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This story is No. 2 in the series "Hunting the Night". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Buffy has had an odd visitor. and she's baaack, now she needs the Slayer's help. Xander needs Buffy too, but for far different reasons! A team of heroes has been assembled, God help them.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Literature > Vampire/Supernatural > Dracula
Multiple Crossings > Buffy-Centered
ArjaiHFR183865,43702927,08717 Nov 082 May 09Yes

Interlude: Sympathy For The Devil


Disclaimer: Xander, Buffy, and anyone or anything else that pertains to BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon. Dracula belongs to the estate of Bram Stoker, or Francis Ford Coppola, or someone I think.
Larry Talbot, the Frankenstein Monster, and some others may belong to Universal Pictures.
NCIS belongs to Bellisarius Productions, and CBS.
Ghostrider belongs to Marvel Comics, Dimension Films, Crystal Sky Entertainment, Columbia Pictures, and Sony (Whew!), and was played to perfection by Nicholas Cage!
This Disclaimer is getting longer than some Chapters I’ve read!
OCs belong to me, and as always I remain…the man behind the curtain.
“Spoken Word”
*Private Thought*
#Mental Communication#

Interlude: Sympathy For The Devil

: Sympathy For The Devil Lyrics

Pleased to meet you hope you guessed my name, oh yeah
But what’s puzzling you is the nature of my game,
Pleased to meet you hope you guessed my name, oh yeah
But what’s confusing you is just the nature of my game
Just as every cop is a criminal, and all the sinners saints
As heads is tails just call me Lucifer, cause I’m in need of some restraint
So if you meet me have some courtesy, have some sympathy, and some taste
Use all your well-learned politesse, or Ill lay your soul to waste, um yeah

Artist (Band): Rolling Stones

He sat behind a large desk made of the finest teak, and mahogany contemplating his minions, with a barely perceptible nod he sent five of the vampires, the Indian demon, the cat, and several others from the room.

“Gentlemen,” he said to the remaining two vampires. “The carelessness of the wolfling has led to the demise of himself, and his pack. Papa Shengo did his best to support him, but once the lead were-beast was defeated he was forced to leave his minions to their own devices.”

His voice was that of a cultured man, his English flawless, yet it sounded alien to their ears. The Chinaman was not one to be trifled with, this they knew. When he recruited them he had shown them that his word was absolute law.

“I trust that you will not disappoint me, as Beane did. You will have the support of Shengo, Ruthven, and a contingent of the goblin horde. If you require more you shall have them. London, England is your target. To be specific Buckingham Palace. The queen is to be captured, and brought to me unharmed. What you do with the rest of the Royal Family, and her servants is up to you, they are of no consequence to me. All I need is Queen Victoria the Second. It is through her that Britain will be controlled.”

“You are dismissed to concoct your plans. Do Not Fail Me,” His eyes took on the a look of ice.

Both of them bowed and backed out of the room. When they were gone, he rose from his chair and paced back and forth for a few moments.

“Of course I fully expect you to fail me. You are both egotistical fools! Ruthven and von Orlok have more class and intelligence that either of you, and they like you are nothing more than barbaric western noblemen,” he murmured half to himself.

He walked to the oriental altar that he had curtained off on the other side of the room. Drawing back the curtain he knelt before the draconic statue placed in the middle of the low altar and lit a joss stick. Loudly clapping his hands he bowed deeply from the waist. He reached over and rang the small gold bell that sat to the left of the statue, then he clapped his hands again, bowing once more.

He rose to his feet, and smiled. He moved back to the desk, took out his rice paper and watercolors. He sighed contentedly. Picking up his brush he began to paint. He had decided that this would be a work of birds, and lotus blossoms.

After a time he absently tugged on the bell cord to his left. Two very young Chinese maidens entered. He studied them for a moment them indicated the one on the left to leave. The child-woman on the right bowed her head and began to remove her lovely silk gown. Fear was written plainly in her eyes. The implements of torture on the wall told her that her young life was about to come to a very painful close.
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