fled from the young girl and she sagged heavily against it, her hands covering her face.
She was relieved that her efforts at humor just now had been rewarded, Alec and the others had enough to worry about without her adding to it by saying she had a ‘bad feeling’. She took a deep breath and brought her hands away from her face.
“I’m fine,” she whispered to herself, her eyes squeezed shut. “I’m fine and everything is going to be okay. There’s nothing wrong. I’m fine.” She said this to herself a few more times, gaining confidence with every repetition. Carefully, she opened her eyes.
Her reflection and its pale, haunted expression called her a liar and she saw that her hands were shaking.
She didn’t understand what was happening, it made no sense to her at all, but she was past the point of caring as she brought her hands back up to her face. Against all reason, logic, and knowledge, she cried until there was nothing left in her but a hollow feeling in her stomach, cold and clammy.
Dread.
Alec descended the stairs and walked into the kitchen. Buffy was seated at her ‘breakfast nook’ as she called it, casually eating Christmas cookies while Joyce was cutting up more cookie dough with an unusually large knife. Joyce smiled when she saw his look of confusion at the object.
Alec gestured. “Nice knife,” he said casually. “What’s the occasion?”
“The dishwasher doesn’t seem to be working,” she offered as an explanation, “so I make do.”
She held up the knife and gestured with it to an ornate cutlery block on the table, filled with other large knives.
“Carbon steel knives, carving set of twenty.”
“Full tang I’d wager. Are they as sharp as they look?”
Joyce smiled, enjoying the other man’s interest and attention to detail.
“I picked them up in China while I was on a purchasing trip for the gallery. You can’t get them here - the full tang and the steel quality make them too strong and sharp to be classified as ‘kitchen utensils’ so they’re considered ‘dangerous weapons’ by customs.” Joyce’s smile turned wicked and expectant as she told the tale.
Alec took the bait. “So, how did you manage it?” he asked.
“I said ‘difficult’ not ‘impossible. You’d be amazed what you can import if you list it as part of the exhibit,” she confessed with a grin.
Buffy scoffed at her mother.
“I’m pretty sure one of you is corrupting the other, but I’m not sure which,” she commented, rolling her eyes as she turned to face Alec. “But, yeah, Mom was psyched about those knives. We actually started eating a lot of bagels and lox just so she could use them a lot.”
Buffy suddenly had a wicked smile of her own as she turned her attention back to her mother.
“And then came the day she learned that they had to be sharpened. Often.”
“Oh, don’t remind me!” Joyce lamented. “Fortunately, though, for me, I have a daughter who, besides using her magical gifts for fighting monsters, can occasionally put them to use helping her poor, overworked mother.”
Buffy nearly choked on her cookie and Alec laughed out loud.
“Okay, I know I’m going to regret asking this, but… why not just use a regular knife?” he asked Joyce.
Joyce smiled patiently while favoring him with a look that was usually reserved for well-loved idiots.
“Because then I wouldn’t be able to use my cool smuggled Chinese knives,” the older woman told him
Dawn entered just then, in mid-explanation, and Joyce’s expression became parental.
“Besides, someone keeps forgetting to wash the dishes,” the elder Summers added in a near-casual, though nowhere near enough, tone as she fixated a ‘mom’ look on Dawn.
Dawn, for her part, ignored her mother and smiled innocently at Alec.
“Hi, Alec, you did save me a cookie, right?” she demanded in that imperious tone again.
With exaggerated care, Alec slowly picked up a warm cookie from the plate and, putting it down on one of the smaller plates on the table slowly, handed the whole thing to Dawn as if it were a Faberge` egg.
“Your cookie, milady. Please, milady, don’t shove me to the floor again,” Alec pleaded in his most Dickensian voice.
Dawn giggled and covered her mouth with her hands as Buffy sent her sister a wry look before turning to regard Alec.
“I told you you needed hazard pay to take care of this little nightmare,” the Slayer admonished him affectionately as she reached out and tousled Dawn’s hair.
The girl responded by sticking her tongue out which turned out to be covered in half-digested cookie goo.
Buffy made a face.
“Oh yeah, the honeys will be banging at your door ASAP with that little display,” she said with a snort.
Dawn shrugged and went back to her cookie.
Alec snickered at their antics and walked over to the stove to get some cocoa for himself when he noticed an odd smell. He inhaled once, twice; the scent was very faint.
Methane? he thought, frowning.
Shaking his head, he poured some cocoa for himself. Adding a couple of marshmallows, he joined the others at the table.
“So, what are your plans for Christmas dinner, Ms Summers?” he inquired.
“Oh, I don’t know, Dusk. I can’t seem to make my mind between turkey and ham. Plus, I need to work on a guest list,” Joyce replied forlornly.
Alec chuckled in sympathy.
“If Buffy’s planning on bringing everyone, you’re going to wind up feeding half of the living population of Sunnydale…” he commented and, pausing for a moment, added in his trademark sardonic tone, “and possibly one or two of the walking dead.”
Buffy socked him in the arm for this transgression.
“If Spike is planning on attending,” Joyce replied with an uncomfortable shrug, turning her attention to Buffy. “Is Spike planning on attending?” she asked, clearly tentative.
Buffy smiled in consideration and shook her head. “Spike isn’t big on turkey, Mom. It’s okay. I promise that only the living will be eating Christmas dinner this year,” she assured her mother.
Joyce smiled, perhaps a little relieved. She clearly was uncomfortable with her daughter dating a vampire that she’d once hit with an axe. But, if Buffy wanted to do that and was comfortable and well treated, what right did she have to complain?
At least she’s never dated a psychotic robot, Joyce thought to herself with a touch of grim humor.
“Chances are he will stop by, Mom, but he won’t linger,” Buffy added hurriedly as soon as she saw her mother’s expression begin to tense again. “He tells me he makes a mean pecan pie,” Buffy added, chuckling at the thought of Spike cooking. “He also tells me you have to be over twenty-one in order to eat it.”
Joyce smiled a little at that. Alec chortled.
“Likes to ‘spike’ his pastries, does he? No pun intended, of course,” he commented.
Buffy shot him an amused look.
“No pun intended at all, of course. And yes, something like that, dear, sweet brother,” she replied, her sarcasm getting lost over the sound of the pipes which had picked that moment to start groaning and rumbling loudly.
The Slayer frowned and sniffed the air. “D’ you smell something?”
Alec nodded.
“Yes, it smells vaguely like methane,” he replied as he turned to Joyce, who was headed to the sink to wash her hands. “Ms. Summers, do you have a septic system or anything like that?”
Joyce shook her head as she twisted the knob on the sink, frowning as no water came out.
“No, we use public water. Which doesn’t seem to be- UGH!” she cried out as black ooze splattered over her hands. The stench of methane and rot was now overpowering.
Dawn made a face. “Mom, what IS that?” she asked.
Buffy and Alec were both on their feet and slipped instantly into ‘combat mode’. It had become habit for the pair, cultivated by a shared and intense dislike of being caught by surprise on the Hellmouth. Heightening their awareness of the immediate surroundings and each other whilst, simultaneously, tuning out the rest of the outside world, had allowed the siblings to gain a Zen-like focus and bond in battle which was used to devastating effect upon their enemies.
Now, walking almost in unison - Buffy’s nimble gait lightly contrasting with Alec’s heavy and powerful stride - they flanked Joyce protectively as she wiped the foul smelling goo off with a dishtowel.
Joyce turned to look at her youngest. “I don’t know, honey, it just came ou-”
With a groan of tortured metal, the whole faucet tore itself free from its base and shot up like a bullet, sending plaster and metal shrapnel flying, as a geyser of black ooze spewed volcanic ferocity into the air.
Joyce shrieked and fell back; Dawn knocked her chair back as she moved to tend to her mother. The sink began to fill with the vile substance that was bubbling up through the drain, thick and black; the stench was overwhelming.
Suddenly, something writhed in the pool of muck and some sort of pseudo-pod lashed out and wrapped itself around Joyce’s neck, hoisting her high into the air.
“Mom!” Buffy cried out as she dashed to her mother’s rescue, wrapping both of her hands around the tendril that held her mother and trying to pull it free with all her might.
Alec, however, raced to the table and, with a single movement, snatched up the knife Joyce had been using. It was surprisingly heavy, but perfectly balanced and strong - he could tell that instantly - and he also knew that the heft would add momentum to his throw.
He knew all this from decades of experience and it was processed in a single second even as he reared back and launched the blade from his hand in a smooth over-the-shoulder throw, sending the knife hurtling towards the dripping tentacle that was crushing the life out of the poor woman.
The knife scythed through the air and carved neatly through the viscous appendage, just missed the Slayer’s hands, and sprayed muck against the wall.
Joyce dropped to the floor hard as the tentacle and its hold on her was severed. She choked and coughed, and a high-pitched wail of pain reverberated through the room as the creature retracted the stump of the tentacle back into its body. Buffy dropped to the floor and sheltered her mother’s body with her own.
“Mom, are you all right?” she asked, nearly hysterical.
Joyce, still coughing, nodded weakly.
“Buffy? We have company!” Alec yelled.
Buffy frowned at hearing her brother sound worried. She’d never heard him sound worried.
What could possibly-? she thought as she began to turn her head back around.
And then she saw it.
A shapeless dripping form was rising up from the ooze. The slime congealed and flowed until it took the form of an androgynous human torso, entirely without any kind of detail and missing a head. Like an abscess, the form continued to grow and swell with a sound and smell akin to the contents of a septic tank brought to a thick boil.
Buffy choked back the rising tide of vomit in her throat as she tried to turn her eyes from the gruesome spectacle which seemed to last hours yet she knew it was only heartbeats.
Alec tore his eyes from the thing with an effort and turned his head to take in Dawn’s state. The girl was afraid but still lucid, still in control.
“Dawn! Take cover!” he yelled.
Without missing a beat, Dawn flipped the table onto its side, spilling cutlery heedlessly all over the floor as she ducked down behind it, rising only enough to peek over it at Alec. He smiled at her encouragingly and took a moment to admire the young girl’s composure.
Abruptly, a new sound began. Alec whipped his head around to confront the thing that had now completely consumed the entire counter with its girth.
Something writhed and squealed beneath the ‘skin’ of the abomination. Portions of the creature continued to bulge and pop even more loudly and, with a wet, tearing sound as if diseased flesh was being pulled from an incredibly large bone, a head - horned and monstrous, the head of a demon - birthed from the creature’s body with a high-pitched squealing sound. The sound deepened to a loud roar that shifted its pitch even higher until the intensity was akin to a legion of claws down a huge blackboard. The thing brushed the ceiling now with its new head. It appeared almost like a huge slimy gargoyle as it hunched over to fit in the increasingly cramped kitchen.
For a moment there was silence as the creature took a moment to acclimate itself to its new body. Buffy and Alec had time to exchange a grim look.
“This is going to suck,” Buffy commented.
“Yes. Yes it will,” her brother-in-arms replied.
Then the creature opened its glowing green eyes and dove at them, reaching for them all with dripping grasping hands as it flowed out of the sink to land with a splattering thump and a loud cracking sound as the tiles beneath it were crushed into powder underneath its weight. It had no legs, its lower portion was nothing more than a thickly corded tendril of slime that terminated somewhere in the ruin that had been the kitchen sink.
The thing reared up like a great snake before them. Suddenly, clefts burst from its body, oozing and raw, they flexed and puckered and from them came a burbling alien chorus of voices.
“Give us the Key,” it said.
(continued in part 2)
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.
Beautiful banner created by edgehead73
Beta: Rachelia & Basilio
Link to previous chapter
Hellmouth Ascendant Trilogy: Revamped Edition
Book One:
Dusk
Chapter 9
Kind lies
The ride back to Buffy’s house was quiet. Giles and Buffy were lost in thought and Alec behind them on his bike in much the same state. They’d decided that they’d had enough for one night. Calling from her cell phone, Buffy told Willow to let everyone know she’d decided to head home. Willow didn’t ask what had happened, but had let Buffy know that indeed there was a minor incantation protecting the tome taken from the Mayor’s office. She’d been able to take care of it fairly easily. Buffy also told Willow to make sure Spike and Angel would not go into the sewers for any reason whatsoever.
“Is it bad?” Willow asked her when Buffy was finished.
“It's beyond bad,” Buffy replied. “I’ll fill you in tomorrow.”
Willow wished Buffy a good night and hung up.
Giles and Buffy pulled into her driveway with Alec right behind them. After exchanging a few supportive words with both son and daughter, Giles backed out of the driveway and headed back to the shop to begin work on translating the journal.
Alec shut off his bike and walked over to Buffy. “Hell of a night, eh?” he said.
Buffy snorted slightly before responding.
“Yeah, you could say that. You sticking around?”
Alec nodded. “I’m going to go check on Dawn. Figure I’d say hello,” he told her.
“You’ve really got a soft spot for the kid, don’t you?” she asked, amused.
Alec shrugged uncomfortably.
“I suppose. Guess I just don’t think it’s fair for a child to be saddled with such a burden,” he replied as he turned to regard the Slayer. “I’m assuming you can relate.”
Buffy froze; she’d never considered that.
“Yeah. Yeah, I can,” she admitted, exhaling hard. “Guess I should cut her some slack, huh?”
Alec nodded.
“It’d be a good idea. Unlike you, she has absolutely no idea what’s going on. It’s going to be quite a shock,” he said as he shook his head. “It’s not easy to go from Backstreet Boys to H.P. Lovecraft.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. Backstreet boys are way scarier,” Buffy joked.
Alec laughed as he opened the door and he and his sister stepped inside the warm house.
Joyce came out to greet them with a plate of cookies. The whole house had been done up in lights and a large kerosene heater glowed in the corner brightly, staving off the unusually cold weather for California.
“Buffy! You’re home!” the older woman exclaimed as she hugged her daughter.
Buffy looked at her mother, a tad confused.
“Mom, it’s, like, 1 A.M. What are you doing up… and baking?” she asked.
“I know, honey, but I couldn’t sleep, I’m just so excited. The holiday season coming up and all,” Joyce explained.
Buffy nodded solemnly.
“Yeah, way to pre-empt Christmas,” she commented sardonically as she took a cookie from the plate.
Joyce lifted her head to regard Alec.
“Oh, Dusk, I can’t tell you how grateful I am for you watching Dawn the other night, let me get my purse so I can pay you,” she told the other man.
Alec shook his head. “Forget it, Ms. Summers. Consider it a Christmas present,” he told her.
Joyce and Buffy stopped and stared at him, dumbfounded, with Buffy in mid-chew. Neither of them had ever heard of someone watching Dawn who didn’t want to be paid handsomely.
“You sure, bro?” Buffy asked incredulously. “I mean, you stayed with her for hours. You’re at least entitled to hazard pay.”
Alec grinned and took a Christmas cookie from the plate.
“Just keep me in ready supply of these cookies, Ms. Summers, and we’ll call it even. Fair enough?” he asked.
Joyce blushed. “Fair enough, Dusk,” she replied, smiling at the compliment.
Buffy smirked as she patted Alec’s arm.
“Smooth talker,” she commented.
Alec cleared his throat and looked upstairs. “Dawn still awake?” he asked gently.
Joyce nodded. “I decided to let her have one of her presents early. She’s upstairs with it right now.”
Alec nodded, turning back to face them.
“I’m just gonna go upstairs. Wish her a goodnight. Will that be all right?” he asked, gauging their reactions. He was relieved that neither showed any indication that they believed his motivations ran deeper than what he had presented.
Because they do not! Alec thought to himself forcibly.
Buffy gave his arm an affectionate squeeze.
“Go tell the little monstrosity I said hi, would you?” she asked her brother.
Alec nodded ands assured her, “Not a problem.”
Munching contently on his Christmas cookie, he headed up the stairs.
Reaching Dawn’s room, he quietly knocked.
“Go away!” came the response from the other side of the door.
There was a pause, then a familiar voice emitted from the other side of the door.
“Okay. Sorry.”
Dawn’s eyes widened and, nearly dropping her new video camera, she dove for the door, fumbled with the lock, and yanked it open hurriedly to reveal the owner of the voice.
“Alec!” Dawn cried, grinning widely at him. “Hi. Sorry, I thought you were someone else,” she explained, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
Alec smiled slightly. “I figured that. Can I come in?” he asked.
Dawn bobbed her head. “Uh-huh, sure,” she answered, stepping aside for him to enter.
“Cute pajamas, flannel is you,” Alec told her, gesturing at them and flashing her his unique smile.
“They were a gift,” the girl offered as an explanation as she blushed furiously and tried desperately not to go weak in the knees at that smile as she almost always did.
“Ah, I see,” was his only reply.
Alec stepped through the doorway and, as his back was turned, Dawn stuck her head around the door, hurriedly scanning the hallway back and forth to make sure they were, in fact, alone. Upon seeing no one else in the corridor, she nearly hopped with glee before closing it.
I’ve got this guy in my bedroom, at night. This is SO going in my diary, she thought excitedly.
Quickly regaining her composure, she raced past him, jumped back onto her bed and pulled the blankets over herself. Then, as if she’d forgotten he was there - which, in reality, was not very likely - she reached over and patted a place on the bed next to her, indicating for him to sit as she shifted her feet out of the way.
Alec, still smiling, sat down next to the young girl.
“What’s this?” he asked as he picked up Dawn’s new video camera.
“Isn’t it cool? Mom gave it to me,” she replied, with an excited grin. Taking the camera from him, she turned it on and started filming him. “Alec, you’ve just won the World Series, what are you going to do next?” she asked in her best impression of a serious TV reporter.
Alec laughed as he addressed the camera. “Why, I’m going to Disneyland.”
She giggled and continued to film him, every now and then zooming in on his eyes or his lips. She suddenly noticed her heart was pounding and quickly asked more questions in a rush to fill the silence.
“So, what did you do today? Fight vampires? Save the world?”
“Still working on it,” he replied, shaking his head.
Dawn grinned and bit her lower lip in pleasure at the warmth in his tone.
“Oh, come on, you can tell me. How does it feel to be a real-life action hero?” she asked him.
The question struck a chord with Alec and he considered it for a while before answering, looking intently into the camera.
“Dawn, we’re all heroes. We get up in the morning, go to work so we can provide for our families, or go to school and try to learn something about the world we live in; we all do what we have to do. That’s all a hero is, love - someone who simply does what they have to do,” he finished.
“Ommmmmm,” Dawn hummed mantra-like and giggled. They both laughed at that.
“All right, Grasshopper, what do you think qualifies as a hero?” Alec asked her.
It was now Dawn’s turn to consider for a minute.
“Someone who isn’t afraid of anything. Who’ll never quit and never die and will always win in the end,” she said, never taking the camera off him.
Alec smiled and shook his head ruefully.
“You think I’ll never die, eh, love?” he asked, bemused. He tilted his head and looked up at her through the bangs of his hair.
“The good guys never die and you definitely qualify,” she assured him, nodding her head vigorously.
Alec smiled, but this time it was a little sad-looking.
“How I wish that were true,” he said quietly, for a moment lost in an unidentifiable but wholly unpleasant feeling. He gave himself a good mental shake to snap out of it, and turned his attentions back to the girl next to him. “You’re wrong about the other part though, Dawn,” he continued.
Dawn frowned a little. “What do you mean?” she asked, confused.
“Being a hero doesn’t mean you’re never afraid,” he explained. “It means doing the right thing despite being afraid. It means you’re willing to give everything you’ve got and more to do the right thing, the thing that needs doing, you know? ‘Fighting the good fight’.”
Alec paused a moment in his explanation to make sure he wasn’t boring the young girl. Dawn eagerly nodded to indicate that she wasn’t bored and gestured for him to continue speaking.
“A hero is also someone who, after they're gone, people will still remember. The ones they left behind try to live as their hero had lived. Heroes inspire others to do the right thing, because they themselves do all they can to do the same. They don’t always succeed, but the point is that they try and try and try again, doing whatever it takes and giving it their all,” Alec told her with a smile. “I imagine, in a way, heroes never really die. They live on forever in the hearts and the actions of the people they inspire.”
Dawn’s smile, which had yet to leave her face since Alec had first entered her room, now turned impish.
“Wow. That was deep,” she joked.
He laughed. “Oh, you’re tough,” he said.
“On that note, this is Dawn Summers, live with Alec “Dusk” Giles, signing off,” she informed all her imaginary viewers in her TV reporter voice.
Pressing a button on the camera, she zoomed out to get as much of the young man as possible in the frame before speaking.
“Say goodbye, Alec.”
Alec gave her his infamous ‘Warm-Fuzzies-Causing’ crooked smile as she liked to think of it and he looked intently into the camera again before speaking quietly.
“Goodbye, Dawn.”
Smiling, Dawn shut off the camera and put it down.
“You think I’d make a good reporter?” she asked Alec, still grinning.
He nodded. “I know I wouldn’t be able to refuse you an interview,” he assured her as he tousled her hair affectionately.
She smiled and gently nuzzled her head into his palm like an affectionate cat. For a time, he just sat there, gently stroking her hair, and Dawn’s expression went from blissful to serene. Her eyes closed and her grin became a small smile: a fragile thing, innocent and gentle, a perfect expression of utter peace, warmth, and contentment.
“Dusk? Dawn?” Joyce called from downstairs.
Abruptly, Alec snatched his hand from Dawn’s head, causing her eyes to snap open and she gasped in displeasure as if she had been rudely awakened from a nice dream. Alec didn’t seem to have noticed as he reached over to open the door.
“Yes, Ms. Summers?” he called out.
“Why don’t you and Dawn come down for some more cookies and hot chocolate? I’ve even got those little marshmallows everyone seems to like.”
Alec snorted with amusement; Spike’s love of those little marshmallows was legendary, apparently it was also well-known.
Contemplating killer vampire berserkers and their love of little marshmallows, Alec laughed quietly as he got up from the bed and turned to Dawn.
“You feel like som -”
He stopped short and nearly gasped at what he saw then.
Like a sudden and violent car wreck, Dawn’s delicate face had crumpled into an utter wreckage of an expression. It was pure agony, a soul-hurt - a visage of pain and of loss, total and complete in its desolation. The kind of suffering that didn’t die but lingered cancerously in someone until it consumed them utterly.
It was horrific for Alec to see such a look on features as innocent as hers. No one should ever look as the young girl did right now and especially not Dawn.
“Hey,” Alec whispered, sitting back down next to her and trying not to let on how disturbed he was by what he was seeing. “Are you okay?”
Without replying, Dawn burst into frantic action; she clawed at her blankets in desperation, they tangled and writhed at her frenzied assault and, with a cry like a wounded animal, she hurled the tangled mass of fabric from her.
Alec didn’t have time to finish gaping at the sheer ferocious intensity of what he was seeing as Dawn threw herself against him hard, wrapping her thin arms around his body and squeezing as tightly as she could. Stunned, Alec put his arms around her and held her, not really knowing what else to do.
“You’ll always be my hero, Alec,” Dawn whispered in voice that was the tonal equivalent of her earlier tortured expression.
It was not the tone of a lost little girl as Alec had expected, but that of a grown woman, shed of all childish naiveté and immaturity, a woman that had her innocence forcibly replaced with a hard-won wisdom and strength.
A woman that had lost all she held dear in this world.
“Alec…” she whispered again, still holding him.
Alec frowned; she had rarely called him by his human moniker in the past and hearing her say it as she sounded now only added more fuel to his already disturbed thoughts.
He rocked her soothingly.
“Hey, come on, love,” he coaxed gently as he pulled away from her gently, touching her face. Alarmed to see tears welling in her eyes, he tried to smile comfortingly. “Why the waterworks?” he joked.
His efforts were rewarded and the quip had the intended effect as, with an embarrassed little laugh, Dawn pulled away, sniffling slightly. The moment, and all the painful seconds that composed it, had been broken.
“I don’t know, I guess I’m just tired,” she told him as she sniffled again. “It’s nothing. Really, I’m fine,” she put on a brave smile to reassure him and, perhaps, to reassure them both.
“A disturbance in the Force then?” he replied in a dead-pan Obi-Wan Kenobi impression.
Dawn scoffed and rolled her eyes in an attempt to sound exasperated by his bad crack.
“You are such a sci-fi dork,” she replied in a mock-scolding tone.
Alec smirked indulgently as he spoke. “Guilty as charged, I’m afraid.”
He leaned over and placed a lingering kiss against her forehead. Dawn closed her eyes and smiled, the last of the misery seemed to drain from her features, replaced by contentment.
A few moments later, his lips left her brow and he gave her hair a gentle stroke.
“Come now, little one,” he said, trying to keep his tone casual.
But the pet name now seemed to leave a cheap taste his mouth, like a greasy coin between his teeth. Alec smiled just a little harder in an attempt to sell his demeanor of confidence and, inwardly, he was grateful that she had her eyes closed as she was unable to see how miserably he was failing at his kind lie.
“I bet I can eat more Christmas cookies than you can,” Alec added, managing a fair approximation of a playful and challenging tone in an attempt to cheer her.
Once again, his efforts were rewarded, much to his relief.
Dawn’s eyes opened; the tears from them gone and replaced by her usual child-like mischief.
“Not if I get there first!” Dawn yelled.
She gave him a hard shove and he tumbled off the bed onto the plush carpet below.
As she raced past him, Dusk made a futile grab at her leg.
“She takes after her sister,” he observed dryly from the floor.
Dawn stopped as she reached the doorway and turned to look down at him.
“Well, are you coming?” she demanded querulously.
With a small laugh, Alec got to his feet.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, crossing the threshold and exiting her room.
Dawn followed for a few steps when she suddenly sighed in exasperation. “Ugh!” she cried.
“Dawn?” Alec asked her, turning with a frown.
“Yeah, no, I’m okay, I just forgot to plug in my camera,” she explained. “I’ll be right down. You better save me a cookie!” she warned him direly, waving a small finger under his nose.
Alec nodded solemnly and bowed deep at the waist.
“It shall be as you command, your highness,” he replied.
“And don’t you forget it. Off with you then, lowly peasant,” she commanded as she made a regal gesture of dismissal.
Alec laughed, this time it was the boisterous, exuberant laugh that Dawn always associated with him.
“Definitely takes after her sister,” he said to himself as he bowed again to Queen Dawn and walked away.
Dawn made sure he was out of sight before stepping back into her room and closing the door. At the click of the closed door, all the strength fled from the young girl and she sagged heavily against it, her hands covering her face.
She was relieved that her efforts at humor just now had been rewarded, Alec and the others had enough to worry about without her adding to it by saying she had a ‘bad feeling’. She took a deep breath and brought her hands away from her face.
“I’m fine,” she whispered to herself, her eyes squeezed shut. “I’m fine and everything is going to be okay. There’s nothing wrong. I’m fine.” She said this to herself a few more times, gaining confidence with every repetition. Carefully, she opened her eyes.
Her reflection and its pale, haunted expression called her a liar and she saw that her hands were shaking.
She didn’t understand what was happening, it made no sense to her at all, but she was past the point of caring as she brought her hands back up to her face. Against all reason, logic, and knowledge, she cried until there was nothing left in her but a hollow feeling in her stomach, cold and clammy.
Dread.
Alec descended the stairs and walked into the kitchen. Buffy was seated at her ‘breakfast nook’ as she called it, casually eating Christmas cookies while Joyce was cutting up more cookie dough with an unusually large knife. Joyce smiled when she saw his look of confusion at the object.
Alec gestured. “Nice knife,” he said casually. “What’s the occasion?”
“The dishwasher doesn’t seem to be working,” she offered as an explanation, “so I make do.”
She held up the knife and gestured with it to an ornate cutlery block on the table, filled with other large knives.
“Carbon steel knives, carving set of twenty.”
“Full tang I’d wager. Are they as sharp as they look?”
Joyce smiled, enjoying the other man’s interest and attention to detail.
“I picked them up in China while I was on a purchasing trip for the gallery. You can’t get them here - the full tang and the steel quality make them too strong and sharp to be classified as ‘kitchen utensils’ so they’re considered ‘dangerous weapons’ by customs.” Joyce’s smile turned wicked and expectant as she told the tale.
Alec took the bait. “So, how did you manage it?” he asked.
“I said ‘difficult’ not ‘impossible. You’d be amazed what you can import if you list it as part of the exhibit,” she confessed with a grin.
Buffy scoffed at her mother.
“I’m pretty sure one of you is corrupting the other, but I’m not sure which,” she commented, rolling her eyes as she turned to face Alec. “But, yeah, Mom was psyched about those knives. We actually started eating a lot of bagels and lox just so she could use them a lot.”
Buffy suddenly had a wicked smile of her own as she turned her attention back to her mother.
“And then came the day she learned that they had to be sharpened. Often.”
“Oh, don’t remind me!” Joyce lamented. “Fortunately, though, for me, I have a daughter who, besides using her magical gifts for fighting monsters, can occasionally put them to use helping her poor, overworked mother.”
Buffy nearly choked on her cookie and Alec laughed out loud.
“Okay, I know I’m going to regret asking this, but… why not just use a regular knife?” he asked Joyce.
Joyce smiled patiently while favoring him with a look that was usually reserved for well-loved idiots.
“Because then I wouldn’t be able to use my cool smuggled Chinese knives,” the older woman told him
Dawn entered just then, in mid-explanation, and Joyce’s expression became parental.
“Besides, someone keeps forgetting to wash the dishes,” the elder Summers added in a near-casual, though nowhere near enough, tone as she fixated a ‘mom’ look on Dawn.
Dawn, for her part, ignored her mother and smiled innocently at Alec.
“Hi, Alec, you did save me a cookie, right?” she demanded in that imperious tone again.
With exaggerated care, Alec slowly picked up a warm cookie from the plate and, putting it down on one of the smaller plates on the table slowly, handed the whole thing to Dawn as if it were a Faberge` egg.
“Your cookie, milady. Please, milady, don’t shove me to the floor again,” Alec pleaded in his most Dickensian voice.
Dawn giggled and covered her mouth with her hands as Buffy sent her sister a wry look before turning to regard Alec.
“I told you you needed hazard pay to take care of this little nightmare,” the Slayer admonished him affectionately as she reached out and tousled Dawn’s hair.
The girl responded by sticking her tongue out which turned out to be covered in half-digested cookie goo.
Buffy made a face.
“Oh yeah, the honeys will be banging at your door ASAP with that little display,” she said with a snort.
Dawn shrugged and went back to her cookie.
Alec snickered at their antics and walked over to the stove to get some cocoa for himself when he noticed an odd smell. He inhaled once, twice; the scent was very faint.
Methane? he thought, frowning.
Shaking his head, he poured some cocoa for himself. Adding a couple of marshmallows, he joined the others at the table.
“So, what are your plans for Christmas dinner, Ms Summers?” he inquired.
“Oh, I don’t know, Dusk. I can’t seem to make my mind between turkey and ham. Plus, I need to work on a guest list,” Joyce replied forlornly.
Alec chuckled in sympathy.
“If Buffy’s planning on bringing everyone, you’re going to wind up feeding half of the living population of Sunnydale…” he commented and, pausing for a moment, added in his trademark sardonic tone, “and possibly one or two of the walking dead.”
Buffy socked him in the arm for this transgression.
“If Spike is planning on attending,” Joyce replied with an uncomfortable shrug, turning her attention to Buffy. “Is Spike planning on attending?” she asked, clearly tentative.
Buffy smiled in consideration and shook her head. “Spike isn’t big on turkey, Mom. It’s okay. I promise that only the living will be eating Christmas dinner this year,” she assured her mother.
Joyce smiled, perhaps a little relieved. She clearly was uncomfortable with her daughter dating a vampire that she’d once hit with an axe. But, if Buffy wanted to do that and was comfortable and well treated, what right did she have to complain?
At least she’s never dated a psychotic robot, Joyce thought to herself with a touch of grim humor.
“Chances are he will stop by, Mom, but he won’t linger,” Buffy added hurriedly as soon as she saw her mother’s expression begin to tense again. “He tells me he makes a mean pecan pie,” Buffy added, chuckling at the thought of Spike cooking. “He also tells me you have to be over twenty-one in order to eat it.”
Joyce smiled a little at that. Alec chortled.
“Likes to ‘spike’ his pastries, does he? No pun intended, of course,” he commented.
Buffy shot him an amused look.
“No pun intended at all, of course. And yes, something like that, dear, sweet brother,” she replied, her sarcasm getting lost over the sound of the pipes which had picked that moment to start groaning and rumbling loudly.
The Slayer frowned and sniffed the air. “D’ you smell something?”
Alec nodded.
“Yes, it smells vaguely like methane,” he replied as he turned to Joyce, who was headed to the sink to wash her hands. “Ms. Summers, do you have a septic system or anything like that?”
Joyce shook her head as she twisted the knob on the sink, frowning as no water came out.
“No, we use public water. Which doesn’t seem to be- UGH!” she cried out as black ooze splattered over her hands. The stench of methane and rot was now overpowering.
Dawn made a face. “Mom, what IS that?” she asked.
Buffy and Alec were both on their feet and slipped instantly into ‘combat mode’. It had become habit for the pair, cultivated by a shared and intense dislike of being caught by surprise on the Hellmouth. Heightening their awareness of the immediate surroundings and each other whilst, simultaneously, tuning out the rest of the outside world, had allowed the siblings to gain a Zen-like focus and bond in battle which was used to devastating effect upon their enemies.
Now, walking almost in unison - Buffy’s nimble gait lightly contrasting with Alec’s heavy and powerful stride - they flanked Joyce protectively as she wiped the foul smelling goo off with a dishtowel.
Joyce turned to look at her youngest. “I don’t know, honey, it just came ou-”
With a groan of tortured metal, the whole faucet tore itself free from its base and shot up like a bullet, sending plaster and metal shrapnel flying, as a geyser of black ooze spewed volcanic ferocity into the air.
Joyce shrieked and fell back; Dawn knocked her chair back as she moved to tend to her mother. The sink began to fill with the vile substance that was bubbling up through the drain, thick and black; the stench was overwhelming.
Suddenly, something writhed in the pool of muck and some sort of pseudo-pod lashed out and wrapped itself around Joyce’s neck, hoisting her high into the air.
“Mom!” Buffy cried out as she dashed to her mother’s rescue, wrapping both of her hands around the tendril that held her mother and trying to pull it free with all her might.
Alec, however, raced to the table and, with a single movement, snatched up the knife Joyce had been using. It was surprisingly heavy, but perfectly balanced and strong - he could tell that instantly - and he also knew that the heft would add momentum to his throw.
He knew all this from decades of experience and it was processed in a single second even as he reared back and launched the blade from his hand in a smooth over-the-shoulder throw, sending the knife hurtling towards the dripping tentacle that was crushing the life out of the poor woman.
The knife scythed through the air and carved neatly through the viscous appendage, just missed the Slayer’s hands, and sprayed muck against the wall.
Joyce dropped to the floor hard as the tentacle and its hold on her was severed. She choked and coughed, and a high-pitched wail of pain reverberated through the room as the creature retracted the stump of the tentacle back into its body. Buffy dropped to the floor and sheltered her mother’s body with her own.
“Mom, are you all right?” she asked, nearly hysterical.
Joyce, still coughing, nodded weakly.
“Buffy? We have company!” Alec yelled.
Buffy frowned at hearing her brother sound worried. She’d never heard him sound worried.
What could possibly-? she thought as she began to turn her head back around.
And then she saw it.
A shapeless dripping form was rising up from the ooze. The slime congealed and flowed until it took the form of an androgynous human torso, entirely without any kind of detail and missing a head. Like an abscess, the form continued to grow and swell with a sound and smell akin to the contents of a septic tank brought to a thick boil.
Buffy choked back the rising tide of vomit in her throat as she tried to turn her eyes from the gruesome spectacle which seemed to last hours yet she knew it was only heartbeats.
Alec tore his eyes from the thing with an effort and turned his head to take in Dawn’s state. The girl was afraid but still lucid, still in control.
“Dawn! Take cover!” he yelled.
Without missing a beat, Dawn flipped the table onto its side, spilling cutlery heedlessly all over the floor as she ducked down behind it, rising only enough to peek over it at Alec. He smiled at her encouragingly and took a moment to admire the young girl’s composure.
Abruptly, a new sound began. Alec whipped his head around to confront the thing that had now completely consumed the entire counter with its girth.
Something writhed and squealed beneath the ‘skin’ of the abomination. Portions of the creature continued to bulge and pop even more loudly and, with a wet, tearing sound as if diseased flesh was being pulled from an incredibly large bone, a head - horned and monstrous, the head of a demon - birthed from the creature’s body with a high-pitched squealing sound. The sound deepened to a loud roar that shifted its pitch even higher until the intensity was akin to a legion of claws down a huge blackboard. The thing brushed the ceiling now with its new head. It appeared almost like a huge slimy gargoyle as it hunched over to fit in the increasingly cramped kitchen.
For a moment there was silence as the creature took a moment to acclimate itself to its new body. Buffy and Alec had time to exchange a grim look.
“This is going to suck,” Buffy commented.
“Yes. Yes it will,” her brother-in-arms replied.
Then the creature opened its glowing green eyes and dove at them, reaching for them all with dripping grasping hands as it flowed out of the sink to land with a splattering thump and a loud cracking sound as the tiles beneath it were crushed into powder underneath its weight. It had no legs, its lower portion was nothing more than a thickly corded tendril of slime that terminated somewhere in the ruin that had been the kitchen sink.
The thing reared up like a great snake before them. Suddenly, clefts burst from its body, oozing and raw, they flexed and puckered and from them came a burbling alien chorus of voices.
“Give us the Key,” it said.
(continued in part 2)