Welcome To My Nightmare
Welcome To My Nightmare
Joe settled back in his seat, Theresa’s hand tight in his. “Stop being nervous.” She whispered to him. Since when do you care about what all these people think?”
“When this was a small indie thing it didn’t matter to my career if it did well. Now it’s a huge thing, if people hate it then-“
“Mallrats.” Theresa reminded him.
The movie started, and in the darkness of the theater, Theresa started stroking his cheek. The caress became nuzzling, became kissing.
“Damn,” he murmured. “You sure know how to relax a guy-ow!” She’d bitten him! Suddenly, her hand clamped tight over his mouth and nose, smothering him. She turned his face to hers, revealing her demonic visage. His scream was silenced by her hand.
“Relax baby.” She purred. “Unless you want to struggle, that’ll make this more fun.” She leaned in close to his neck again, blowing on it. “While I’m drinking you, think about how much fun it’s gonna be to slaughter this entire theater when you wake up.”
Willow couldn’t help a giggle a that line. “If the apocalypse comes, page me.” Said the girl based on Buffy. And Cordy delivered it perfectly. Who knew?
“Tara, honey,” Willow asked. “Could have a sip of your soda?”
“Of course mistress.” Tara answered automatically. “You need only ask and it shall be done.”
The redhead’s brow furrowed in confusion. What? Okay so it was kinda sexy when she said that, but if she was gonna try something kinky, why here? Why now? She turned to Tara, a question on her lips that died when she saw what her life partner was wearing. Which was a low cut, formfitting black sundress, and a collar, attached to which was a leash. A leash that was being held in Willow’s own hand. “What,” she stammered. “Tara what’s…why are you wearing…”
Tara looked confused. “What do you mean mistress?”
“Don’t call me that.” Willow said, ignoring the fact that there were people in the audience around her.
Tara looked stricken, and cast down her eyes. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to displease you.”
Willow gaped at her. “Tara baby what’s happening?” She took her love’s face in her hands and forced her to meet her gaze. She saw devotion there, and love. But it was, artificial. There was nothing behind it. It was a spell. “Tara what happened to you?”
The blonde witch smiled, though she still seemed puzzled by the question. “You took me Mistress.” She said, smiling. “When I foolishly tried to leave you. You took me back and made me yours.” Her hand touched the collar sensuously. “You gave me this. You connected me to you,” she ran her fingers along the leash. “To prove you favored me above the others.”
“Others?” came the horrified question.
“Yes, Your other pets.” She smiled beatifically and turned to gesture behind her. Where Xander sat, huddled against the wall, his mouth sewn shut. And Oz, locked in perpetual werewolf form, a glowing collar and lead chaining him to the wall.
The sun was shining, the temperature warm, and all was right with the world, as Harry sat with Ron and Hermione in the courtyard after lunch. They each had a free period and were enjoying having a moment to not worry about classes. Except that as usual, Hermoine had her nose stuck in a book. Well so long as she was relaxed, he had no cause for complaint.
Except when he saw him. Draco Malfoy. The bane of his existence. The blonde git was laughing with Goyle and walking past. No doubt he’d just made a joke about Harry’s muggleborn mother. Though today had been largely absent any unpleasantness with the Slytherin Prince, Harry’s blood boiled, just knowing Draco’s contempt for him and other half bloods. Hermione was worth twelve of him at least.
And Harry decided it was time to teach the little prick a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.
“Stupify!” he said, taking out Goyle. Draco whirled, but a quick “Expelliamus!” relieved him of his just drawn wand.
“Attacking from behind Potter?” Draco sneered. “Awful brave of you Gryffindor.”
Harry shrugged, his own look of contempt rivaling Draco’s. “Didn’t want to be interrupted.” He said. “Wanted to see if you were willing to fight on your own, without your trained ape at your side.”
Malfoy’s eyes narrowed. “Then give me my wand.”
Harry laughed. “They did almost put me in Slytherin.” He declared, before belting Draco across the nose. “That’s how muggles fight.” He growled, hitting him again, this time in the gut. He barely even heard Hermoine’s horrified gasp. “Got something to say about Muggles or Mudbloods Malfoy?” he asked, kicking Draco in the knee, sending him to the ground. “I guess this is more your speed. Wingardium Leviosa!” A flick and swish of his wand sent Malfoy hovering a few feet of the ground, where Harry spun him, faster and faster, rejoicing in the look of pain and nausea on the boy’s face, even as somewhere within him, he screamed in horror.
How the hell had they gotten into the school? Snape dashed for Dumbledore’s office, where the fighting seemed thickest. He arrived just in time to watch Lestrange apply the cruciatus curse to Longbottom’s mother, while Crouch did the same to his father. Neville meanwhile appeared to have forgotten any spells he might have once known that could have saved him. No matter. They weren’t important. He had to get to Dumbledore.
Not even Fenrir Greyback mauling one of the Weasley’s could distract him. He mounted the stairs three at a time, barely pausing at the archway where several members of the Order were trying to break through some manner of forcefield.
“Stand aside.” He said. “I’ll handle this.” Knowing he was right, they did so, Lupin even being so insipid as to warn him to be careful. He was about to cross into an unknown situation involving death eaters. Of course he was going to be careful. How stupid did the werewolf think he was? “Just go rip out Fenrir’s throat or something.” He muttered, passing easily through the blockade. He looked disgustedly at the tattoo adorning his forearm. So simple really.
Dumbledore wasn’t in his office, so he continued up the stairs to his observatory, up onto the roof. There he found him. Exhausted, with four death eaters facing him. And Draco Malfoy.
The boy had Albus at wand point, his face a mask of pain. Dumbledore, as impossible as it seemed, was done, defeated. Exhausted. He leaned painfully against the wall, but hope shone in his eyes when he saw Snape. Draco’s hand wavered, and finally dropped. “I-I can’t do it.” He moaned.
Snape shot a warning glare at the death eaters. They knew he would end any one of them who stepped forward.
With a comforting hand on Draco’s shoulder, Snape steered him away from the headmaster.
“Your timing, as ever Severus,” Dumbledore said. “Is impeccable.”
Snape looked at the only man to ever have faith in him. And nodded. He knew what must be done. He had given his oath.
“Avada Kedavra.” He said softly, striking his only friend with the killing curse.
Giles yawned and stretched, rolling over in bed to find Jenny gone. After a momentary confusion and worry, he saw her, standing naked before the window in their flat, the rising sun streaming in. He walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. “Good morning Luv.” He said as he kissed her neck.
“Morning Ripper.” She said, startling him with that name. She sighed happily. “Love that necro-tempered glass.”
Necro-tempered glass? Wasn’t that the kind that kept the sun from killing Vampires? What was going on here? That was when he noticed, that she was giving off no body heat, and had no pulse. Oh god, when, how had this happened? While she slept beside him? In his shock, he felt a strange tingling in his brow, and his hands came up to touch, the face of a Vampire.
“Ripper,” Jenny said, turning, sensing his discomfort. “Darling what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said, unconvincingly. “Excuse me.” Without another word, he dashed to the bathroom, and stared into the mirror, seeing nothing. He had no reflection. He too, was a Vampire. Out in the room he heard the phone ring.
“Hello?” Jenny answered it. There was a pause. “Are you sure? Ripper! It’s Wesley, they’ve caught Buffy!”
His soul filling with dread, Giles exited the bathroom and numbly picked up the phone. “Yes, Wesley? Where was this? Was she damaged? And the others?” he listened as Wesley filled him in on what had happened. “And Potter? Good. Yes I’ll be right down.”
He hung up solemnly and looked to Jenny. “Well, shall we?” She took his arm, and together they descended into the blood cellar. There, entrapped, fed intravenously, and sedated, were hundreds of Slayers, their blood siphoned to feed the elite. And here was his prize. She wasn’t yet under, good.
She was looking at him with a mix of fear, loathing, and terrible regret. “It’s all right Buffy.” He said kindly. “Your fight is over. It’s time to rest now. Dream good dreams.” He stroked her hair kindly, then took the first taste of her blood. It was his right, as the King of the Vampires.
Giles had often wondered, in his worst nightmares, what would become of the world if Vampires ever overcame their fractious natures and truly worked together. Now he knew. On the wall behind him was a map of the world. The Whole of Western Europe was black, and the black was spreading. That was the territory ruled by the Vampires. And it was growing.
To be continued…