Under the Sun
Author: enigmaticblue
Rating: PG-13
Archive: Sure, if you already have my stuff. If not, just ask.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters herein; Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and other lucky folks do. Of course, I'm not the one making money off of them.
Summary: Set after Avocation in an alternate S4 where many events of canon get thrown out the window. This one won't make any sense if you haven't read the previous story.
A/N: The title comes from Ecclesiastes, which most people know from the phrase, "A time for everything, and a season for everything under heaven." Really, this story is based on the entire book, which is probably my favorite in the Bible. It talks about making the most of what one has now, and while some find it depressing, I love it. If you've got the time, I'd really recommend you read the whole thing.
Chapter 7
"If only love would spread its savor through me!/—not to go one moment more without spring!/What I sold into sorrow was only my hands,/dearest: now leave me with your kisses./Shut out the month's light with your fragrance;/close all the doors with your hair./Only do not forget, if I wake up crying/it's only because in my dream I'm a lost child/hunting through the leaves of the night for your hands,/for your caresses like the wheat,/the flashing rapture of shadow and energy./O my dearest, nothing but shadow there/where you walk with me through your dream:/you tell me when the light returns." ~Pablo Neruda, "Sonnet XXI"
Xander scuffed the bottom of his shoe on the pavement, wondering when Anya was going to arrive. He just hoped that this evening wouldn't be as big of a fiasco as prom had been. He glanced up, and his eyes widened as he caught sight of her.
He'd suggested she dress as something scary, and she decided on a fuzzy, pink bunny costume?
"Hi," she said.
Xander had no idea what to say other than, "What are you wearing?"
"You said to dress as something scary." Anya glanced down at her costume and back up at Xander. "What's wrong?"
He shook his head, trying to figure out how to put it. "You're wearing a bunny costume."
"Yes." Anya's voice was impatient. "Bunnies are scary."
There were some things in the world that it was better not to question, so Xander just shrugged. If Anya got scared by bunnies, it wasn't as strange as some of the other things he'd seen.
"Let's go," Xander said. "I told the others that we'd meet them there."
Anya fell into step beside him, moving rather slowly in her bulky costume. Xander couldn't help wishing she'd worn something a little more exciting. For instance, a Playboy bunny costume. That was something he could get behind. "Why exactly are we going to this party?"
Xander frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Well, it's not like you're a student," Anya pointed out. "Isn't this a party for students? I don't even know why you hang out with these people."
"They're my friends," he replied defensively. "It's a Halloween party, and it's Halloween. If you have a problem with that, you didn't have to come."
"I didn't say that," Anya muttered, sounding disgruntled. "I just don't know what you have in common."
Xander wasn't sure how to answer that, so he settled for avoiding the question. "We've saved the world together. That's all we need to have in common." They arrived in front of the frat house. "Here it is."
Anya blinked. "Okay. Where's the door?"
Xander frowned, realizing that they were in the front of the
building, but the door was nowhere to be seen. He looked down at the welcome
mat. Knocking on the wall, he called out, "Buffy?
Anya backed up, looking at the front of the building. "Xander!" she called, pointing above her.
Xander moved to see what she was looking at, and he could see a girl pounding on the glass of one of the windows. "Help me! Please, help!" Then, impossibly, the stone around the window moved, so that all that was left was a blank wall.
Xander swallowed. "Okay, this isn't good."
"No, it really isn't," Anya agreed.
"I think we should find Giles." Xander grabbed Anya's hand, leading her away from the frat house. "He'll know what to do."
~~~~~
"This is the big party?" Spike asked, glancing around. He wasn't terribly impressed.
Oz frowned. "Yeah. I thought there would be more people."
"You know, this might actually be scary if I wasn't dating a vampire," Buffy remarked dryly.
Wesley was getting the creeps, although he wasn't going to say anything about it. He didn't want to appear to be a coward in front of the others. Instead, he took a step closer to the cobweb covered doorway and put out a tentative hand. "These feel real," he murmured.
"Frat boys aren't known for their cleaning," Oz remarked.
There was a crash, and they all turned to see a mangled skeleton with a plastic knife on the floor. Spike shrugged sheepishly. "Jumped out at me. I don't react well to surprises." He raised an eyebrow. "You've got something on your shoulder, Wes."
Wesley glanced over, his eyes widening as he saw the tarantula. "Bloody hell," he muttered, not wanting to touch it. "Spike?"
Spike raised his hands. "Don't think so, mate. I'm not a fan of the eight-legged buggers."
"Spike," Buffy said, drawing out his name in exasperation. She reached up and brushed the creature off of Wesley's shoulder. "There. It's all gone."
"You sure?" he asked, taking a deep breath.
"Absolutely," Buffy said, giving him a reassuring smile.
Buffy frowned. "Did you guys hear that?"
Oz cocked his head. "I don't hear anything."
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Some kind of squeaking noise." He glanced up. "Oh, bugger."
The bats came swooping down from the ceiling, and all of them hit the floor, covering their heads with their arms instinctively. Once the flurry of bat-wings had stopped, they all stood. Oz bent over to pick up one of the bats that lay on the floor.
"Oh, Oz, don't,"
Oz picked it up, where it flopped lifelessly in his hand. "It's rubber."
"Those weren't rubber," Wesley insisted, the edge of hysteria in his voice. "They flew."
"I have to agree with Wes,"
"Release me!"
Spike looked around, hearing the sound. "That wasn't manufactured. Something's wrong." He and Buffy took the lead, moving into the next room. "I smell blood."
Buffy knelt down, pressing her fingers to a spot on the carpet and then examining the smear on them. "This isn't good."
"I think maybe we need to get out of here,"
"Think you lot ought to get out anyway," Spike agreed. "Buffy and I can make sure there isn't anyone else here."
They went back in the direction of the main entrance, but
the door had disappeared along with the stairs. "Okay, where did the door go?"
"And the stairs?" Oz glanced around. "Does anybody else hear that?"
Spike nodded absently. "Yeah. Somewhere 'round here."
"Closet," Buffy said, pointing at the door. She opened it, revealing a dark-skinned boy rocking back and forth, muttering under his breath.
Oz rushed up to the door. "Chaz."
"I didn't know," Chaz said desperately.
"What's going on?" Oz asked gently.
"It's, ah, it's alive." He rocked himself. "I didn't know."
"What's going on?" Buffy asked, her tone insistent.
"Buffy..." Spike warned her. The boy was obviously in shock. They weren't going to get any sense out of him. Wesley's wordless cry of warning had him turning in time to deflect the knife. The blade cut through his coat sleeve and shirt, leaving a shallow cut that stained the fabric.
Buffy kicked back, and the skeleton collapsed. Wesley squatted down next to the plastic skeleton. It still held the knife in bony fingers. "It's plastic."
"Okay," Buffy said. "
"What about Chaz?" Oz asked.
They all looked at the wall where the closet had been located. Chaz, and the door, had disappeared. "Let him be," Spike said. "Figure he'll be safe enough tucked away."
"Hiding in a closet doesn't seem like such a bad idea," Oz murmured.
"You're telling me," Wesley muttered in response.
"I'll have Spike to watch my back," Buffy disagreed. "I don't want to have to worry about you guys, too."
"
"But—"
"Enough." Spike's voice cut through the argument. "Something's going on here. Splitting up seems like our best option. You lot can go, find Giles, see if you can't figure out a way to reverse whatever's going on. Buffy and I can take care of ourselves."
"Are you certain?" Wesley ventured. He wanted to leave very badly, but he thought that he would at least make the offer to stay. "Perhaps it would be better to stay together."
Spike shook his head. "No. You get out. Find Rupert and see if he can't work his magic on the books to figure out what's going on." The vampire headed out after Buffy, who had already marched off into the interior of the house.
Wesley was hurt that Spike wouldn't think him capable of figuring out what was going on and fixing it. It made him feel like a burden, like he was useless.
"Perhaps it would be best not to add magic to magic," Wesley suggested tentatively. "If there is something magical going on, doing another spell while under its influence—"
Wesley drew himself up. "Excuse me? Who was the one who did the truth spell on Faith?"
"There used to be windows on this floor," Oz said, breaking into their imminent fight.
"Well, there are stairs," Willow commented. "I'll bet Buffy doesn't find stairs."
"Easy, Will," Oz cautioned her.
Wesley hesitated before following them up. "Perhaps we should be finding a way to go out rather than up."
"Scaredy-cat,"
"We're in a legitimate haunted house," Wesley shot back. "Only a complete imbecile wouldn't feel some fear."
"I am not! I—"
"Uh, guys?" Oz said. "I hate to interrupt, but I've got bad news."
Wesley and
"I can't stop it," Oz said, his voice slightly distorted from the beginnings of the changes in his facial features. "You have to get out of here." He gave Wesley a desperate look. "You have to keep her safe from me."
Wesley swallowed hard, nodding. He took
"No! We have to find chains or ropes or something to restrain you. Oz..."
"Get out of here!" he shouted, then turned and ran, stumbling down the hall.
She took off running after Oz, and Wesley stared after her uncertainly. He finally decided that his best bet was to stay as close to her as possible. He just hoped that Oz didn't bite either one of them. The last thing Wesley needed was to become a werewolf.
~~~~~
"Crap," Xander muttered, as he realized their mistake. They should have checked the Summers' residence first. Or called first. They didn't seem to be able to rely on Giles being home anymore just as a matter of course. "Let's go."
Anya had pulled off the headpiece, and she hurried to keep up with Xander. "Where are we going now?" she asked wearily. "And why?"
"Why?" Xander repeated. "We need to help Buffy and the others. They're stuck inside that house. We're going to Buffy's house, because I'm betting that's where Giles is."
"Why would Giles be at Buffy's house?" Anya asked, a little confused.
"Because he's dating Buffy's mom, and they're joined at the hip," Xander replied, a little impatiently. "Come on, Anya. We need to hurry."
Anya sighed. "This costume isn't the easiest to move in, Xander. I'm going as fast as I can."
Xander slowed his pace a bit to accommodate her. "Sorry, An. It's just that my friends are in danger."
Having already asked why Xander was friends with people with whom he had nothing in common, Anya didn't feel like repeating herself. "Fine."
They hurried on in silence, both of them stealing occasional glances at each other. As far as dates went, it wasn't turning out to be much of a success. When they finally reached 1630 Revello, Xander rushed up the front walk, leaving Anya behind, punching the doorbell repeatedly.
Giles answered the door, still in his poncho, although it was slightly awry at this point. "Happy Hall—Xander." He frowned. "I thought you all were going to a party tonight."
"We were," Xander replied. "I stayed behind to wait for Anya." He gestured behind him, and Giles looked past his shoulder to see the young woman in a bunny costume. "When we finally got to the house, the door was gone. Then there was a girl in a window upstairs, and the window disappeared. I'm thinking we need a rescue party."
"Rupert?" Joyce came out of the living room. She'd re-buttoned her blouse, and was glad she had when she saw Xander there. "Xander, what are you doing here? Where's Buffy?"
"Stuck inside some frat house," Xander replied. "We need to help her."
Giles grimaced, thinking of the very nice night he'd had planned. He threw an apologetic look Joyce's way, and she sighed and shrugged. "Well, if you have to go, you have to go," she said philosophically. "I'll wait up, though."
"Thank you, love," Giles said, giving her a kiss, and then following Xander and Anya out the door. "We'll have to stop by my place for supplies. There's a book I want to check as well."
"Why does that not surprise me?" Xander muttered. Something occurred to him. "Uh, Giles? Are you living with Buffy's mother?"
Giles gave him a quelling look. "That's none of your business."
Anya raised her eyebrows, looking interested. "Doesn't that usually mean yes?"
~~~~~
Spike hurried to catch up with Buffy. "Got any ideas, luv?"
"Find what's wrong and kill it," she replied without even blinking an eye. A grin split her face. "Sorry. That's my gut instinct."
"Not a bad instinct, really," Spike said, glancing around.
"Do you think we ought to split up?" Buffy asked. "It might be faster."
He hesitated, not liking the idea, but seeing the logic. "Dunno, luv. What if that's what this thing wants?"
"You're probably right," she agreed. "We'll stick together."
Spike followed her down the hallway as Buffy continued her investigation, keeping an eye open for any surprises that might pop out of the walls at them. The house seemed to be taking the fake Halloween decorations and turning them into something to worry about.
A noise caught his ears, and Spike called out to Buffy, "Hold up a mo', Buffy."
He tried the door that the noise seemed to be coming from. It was a moaning sound, like that of someone who was seriously hurt. "Someone in here?" he called out.
There was no answer, and so Spike slid inside the room to look around. It looked like a rec room of some sort, with a TV and game tables. There weren't any decorations up that he could see, and he figured that it hadn't been on the tour. Spike backed out of the room and looked around for Buffy, not seeing her anywhere. "Buffy? Luv? Where'd you go?" He stalked down the hall in the general direction they'd been heading. "Bloody hell. Can't she ever wait?" he muttered.
Buffy was nowhere to be seen, and Spike was beginning to get concerned, picking up his pace as he hurried down the hall. "Buffy?"
He rounded a corner, and then stopped abruptly. "Buffy?" he murmured. Her body lay sprawled in the hallway, and Spike rushed to her side. Turning her gently over, he stared in dismay at the puncture wounds in her neck, the raw teeth marks a heavy indictment.
A scream had him looking up into the eyes of a young woman about Buffy's age. Her eyes were wide and horrified, and Spike started to speak, to tell her that everything was okay, belatedly realizing that his features had shifted.
There was blood in his mouth.
Spike didn't lose it very often, but the very real sight of Buffy's lifeless form, the screaming girl, and the inexplicable taste of blood in his mouth, sent him running from the scene of the crime.
He'd never been so scared in his unlife.
~~~~~
"I don't think this is a good idea," Wesley insisted, trying
to sound firm, rather than frightened. Oz was nowhere to be found, and
"Have you ever done this spell before?"
"No, but I understand the theory,"
Wesley hesitated, not wanting to leave her, and yet not really wanting to be around to suffer the results of her spell-casting. He finally decided that she wasn't going to give in, so he moved away, down the hall and around the corner, just out of sight.
Tugging at the strings that held his cape in place, Wesley sank down onto the floor. "Some Sherlock Holmes you've turned out to be," he muttered. "You can't find a way out of this house, or even prevent a girl from doing something particularly stupid."
A whisper of sound caught his attention, and Wesley stumbled to his feet, following the noise. It sounded like someone was calling for help, but he didn't see anyone. "Hello?" he called out cautiously. "Is anyone there?"
The voice called again, and he strode down the hallway, picking up the pace. Wesley stopped in front of a door; the sound seemed to be coming from inside, and he opened it to see a small closet. Frowning, still hearing the whimpering noises, Wesley stepped inside, fumbling against the wall for a light switch.
He let out a squeak as the door slammed shut behind him, shutting him inside. "No," he said, rattling the doorknob desperately. It wouldn't budge, and he backed up against the back wall of the closet, taking deep breaths to keep himself calm. He was trapped, unable to help anyone else, unable even to help himself.
Wesley had failed again.