Disclaimer: I own nothing. All Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters and DC Comics characters are the property of their original owners.
As the wolf-howl died away, the vampire known as Dracula (who most decidedly never spelled this backwards, nor what’s more, in any kind of anagram either) flawlessly picked up his cue to proclaim while gesturing out past the castle window before him, “Listen to them -- children of the night. What music they make.”
Standing stock-still in his pretentious pose as he milked the last of the unheard applause, Dracula then allowed a somewhat puzzled expression to appear upon his aristocratic features over a few minor details which had just occurred to this undead creature of the night. For one, unlike his beloved Transylvanian mountains, his supernatural castle’s current location was in that inconsequential spot of California real estate known as the Sunnydale Hellmouth, itself situated in a place having a genuine scarcity of those four-legged, sharp-toothed beasts sharing a common ancestry with the canine species.
Secondly, that long, wavering cry had just come from behind
the vampire. Originating in this very room, in fact.
Slowly turning around, Dracula now beheld a rather peculiar scene against the far wall. Instead of the young male peasant the vampire had tonight abducted, mind-controlled, and chained to the stone partition there, with the last done prior to a little further amusement he was contemplating that involved introducing his newest pet to complete submission, Dracula met the amused gaze of an entirely different person smirking back at him.
Cackling in a very ill-mannered fashion, that stranger also proceeded to cheerfully jangle the chains attached to his wrist shackles, and then he chortled, “I knew
if I did it, you were gonna say that! C’mon, put the last ridiculous touches on the whole stupid movie cliché by finishing off the next sentence: ’I never drink…’” Trailing off, the unfamiliar person clearly having no idea at all of his current peril waited with eager anticipation.
Enough of this. Drawing himself up in grim hauteur, Dracula put on a stern expression that still managed to remarkably resemble a sudden attack of constipation, as he now sent out a mental wave of absolute domination towards that unknown lout. Who, right after fully explaining himself, would then be psychically ordered to begin his night of hideous punishments by first swallowing his tongue.
Gawking at the guffawing prisoner, Dracula in due course heard from this oddly-clad man, “That’s not gonna do it, Fangpuss! You might’ve caught Hyena and Soldier-Boy off guard the first time with your mind games, but now that they’ve been uploaded into a new head, they nailed shut every door and window! And even if you do
manage to get inside my skull anyway, those two are both so seriously pissed off that for once they’re willing to work together! Hyena’s done chowing down every bit of your influence that was gonna turn me into a good little Renfield, and SB’s got his flamethrower lit up, along with a few hundred gallons of napalm on hand that he really, really hopes to get a chance to give you a brain enema with this!”
Dracula’s eyes began to slowly glow scarlet, as his patrician ire only increased at those incomprehensible taunts. It would have normally been far beneath the vampire’s notice to ever physically chastise such a base-born cur. That was what a nobleman’s retainers were properly for, with the most au courant of the upper classes keeping around a dwarf torturer or two whenever somebody needed to be broken upon the rack or shoved into an Iron Maiden. However standards were dropping everywhere these days, and alas, when there weren’t any minions within summoning distance, you simply had to do the job yourself.
Crouching down in an utterly menacing manner, Dracula’s face shifted into a bestial mask, his lips pulling back in a vicious snarl that revealed long, pointed fangs in the vampire’s mouth.
The stranger just grinned back even wider than before, showing off his
much more impressive canine teeth. With a casual shrug that effortlessly shattered both the chains and shackles previously holding him captive, the former prisoner freed himself in time to joyously leap right at the attacking vampire.
Several minutes later, in the ruins of the castle room, a beaten Dracula lying upon his back on the floor vainly tried to cringe away from the victor of their recent battle. With nearly every bone in his body broken, plus numerous deep claw-slashes and other wounds all over his form that severely taxed his unnatural healing powers, the defeated vampire was unable to move. It also didn’t help any that Dracula’s untouched opponent was kneeling on his chest while idly tapping a talon-tip against the end of this blood-drinker’s nose.
“Okay,” the stranger briskly started off. “Now that I’ve got your undivided attention, let’s discuss what happens next. Me, I’m inclined to decapitate you, pour the resulting ashes into a thermos, and top it off with a gallon of holy water. Then I seal it in an all-brass box that’ll last for a few thousand years in salt water, and drop this into the deepest part of the Pacific that’s closest to Sunnydale.” After saying this, a happy chuckle came from the conqueror of the Prince of Wallachia, whose own blood-red eyes then widened in sheer horror at listening to his likely future.
However, Dracula’s dread turned into abrupt puzzlement, as his vanquisher’s glee changed just as quickly into a regretful sigh. Dolefully shaking his head, a supremely savage fighter went on to glumly inform the bewildered vampire, “Sorry to say, even if I do that or something else equally painful -- and trust me, I have a million of ’em -- you’ve still got more sequels in you than Freddy, Jason, and Michael combined. Eventually, you’ll show up again and be the same total pain in the ass as ever. Frankly, I just don’t need the aggravation, soooo…you get the prize that’s behind door number one.”
Hopping off Dracula’s body to land lightly on his feet, the stranger bent down to then grab the vampire by his neck and effortlessly haul him up. Held at head level and nearly nose-to-nose with his captor, a hapless Dracula stared into this ultimate predator’s merciless eyes and heard from him in an unforgiving whisper, “You’ve got sixty seconds to disappear, along with this heap of stone. Don’t ever
come back. ’Cause if you do, well, I’ll show you for sure--”
The next couple of words that were softly breathed into Dracula’s ear instantly made up this monster’s mind.
A minute later, during their rush towards the ominous building where their Xander-shaped friend was being held prisoner, Buffy and Giles came to a screeching halt in their tracks, to gape at the spot where a large stone castle had just completely vanished into thin air. Only to then reveal a grinning college student strolling towards these anxious other members of the Scooby Gang, while starting to jovially say, “Hi, guys! Did you miss-- UHH!”
Diving forward, Buffy had just tackled Xander, pinning him down on the ground, with a panting Giles dashing nearer to kneel next to the two struggling bodies. Keeping his plastic water bottle filled with a blessed liquid ready, the Watcher pulled out a large crucifix with his other hand, and he clapped this religious symbol hard against Xander’s forehead. Judging from the younger man’s abrupt yelp of pain, this had been done hard enough to leave a serious bruise there. However, Giles instantly thought of a more horrible reason for that short cry of agony, and with a heavy heart, this Englishman began to sadly intone, “Begone, foul fiend--”
“GILES, IF THIS IS YOUR IDEA OF FOREPLAY, I’M NOT INTERESTED!” roared Xander. Continuing in a lower but still gritted-teeth tone, this young man lying on his back under the weight of a Slayer perched on his stomach then snarled upwards at a dumbfounded Buffy, “I’m fine! Courtesy of the Chaos magic which turned me into yet another guy from the Legion of Super-Heroes! Now, get off!
Xander still needed to fully drain Giles’ holy water bottle in one swallow before these wary newcomers were finally convinced their friend was both unharmed and human in spite of everything. The very many questions soon began after that. Occasionally belching during this, Xander spoke of all which had occurred tonight to Buffy and Giles walking on both sides of him as they all headed back to Sunnydale. Beginning to wind up his tale, the younger man paused to softly snicker to himself.
“What’s so funny, Xan?” Buffy asked.
“Oh, just something I said right at the end of my little chat with that asshole vamp, thanks to a very cute Summers female,” grinned Xander, glancing from the corner of his eye at the expected satisfied look abruptly appearing upon Buffy’s face. With perfect timing, Xander then casually commented, “Yeah, I came up with the perfect threat, all due to one very special Disney videotape that’s a favorite of our little Dawnie.”
Turning his head while being about to smirk at what he expected to see on Buffy’s features, the betrayed expression sure to be there, Xander instead halted in mid-step. That action was in imitation of both the Slayer and her Watcher, who’d themselves stopped short and were staring in shared bewilderment at their friend. It was Buffy who managed to speak first of the pair, but from the look of mystified agreement upon the older man’s face, she’d just asked what he’d also meant to inquire.
Xander gaped at the two people there regarding him in obvious incomprehension, to then worriedly declare, “Dawn! Dawn Summers! Your sister!
“Oh, Dawnie!” matter-of-factly commented Buffy, in time with Giles’ nod of recognition. Starting forward again, the Slayer then idly commented, “So, what exactly does that little brat have to do with you tossing off a Buffy-worthy quip?”
Standing there and looking in absolute alarm at the departing backs of his friends, Xander then had his apprehensive expression abruptly change into perfect blankness for a second. Right after that, the college student blinked, and then he jogged forwards to catch up with Buffy and Giles, his normal smirk back again on Xander’s face. Chuckling, as if the last few moments had never happened, Xander triumphantly informed the other Scoobies, “Oh, it had to do with Dracula delivering that stupid quote about the ‘children of the night.’ Well, at the end, I got off a great line myself from all the times I baby-sat Dawn and she insisted on seeing over and over the classic Disney animated films on the tape collection at your house.”
Buffy and Giles traded baffled glances past Xander gleefully strolling along in the middle of the trio. The Slayer then sent a very direct look at her Watcher, silently telling him in no uncertain terms that it was up to him to play the straight man. Lifting his eyes up to the heavens in utter exasperation, Giles at last asked with sarcastic patience the question Xander was eagerly awaiting, “Kindly share your inspiration with us, Xander, if you don’t mind.”
“I told Tiny-fangs what got him to run off with his cape between his legs,” proudly declared Xander, “that if he ever dared to bother us again, this vamp would instantly be the one to know who’s afraid of the big bad Timber Wolf.”