Wesley. She'd done something to Wesley, affected his mind, kind of like how Dracula had affected her and Xander. Only she wasn't controlling the Watcher, just driving him a little crazy. She wasn't sure how that worked, but at least the paranoia from the demon wasn't quite there. We're all mad here.
"Wesley, let's find the demon," Buffy said, a bit of hunger rising within her. Pulling that made her hungry. Maybe that was part of being what she was. Hunger could just grow within her and keep growing. No matter what she did to sate it, it would never fully go away. She almost felt some pity for the kindred she'd killed in Hemery. Almost. Assuming that was real. At least she was mostly certain Sunnydale wasn't. But some worlds exist without shrimp. They have no mustard and a smile begins to pause the play.
Wesley stopped shooting his gun. "Did I get it?"
"Yes, but it ran away," Buffy said, placating her currently insane watcher. That was almost lucid of her. Not that she really was one to talk, but she felt responsible for him. "We need to go find it."
"Quite right," Wesley said, adjusting his glasses. A pang hit Buffy's unbeating heart at that. The motion reminded her so much of Giles, but that man had been in Sunnydale… not here. It occurred to Buffy that Wesley's existence, along with Drusilla and Liam likely meant that there was a Rupert Giles out there. He just wasn't her Giles. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, thy prick of mind and let it fall.
Buffy shook her head and started down the hall. She could take more punishment than Wesley, no matter what. It made more sense for her to act the meat shield, and she could also hit a lot harder than the human.
"Demon, demon… where are you little demon?" Buffy sang out softly. "Entrails to pull, and lives to squish, come and find, come and find…"
Wesley started to hum with her, and she narrowed her eyes. How powerful was what she did to him? How long would it last. Time is short and time is long and a second and hour are naught but the same. What has come will come again and the Dark Father knows his own.
"Thesulac," Wesley said. "Paranoia causing little beastie. We're going to give it a little treatsy. Things will all be completesy, and we'll find out what it eatsie."
"Thespian, right," Buffy said. "Non-solid-y beast. How are we going to get rid of it, Watcher-man?'
"YOU WON'T!" Wind blew down the hall, kicking up various objects and pushing both Buffy and Wesley against the walls. Down and through, and up and down. Laughter could be heard in the wind. And more voices. Whispers that grew louder and louder until they became a roaring sea.
So many voices, individual ones. Buffy snarled, and with an effort, she picked up the nearest chest along the wall and slammed it down. "Enough! This is enough…"
"Come and play with us!" two girls laughed and ran down the hall. They were dressed identical, but Buffy could tell that they'd not been twins when they were alive. All work and no play makes Buffy a dull girl.
The wind finally died down, and the sea of whispers quieted to a lull, just there around the shadows. The demon couldn't do much to them other than try to scare them to death.
Tough break there. She was already dead.
"We must be close," said Wesley. He seemed a bit more lucid, but she could tell that she was still affecting him. "To whatever it's bound to."
"Whoever," Buffy murmured, glancing down. Some old newspapers had blown at her feet. The headline of one read something about the first of the Hyperion Suicides. The hanging of some socialite that she couldn't make out the name of. Another mentioned more troubles. She shook her head and moved on. Topsy turvy oopsie-daisy, things right here are going crazy. Light is dark and right is wrong, listen to our merry song.
Sometimes… just sometimes, her voices were completely random.
She pushed on down the hall. What they needed to find was the stairs. Down, most likely. Whatever was keeping the demon here, with her luck, was probably in some sort of basement room. The room doors were obvious. She supposed she could search them to get some cash later, but first she wanted to see if she could find the basement. Left door, right door, left foot, right foot, beep… beep…
"There are the metal boxes that go up and down and up and down," said Wesley and he let out a giggle. "Let's take them for a ride."
"Does the strength of Zeus travel through this place, Watcher-man?" Buffy asked. She pressed the button for the elevator, and it remained unlit. "Stairs are our friend."
"Quite," said Wesley. He walked a bit further down the hall, and gestured to a door clearly labeled "Stairs."
"Down, Watcher-man." Buffy walked up and kicked open the door. The wood snapped with a satisfying crack, and she wasn't even hungrier. Sure, she could have tried to see if it was locked first, but honestly, she was fine leaving it this way for the Voerman sisters to figure out. The stairway inside was still carpeted, though the years of disrepair had done it no favors. Patches were missing, and some looked to be burned, bloodstained or both. Still, the stairway went both directions, up and down. It only went up two floors, but it also went down the one. Darkness beckoned in both directions, but it wasn't like that hurt her sight. Merely her Watcher's. Prick one eye and silence the light. Prick both eyes and enter the night. The darkness has many eyes, some of which are mine and some are His.
"Are you quite certain the depths of Hell are where the demon is?" asked Wesley, and then he paused. "Actually, that makes sense."
Buffy snorted. "Bring your torch to bear, Watcher-mine. I'm going in."
Buffy waited for Wesley to follow before she started descending the stairs. The light from his flashlight lit the way ahead, making sure that the human wouldn't trip over himself. She really didn't want to need to save him. That'd just be embarrassing.
"Nancy boy isn't quite a Nancy anymore, eh Slayer?" Spike appeared at the bottom of the stairs, smoking his cigarette. "He's a right proper Watcher. Barmy at the moment, but what can you do?"
"Shush," Buffy said. "He can't see you."
"Is someone there?" Wesley asked. Wesley looked closer at the corner Spike was in, but as far as Buffy could tell, he couldn't see the vampire. Hallucination. Whatever. "Come out and face us. Me. Us. Me and the undead thing."
"Oh yeah, big and scary Watcher. How barmy did you make him, cutie?" Spike sneered. He pushed off the wall. "You probably want to go this way."
"Nobody important, Watcher-man," Buffy said. She grimaced for a second and forced out the name. "Wesley, we need to focus on what we're here for."
"Right you are," he said, and he began reloading his gun. "Let us locate what binds the Thesulac to this place."
Spike led the way through the door to the basement. He didn't open it, of course, but rather passed through it, another hint that either he wasn't really there, or he was some sort of apparition. Of course, Buffy had quite a lot of experience with things that weren't really there recently. Add the fact that the Thesulac apparently could affect perception, well… madness was all around. What is the nature of reality? Flawed perception allows all to make what they will…
Buffy opened the door that Spike went through, and she followed suit.
The moment she stepped through, big band music started to play, and she found herself at the top of a balcony in a lively ballroom. People, lots of people, dressed up nicely in period dress, danced to the music. Some sort of party clearly was going on, and Buffy could smell the food, wine and human sweat that permeated the room.
"Oh, my," Wesley said, drawing Buffy's attention away from the dance floor below. His clothes had changed from the denim and leather combination that he had been wearing to a dapper 20s era black and white suit. He had a bowler hat on, and all in all looked rather dashing. "This certainly is different."
It was then that Buffy noticed what she had on. She wore a black and green peacock dress that stopped at just above her thigh and feathered down to about her mid-thigh. She also wore a pair of elbow-length black silk gloves and was in a pair of black strapped three-inch heels. Her pale skin contrasted well with the colors of her outfit. "I fully agree. Wasn't this supposed to be the basement?"
"Perhaps it still is," said Wesley. He cocked his head and looked at Buffy. "You did something to me earlier, Buffy. Used some of your vampiric power."
Oh. Well, that seemed to have worn off. Did she need to reapply it? Maybe she needed to be honest here.
"The demon was driving little nails into your skull. Picking at your worries, plucking at them and playing a discordant melody," Buffy said. Okay, how the heck did Julia manage to control what she said? Yes, what she said made sense, but it wasn't exactly the normal way of speaking. If only the Jester Prince hadn't had Julia slain. At ease, my childe… you will learn.
"Yes, I do recall that…" Wesley scratched his chin and patted himself down. "Blast. My firearms and ammunition are missing."
"Hidden," Buffy noted. She looked around and grimaced. "The demon is messing with us."
"Clearly," Wesley said. "Let's go on in, then."
"There you are!" an overly familiar male voice called out to Buffy. Spike… except, he wasn't dressed like his normal self. His hair, rather than blonde and gelled back, was in brown curls. He wore a pair of glasses, and he wore his own dapper 20s suit, minus the bowler cap. He also used a more proper version of the British accent rather than his normal cockney. "I was just telling Allyson that I was going to look for you two. But here you are."
"Allyson?" Buffy asked, glancing around. With how he looked, she couldn't very well call him Spike, and Wesley could clearly see him too. If these shadows have offended, let all know that we have mended, and cut and bled and drained of life.
"My friend that I was to introduce your friend to, my dear Elizabeth," said not-Spike. What was his name again? "Wesley, my good man, she's waiting for you down near the dance floor."
Wesley gave… William, that was his name, a look-over. "Pardon, I don't believe we have met."
"That's a funny thing to say, Wesley," William said, grinning widely in an almost Spike-like grin. "Trust me, we've met plenty of times. It's me, William. William Pratt."
William came over and gave Wesley a pat on the back. "Come on, you want to meet her. She's waiting for you."
"She's been waiting a while," Buffy said softly. "She's the one, isn't she?"
Wesley gave her a look, but William grinned widely and poked her in the nose. "See, that's why I love you, Elizabeth. You've always been bright and resourceful. Come now, let's go."
He offered her an arm, and she took it.
"Oh, and I found this thing," William said, dipping a hand into his suit jacket. He pulled out an old-looking diary and handed it to Buffy. "Might be useful for you in case you… well, you know."
"How are you here?" Buffy hissed to him. He'd only been an apparition before, but sure as anything, this was her Spike. Her William. This is the one she'd been… well, in Sunnydale, anyway.
"I'm always with you, Elizabeth," William said softly. "Till the end of the world."
"Just how do you know Mister Pratt, Bu-erm… Elizabeth?" Wesley asked loudly. Clearly, he was uncomfortable at playing along, but he did seem to recover well. He veils himself with disinterest, but he plays with the night.
"He's mine," Buffy said simply. "My friend… my confidant… my personal person."
"He's your ghoul?" Wesley asked.
William glanced back at Wesley. "Now that's quite rude of you, Wesley. I assure you that nothing of impropriety goes on between myself and Elizabeth."
Buffy snorted.
"Well, not if she doesn't ask for it," said William.
"You know what she is, then?"
"Of course," William said. "And I would be remiss in my duties if I let her face this alone. Come now, Allyson is waiting."
They reached the stairs, and Buffy restrained an urge to throw the Watcher off the railing. This hallucination was good, and she wouldn't be too sure that tossing Wesley off would break it. It might have been satisfying in the moment, but she'd feel extremely guilty afterward. After all, he was only a squishy human, and she was… not. She wasn't even before she was Kindred. Ever see a bag of organs rip on a drive? They flow out like sauce and the blood is ready to be supped by all ready.
Great. Now her voices were making her hungry, and there were so many people around. So many obviously hallucinated people around. She wouldn't get any sustenance off of anyone here except for Wesley, and she wasn't going to let herself do that to him.
"There she is," William said, pointing down to a woman dressed in a green dress with a similar style to Buffy's. She had red hair braided in a long, curved braid that rested on her shoulders. She had green eyes, and a familiar smile. "Let's go to her."
"Willow?" Buffy whispered.
"No, she's Allyson," William said softly. "Trust me, pet. She's not your lovely tree friend."
Buffy nodded, and she started down the stairs. When Allyson saw William and her, she waved, and when they got close, she stepped closer to Buffy. "So, this is your famous Elizabeth, William?"
She even sounded like Willow… admittedly with a bit of an accent befitting the time period.
"Fame does not darken my door," Buffy said after a second. "But I have been known to answer to that name."
"Yes, this is her, and behind her is one Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, a fellow countryman. I felt that he should be your escort this evening." William gestured to Wesley to come forward. "Wesley, please meet Allyson Lipchitz. I'm sure you'll enjoy her company."
"Charmed," Wesley said, stepping forward. He smiled at the woman while giving Buffy a glance. The music started up again, playing some swingy jazz number, and Wesley offered his hand to Allyson. "Shall we take to the dance floor? I'm sure that Elizabeth and William have some things they need to do."
"Oh, yes, of course," William said. "We shall let the two of you get to know each other."
Buffy nodded. "You and I can talk later, Allyson. I will want to know everything Wesley does with you."
Her eyes flicked to the woman's gloved hand. While it wasn't there, she got a feeling that Allyson normally wore a ring on her left hand. She was married, yet she was offered as Wesley's dance partner. Strange couplings have the Kine. Love and marriage last forever or until death be parted. But sometimes the love disappears, and sometimes death does.
William escorted her away from Wesley and Allyson as the two got to the dance floor. Buffy stopped when they were sufficient distance away.
"Okay. Make with the 'splainy," Buffy said, poking William in the chest. "What's going on?"
"It's simple, pet," William said, his voice gaining a bit of his normal cocky arrogance. "We're at a ball in the Hyperion Hotel… circa 1945."
"Then why are we all wearing… this style of clothing?" Buffy asked.
"It's a theme ball," William said. "The Second Great War ended, and the one previous ended around the time these clothes were worn. I remember some things I did back then. I don't think you would approve."
"Which side did you fight on?" Buffy asked. Why was it she could keep her speech at least somewhat normal around him?
"The side that offered me more blood," William said in an entirely Spike-like tone. "But that's neither here nor there."
"A demon haunts these halls," said Buffy. "This ballroom is merely an apparition."
"How is it that being made into a vampire made you smarter?" William asked. "Loony as a bedbug, but smarter."
Buffy glared at him. "My speech goes weird at times. But I was always smart."
"Maybe, pet, maybe," said William.
"Allyson has a husband," Buffy said, glancing over to where she and Wesley were dancing. "Why would the demon show us all this?"
A gunshot echoed beyond the double doors at the end of the ballroom, and William shook his head. "Because it isn't showing us it, love."
The doors burst open, and a well-dressed man covered in blood, armed with a shotgun stormed in. "Where is she? Where is that whore?"
The man wore a sharp tuxedo, and his curly dark hair was slicked back with the blood that also stained his clothes.
Buffy stepped forward, but William held her arm. "Let it go, pet. You know it isn't real."
"Allyson, where the fuck are you?" asked the man. Buffy deduced he was her husband, but his name was lost in a cacophony of other voices. She'd dub him Shotgun Lipchitz, a man clearly affected by paranoia so much that he'd already killed. Each guest with a smile and a bang. Hunting those who would dare lay an eye on his tang.
A glance to Wesley showed her that he'd put himself between the man and Allyson. Maybe he'd forgotten that this wasn't real either, as the man approached him.
"Larry, you don't have to do this!" Allyson called out.
"Oh, who is this then?" Larry Lipchitz… really? Larry Lipchitz approached, leveling the shotgun at Wesley. "Another one of your paramours? Really, Allyson. Why should I believe anything that comes out of your little whore mouth?"
"Hey!" Buffy called, brushing William's arm off. "Leave them alone."
Buffy cut across the dancefloor with the full grace of the Slayer combined with her own inhuman nature. She stepped between the Watcher and the gun. She knew she could survive more shots than Wesley could, if it was realer than she thought. Reality is all in the perception. Death is merely the beginning.
"Oh, and who's this?" he asked. "A friend of a whore?"
Buffy sneered at the kine in front of her. The lowly little man dared to think that he was her better. "The little alliteration thinks his musket doubles as a phallus."
As the human started to pull the trigger, Buffy stepped forward and slapped the shotgun upward. It barked once, and the chandelier above shattered, pieces of glass raining down on them. "You whore!"
Buffy snatched the gun away from him and hit him with its butt.
That must have acted as some sort of cue because the rest of the ball attendees immediately broke down into a brawl, Wesley, William, and Allyson excluded. The three of them didn't immediately start punching, biting, clawing, or throwing chairs.
Larry tried to hit her again to get his gun, but she smacked him with its butt again before bending the barrel so that it was unusable and tossing it away.
William came over to her, weaving through the violence. "You do remember what I told you, pet?"
Buffy stared down Larry. "The alliteration bothered me."
Larry got up and took a swing at Buffy, but she stepped out of his way. William stepped in her place, and he took the hit to the face, knocking him back.
"Bloody hell!" William shook his head and came back, game face visible. "Okay, we tried the ponce-y boy bit. It's time for a spot of violence. I'll hold them off, love. You and the Watcher take the bint to the kitchens."
"You sure?" Buffy asked.
"Go!"
Buffy nodded, and she spun around, grabbing Wesley and Allyson's arms. "Come on, you two."
Wesley squawked in indignation, "Buffy, unhand us…"
"No time…." Buffy said, and she dragged the pair of humans toward a set of metal doors and kicked them open.
"Didn't…" Allyson muttered as the three entered an industrial kitchen that clearly hadn't seen use in a while. The hallucination wasn't complete, as this area seemed to be in a state of disrepair. Pots and pans were left to rust, and bloodstains, long dried, were on the counters. "Didn't happen this way…"
Buffy glanced to Allyson, and she grimaced seeing her Sunnydale friend's face in such pain and worry. "It's okay, Allyson. It's okay."
"It didn't happen this way," she said again. "Larry killed Jeffery… and everyone else in there…. I ran…"
Wesley blinked. "Oh. Oh dear."
"The demon feeds," Buffy said softly. Cultivating the kine takes time. "Fear and paranoia are like a fine wine…"
Allyson looked at Buffy. "Demon? Larry killed everyone… he had his demons…. I betrayed him. And everyone betrays everyone…"
Wesley patted himself down, apparently looking for a weapon. Then he looked to Buffy, a dark look on his face. "So long as the demon has an anchor here, we will be unable to banish or trap it."
"She is unable to leave," Buffy said. "Else she would have."
Allyson looked at Buffy. "Leave? The world is dangerous! Everything out there would hunt me like Larry…"
Buffy nodded, as Allyson made her point for her.
Wesley grimaced. "Miss Lipchitz, I'm sorry for everything you have been through."
"I am too," Buffy added. "Nobody should have to go through what the demon has done to you."
"Maybe they should kill me," Allyson closed her eyes, a tear streaming down her face. "After what I did…"
Wesley sighed. "Miss Lipchitz… do you have anything, a locket, a trinket of some sort that has been on you since you've been here?"
"My mother gave me a locket a short while before we came here," Allyson said. "I've worn it... even when Larry didn't want me to."
"Very well," Wesley said. He looked to Buffy. "We must deny the demon its food source."
"I could carry her out…" Buffy said, but Wesley shook his head.
"Drink," Wesley said. "Until she's gone. It's what must be done."
Buffy blinked, but her hunger came to the forefront. She stepped up to Allyson, standing next to her. "I'm very sorry, Allyson."
Allyson turned to her. "Sorry for wh—"
Buffy bit down on Allyson's neck and started to drink. The walls of the kitchen began to rattle as she drank from the woman. The cabinets opened and shut, plates flew across the room and smashed. Knives flew through the air, but Buffy simply spun her food with her out of the way and continued to drink.
As she drained Allyson more, she felt the woman's skin sag and wrinkle, watched as her hair shifted from red to gray to white, and she no longer felt like she had to bend upward to drink from the woman. Her own clothes shifted back to what she wore before, as did Wesley's, and she slowly lowered the dying woman's body to the ground.
The walls themselves changed. This wasn't a kitchen, not really. A kitchen didn't have large boilers instead of counters. A kitchen didn't have stone walls that weren't covered with anything. This looked much more like a boiler room in a basement than the kitchen they'd run into.
When she drank the woman's last drop, she felt Allyson's life slip away in her grasp, and in the process, it felt like a part of herself did as well. She'd taken an innocent life. That would forever stick with her.
The woman had been tormented by that night for the past fifty years. She'd had children that had likely thought her dead at the hands of her crazed husband. Allyson Lipchitz… had given birth to three children. One was a girl, named Sheila.
Buffy grimaced as she lifted her head and looked at the old woman she'd killed. Around her neck was a golden locket, something she'd worn since that fateful night, something that had witnessed the same fear and paranoia she had.
She unclasped the locket and stood, holding it in her hand. The Thesulac couldn't do anything to them now that they knew. She could always drive Wes crazy again if the need arose.
"We have it," Buffy said.
"Good. Let's leave this forsaken place," Wesley said, turning toward the door of the boiler room.
Buffy looked down at Allyson once more, and she shook her head. "Yeah, let's go."
Guilt over the death of a kine… shows your lingering humanity. Perhaps we'll pop it out soon enough.
