Title: Learning Respect

Author: Anyssia

Fandom: BtVS, set during the season 6, after the episode 17 (Normal Again).

Prompt: October’s Challenge (2009): Scary story, Taming The Muse (LJ)

Pairing: pre-slash Spike/Xander

Warnings: explicit sex/violence, rape, character deaths, angst, torture, beta’ed by Mulder200 and Laazikaat (LJ)

Rating: PG-17 / M

Status: 14,200 words, one-shot, 10/2009

Buffy decides to take care permanently of the geeky Trio but someone gets there before. Ensue a deadly game of cat and mouse, with the Scooby Gang as the mice.

How dare they make her believe that her friends weren’t real? She would make the damn Trio pay for this last stunt. If she had been just a little less strong or fast, that demon would have killed – or worse – Willow and Xander. She couldn’t let them get away without responding, sooner or later they would get somebody killed.

She would find them, and they would regret ever defying the Slayer.

;;;

Buffy stalked through Sunnydale without taking notice of the various demons scurrying in the shadows. As long as they didn’t attack her on sight, they weren’t an immediate threat. She was busy right now and, after all, she was the Slayer who had managed to stay alive the longest – as far as she knew.

Nobody with two brain cells wanted to cross her when she was in such a bad mood.

She went first to Jonathan’s house. Being the coward that he was, she was pretty sure that she would be able to intimidate him into spilling his guts about five minutes after beginning the interrogation.

When the boy's mother told her that he was absent, she tensed. But without proof or anything, she couldn't exactly just barge in and demand answers. So she followed Jonathan's mom's advice and went to Andrew's home.

Here again, same speech. Forget tensed, she was getting ready for battle.

If neither of them were at home, there were good chances that they were with Warren. And Warren was the most dangerous of them. If the three wannabe bad guys were together, they were probably plotting some sort of new idiotic misdeed.

Not wanting to get caught in their new scheme, Buffy edged to Warren's house with caution. The sun was setting and yet the only light in the building came from the hopper window opening in the basement.

Suspicious, Buffy used her Slayer’s stealth to get closer of the ground level opening. It was small and turned sideways from the street, and she doubt that they could have spotted her. Still, she stayed wary of any electronic gadgets that might betray her presence. Knowing the boys, they probably concealed alarms and cameras both in the house and the garden, to appease their paranoia.

Anyway, it wasn’t really important, as she was going to fall on their asses like an avenger from hell and they were going to understand why you don't make the Slayer angry!

A quick look through the window showed no sign of activity, but Buffy was beginning to feel what Xander would have called the ‘Hellmouthy vibes’. Something was off here and she needed to find out what. Getting worried, she decided to just storm in. After all, this was the heart of her best plans. Why change a formula that worked?

She took a look around, glancing at the nearby houses, and decided to enter by the back door. She didn’t want to get arrested if some nosy neighbor chose to look by his window just when she was forcing the door. Of course, there were more chances that they would just look the other way, if they were true to the Sunnydale mentality.

She shook herself, concentrating back on her task and carefully opened the door. The handle yielded at the first try and she stepped in, surprised but cautious. She thanked God – well, the Powers That Be, really – that she had thought to take her gloves with her, and slipped into the kitchen. It was kind of creepy to enter a dark home that way, it made her feel like a pervert or some kind of blond serial killer ready to butcher an innocent family.

Or as innocent as any family in Sunnydale could be, what with all the inter-breeding between humans and demons. She was pretty sure that about eighty percent of the population on the Hellmouth was related in some way or other to the demonic community.

Ignoring the upstairs rooms and even the living room, Buffy went directly to the basement’s stairs. She listened attentively, but she couldn’t hear anything nor could she feel any movement with what she called her Slayer radar. Something was very wrong and she knew all too well this smell.

Worried, Buffy went down the stairs slowly, straining her senses at their maximum. If she was right, she would find a corpse downstairs and with her luck, it wouldn’t simply be Mister Mears who had simply fallen down the stairs. A demon would probably be involved or better yet, it would be another of the trio’s ploys. She couldn’t be too careful.

The descent was nerve wracking and by the last stair, she had decided that if this was a joke of some kind, she would snap the neck of any moron involved. She pushed the basement’s door in silence and peeked in the room in a smooth move. She didn’t see anybody standing nor did she notice anything big and hairy. However, her Slayer radar was still pinging, even if it wasn’t going top speed like it would have had if she had been standing near a demon.

She glanced a last time into the room and crept in, keeping to the walls. The smell was definitively stronger down here and Buffy was getting a good idea of what she was about to find. If her nose was right, there wasn’t only one body, but several. Computers and electronic parts were scattered everywhere and she was confident that she had stumbled across the Trio’s lair. She might be blond, but she could still add two and two together.

She rounded the large table in the center of the cellar and found them near the stairs leading outside. They were fully dressed, coats zipped up as if they had been ready to go out. Of course, she thought without pity, they wouldn’t go anywhere now, except to the morgue... Or maybe not.

Buffy signed at first, but quickly frowned when she spotted the bite marks. The boys might have been annoying morons, but they had been aware of the Hellmouth’s dangers. They knew about vampires and demons and would never have invited one inside the house without a backup plan. With all their gadgets, she wouldn’t be surprised to discover that they had their own vampire proof vest or something.

Still scowling, Buffy climbed up the back stairs and inspected the basement’s outside door. This was getting stranger and stranger. The door was locked from the inside, which meant that the vampire had come in from the main house. While this could clarify how he had get in – he probably announced himself to the boy’s mother as one of his friends – it still didn’t explain why they hadn’t fought back.

The mother... Dreading to be right, Buffy raced back up to the kitchen and dashed into the living room. She stopped dead in her tracks and pinched her lips to keep from swearing. She didn’t know what Mr and Mrs Mears looked like, but she would bet her last jumper that it was them, cozily spread out on the sofa, with vampire bites in clear view on their neck. Again, they didn’t seem to have resisted.

Something was definitively very, very wrong. Not wanting to get caught on a murder scene, Buffy exited the house as quietly as she had entered and made a note to keep track of their burials. She preferred to stake them right after their second birth, instead of hoping to meet them during one of her patrols. Especially Warren and his two sycophants. The man had been enough of a pain in her ass while alive, she wasn’t in a hurry to have to deal with him as a vampire.

Still pondering these surprising deaths, but not feeling especially sad for them, Buffy went back to her house after a quick spot of patrol. She needed to inform the others of the Trio’s demise – this year’s bad guys had been almost too easy to take care of at her taste – and she was pretty sure that Dawn hadn’t finished her homework yet.

;;;

When Xander came in after an exhausting day at the construction site, he hadn’t expected to find his almost-but-not-quite bride, Anya, on his doorstep. He cringed, fully prepared to receive yet another lecture about how he was a loser and she was so going to find herself another – bigger, better, stronger, and so on and so forth – boyfriend. One who wouldn’t leave her at the altar in front of all her family and friends.

Xander squared his shoulders and got out of his car, trying to discretely wipe his sweating hands on his pants. She had stood up when he had parked and was now fixing him with an unreadable expression on her face, waiting.

He was brave, he was a Scooby. He could face her. Maybe.

Forgoing a full scale freak out, Xander crossed the neat path and stood before his ex-girlfriend, silent and stoic. Knowing Anya, he wouldn’t have to wait before she told him exactly what she wanted of him.

“I’m leaving Sunnydale.”

Bingo, he was good. Wait, what?

“What? Why? You can’t, we still haven’t had the whole fight in public with mind-blowing make-up sex and huge row preceding the coming back together!”

Anya looked at him for a moment, then sighed. “I’m sorry. I know you wigged out because of the demon, not because of me. Though you should have known better that to believe a vision showing liar.” She added as an afterthought. “Anyway, this isn’t about you. I realized that, as a human, I should have a human life. And the Hellmouth isn’t exactly the place to enjoy a successful life.”

Xander closed his eyes a second, and breathed slowly and deeply. He understood her and she was right, but still...

“Anya, I...”

“Hush. I know you like me,” she stopped him with a finger on his lips. “I also know that you don’t love me. If I hadn’t jumped you before the Ascension, you never would have approached me.”

“No, this...” Xander closed his mouth and passed a hand on his face, weary. “Okay, you’re right. This doesn’t mean that I’m not fond of you, you know.”

“Yes, I know. That’s why I’m not trying to get back with you. We like each other, so let’s keep it at that and stay good friends?”

She smiled sadly and moved to hug him.

He crushed her against his chest, feeling like a vice was squeezing his lungs. He might not have loved her with a full fledged passion, but they still had been good together, and he was unbelievably lucky that she hadn’t sicced her Vengeance friends on him.

“Be careful, Anh. And I expect tacky postcards every week for at least two months! Then I’ll let you go with one a month, deal?”

His eyes stung and he could have put a little more enthusiasm in his last comments, but she nodded and only gave him another bear hug.

They stayed still for another long moment, but Anya stood back first.

“You need to go home now. My taxi will be here any minute now and you absolutely must not see me cry,” she announced with a slight frown.

It was all Xander could do not to smile. “Nope, demon-mine, I won’t, of course. I’ll go back home like a good little human and BRING OUT OR GET OUT the Twinkies.” And probably sob for a few minutes too, he added silently.

“Of course, the comfort food. We didn’t choose a comfort food for me, did we?”

“We didn’t have the occasion, but we’ll do it when you’re set up. You just call me and I’ll help you choose your very own comfort food, okay?”

“Okay.”

Her voice had a wet quality to it, and Xander knew she was on the verge of breaking down. If she burst into tears now, he would only be a step behind and he really didn’t want to be seen bawling on the street with a crying girl. Time to retreat and regroup.

Xander stepped forward and hugged her to death again. He released her quickly and jogged back a few steps to his door.

“I hope you’ll find your dream, Anh. And I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed,” he declared one last time, without turning back to face her.

“Yes. But I’m beginning to understand what it really means to be human. It really isn’t easy, is it?” She answered quietly.

“No, it isn’t. And it probably won’t get better on the Hellmouth. I wish you luck, Anya, you deserve it!”

Without waiting for more, Xander almost ran up the last steps and barged in his home as if he had a Master Vampire on his heels. He didn’t slam the door, but it was very close. The young man took a deep breath and tried to get his tears in check. He hadn’t cried since Jesse had died by his hand and he wasn’t going to start now because he’d destroyed the one – almost – normal relationship he had.

He was aware that it probably wouldn’t have worked between them. She tried too much to be human and he was too involved in the demon world. Theirs objectives were contradictory and one too many reminders of her short life span would have been the last blow.

She would have left him anyway, so it was better that she did it now, while they were friends, than after the marriage and a few years together, when his life would be too tied to hers.

Xander knew he was reaching. Yes, he had left her on the altar and no, he didn’t really regret it. He had been pushed by his supernatural friends to have a normal life, and it was more theirs dreams that his, but still.

Still, he couldn’t let her leave like that. As if she was at fault and he needed to force her out of Sunnydale.

He could take a few days off work. He had vacation days coming up, he just needed to ask her to stay a few more days and then he would drive her anywhere she wanted.

He would help her find a place and move in, and they would have fun like real friends. He would take her out to see the sights when the boxes would be too much and they would go to the theater to see a comedy and laugh themselves silly.

Decided, Xander turned around quickly and jerked the door open. He called out Anya’s name, giddy with enthusiasm and so happy for the first time this evening.

She was sitting on the sidewalk, leaning against a low wall while waiting for the cab to come, and he ran to her, calling her a second time.

“Anh! Wait, I’ve got this great idea and...” Xander skidded to a halt, not believing his eyes.

This wasn’t possible. Not Anya, who knew about the Hellmouth and its dangers, and damn it, he had been away for less than ten minutes.

His instincts and habits kicked in and Xander grabbed his stake, checking the surroundings. Nothing moved and nobody was out, but it didn’t mean anything. It was already dark enough for an old vampire to be outside.

If it really was a strong one, he might come back to finish her and get a side prize with him at the same time. He had to get her to safety and call an ambulance, now.

Xander reached out with a trembling hand, refusing to believe that maybe an ambulance would be inutile. He called out a few times again, low enough not to alert all the predators of the area and shook her once.

Anya’s head fell forward and a trickle of blood ran from her neck. The puncture points were neat and red against her pale skin and it was all Xander could see.

His knees gave out and he fell heavily to the ground, staring at the dead girl before him. Her eyes were glassy and empty, and she was fixing a spot on the ground near his leg without blinking. Already, the blood was coagulating and the wound didn’t bleed anymore. That was, if she had any blood left.

Xander didn’t know how long he stayed here, feeling numb and staring at his almost bride and friend. When he tried to get up, his legs gave out and he felt back besides her, barely avoiding jostling her.

It was the last straw. Hot, copious tears fell from his eyes and he didn’t pay them any attention, grabbing Anya’s hand and holding on for dear life. He called out her name, several times, and when she didn’t answer, he just went on, almost inaudibly.

He called and called, and he knew that his cell phone was ringing, but he didn’t pay it any attention. Any vampire or demon could have picked him up right now and he wouldn’t have been able to resist or even react.

When Buffy gently laid a hand on his shoulder, he could only stare at her. She just gazed down at Anya for a minute, then took his cell phone in silence and made the call. Willow pulled him in a comforting hug, crooning meaningless words and stroking his hair in a reassuring gesture.

They didn’t talk and Buffy took care of the policemen – ‘Yes, barbecue forks are really dangerous, they should ban them’ –. When the officials had left and took the corpse with them, Buffy half dragged, half carried Xander to his car, while Willow took care of closing the house.

He let them do as they pleased, lost in his thoughts and memories. It didn’t matter that they were calling his boss to tell him that Xander would be absent because of a friend’s death. He had vacation days to take, anyway, he could use them to escort Anya to her tomb.

Buffy drove slowly toward her home and Xander let her nervous talk wash over him. Something about finding the moronic Trio drained. Maybe it was the same vampire.

He might have said that aloud, because she promised him to find this vampire and to dust him faster than he could say ‘Slayer’.

Xander wasn’t sure if it should make him feel better.

;;;

She snatched another tissue, blowing her running nose for the umpteenth time. Xander rested in the living room, lying down on the sofa with a vacant air on his face while Buffy paced next to him ranting herself hoarse against this vampire. Luckily, Dawn wasn’t here to see them in this state, as she had asked permission to sleep at her friend’s house earlier.

Willow knew that she hadn’t exactly been Anya’s best friend, but to die because of a mere vampire, after existing as a strong and feared demon for a millennium... She had deserved better that this, even with her demonic past.

Willow felt bad when she realized that the girl’s death wouldn’t affect anyone but Xander. Oh, Buffy, Giles and herself would be unhappy, but not much more.

Dawn and Tara would grieve her friend, but still, Anya had never been much of a Scooby. And they were too used to dealing with deaths.

Thinking about Giles made her realize that she needed to inform him of their loss. Deciding that now was better than later, Willow picked up the receiver with apprehension. He would also need time to get here if he chose to attend the burial.

How was she going to announce the death of one of them, to a man who had abandoned them and now lived more than ten hours from California, by plane?

Willow pushed those thoughts from her mind and snatched the note from the fridge, on which Buffy had written down Giles’ new phone number. The paper was creased and worn as if she had fidgeted with it several times, trying to nerve herself before calling her mentor. Willow was pretty sure that she had never managed to go through with the call.

The phone rang several times before someone finally picked up. The voice was roughed from sleep but almost frantic with worry. For the first time, Willow remembered the eight hours separating their time zones.

“Hello, Buffy? Is everything all right?”

Of course, she was calling from Buffy’s home, he had probably memorized the phone number. Her mind was running in circles and she didn’t know how to start the conversation.

“Buffy? Are you there?”

“It’s... It’s Willow.”

“Oh God, Buffy...” The man moaned in desperation.

“No, no! Buffy’s all right!” Now she was the one who was distraught. She had made him think that Buffy was dead, damn it! She needed to get her head back on track!

“Willow, what’s so important that you had to wake me up in the middle of the night, if Buffy is alive and well?”

“Anya’s dead,” she just blurted out.

Well, maybe not the best way to break the news on him. Giles stayed silent for a while then she heard him move.

“I am leaving with the next plane. I will be in LA tomorrow afternoon.”

“Okay. Er... See you soon.”

“Yes, until tomorrow, Willow.”

He hung up without another word and she stared at the receiver, listening to the busy tone echoing dismissively.

Willow almost dropped the phone when it rang again and squealed when she saw the caller’s ID.

“Hi, Tara!”

“Hi, Willow,” the shy girl answered almost without a stutter.

“How are you doing?” Willow felt as if they were back in the first days of their relationship, with hesitating words and hopeful tones.

“I’m well. I wan... wanted to know if we... Maybe we could go see a movie... Or eat dinner out and...” Tara trailed off, obviously unsure of her welcome.

“Yes! Yes, of course!” Willow exclaimed happily, feeling as if she were going to bounce around, she was so relieved. Her Tara still wanted her!

She was going to propose a movie when a noise from the living-room reminded her of the night’s murder.

“Ah, no, I can’t.”

She could almost hear Tara deflate, taking her rejection personally.

“It’s not you!” she clarified immediately then explained in a whisper, “Anya... Anya’s dead.”

“Oh goddess, no! What happened?” Tara asked with a tremor in her voice.

“A vampire. Probably a strong one, because it was barely nightfall. She was going to see Xander, I think, and he found her on the sidewalk. We called the police and brought Xander back to Buffy’s house.”

“I’m coming right away.”

“Thanks Tara. Be careful, okay.”

“I’ll be, don’t worry. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“... Tara?” Willow called back before the other girl could hang up.

“Yes?”

“I still love you,” she murmured quietly.

Tara stayed silent a few seconds, then breathed deeply.

“I do too,” she confessed before hanging up.

Willow hid for a while in the kitchen, staring outside the window. A sad smile stretched her lips when she thought back on what she had almost destroyed because of her misplaced pride and arrogance.

Xander would never be able to make up with Anya and it was a harsh reminder that, in Sunnydale, you might not have time to settle your arguments with your loved ones. She shouldn’t have hurt Tara that way, but above all, she should have apologized more sincerely days ago.

Now was not the time to think about her relationship’s problems. They would mourn Anya tonight, not try to recreate her relationship with Tara.

Putting on her determined face, Willow began cooking this evening’s dinner. She thought about calling Dawn for a moment, but she would be sad enough tomorrow, she deserved to spend some time with her friends without interruption for once.

Buffy joined her a few minutes later and they worked in silence for a while, both of them lost in their thoughts.

Willow was smiling while preparing the carrots – Tara’s favorite vegetable – when she realized that her girl was late. She jerked her head up hard enough to wince when her muscles protested and stared at the clock, getting a very bad feeling.

Tara was almost ten minutes late.

She whirled around and grabbed Buffy’s arm, not caring that her nails were cutting into the girl’s flesh. She was almost too panicked to speak and Buffy looked at her with a worried frown.

“Tara! She called earlier and she said she was coming! It was twenty minutes ago!”

“Twenty? But she needs barely ten minutes to come... Damn it!” Buffy jerked her arm free of Willow’s grip and snatched a couple of spare weapons that she kept in every room.

“You stay here with Xander, and I’ll go get Tara and Dawn too. There’s something fishy going on!”

Willow didn’t have time to answer before her friend was already out of the door, using her Slayer’s speed to cross the lawn and vault above the fence without breaking her stride.

All she had to do now was keep her calm and try not to imagine Tara lying on another sidewalk, in the same position as Anya.

;;;

Buffy ran at full speed, passing cars and unknowing pedestrians with her thoughts going in circles. She should have guessed that another big bad had settled in town, even if the Trio’s deaths didn’t seem connected to Anya’s. At least, Dawn was safe at her friend’s house, she knew better than to go out at night or to open the door to strangers.

She climbed up the college’s stairs two at a time and barely caught herself when a man called after her. Surprised, she turned around and spotted an old man standing next to a cab, waving at her. Buffy felt a ball of lead form in her stomach.

“Hey, you wouldn’t know a Miss Maclay, by chance? She called for a taxi, but nobody’s here. I asked another student and he said that she was a reliable girl, if she called, she would come. But I can’t wait anymore,” the man whined.

Buffy stared at him for a while then closed her eyes. She was too late again, but at least Tara’s body wasn’t lying in the dirt, she might still be alive.

She dashed into the building, ignoring the driver and speeding through the halls to the woman’s room. Nobody answered her knocks but the door opened with barely a twitch of the handle. Buffy took a deep breath and walked in, concentrating on her Slayer senses to tell her if something was here.

The room was empty and nothing seemed out of place, not even a chair. Both beds were made and even the desk was carefully tidy, papers piled on the side and pens lined up in their pencil-holders.

Buffy slammed the door and ran back to her house, hoping against hope that she had passed Tara on the way without realizing it. It didn’t seem believable.

She had barely reached Revello Drive when her Slayer radar kicked her in the guts. She had a bad, bad feeling. She had wanted to check on the house before going to retrieve Dawn and this seemed more and more like a good idea.

Buffy almost missed her home’s drive because she had been unwilling to slow down. She was turning at full speed, skidding on the gravel and barely avoiding a tree, when she saw her.

All the breath went out of her and she fell down to her knees, staring without seeing at the corpse spread out on her front stairs.

She couldn’t believe her eyes, this was impossible, not after...

A sob escaped the desperate girl and it was all she could do not to wail right here in the middle of the street.

Buffy staggered to the porch, all the while muttering nonsensical words, trails of tears running down her face. She settled next to her dead sister, reaching out with a shaking hand to close her eyes. After a while, she just laid down on the stairs and drew her in her arms, crooning to the cold body, low and reassuring, stroking gently her hair.

Willow found her in the same position some time later. Nothing was real except that her sister’s body was getting rigid in death and that the bite mark on her neck was neat and clean, as if the vampire hadn’t wanted to leave a drop behind.

Maybe her status of Key had given her tastier blood, thought Buffy with a short, hysterical laugh.

“Oh goddess, Dawn, no!”

Willow knelt down hard beside Buffy, tears streaming down her face. She stared at the corpse for a while, not seeing anything, then jerked upright.

“Tara! Is Tara...” She couldn’t even finish her sentence. She might have had a chance to put things right with her girlfriend, but nothing would be the same.

“I didn’t find her,” Buffy stammered weakly. “She wasn’t on the campus. There was a cab waiting for her, but he said that she never came.”

“Why? If they want to kill us all, one after the other, why not leave Tara in public view, like the others.”

Xander’s question cast a chill over the girls. They both raised their heads at the same time, staring at him in horror. He was standing just outside the door, his eyes never straying from Dawn’s body, his face hard and cold.

Buffy was the first to react and she had to swallow several times before she could find her voice.

“I’m not mad, this thing’s really after us?” She almost hoped that it wasn’t the case. If she was right, it meant that she was responsible for Anya’s, Dawn’s and maybe Tara’s deaths.

“What do you think?” Xander asked her in a scathing tone.

She recoiled, feeling the tears threaten to fall again. She wanted to deny the truth, to find arguments to the contrary, but the sound of the sirens silenced her.

A few minutes later, the street was swarming with police cars and ambulances. A neighbor had probably seen them outside and called for help.

Buffy cringed when she recognized a few cops from the earlier murder scene, but they didn’t seem to find her presence strange. Buffy lost track of time, between questions and explanations, and wondering how in hell the cops managed to be that oblivious to the Hellmouth’s deeds.

;;;

Xander exiled himself in Joyce’s bedroom, needing some calm and quiet. The girls were both downstairs, Buffy trying to keep it together and not breakdown in tears, while at the same time keeping Willow from going mad from worry. It had been barely four hours since Anya had died and two since Tara had disappeared and Dawn had turned up cold and lifeless, and yet it felt as if an eternity had passed.

He still couldn’t believe that his dear Anya had been murdered just like that, on a sidewalk in Sunnydale. He knew it was his fault; he should have come after her right away, or better yet, he should have waited outside with her for her cab. Or maybe, he could have invited her inside.

Now she was dead and Dawn was too and very soon Buffy was going to have to wait in a graveyard somewhere to be ready to stake her sister and his own almost-wife.

He was going mad, he could feel it, and he couldn’t stay here and stare at the wallpaper. There had to be something to do, even if it was just patrol around the town, hoping that he would get the bastard that had killed his friends.

Without a second thought, Xander grabbed his jacket and sneaked out of the house by the back door. He didn’t want Willow to worry about him or Buffy to remind him that his help was worthless. He didn’t want them to try and stop him and then store him in a room like a precious but useless item. He didn’t want them to remind him that he had none of the Slayer’s strength or Willow’s magical powers.

He would certainly be killed as well tonight, but at least he would have tried to take revenge. If he stayed at home like a coward, he would never be able to look in a mirror ever again. He might be the Zeppo, the donut boy too stupid to be accepted in college, but he had enough brains to know how to use his fists and stake against a vampire.

The night was cold and the town was quiet for once. Xander shivered a few times but he didn’t know if it was because of the chilly wind or because of some wary instinct. He had been out and about for more than twenty minutes, strolling around the Bronze, and despite it being a Friday night, he hadn’t spotted any vampires.

No vampires, no demons that he might have been able to recognize and about half the teenagers expected on a weekend evening. It was as if everybody knew to keep a low profile tonight.

Xander circled around the area, trying to stay aware of his surroundings. He knew he was probably going into shock, but he didn’t want to think about the two dead women lying in a morgue somewhere in Sunnydale.

He didn’t want to remember them, because if he didn’t, it might not be real and he might find Anya waiting for him on his doorstep, a big grin on her face and a new pair of shoes to show him.

Xander walked by Giles’ old apartment and realized that the man was still in England. They would need to tell him, but not now. And not him. He didn’t want to call Giles and hear him say ‘Good Lord, that’s really a sad thing. I’m sorry Xander, goodbye.’ He hadn’t cared enough to stay with them and he hadn’t cared enough to attend Xander’s marriage. Not that he had actually married the girl, but still, it would have been good to have had his father figure present for the biggest event of his miserable life. But Giles had known what a loser he was, which probably explained why he hadn’t even tried to come.

And Xander was perfectly aware that he was getting angry with the ex-watcher because he needed to hurt something and that no vampire was smart enough to come and help him vent his frustrations.

Xander’s thoughts were running in circles in his head and he wasn’t even keeping an eye on the shadows anymore. In fact, he didn’t even know where he was. If he wanted to get himself killed, he could at least do a good deed and offer his bleeding body to Spike. That way, the blood wouldn’t be totally wasted.

Spike...

He too should be warned about Dawn’s death. He had been fond of the girl just as she had had a teenage crush on him. God, what a mess.

Xander didn’t feel like dragging himself to the vampire’s crypt to get into another of their screaming matches. He didn’t want to deal with Spike’s sorrow. He didn’t want to have to describe how he had found Anya’s dead body and how Buffy had found Dawn’s dead body and how Willow would probably find Tara’s dead body soon.

Of course, it was at that point that he realized that Spike was probably the one who had murdered the poor girls. That damn vampire must have had his chip taken care of and come back to destroy them, one after the other.

Xander felt like an idiot; he should have connected the dots right away, for God’s sake.

How could they have thought that they would manage to keep their very own chained pet vampire? It should have been obvious that Spike would have gotten rid of the chip sooner or later.

He had told then often enough what he would do to the Scoobies once he was free.

Xander whirled around with a growl of his own and took off at a run. Even if Spike wasn’t in his crypt in the graveyard, he would just wait for him. And he would make him pay.

He would grab him and knock him out cold and then he would chain him and torture him again and again. And he would finish it with a lovely sunbath at noon.

Of course, Xander hadn’t taken three steps before someone clubbed him on the head and he fell face first in the dirt, unconscious before touching ground.

;;;

Willow was pretty sure she was so far past sane that she couldn’t even see the road sign anymore. She wouldn’t let the phone out of her sight and it was making Buffy go mad, because she was too close to the door. The Slayer was afraid that she was going to bolt outside. Not that she didn’t want to.

She was babbling in her head. It wasn’t good, really not good, but she couldn’t stay here anymore without doing anything, she had to go out. Maybe she could find and track Tara’s magic. Maybe she could get her back alive and she wasn’t going to think about poor Dawn any more because she would get hysterical again.

Not that she was out of control right now. Nope mister, she was Zen and collected and she knew perfectly well what she had to do. Buffy couldn’t see it, because she was too crushed by her own grief, but Willow could almost hear Tara wailing in pain and pleading for help.

“Where are you going?”

Damn the girl and her Slayer senses.

“To find Tara, and you know it.”

“You can’t go outside. We have to wait for Giles, he’ll know what we’re against. We can’t just go into battle without info, this demon’s too ruthless!”

“Who are you trying to convince, yourself or me?”

“Willow, damn it! Come back here right now, you can’t do anything!”

Willow stared back at Buffy, willing her silently to let go of her arm. She had stayed here for hours like a good little girl, but Tara might still be alive and Giles wouldn’t land in California until tomorrow. She just couldn’t wait anymore and she wasn’t going to let Buffy stop her.

Buffy’s eyes grew bigger than she thought they could and Willow caught her reflection in the glass. Two demonic black eyes looked back at her and she could have passed for a ghost with her white skin and black hair.

Something was very wrong with her, but she didn’t feel like waiting to find out what had happened. She had to leave and woe betide anyone who got in her way.

“Willow, don’t! It’s probably a trap, it doesn’t make any sense for them to capture Tara!” The Slayer tried to reason with her, without any success. “They’re probably waiting for you to go out so they can just pluck us off one after the other without any effort. Come on, Willow, listen to me, damn you!”

“I don’t care. They can come, I’m waiting.”

She shook off the Slayer with a slight wave of power and immediately grabbed the door’s handle, swinging it wide open.

Willow stopped dead on the threshold, staring at the two items laying innocently on the first step. The bright Hawaiian shirt was almost blinding, with loud colors and a hideous pattern, and the elegant necklace resting on it seemed so out of place that she almost laughed.

“Oh God, Xander! I thought he was upstairs, he should be upstairs! Xander!”

The witch watched her friend sprint up the stairs, calling the man’s name over and over again. Willow knew this was useless; this demon had Xander and she was going to track him and release her friends now.

No more waiting around or crying like a baby. They had had a cute little girl in their Scooby gang, the Little Bit like Spike had called her, but she was cold and rigid in death now.

They had beaten the Hellmouth time and time again and now the Hellmouth was kicking them back. But she would be damned if she was going to go down easily.

;;;

When Buffy came back down, cursing and shaking in fright, she realized instantly that it had been a very bad idea to let Willow out of her sight.

Carefully entwined in the necklace’s chain, still lying on the ground, was a bright lock of red hair.

The Slayer gathered the three items together and carefully placed them down next to the candle she had lit for Dawn.

She stood, back straight and eyes hard and cold. She had quaked in fear for too long already; it was time to get answers and to put the fear of the Slayer back in certain people.

Buffy didn’t remember racing through the town, but she did remember slamming the door of Willy’s dive so hard against the wall that a couple of bottles fell behind the bar. She stalked in, absently observing that it was awfully quiet for a Friday night and grabbed Willy by his shirt, strangling him with the fabric and forcing one of his arms behind his back in a painful move.

“Someone killed my sister and kidnapped my two best friends. Who?”

From the look on the barman’s face, he was about to piss himself. A good thing because he didn’t argue with her but just blurted out everything he knew.

“Dracula! He’s back in town, they say he wants revenge,” the man wailed, tugging at her hand to release himself, in vain.

“Dracula? That old bat!” She loosened her grip when she felt bones grinding together. “Where is he?”

Willy wheezed a few times, his lips blue and tears of pain flowing freely down his cheeks. “I don’t kno...”

This wasn’t an answer she wanted to hear. Buffy pulled him over the counter, sending him crashing against the bar’s door. He went through the glass panel, shards flying everywhere and a sharp cry of pain escaping his battered body.

The Slayer crossed the room with deliberate slowness, listening with glee to the sound of glass crushing under her heels and relishing the looks of fear she was receiving from the cringing demons customers.

She jerked the door open again and lifted up the barman with one hand, taking care to keep him away from her. She didn’t want to soil her clothes with the blood running freely down his bare arms.

“I will ask one last time. Where. Is. Dracula?”

Willy sobbed and whined like a scared animal but eventually replied, even if he wouldn’t look at her in the eyes.

“I’m... I’m not sure. They say he went back in the same mansion,” he stuttered, finally losing control of his bladder.

She wrinkled her nose and shook him a few more times, to get her point across.

“I hope for you that you’re right. Or I will come back and nothing will protect you from me, I swear it on my dead sister’s head,” she growled, flashing her teeth in a smile not meant to be friendly.

This time again, she didn’t remember the trip to the mansion. Nothing made much sense, except that she was going to find that bastard and stake him so hard he would still feel it, even in Hell.

Buffy climbed up the mansion’s front steps, her body ready for the hunt and her senses in full alert, taking in every bit of information that she could drag from them.

Even from the outside, the building smelt of blood and she could hear the phantom cries of pain ringing in her ears.

He was waiting for her in the hall when she stepped in, collected and noble as always, dressed in elegant clothes with his trademark out-of-date hairstyle.

“Good evening, Slayer. It is such an honor to receive you here again,” the vampire declared with relish.

She didn’t even answer with her usual banter, her mind too set on the hunt. She went from standstill to sprinting across the room in less than a second, jumping on him with her stake ready and her expression eager for blood.

He sidestepped her easily, turning to face her again with a deliberate slowness that grated on her nerves even more than his voice.

“Well, such rude manners,” the demon declared, waving a finger in her direction. “You should be more courteous and grateful when someone opens his home to you.”

“I’ll show you gratitude,” she snarled while prowling around him.

Buffy let the full magic and power of the Slayer blood flow through her body and charged the vampire with a hair-rising war cry.

Once again, he made to avoid her but she altered her trajectory with a twist of her hip and a smirk. She grabbed him by the hair, spinning him around and slamming him on the ground with as much strength as she could muster. She barely had time to wonder why he wasn’t putting up more of a fight when she felt something sting her in the side.

She lowered her head, disbelief written clearly over her face, and stared at the syringe sticking from her belly. Spots were already forming in front of her eyes.

“What did you... What did you do to me?” she stammered with difficulty, her body feeling numb and clumsy.

Dracula pushed her with a gentle hand and she sprawled on the floor gracelessly. She didn’t remember feeling so out of control of her body since the Council had decided to test her on her eighteenth birthday.

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s just a mild sedative, to keep you docile,” Dracula whispered in her ear, with a creepy grin. “We wouldn’t want you to miss the main torture session on your friends, would we now?”

She wanted to get up and fight again. She wanted to wipe his smile from his face and break every bone in his body. She wanted to stake him, but most of all; she wanted to believe that he hadn’t already been torturing her friends while she was running around town.

Thankfully, the rising blackness that was engulfing her left little time for her brain to run wild.

;;;

Xander hurt. As in, really, really bad. He didn’t think he had ever hurt that much, even when he had broken his arm against that tall, smelly and undead what’s-his-name demon a while back.

Then again, it wasn’t often that he got tortured by Dracula himself. Last time they had met, it had been more “oh, those spiders look tasty” than “oh, let’s see how loud you can scream”.

Still, it was nice to be seen as the Zeppo sometimes. Especially when it meant that he was only locked in a closed room, without the chains and/or mental leash that most demons would have got out of the closet. Maybe Dracula thought that they were still connected in some way.

Well, whatever the vampire was thinking, there was no way Xander would let himself be brainwashed again. Last time had led to enough groveling to Buffy and witch work from Giles. Apparently, it would take a lot now for him to be possessed again, after the way the witchy watcher had mojoed him.

So, locked room, no restraints and only a dead weight on his left side. His arm was busted and useless and he was pretty sure that he had a major concussion, without mentioning the internal bleeding. Of course, his whole body felt like he had gone through a vice and he couldn’t seem to stop the tears of pain that trickeld down his cheeks.

He was babbling in his mind and it was kind of ridiculous, but whatever worked at helping him forget the pain was good. The strips that had been carved in his back and belly felt like they were on fire, his backside was one giant bruise and the cane strips on the back of his legs were throbbing.

The bite marks on his torso didn’t help either – especially the ones on his nipples – nor did the razor slashes on the front of his legs and arms.

His clothes were shreds but it would have to be enough; he didn’t think he would be able to bend down to put on pants. Plus, his body was too slippery with the blood, even if Dracula had been careful to not make any deep cuts, to keep him from bleeding to death.

That being said, the vampire had lost interest in him quickly enough. Apparently, his sobs weren’t interesting and he didn’t show any challenge. The fact that he was male probably helped too; as far as he knew, Dracula was more a lady’s man.

Xander felt guilty to be relieved that he had been discarded so soon, knowing that the sadistic vampire had certainly gone to play with his friends, either Tara or Willow. He knew they were somewhere in the mansion too, because Dracula found it amusing to torture them within hearing distance of the others.

He jumped and banged his arm against a wall, crying out in pain and despair, when a new voice rang through the deceptively quiet mansion.

“Oh God, Buffy...”

He was sniveling again – or maybe, still – but he couldn’t stop himself. It was just too much, the pain that didn’t stop even when his torturer left, the knowledge that two of his friends were dead and that the last three were falling prey to the vampire’s need for revenge.

There wasn’t any hope left that they would be able to escape. He had the Slayer and this time the old vampire wouldn’t let himself be tricked. He might have been lenient in Xander’s case, but he was only a human. Xander knew for a fact that both witches were being kept in an anti-magic force-field and that Dracula had rendered them incapable of producing anything other than grunts and screams.

He didn’t want to imagine what Dracula had prepared to receive the Slayer.

Xander stopped thinking and forced himself to take a deep breath. There had to be a way to save them all and he was the only one that might have a chance to do anything.

What they needed was an outsider’s help. Someone who would be strong enough to fight Dracula or at the very least, to free Buffy so that she could do it herself.

Giles was out of question. He wasn’t even in America and anyway, he hadn’t been much help against Dracula the last time, neither.

Damn it, there had to be someone in Sunnydale who was strong...

“Spike!” Xander exclaimed, almost hitting his forehead. He managed to stop himself in time – he didn’t need more pain – and scrambled to right himself up. He was such a moron not to have thought about him right away.

He had a goal, he needed a plan. He was plan-man, he could do it. All he needed was pick the lock of his cell, hobble through Dracula’s mansion without alerting him and/or his creepy wives – if they were there, he hadn’t seen them. Maybe Drac didn’t want to be humiliated in front of them again. Then he would have to cross Sunnyhell without falling prey to the first demon that could smell blood, find Spike and finally persuade him to attack Dracula and save the Scoobies.

... Piece of cake!

Xander slumped back against the wall, hanging his head in despair. There was no way he would manage this and...

He had tuned out Buffy’s cries, trying to stay somewhat sane, but a higher, longer scream jerked him out of his pity fest.

What was he waiting for? Dracula was busy with Buffy and he was relatively strong enough to escape. At least, he could walk. Or, more like, stumble. He wasn’t allowed to give up before even trying.

“I’m such a loser...” he mumbled, eyes shut. “I can’t even admit to myself that I’m scared to death.”

Taking a deep breath, Xander dragged himself to the door once again and took out the tools he had begun hiding in his shoes a couple of years ago. Funnily enough, it had been Spike that had taught him to use them, during the whole Glory fiasco.

It took him a few minutes – he was getting rusty and the pain shooting in his arms didn’t help –, but he finally heard and felt the door unlock. Xander almost squealed in happiness, but managed to keep himself from giving himself away.

Sneaking out of the mansion was way too easy and so very nerve wracking that he wondered how he hadn’t earned himself a heart attack. He hurt everywhere, each step was worse than the previous one and tears were streaming from his eyes again, but he had hope.

Hope that, just maybe, he would be able to bring back help. Hope that no more of his friends would die. Hope that Spike would save the day and that they would make it out alive and in one piece.

Xander absolutely wouldn’t believe that Spike might not be able to defeat Dracula. He wouldn’t imagine that this might be another of Dracula’s games and that he was only a toy being freed for more hunting fun.

The whole trip to Spike’s crypt was a blur of pain, desperate thoughts and stubbornness. Half the time, he wasn’t even sure he was on the right track, road signs blurring before his eyes and the street curving and moving under his feet. He could only thank God that Spike’s graveyard wasn’t that far from Dracula’s mansion, because he doubted that he would have been able to make it otherwise.

Xander staggered against the crypt’s door, too weak to open it, and scratched against the rotten wood. He couldn’t stand up anymore and slid down, half sitting, half lying on the ground.

He was praying, begging and weeping in a graveyard in the middle of the night, but nothing other than Spike mattered. He had to help them.

;;;

To comply with FFnet’s restriction, this fic has been censored. You’ll find the whole chapter at Anyssia-library (dot) livejournal (dot) com, thanks.

(I keep the word count by adding the 'censored' below, so you can have an idea of the fic's length. It is really 14,200 words long ;p )

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CENSORED - CENSORED - CENSORED - CENSORED -

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