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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
ArjaiHFR183865,43702927,09017 Nov 082 May 09Yes

Ch22b: Dia Del Los Muertes Pt. 2


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 Belisarius Productions, and CBS.

Ghost rider belongs to Marvel Comics, Dimension Films, Crystal Sky Entertainment, Columbia Pictures, and Sony (Whew!), and was played to perfection by Nicholas Cage!

OCs belong to me, and as always I remain…the man behind the curtain.

“Spoken Word”

*Private Thought*

#Mental Communication#

##Slayer Dream##

Ch22b: Dia Del Los Muertes Pt. 2

This is the day of the dead

Blood red the setting sun
I feel so alive
Crawling from the grave I dug up from you
And into the jaws of hell
You will be the sacrificial lamb
To awaken the demon inside of me

This is the day of the dead
This is the day of the dead
This is the day of the dead

I have...
Your blood...

Song: Day of the Dead Artists: Dog Fashion Disco

Angelus looked as Buffy remembered him. The face was the same, even the clothes. The only real difference was the long shaggy hair, and the five day old growth of beard. The appearance of his face was somehow crueler. As he shouted orders she also noticed that his Irish brogue was thicker, and his language cruder. Darla on the other hand definitely was not the same. Her face was pocked with the scars of smallpox, and she wore a satin patch over her right eye. She was dressed in a scuffed, and worn brown leather jacket, blue jeans, and a black tee-shirt, her feet were encased in an old pair of brown men’s work boots. No, not the Darla she knew. That Darla had always been dressed neat and clean. She had tried to always be a fashion plate. This Darla looked like a bedraggled biker chick, kind of like the whore she had been in her pre-vampire life!

The pair led a motley crew of vampires, minor demons, and were-beasts: wolves, jaguars, and coyotes. Behind them all something else moved something black and ominous.

Almost mesmerized Buffy stepped forward into the ranks of the first line, then beyond them.

“Buffy! No! That’s not Angel! Come back,” Xander shouted frantically as he too moved forward.

Angelus grabbed for Buffy. Xander lashed out with his fist, and Angelus staggered back, his nose broken. Buffy still stood as if in a trance. The black form moved closer still staying out of the light.

Xander growled, deep in his throat, and then he began to laugh. The laughter that came from Xander’s throat was not even remotely human; it belonged to a creature that had roamed the Earth in the far distant past. It was the cry of a prehistoric Dire Hyena, the cry of a Primal Beast Spirit. His eyes were a glowing yellow-green. A shout came from his mouth in a not entirely human voice, “She is MINE! MY MATE!” He forgot the axe in his hands. Attacking Angelus with his bare hands, he was striking the undead flesh with amazing force.

Darla came up to Xander from behind, grabbing him and sinking her teeth into his left shoulder. The next thing she knew she was thrown against the stone wall.

“Leave my husband alone you bitch,” snarled an angry Slayer. Xander’s danger from Darla had pulled Buffy out of her trance.

Over the heads of the enemy’s forces sailed not one but two winged figures! Both had the wings of a huge bat. One, the male, was covered in shaggy black fur, and had the head and face of a huge vampire bat. The second figure was definitely a beautiful female, nude except for what appeared to be black fur gloves and knee high boots. Mina stepped up next to Buffy, and Vlad joined Xander. Angelus and Darla took the opportunity to retreat behind their minions.

The battle was fierce; Spells cast from the third circle were both detrimental to the enemy and beneficial to the Nighthunter combined force.

Oz stood over the severely wounded body of Laura Lee savaging the Were-Jaguar that had injured her. Ian Hall stood in front of Willow, his scalpel, and lancet slashing, forming a net of sharp steel in her defense. Beside him stood his bride, her claws and teeth damning any enemy that got to close to Hell. Abby, and Marie cast spell returning the Aztec dead to their rest, behind them stood an ethereal form a tall gaunt man, with a skull for a face. He was wearing a black top hat festooned with a cockade of bloody white chicken feathers. The face was laughing, a hollow insane laugh. The Loa was blessing his children. Baron Samedi laughed, his hands stretched over Marie, and Abby.

The black figure of the man-bat dove at the ranks of the third circle and Red Jack joined by Drusilla, and Elisabeth leapt to meet him. The three of them dragged him down. The beast sank him teeth into the Blood Countess’s chest causing a horrible wound. At the same time his right clawed hand struck Drusilla a massive blow to her head. The vampiress fell like a poled ox, and Jack screamed with horror! A very visible glowing red mist began to form before Doctor Hall’s eyes, and his mouth was drawn in a rictus death’s head grin. Jack-The-Ripper had truly returned. The scalpel and lancet moved his hands as if at their own accord striking and cutting instinctively at the most vulnerable and vital places on his enemy’s body the man-bat was rendered into small blood gobbets in short order, but still the creatures head snarled, that is until Atl Tototl struck it a fatal blow with the Aztec sword-ax.

The female creature grabbed the Cloak while still in the air and yanked it from the old priest’s body. The old man crumpled to the ground immediately. She might have gotten away with the item, but she could not resist attacking the boy acolyte. The mistake was fatal. Atl Tototl was not to be easy prey! He lashed out with his sword-ax it sliced through her wrist like a hot knife through butter. She dropped the Cloak, to defend herself, and was struck in the chest just over the heart by his second swing. She dropped to the ground mortally wounded.

Their leaders dead, and on the run the remainder of the enemy’s forces fled.

Now it was time to care for the dead and wounded…and the captured.

Tony ‘Bones’ had been decapitated by an enemy's machete. Captain John Allen Bishop USNAMC had died like a Marine fighting evil. He had been attacked by several were-beasts and had been literally torn to pieces.

Drusilla had been struck hard by the man-bat and though she would be out of action for a while, she would heal. Doctor Hall lovingly cradled her head in his lap, stroking her hair and muttering words of comfort and love to her. Jack-The-Ripper had returned to the Hell that the Doctor carried inside his tormented soul, banished by the love he bore for an undead angel.

Elisabeth Bathory was a different story. Her vampire body was trying to repair the damage done to her but her wound was too great, and too close to her heart. Her left breast had nearly been torn from her body by the creature's fangs! She needed to feed, and feed in great quantity. Jethro knelt by her and talked quietly with Marie for a moment. He slashed his wrist with his ka-bar and presented the wrist to Elisabeth. She hesitated, he smiled, and she drank. Xander was next to offer his blood, followed by Buffy, then Abby. Mina, Vlad, and on and on it went. Finally she slept and she was truly healing.

Oz knelt by Laura Lee while 'Ducky' tended her wounds. She was beginning to regenerate, but would probably be in a healing coma for several hours.

Finally they all gathered around the boy acolyte and he picked up the Cloak of Many Feathers. He looked down at the crumpled form of his mentor. He shook the Cloak then placed it around his shoulders and fastened the neck clasp. “When I first came here,” he said “I was called Atl Tototl, Water Bird. I have trained under a great and holy man…a legend…today through no will of my own I have become his successor. This is an honor, and a burden that I shall try to live up to. The Cloak is no longer safe here and may not be for many years. So, I must do as my mentor’s mentor did. I shall take a few of my loyalist followers with me and go into hiding. When we are safely away I will let the one known as Mina know where we are, only her. I have not taken all of the vows my master has. Some of those vows no longer seem to apply to all of the undead. Today I am Atl Quauhtli, Water Eagle High Priest of Quetzalcoatl!”


The priest of Mictlantecuhtli, cowered in the Temple of the Jaguar’s inner sanctum. Then he heard soft foot steps.

A figure he knew all too well stood before him in the darkness.

“You have failed me you old fool. Your Bat God and Goddess are dead. Your vampires, zombies, and skeletons are destroyed. Fortunately Darla, and Angelus have escaped. Your ally Papa Shengo gave you all you asked for and still you failed. I am…displeased.”

Smoking Mirror started to beg.

Fu Manchu walked away. The still smoking corpse that had been the high priest of death began to crumble to ash stirred by an unnatural wind.

The Cloak was beyond his reach now, a substitute would be needed. He would have to consult his sources again. This was a delay, and he was not happy at all.
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