Adult-FanFiction.org : Buffy

No Rest For The Wicked...	By : MissWritesAlot Category: BtVS AU/AR > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 8235 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, nor do I make any money from writing this series! All credit goes to Joss Whedon.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
The Bronze was the perfect breeding ground for mayhem, if only because no one truly saw it coming. Located in the ‘bad’ part of town [since the Master had risen, the ‘good’ part of town had ceased to exist, but as usual, the humans were oblivious] the club routinely thrived with no less than fifty customers a night, which often doubled on the weekends. The fact that it was also located near the warehouse district and the abandoned railway station also added to the appeal. Disposing of drained bodies there was far easier done than say, in the center of the well-lit, often crowded part of town, where dark alleyways with handy dumpsters were few and far between.
   It was a rare slow night, possibly because of the horrid choice of band, but more likely because it was a Thursday and game night. Half of the usual suspects were either cramming for that big math test tomorrow, or freezing their asses off on the metal stands lining the football field at the high school. None of this really mattered to the four people lounging at the corner table furthest from the stage where a woman crooned about lost love – least of all to the man holding the rose.
Angelus twirled the fragile flower by the stem almost carelessly, studying it with his dark brows drawn as If it were a riddle he was mere moments away from piecing together. In a way, he supposed it was. Due to the nature of the gathering, the mood was solemn, despite the chatting and laughing taking place at other tables, the bar, and the balcony above them. Darla was the first to speak.
            “Angelus, you drug me all the way out here because the invalid you chose to sire gave you a rose?”
Spike, who was currently swilling cheap beer and leaning his chair back against the wall, sent a warning growl in her direction.
            “Oh, please, I’m twice your age.” Darla rebuked, nonplussed by the platinum blonde’s icy glare.
            “No kiddin’, Grandma,” Spike drawled, before looping an arm around Drusilla’s waist, giving her a loving squeeze, and returning his attention to his beer.
            “Enough,” Angelus’ Irish lilt cut through Darla’s outraged retort, and despite clearly wanting to continue the banter, Darla quieted. “Drusilla gave me a rose, yes. But you all know how she is,” a collective nod went around the table in silent understanding. Even Drusilla nodded, a dreamy smile on her blood red lips, as she vacantly stared at the flower she had offered her Sire a mere hour ago. “In other words, she didn’t tell me a damn thing, except for that this is what our family needs to be complete.”
            “I didn’t know we weren’t already. How many more bloody sods are we gonna vamp? Also, how are we vampin’ a rose, eh?” Spike shook his head, before sending a curious glance at Drusilla, who was perched on his lap, looking far more loopy than usual.
            “Shut up, idiot! Our family is complete, because I say so. I sired Angelus, therefore all of you, and you give me all the headache I need.” Darla snapped, clearly not pleased with being taken away from her comfortable, luxurious room at the Master’s manor – not to mention the luscious boy toy meal she had been about to enjoy. Turning to Angelus, she huffed, “I was lead to believe this actually required my attention.”
Angelus studied his mate for a moment, trying to control his temper with her, if only for the fact that she was his sire. “Drusilla does not present information if it is not useful – do you remember the time she saved your life, perhaps, Darla?” Immediately, Darla’s haughtiness evaporated. “I thought so. Whatever this rose signifies, we need it in order to be whole – I do not know what this means, just that apparently it is important. Drusilla has been in near constant bouts of vision – the future keeps changing, and it has the Master on edge. I’m afraid we can no longer rely on Drusilla to even attempt to translate her visions for us.” Angelus said, glancing at his childe with uncharacteristic worry reflected in his dark gaze. “This, I believe,” he continued, “is why the Master seeks a witch, one powerful enough to be able to decipher Drusilla’s visions for us – or perhaps see a clearer future herself.”
            “So what are we gonna do about it?” Spike asked as he snapped his fingers at a pretty waitress, signaling his need for more onion blossoms. “It’s not like the job was given to us – that’s the wolf’s dirty work.” He paused. “You’re not actually considering teamin’ up with the mutt, are ya, Gran’ Daddy Sire?”
Angel shrugged.
            “It would be in our best interest to deal with this as soon as possible, whatever it is. Apparently, like I said, we need it in order to attain more power, more stability…maybe even our freedom,” Angel said lowly, and the two coherent vampires visibly perked at this. Drusilla, on the other hand, started humming a lullaby that no one had sang in almost a hundred years.
            “I agree,” Darla said after a long, stagnant pause of clearly not wanting to speak those particular words. “Drusilla has never been wrong before, but that was only because she had given us enough to go on in order to solve her little riddles,” Darla glanced to her right, where the platinum blonde was staring at his mate with concerned wonderment. “Are you sure she didn’t speak anything of this to Spike, Angelus? Sure he’s not holding back on us?” Darla said slyly, not bothering to mask her suspicions at all.
            “Oi, if I wanted to be all secretive and the lot, I wouldn’t be here, would I? If I knew somethin’ that would benefit me, and screw you two plus the old git, would I still be in Sunnyhell? No, me and Dru would have done buggered off – so stop soddin’ accusin’ me of somethin’ I ain’t got the means to do just yet!”
            “Well, that answers that question, at least,” Darla sighed, standing, readying to return to the manor. “Remember, I’m only tangled in this because the Master is…not himself lately. If I knew he was stable, I’d be dusting all of you right now for conspiring against him,” Her sideways glance at Angelus as she said this told him that that statement might not be entirely true, at least in his case. “But, self-preservationally speaking, we do need to get to the bottom of this, even if it means helping that dog find what he needs and then possibly using her against the Master – “
            “No need for that, leech,” a voice drawled from behind them, “I’ve found her.”
Even Drusilla turned at the sound of Oz’s voice, suddenly and oddly
focused. She mouthed his words at the same time as he spoke next, glee on her features, as if she were reading them from a book.

“Anyone wanna crash a party?”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Jesse!” Willow exclaimed as she was swooped up into a bear hug and twirled around by her second best friend in the entire world.
“Hey birthday girl!” Jesse laughed as he twirled her around once more for good measure, before setting her back on her feet. “Where’s the grub? I’m starving!”
“Oh, sure, you only came for the food!” Willow giggled, before pointing Jesse in the direction of the kitchen. “Where’s Xander? I thought he was coming with you?” she asked, following him into the spacious room. Jesse had been to her house plenty of times in the last four years, so he did not express the usual awe at the pristine, Grecian styled kitchen, or the large amount of various foods piled atop the island in the center of it.
“He’sh on hish way,” Jesse said around a large bite of barbecued chicken, as he stacked one of the china plates high with several different offerings. Willow, who had been cooking all day with the help of the kindly, elderly housekeeper, Bertha, appreciated his approval – but she wanted a straight answer. It was incredibly dangerous to linger after dark in Sunnydale, now more than ever before. Before she could even question him again, Jesse raised his hands as if in helplessness– but not before shoving a roll in his mouth. “Hey Willsh, don’t look a’ me. I’m jusht the meshenger!”
Unable to withstand the cuteness of Jesse’s full cheeks, Willow laughed and shooed him off to the living room, where Jesse promptly sat in front of the large television and flicked through the channels while he waited. It wasn’t long before the doorbell rang again, and Willow rushed to answer. Xander stood on her porch with his arm casually looped over a pretty blonde girl’s shoulders. The blonde girl, who Willow recognized as the briefly pre-introduced Anya, unceremoniously shoved a small bundle in her hands – it was wrapped in tin foil.
“It’s from Xander and Jesse – they’re cheap. I wrapped it though!” She grinned cheekily, before making her way into the living room and combating with Jesse over some chocolate chip cookies he’d removed from the kitchen. Xander lingered inside the doorway, looking apologetic.
“Will, before you skin me with harsh words about being late and making you worry, can I do the Snoopy Dance to see if it will make you forget about it?”
Willow stubbornly shook her head, though failed to keep her lips from twitching a bit. “Xander, after living in Sunnydale all your life, I really thought you’d know better – three people just this week have disappeared, and they found that new girl’s body yesterday…You don’t know what images went through my mind when Jesse told me you’d split up from him. Group travelling is part of the town curfew, you know – you’re lucky you didn’t get busted.”
“Ahem – I was with him, you know!” Anya chirped, pausing mid-wrestle with Jesse, who chortled and then yelped when she slapped him on the back of the head.
“Yes, but two doesn’t count as a group…” Willow drifted off before realizing she was being a bit preachy. “Anyway, I guess it doesn’t matter, now that you’re here and not in tiny little Xander-bits.”
“Yeah,” Xander agreed, giving Willow a big, warm birthday hug. “Xander-bits are bad,”
“But if it makes you feel better, Will, they stopped on the way to get you your present. I donated fifty-cents!” Jesse called over his shoulder, while negotiating a peace treaty with Anya, who’d since gotten her own plate – so far, she had two pieces of chicken, a roll, and three cookies. From the looks of it, she was angling for a slice of carrot cake Jesse didn’t want to give up. Apparently, during Xander and Willow’s tense moment, Jesse and Anya had taken it upon themselves to set the food from the kitchen out onto the tables lining the walls in the living room. While Willow appreciated the forethought, she didn’t want blood spilled in the name of cake.
            “Um, Jesse, could you help Xander set up the sound system you dropped off yesterday?” Willow asked, and Jesse nodded, not before giving Anya a dirty look. The blonde girl merely looked triumphant – the carrot cake was gone from his plate as soon as his back was turned. As Jesse and Xander toiled with the heavy equipment and the wires in the far corner, Willow plopped down on the couch next to Anya, who was now munching happily, only to have to jump right back up again when the doorbell rang. “I’ll get it – try to not blow those speakers tonight, okay?” Willow whispered as she passed the boys, who gave her looks that said they weren’t going to promise anything.
Willow opened the door, and stood staring for a few moments, her brain refusing to register who was standing on her doorstep.
Cordelia Chase – looking imperious as always.
Blinking rapidly and swallowing the nervous laughter she’d been about to release, Willow forced a smile to her face and said, “Cordelia! Hey – what a surprise…”
“Save it, Sears, I know. I came. Wowee, golly-gosh. All I can say is that those muffins had better be nonfat.” And with that, Cordy stepped over her threshold as if she owned the place, but not before thrusting a small square at Willow.
It was a twenty-five dollar gift card – to Sears.
            “Very funny, Cordy,” Willow muttered.
Cordelia smiled over her shoulder as she made her way over to the corner of the table housing the banana nut muffins, “I know, right?”
Xander and Jesse had paused mid-lift with the speaker when Cordelia had so casually walked into the room – upon Queen C casting a cool look in their direction, however, they hurriedly scrambled to continue getting the music on the road. Anya gave Cordelia a wave, though she didn’t smile.
“Don’t worry; I’m not threatened by your presence here at all. Great skirt,” Anya said, before shoving a slice of cake into her mouth and turning her attention back to the t.v. And with that, any awkwardness that might have occurred evaporated on the spot as Cordelia sat with Anya, chatting and commenting about the varying degrees of hotness of the guys in various music videos.
Letting out a deep breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Willow set about checking the final details of the party and took note of the time.
Only one more guest was due to show up soon – Jonathan had R.S.V.P’d at the last possible minute the day before, saying he’d gotten so caught up in playing Dungeons and Dragons with his two new friends, Warren and Andrew, that he had completely forgotten about her party. Jonathan was a total sweetheart and she really liked him, so it was easy to forgive his forgetfulness. Geeks had to stick together, after all. She even said he could bring his two friends if he wanted!
Despite the potential of people she didn’t personally invite coming, Willow was the most nervous about the last five people scheduled to show. The Dingo’s technically didn’t count, though they’d be welcome to stay as guests during intermissions and after they were done playing – Oz had asked if he may bring some other friends of his he said she might like to meet. He had forgotten he was supposed to hang out with them this Saturday, and had already put her party in his irrefutable gig-book. But instead of breaking it off, he suggested they hang out at her party – which was extremely sweet of him, and showed he was actually a responsible and thoughtful person.
Sigh.
The Dingo’s were scheduled to get off their current gig a half hour from then, and Oz’s friends would be car-pooling with the band. In anticipation of so many arrivals, Willow had left the security system un-activated in order to avoid an embarrassing chat with the police. Somehow, she didn’t think the officers would take too kindly to the presence of the six-pack Jesse had thought he’d snuck by her.
When would he ever learn?
Swooping by the corner of the couch the Budweiser was tucked under, she snatched the plastic handle and retreated to the kitchen, where she grimly dumped the contents of the cans down the sink, and placed the empty cans in the recycling bin on the back stoop. When she re-entered the living room, she had to keep the corner of her lips twitching when Jesse very confusedly shuffled his foot around that particular corner of the couch, attempting to locate his lost illicit beverages.
The sound system was now pumping out soft rock n’ roll steadily, the t.v. was broadcasting some spoof movie that had Jesse guffawing incessantly, and the four most unlikely people were sitting on her couch, laughing and eating, throwing popcorn chicken at each other…
It was heart-warming, really.
So why didn’t she feel like she could go and join them?
Sighing, she settled for sitting on the back of the couch behind Jesse, who promptly used the side of her leg as a pillow. “Oooh, Willow-Leg-Pillow-Rest! Comfy.” He waggled his brows up at her suggestively and she couldn’t help but laugh.
Cordelia scoffed audibly, still picking at her muffin, and Jesse turned to her with brows raised. “D’aww, baby, don’t tell me you’re jealous?”
Cordelia glared, dark eyes heated. “As if.”
Jesse blinked, placing his hand over his heart in an exaggerated wounded gesture, “No one makes two little words as cutting and cruel as you do!”
From the look of annoyance on Cordy’s face, Willow was very glad that Xander and Anya were sitting between them; otherwise all out war would have likely broken out. The ring of the doorbell interrupted the bickering that was mounting between the two, and Willow was glad to answer it. So much for the warm and fuzzy picture her mind had painted earlier!
Jonathan was standing on her doorstep looking nervous – even more so when he spotted the back of Cordelia’s unmistakable, dark glossy head. Willow honestly couldn’t blame him – things usually went horribly wrong for him when Cordelia was involved in any way. Well, if Queen C wanted to keep her not non-fat muffin on her plate and not smooshed into her face, she’d be on her best behavior!
Especially since, it turned out, Jonathan did bring his friends!
Warren was a taller, dark-haired boy that frankly, gave Willow the creeps. He was nice enough, but there was just something about him that rubbed her the wrong way – especially since his dark eyes immediately latched onto her chest. Andrew was a dopey blond boy who would probably never grow out of his acne problem, but he seemed sweet. Jonathan made the introductions and shyly presented her with a slightly squashed package. Thanking them, she put it on the small table specifically reserved for presents, which was stacked high with the gifts her parents and other family members had sent. Her parents’ parcels had been express delivered to her house so they would arrive earlier that day. Willow didn’t have to look at the date on the boxes to know that her parents had forgotten her birthday again – but at least they remembered in time, right? If nothing else, she was at least grateful for the numerous and probably expensive gifts, that were also beautifully wrapped. Ironically enough, the tinfoil square and the squashed, lumpy package looked cute amongst the pristine gifts from her parents.
Once Willow had everyone settled with a plate and refreshments, Cordelia mildly surveyed the trio of newcomers, but remained silent, turning her attention back to the horror movie about to start.
Good cheerleader, Willow thought with a small smirk, as she herself settled in for some relaxation before the final guests arrived…
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Darla was livid.
Who did the wolf think he was, ordering them around? Them! Master Vampires! Oh, what she wouldn’t give to put the overgrown flea-bag’s ego to the test! She would relish reminding the dog of his place – at her feet, preferably covered in his own blood.
Ever since she had risen Thursday evening, things had gone significantly downhill for her. Who got to brunt the Master’s wrath when he was told that the wolf had found the witch, but had not procured her for him? Who was then punished by being solely responsible for the success of this little retrieval mission, after floundering considerably to back-up the reasoning behind it?
       Not the wolf!
As if Oz could feel Darla’s eyes, sky blue with barely repressed rage, boring into the back of his head, he turned to her.
And smirked.
Oh!
Suddenly, the abysmal contraption they were barreling down the street in was far too small and only Angelus’ iron grip on her right knee kept her from springing from the cigarette-burned and Cheeto-strewn back seat to sink her fangs onto the wolf’s jugular.

“Killin' the driver is typically a bad idea, love. Calm yerself.” Angelus murmured in her ear, his grip loosening into that of a comforting squeeze.
“We’re vampires, Angelus. I daresay we can survive a paltry van crash,” Darla said coolly, now apparently under control of her impulses. The band’s van was a place of many smells, consisting mainly of beer and sweaty balls. Frankly, she had a list of other places she’d rather be – a list at least nine miles long. But it was a necessary evil, letting Oz chauffer them about, because the idiot dog had the gall to think of a story for the little witch without consulting them. Or, more importantly, Darla herself.
Apparently Darla was a co-ed, a shuddersome fact in itself, but also Oz’s ‘friend.’ And that meant Darla had to refrain from murdering him with her eyes, or otherwise, in order to keep up appearances. The witch must suspect nothing, absolutely nothing. Vampires, thankfully, were far more resistant to magic than the unfortunate werewolves, and she was firmly stacking the odds in their favor. If shit went south, she would make sure the wolf took all the heat, period. It would serve him right, anyway!
Finally, Oz slowed the van and pulled into a blacktop drive. There was a red convertible already parked, but otherwise the drive was empty, which was a good sign. Three bikes were thrown haphazardly against a tall sycamore, which brought the tally of people inside to at least five. Darla’s eyes were particularly watchful, and inside she scented mostly males, as well as a healthy supply of human food. What interest had been perked by the smell of fresh, hale blood had been quelled by the sickening stench of processed garbage that humans actually consumed to sustain themselves.
            Ugh!
By the time Darla had reached the front door of the neat, middle-class home, she had ascertained that there were actually eight individuals already inside, via the heartbeats of each one. For some reason, her hackles were raised immediately – something wasn’t right here. Sending Angelus a meaningful look, she grudgingly stepped aside and let Oz take the lead – he was the front man for this circus, after all.
Almost as soon as Oz pressed the doorbell, his band mates whipped into the driveway, tires squealing. Immediately, a disapproving red-head appeared in the doorway, smiling first at them, and then peering with an arched eyebrow towards the black mustang that was cranking The Smashing Pumpkins’ Bullet With Butterfly Wings.
Oh, the irony!
Guffawing and visibly liquored up, the rest of the band joined them on the stoop. The redhead blinked once, twice, then smiled shyly and opened the door for them.

“Please come in, thanks for coming! I’ve already got the sound system set up – the neighbors have already warned me about noise level though, so uh, let’s not…” she seemed to realize how annoying she was being, and shut up.
Good, Darla sneered mentally. She was so not looking forwards to listening to the little witch prattle all night about rules and whatnot. Oh! Don’t wrinkle mother’s doilies! She’ll be furious!
Apparently the blond vampiress had chuckled darkly out loud, because one of the human band members, a boy with greasy spiked hair, looked a bit warily at her.
She smiled, instinctively baring a bit of fang.
            Quickly averting his dark eyes, the boy busily went back to helping his band mates set up the usual instruments. Well, well – apparently not all humans were obtuse after all. This one at least had the sense to fear her!
            Oh, but now was not the time to play with their sad little minds – she had work to do, and if all went according to plan, the witch would be theirs by the time this pathetic affair was over. Her eyes, in the process of casually observing the neat, cozy house with it’s party furnishings landed on a tiny, whimsical witch piñata set beside dainty finger sandwiches on a nearby antique table.
            And then introductions were made all around.
            She was Darla Dawson, the co-ed - and apparently a fan of the Dingoes.
            Gods, she couldn’t wait until this was over…
            Spike, Angelus, and Drusilla were able to keep their names, no surnames added – only Angelus was introduced as ‘Angel,’ and Drusilla was introduced as ‘Dru.’ And none of them were specifically pointed out as co-eds…
            Oh, the wolf most definitely had it coming to him!
            Her keen ears picked up Oz and the witch – yes, the redhead was the witch for certain, Darla could sense the seed of power growing within her – having a conversation on the far side of the room. Idle chat, boring and pointless – the wolf felt moved to make her feel special, apparently. And from the frantic pounding of the little human girl’s heart, it was working. Was that what his self-satisfied smirk was all about? If nothing else, Oz’s presence also lulled her into a false sense of security – she’d be too giddy and starry-eyed to side step their trap at least.
            A British rumble of displeasure made Darla, perched precariously on the arm of the occupied couch – this boy, Jesse, already ogling her bare legs in admiration – turn her attention to Spike who was eyeing the supply of beverages critically. Apparently his nose detected no presence of alcohol in the harmless looking fruit punch, so naturally, he decided to whip out his flash and add some Jack Daniels.
            Sometimes, she wondered why she bothered siring anyone at all.
            Really.
            Apparently Spike was taking the job entrusted to him a little more seriously than she had anticipated – she wasn’t sure if she should be worried about that or not. Nonetheless, as long as the job got done with relatively little mess, she didn’t give a fuck. She would be happy to merely slaughter all these humans and take the girl – they could easily get away with it. But her Master’s orders were specifically to not upset the girl and her life in any way, nor harm her in any fashion. Not a hair was to be out of place on her head, and she was not to know anything was amiss beforehand. So, obviously, Darla was a bit out of her element – in her mind, violence did in fact solve everything…
            This was why she was so glad Angelus was there; she was clever and cunning, but her temper was too hair-trigger for operations like this, her hatred of humans too deep. Angelus was still young, not as tainted by his unending life as she was – something she was ironically grateful for, especially on nights like these. He was off in a corner, making conversation with a blonde girl that Darla hadn’t noticed before – likely because as soon as the girl had seen them enter, she had skirted to a far corner of the room. Darla’s eyes narrowed on her.
            The girl had been trying to leave.
            Immediately, Darla’s fangs sharpened with aggression.
            She suspected something, then? Well, that would have to be – a sniff of the air told Darla the girl wasn’t quite as human and fragile as she appeared. A werewolf? No, she didn’t quite smell like wet dog. Another witch? Perhaps, there was an aura of certain power lingering about her. Whatever she was, she at least had the sense to try and escape – apparently attempting to drag the hapless human boy called Xander with her, otherwise she wouldn’t have a death grip on his not-so-muscular bicep at that moment.
            And clever, perceptive Angel had trapped them in conversation, interrupting their attempted hasty and not-so-subtle exit. She wanted to laugh at their situation, but all the humor faded from her when she noticed Drusilla out of the corner of her eye braiding the hair of a very nervous looking Cordelia. Apparently the human was both flattered and repulsed by the attention she was getting – Dru had been forbidden to bring Miss Edith, and so her natural response was apparently to make Queen C into a living doll…

            Well, the girl certainly is plastic enough, Darla thought unkindly, with a raised brow before turning her attention to the idiot boy still ogling her leg.

            “Shoo,” she said lowly, and in response, the boy merely grinned dumbly.
            It was going to be a long night indeed…
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
            Several hours later, the Dingoes were playing a popular song of theirs, many of the human males were still happily eating, and the witch piñata lay in pieces on the living room floor, with most of its candy guts snatched away. The three odd humans, she failed to even attempt to recall their names, were ferreted away in a corner arguing over some details of Star Trek that had sparked an argument nearly fifteen minutes before. They were of no concern, and so Darla let them be.
            Drusilla had since abandoned Cordelia, and was more or less attached to Willow’s hip, her dark eyes assessing and slightly confused. Darla knew that Drusilla was trying to ‘see,’ and did not disturb or distract her; if Drusilla learned anything of use, the vampiress would be sure to let Angelus know. How discreetly that exchange would take place, however was up in the air – it beat her why Dru was allowed to come in the first place, but the seer was adamant on coming, to the point where she was even lucid enough to enunciate her desire to do so. Drusilla’s lucid moments were extremely rare, but when they did happen, they were slightly unnerving…
Even to Darla.
Oz was playing with the band, his skilled fingers working his bass – Angelus was keeping a watchful eye on Drusilla, and Spike was lounging in an armchair, hogging the television remote, and subjecting those in the vicinity to his obsession with Passions. Darla herself had barely moved from her perch on the arm of the couch, having sent the overly hormonal teen known as Jesse away to fetch her a drink that never touched her lips. Eventually she’d have to choke down the damned thing in order to be able to send him away again and attain a few minutes peace before he came back, grinning like an idiot and asking her personal questions, including if she had a boyfriend, was adverse to dating younger men, and if she was free next Saturday.
            All in all, for everyone save Darla, the party was going rather well. The redheaded witch flitted around nervously playing hostess, as if their happiness and general comfort were vital to her. This wisp of a woman hardly seemed the type to embrace witchcraft, and if the lovingly kept Torah on the coffee table was of any indication, she had most definitely not been born into it. Just how skilled was she?
            Well, she supposed they were going to find out in about…thirty seconds.
            Sure enough, by the time Darla counted to thirty in her head, the witch stopped in her tracks, turning even paler and swaying on her feet. Immediately, the nearest person, which happened to be Drusilla – still trailing after her listlessly, almost protectively – rushed forwards to catch her as the girl’s knees buckled. Her breathing was shallow, her heartbeat slowing – she would be out for a good two to four hours at least, which gave them plenty of time.
            Darla immediately moved forwards, “Give her space, I’m a nursing student. Dru, help me get her upstairs,” she said smoothly and calmly, having Dru carry Willow’s feet while Darla supported her head, getting her into the first bedroom they found, which, from the pastels and bookshelves, was in fact Willow’s. Darla single-handedly held the girl while Drusilla shoved open her bedroom window, which showed signs of tampering – presumably where Oz had broken in two nights before. Darla then set out onto the roof, leaping down into the front yard, purposefully out of sight of any windows, where she moved swiftly to sit Willow across the second back seat of the van. Honking the horn once, Darla waited.
Drusilla would use her persuasion ability on the humans to make them agree to leave and let Willow get her rest – they would think it perfectly fine to not call or check in on her for a few days, maybe even as long as a week, because after all, the poor girl was so obviously ill. For a moment, Darla had thought that Spike had spiked the punch as a means to get Willow off balance – but no, the sly vampire was just getting some kicks; he had slipped a mystical drug into Willow’s cup of punch, and the drug mixed with the alcohol made it more potent, interestingly enough. She would have to ask him how he knew that it would work out so well – or better yet, perhaps she should just ask the Gypsies. If Spike and the witches currently under their rule had been having private chats, it didn’t necessarily bode well….
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
            Willow gasped for air, her eyes feeling like they were glued shut.
            Her head weighed a ton, but whatever she was laying on was deliciously cool and soft. She snuggled into it deeper, sleep already seizing her back.
            A woman giggled.
            Furrowing her brow in confusion, Willow painstakingly cracked open one eye, and met a pair of dark brown ones, curiously surveying her.
            “Sleep, sweetling. You’re safe now, and everything will be good again…”
            A soft melody rang in Willow’s ears, the power of its pull too compelling to resist. The last thing she heard before darkness blanketed her again was “Goodnight, Birthday Girl…”
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

No Rest For The Wicked...