"Buffy and the Beast" Chapter 6 - A BtVS Fanfic
Title: Buffy and the Beast'
Chapter: 6 - Interview with some Vampires
Author: illyriaz_shell
Original Publish Date: Sometime in 2005
Rating: PG (so far)
Takes Place: Sort of AU Universe
Pairing: Spuffy
Story Summary: In an isolated English mountainside town, which also happens to be a hellmouth, American Teenage Slayer Buffy Summers and her Watcher Giles fight off vampires, demons and the forces of darkness. However, ignorant locals, Initiative presence in the form of Agent Riley Finn, and a curse on an even more isolated castle run by a vampire prince, lead to somewhat traditional fairytale antics. And untraditional romance.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, not mine, so don't sue.
A/N: I wrote this so so so very long ago, so it is a bit immature in it's writing. My writing of this fic has also been indefinitely suspended. Its not that I didn't know where I was taking this story. It's just when I was writing it, I got busy with other things, and by the time I had the time to write it, the flow was gone. However, positive
comments may put me back in that flow. ;)
Chapter Summary: Buffy gets familiar with her cellmates.
( Chapter 5) | (Chapter 7)
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“One bar…..one bar….one bar…arrg…” was the seven word mantra that Buffy had repeated for the last god-knows-how-long. She had found that it was easier to ignore the whispers from the inhabitants in the surrounding cells if she had something to focus on, so she began slowly inching around the cramped space, hoping to get any reception. However, their cat calls had long since ceased, and her quest for the fabled fourth bar was proving fruitless.
“One bar…one bar…one-two! Two bars!” she held her breath, convinced that the slightest movement would rob her of this glorious achievement. She thanked the Powers, being close to all those satellites and antennas and such, that someone up there had fed her reception. She was hit with the realization that she hadn’t even expected one bar in this deserted air space, and quietly jumped for joy as…
“Achooo!” echoed a fake sneeze to the Slayer’s left. She jumped and turned, caught off guard by the sound, and quickly her eyebrows shot up. She swiveled back to look at her phone.
“One. Bar. One goddamn bar!” she screamed, and tried to position herself back to where she was, but after about ten seconds, she realized this was a lost cause.
“Son. Of. A.” she hurled the cell phone at the angry stone beside her, “Bitch!” and slowly calmed down as she watched the small plastic not only fracture, but shatter into pieces. Betcha that Black Berry doesn’t seem like the devil now, does it? But noooooooo. You had to be all uptight and moral. Stupid Riley. If he didn’t have to be such a stuck up jackass, I would’ve had half the navy or whatever flying in to bust me out right now.
She was sure she had just slain the cellular, because its remains now resembled dust. Similar to the dust of the vampires on either side of her cell; or at least, the dust they would be in a few precious moments.
“Oh, I’m sorry, pretty lass. Did I distract you from your pacing? How very rude. Please accept my apologies,” offered the male voice to the left of Buffy in a very friendly but teasing tone.
“Now,” he said, “what did you say your name was again?” And the light from Buffy’s window illuminated the highlights of the man who had, until now, remained a voice in the shadows. He had dark brown hair, and a high forehead.
“Buffy,” she spat, “and who, or what are you?” She inspected his features. There was a definite yum-factor, but Buffy had kept from associating hotness with vampires. Or at least, once I know they’re vampires! Buffy silently cursed herself for not seeing past the Prince’s charms earlier. Her Slayer tingles had set off the moment the creatures had begun whispering to her, and she wondered how that gorgeous vampire had gotten past her radar.
“So you’ll be knowing what I am then. Well,” he sighed, and shifted to his demonic visage, yellow eyes piercing through the blackness, “can’t say that’s not a bit of a disappointment. It’ll be no fun toying with you now.” A set of white fangs flashed in the firelight as he smiled, “Or maybe…”
“We could play with the dolly just a little bit differently. Snap the strings,” cackled a low female voice in the cell to the right of Buffy. She whipped her head around to see the face of another vampire. This female’s face was slightly more bat-like than the man’s, and she seemed to be smiling…like a child.
Buffy looked back between the two faces in the darkness. “Yeah. I’m not crazy about puppets. It’s a thing. So, if you guys wanna go back to playing in your own pens, that would work for me a whole lot…”
“Do you ever shut up? Honestly? All three of you. I mean,” the high pitched, airy woman’s voice was back, “I appreciate torturing little girls as much any of us, but I can’t see her or even smell her from here.” Buffy followed the hollow sound and peered out the small bar crossed window in the wooden door of her cell.
Down the narrow passageway that was the dungeon, she could see an outstretched hand hanging out of another door. It was almost in complete silhouette, the light was so dim in that corner, but it clearly was the outline of a woman’s, and a dainty one at that. Buffy figured she could easily dust her in a one on one scenario. Once I get the Hell out of here, that is.
“Don’t worry, my sweet little darling. We’ll be sure to give you every tiny description about Miss Buffy here. We know how much you like your...details.”
“A sturdy dolly,” a reassuring voice added. “She’s sewn with steel, but made of silk. She rips when she breaks. I want to hear the rip,” rambled the woman in the cell next to Buffy before she began to hum an unknown lullaby. “I want to make the metal dolly sing.”
At this, Buffy rolled her eyes, shrugged and backed into her own cell, resting down on the small pile of hay that provided her the only comfort in this most unforgiving place.
“So, I’m sitting here, in the dark, with vampires; bored out of my mind. And I’m thinking, what with us all being roommates and all, and you all knowing my name, that maybe you’d like to just return the favour,” Buffy piped up after the woman’s singing had ceased, “since I can’t see any name tags.”
Buffy swore she could hear the smirk. “My apologies, Miss Buffy. And it’s clear you don’t have the foggiest who you’re talking to, neither. Otherwise you wouldn’t be talking so freely.”
He paused for a moment, waiting for any sort of response. When all he got was a yawn, he smiled at her bravery. Maybe Dru’s right. Breaking this one may be a challenge, something I’ve been waiting for a long time.
“The lovely rose down the hall, the lady you haven’t had the pleasure of a face to face with, is my little Darla. Prickly one, she is, but as sweet as they come.”
“Oh come on. I’m sure you’ve tasted plenty of girls. You sure she’s the sugariest girl of all?”
“I miss sugar. Mix it into cakes; into lemons: into blood. Taste the sweetness all the way down to your toes,” said the one who Buffy had now dubbed crazy-lady before she giggled at the thought. “You taste like candy. I can smell. It’s been so very long since I’ve had a treat.”
“Well, it’s a blessing in disguise when you think about it. I mean, you’d be running up some dental major bills; what with the fangs and all.” Buffy turned to the only male present, pointed to crazy-lady and whispered, “What’s her deal?”
“Ahh, Drusilla is a barrel of laughs, ‘nt she?” the man chuckled. “Tis really a beautiful sight to see her dance like a child in a fountain of blood. She’s not all here…”
“Yeah, no kidding. And, uh, so, who are you?” Buffy cut in.
“Yes, well, we must save the best for last, mustn’t we?” He cleared his throat and announced with pride, “I am the Great Angelus.”
A few seconds of silence.
Buffy then burst into a racous laughter. She stopped when she snorted, and wiped the tear forming at her eye. Ok, yeah, I’m exaggerating a little, but HA!
“May be I so bold to ask what you find so very funny, Buffy?” asked Angelus.
“Well, it’s just so ‘Oh, I’m the Great Angelus. I’m SOOOO scary. Really, I am. You just can’t see it behind all these bars.’” she said in the worst Irish accent she had ever heard…since the vampire in the cell next to her started talking. “Like I’m supposed to bow down to you or something or hide in terror….AHHH”
At that instant, an arm darted forward between the bars and hooked around the corner, inches away from grabbing her neck. She shouted, then breathed heavily as he clawed at her face that was too far away for him to touch. She breathed out slowly, blowing a little on his hand to taunt him and said, “Nice try, Angie.”
All up and down his arm was a minefield of scars, decorating his skin in tiny red dots.
“Aren’t you supposed to get over the chickenpox when you’re a kid…” she thought, “…or alive?”
But upon closer inspection, seconds before he snapped his arm away in shame, she realized those weren’t chicken pox. Those were puncture wounds.
Buffy jolted up and looked out the window, to see that Darla’s arm still dangled out of her cell. She could now see clearer, and spotted the puncture wounds covering her arm as well.
Just to make sure, she crawled over and started taunting the face in the shadows. The vampire, Drusilla, started evaluating Buffy’s movements, but as the slayer got closer, she seemed to be timing herself, waiting for the moment to strike. When Buffy swiped her hand near the cell, Drusilla’s claws darted forward. But Buffy was quicker, and she grabbed her by the wrist. Sure enough, her arm resembled the other two’s, and Buffy started to wonder what the HELL is going on.
Drusilla began to scream. “I’m tangled in Dolly’s strings! Mommy! Daddy! Dolly’s not playing fair.” And after wriggling enough, Buffy finally released the vampire’s arm. She heard a very distinct growl, and Buffy backed away from the bars and into her own corner.
“Not nice. I want a new toy,” pouted Drusilla. “If we break her, do we get another?”
“Ok, enough!” shouted Buffy. “You can all stop trying to scare me now. First off, pathetic attempts all. Really, you’d think by now you’d have put together that I’m the sl…not afraid of vampires. Seen ‘em, many times. You guys are a little chatty for them, gotta say. But I guess conversation with prey, and I use that term with the little quotation marks, has got to be a billion times more satisfying than sitting in a dungeon, biting your own arms off. Literally.”
The hands to both the right and left of her cell quickly withdrew into the darkness.
“See? Pathetic. Not that I care but...”
“Shut it, mortal. Death is a gift that we have long dreamed of. Run your mouth again, and you shall be the one to receive it.” Darla threatened with great distaste and sincerity, if that was possible.
Ok. Little scared. And also satisfied. At least I touched a nerve. Too bad they may be getting at one of my nerves if they get pissed enough…Stop. They equal vampires. You equals ‘Vampire Slayer’.
But a small laughter was heard from Angelus’ cell, and Buffy wasn’t sure exactly how she was feeling.
“I’m sorry, darling. You’ll have to excuse poor Darla. You see, we’re a wee bit sensitive of our current incarceration, and of course, further consequences of said incarceration.” He sighed. “But we’ve been down here a long while, and…Dru? How long?”
Buffy looked in the cell to her right, only to see darkness, but she heard a whimper turn into a slow, monotonous humming sound. It was clearly Drusilla buzzing. What a wacko.
“I see…” she paused, “ I see…the ram…I see the ram and the bull. I’ve seen them so many times before. They’re fighting. Head and horns. No blood, but crushing and…clashing. They’ve fought nine times already.” She clapped her hands rapidly. “I know who wins! Put all your coins on the bull. Bet your life.”
Drusilla began to laugh hysterically, but Buffy was sure that being down there as long as they had only enhanced her coo-coo-ness, not caused it. What a freaking wacko, she adjusted.
“You catch that, Hannibal? ‘Cause, honestly, it all sounded like bull to me.”
“What she said was we’ve been down here for nine years, you fool. Doesn’t your mousey little brain absorb anything?” Darla’s voice echoed in the background.
Note to self: stake that bitch the second you get out of here.
“So you guys have been down here for nine years. Blood-suckering aside, that really bites,” she pondered. :But I don’t get it. I mean, draining your own blood? Isn’t that…what’s the word?” Her brain clicked. “Counterproductive?”
“Aye, it would be if that was what we were doing. But alas, no. A vampire would never be so desperate as to drink his…,” he stopped when he heard two womanly coughs, “or her own blood. You wouldn’t be provided with the lovely company you have now had we anything wooden in this god forsaken tomb.”
“Or at least a view with southern exposure. God, I miss my views.” Whispered Darla in such a faraway voice that Buffy doubted little of her mind was committed to the rivitting conversation taking place. That’s not fair. It’s actually getting kinda interesting now.
“No kidding,” Buffy agreed. “I’ve been down here a good hour and a half, and I already can’t stand this hellhole.”
“Not a hellhole,” Drusilla corrected. “Hellhole’s are much, much more fun.”
“What do you know about vampires, lass?” asked Angelus.
Wouldn’t you like to know? “Some. Why? What does all this have to do with your self-inflicted hickeys?”
He asked very politely. “Do you know what kills us?”
And how! “I dunno. The standard Bram Stoker routine, I guess. Stake to the heart, sunlight, fire, and of course, that thing those guillotines do. De-de-de… head chopping.”
“And anywhere in that long list of death wishes,” Angelus continued, “did you once mention the very possibility of starving a vampire to death?”
The smile on Buffy’s face was replaced by the ultimate deer-caught-in-headlights glare. You can do that? Starve a vampire; it’s so…wow. Although, not really practical. I don’t want to sit around and wait for the next vampire I’m hunting to keel over due to malnutrition.
“If you’re quite finished visualizing, I’ll be more than kind to relay to you, Miss Buffy, that starving a vampire is something you cannot accomplish,” he sighed, conveying that he was not fond of this little catch of immortality.
Darla returned. “Violence, bloodshed and burning are the only way us creatures of the night exit this delicate world. Disease and famine are plagues only given to humans.” She also sighed, “Nine long years, and not a drop to drink.”
“Rats. Filthy mice skittering, skittering, skittering all about. It’s not enough to fill up; not nearly,” sobbed Drusilla in the next cell.
Buffy was sitting there, the straw shifting around under her shuffling feet, and in the distance, she heard the squeaking of some sort of vermin. Vampires, Demons, even Hell Itself, she could handle. But if the slimy little critters got anywhere within the proximity of this cell without a table to stand on, she wouldn’t need her shattered cell phone to reach anyone with eardrums in this hemisphere.
Keeping her mind off the pest problem, Buffy tried to piece everything together. The castle, the prince, the dungeon, vampires with leech marks all over. Well this is a jigsaw without a picture. None of this made sense to her. And she was getting tired of being in the dark, in more ways than one.
“So, why are you guys here? I mean, it didn’t really occur to me before. You know, being the bloodsucking fiends that you are, not much thought went into why you shouldn’t be locked up in cages. But, Prince Charming’s a vampire too, right? He put you here in the first place, obviously. Wouldn’t he, you know, want playmates he can…play with?”
“Prince Spikey stopped playing by the rules and sent us to our rooms,” Drusilla whined like her father had punished her for not eating supper.
“But why would he do that? Was he out slaughtering the city and then bam, he grew a conscious?” Buffy said with brow raised.
“That’s exactly what happened,” Angelus explained, and Buffy was even more confused. “'Tis the only explanation. One night, we’re sitting there, feeding off this pretty little gypsy girl. Oh, she was such a pretty. But not quite as pretty as my ladies here, and they called me to their bedside. The following night, Spike’s all screaming and crying. He ups and dusts every other vampire in the castle, knocks us out, and we arose the next morning to find ourselves in these confines that have held us till this day.”
“He’s sad, like a wilting flower,” Drusilla lamented, then grinned. “We chop up wilting flowers.”
“He’s feeling guilty for all the humans he killed,” Darla clarified while hypothesizing, “I don’t understand it, but it’s fun and easy enough to rub in his face. He used to so love the snapping of necks; now he weeps. Really, out of everyone wasting away in this dungeon, no one’s more pathetic than the Prince lying on his sheets of satin.”
“But he’s not quite so repentant as to give up feeding completely. Instead,” Angelus shuddered, “he feeds on us.”
“What!” Buffy exclaimed. “That’s what the marks are? This vampire prince has been feeding off other vampires? You eat rats, then he eats you. Ewww. Ew. Ewwww. There just isn’t enough eww for how twisted this all is.”
“Won’t eat humans, but won’t lower himself to dine off of rats; we figured that it’s vanity leftover from his upbringing.” Angelus analyzed.
A thought dawned on Buffy that hadn’t before: “He was a prince before he was a vampire? Prince William, right?” silence confirmed her question. “But, why do you call him Spike?”
“When he was fun, it was his very favourite game,” Drusilla chimed in. “Hang the bodies on spikes. Spikes on the gates, spikes on the banister. Everywhere he was, there was spikes. He became the spikes.”
“One day, Dru just started calling him Spike,” Angelus added. “We had no objections. It was a little more fearful than ‘Willy.’ He’s still Spike, but you know how royalty is an’ all. Inbreeding and the like. Figure the daftness kicked in, even after he became one of us.”
“I miss my Spike.” Drusilla sniffled, and finally reapproached the gap between her and Buffy’s cell. She gripped the bars tightly, and gazed at the small blonde who was still in the corner. “One day, if we’re all good, he’ll come back to us. You miss your spike too. I can see you, my steel dolly. You’re missing your spike and you’re covered from head to heel in sad ashes. But the sandman hasn’t paid us a visit and it’s not near naptime. Whose ashes are they?”
Buffy wasn’t liking the tone of her voice and the way that Drusilla had become amused with her in a brand new and strange way in mere seconds. She looked over to her cell on the right, and Angelus was back, also leaning against the bars, gripping them with newfound strength.
“Even in Drusilla’s dazed ramblings, you can always find a true word. And, at this moment, I believe she’s let us know something quite valuable.” Buffy reeled when, slowly, Angelus noticeably wafted the air, prolonging her suspicion and freaking her out to new extremes. Buffy looked over, and Drusilla was darting back and forth, up and down, but never taking her eyes off the blond. When Angelus had finished, his features returned to their vampiric state, and he glared at her like a cat eyes a mouse.
“I knew you smelled different, child. Being down here so long and not having smelt one of you before, I thought your sweetness could simply be attributed to your innocence.” He flickered a smirk, sending Buffy’s stomach reeling. “Darla, sweetie? It’s been a long time since any of us has had a good meal, and we all need our full strength. How much Slayer blood do you think we’ll each need?”
With that, both Angelus and Drusilla began shaking their cages with inhuman fury and power. Banging sounds, growling, crumbing, and the shriek of Buffy screaming filled the dungeon, and Buffy pushed herself back up even further into the corner, even though it wasn’t physically possible to do so.
He body slackened when she realized Hey, those bars aren’t moving anywhere. They’ve been down here nine years, and they haven’t tried breaking the bars? Yah right. They’re just doing it for show. And at that instant, the bar closest to Buffy broke from the border between their cells. Angelus’ arm curved around the corner and gripped tightly on her pant leg. She howled in fear, and he roared as he ferociously pulled at her form, knocking her off her knees. Her body was soon on the ground and being dragged towards the vampire, but he was weaker than she was strong. She gripped onto the stone floor, and her Slayer muscles wouldn’t let him pull any further.
This didn’t mean that he didn’t try, and began clawing at her legs as he dragged. He pierced the flesh in several areas on her calves, and as her body flung around in pain, the jagged rocks making up the dungeons nicked and scraped Buffy everywhere. She continued to scream, but the vampire was becoming more successful at pulling her body towards his own. A plan! OWW! I need a plan!
“Come with me!” shouted something behind her, and Buffy stopped struggling for a minute, and turned her face to see who it was.
Standing at the door, which had opened unbeknownst to her during the Slayer’s struggle, was the Prince, holding out his hand. Eyes wide, he begged her to come with him. Bad idea Buffy. Vampire. Evil. Why you’re here in the first place. But then she considered she was in the process of being eaten, and she was weakening.
Make a choice. You can choose to die now, or two minutes from now. But Buffy knew the first rule of slaying is to always pick the latter. So with one powerful tug, she freed her leg from Angelus’ grip, pushed her aching body upwards, and turned around to dart to the cell’s opening. Drusilla grabbed her sweater as Buffy did so, but Buffy ripped free, and with arm extended, her hand met with the offered one at the front, letting him tug her the rest of the way.
Ok, Slayer, Buffy thought as the dark figure pulled her out of the dankness into the castle, You’ve just bought yourself two minutes. How are you going to spend them?
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( Chapter 5) | (Chapter 7)