Author: Jinni (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Disclaimer: All things AtS belong to Joss Whedon, et al. All things The Grudge belong to Sony, et al.
Warning: Character Death
Distribution: The normal places.
Author’s Notes: For the “Monstrous Massacre” survivor game on the forums.
Angel frowned. “Gunn –“
“Did you not hear me the first time? Hell. No. That house is cursed, boss. You might be dead, but me? No. Uh uh. I ain’t goin’ in there.”
Groaning, Angel rolled his eyes and looked at the house. In the darkness it did look a little eerie, sure, but it was nothing they couldn’t handle. Of that much he was sure.
“The house isn’t cursed…its just got some…rather angry ghosts,” he offered with an encouraging smile.
Possibly not that encouraging, though, judging by the resolved look of defiance on Gunn’s face.
“Those ‘angry ghosts’ kill anyone that sets foot in the house, or do you not remember that from all that research we read on the flight over?”
He was right, of course. The house was cursed. Anyone that set foot inside of it ended up dead – usually pretty messily dead. Dead in the kind of way Spike and Dru had liked back in the old days. Torture, maiming, the tearing off of various body parts. Then the death, of course. Yes, it always ended in death.
Why anyone had bothered to fix the house back up after it had been set fire to, he wasn’t quite sure. What kind of idiot would put a cursed house back together again.
Oh, wait. –He- was that idiot. Or, one of his would-be underlings over at good old Wolfram and Hart, that was. When he found out who it was that had ordered this project –
Already three people had died – the workers that had put the finishing touches on the inside of the house, to be specific. And a fourth was under watch at the Tokyo office. They didn’t really expect him to make it.
No one survived the house.
Except, he was pretty sure that he and Gunn could. They had a big bag of tricks courtesy of their research and development department. A nice set of spells and banishings from the warlocks and witches.
What more could they need?
“I say we demolish it. Big old wrecking ball –“
“Might not get rid of the spirits.”
“Yeah…but then no one could go in the house and piss them off again. No house equals…no going in the house. You following?”
“Forget it. I thought we were just scoping the place out. You didn’t mention going in until we set foot on foreign soil.” Gunn snorted angrily. “Man – don’t you know brothers are –always- the first to go in this horror movie bullshit? I ain’t goin’ out like that. Vamps, demons – sure. But a cursed house? No thank you.”
With that he dropped the duffel bag Angel had given him before they left the hotel and stalked off into the night.
“Well, damn,” Angel muttered.
Oh well, he could do it by himself.
After all, he was already dead.
Thirty minutes later, Angel was about to throw in the towel. He hadn’t seen anything in this old house except a few dust bunnies. Sure, they had been frightening dust bunnies, but nothing that looked like it could kill three healthy construction workers.
He glanced around one of the bedrooms. Nothing. Just like all the other rooms. A big lot of nothing.
Yet, something had killed those people. And all the people in the reports. This house was the only common tie that they all had shared.
He rubbed the back of his neck as he pulled open the closet door. According to the building plans, this was where the entrance to the attic was.
It was also where some people officers had found the lower part of a girl’s jaw in the last set of murders before the house had been torched.
He stood on the little ledge in the closet, pushing at the entrance to the attic with his hands. It slid aside easily and he stood up, looking inside.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he sing-songed, not really expecting anything.
Which was good – because that was exactly what he got. Nothing crept out of the darkness at him. No boogeymen in this attic.
He crouched down again, putting the tile back into place. With a feeling that maybe he had wasted his time and a desire to taunt Gunn about how –nothing- had happened, he turned back to the bedroom.
Okay, the creepy little kid hadn’t been there a few minutes ago.
“Hey there,” he frowned, stepping out of the closet and shutting the door behind himself. “Do you speak English? Where are your parents?”
Maybe he had wandered into the house from one of the neighboring buildings?
The kid tilted his head to the side, staring at him with dark eyes, but said nothing.
It was more than a little creepy.
“Which coming from a vampire really means something,”Angel muttered to himself. “Um, kid – you should go home.”
But the kid didn’t move. Didn’t talk. Just stared with those black eyes.
“Hello?” Angel called out. “Parents of this…wonderfully…creepy…child – are you downstairs or…somewhere? Please?”
All he really wanted was for the kid to go away. That stare was something else. And if there was a curse on the house, the kid had just unwittingly gotten mixed up in it. Not that the ghosts were feeling frisky today.
“Okay, little guy,” he sighed. “Let’s go downstairs and figure this out.”
Angel turned his back on the kid, walking toward the door. With every step that he took, he could feel those eyes, boring into him. Following him.
Definitely not a good feeling.
But the boy was gone.
Then it dawned on him.
“Freaky little ghost-kid,” he groaned, before brightening. “And I lived. That wasn’t so hard. Poor little guy was just misunderstood or something.”
So why did he feel like there was something behind him now, standing in the doorway, maybe? Just watching everything that he did –
Whirling, prepared for a fight, he had only a brief glimpse of a woman’s face before she was on him, moving faster than a human. Faster than a vampire. Her hands were on either side of his head and he couldn’t dislodge them, no matter how he fought, how hard he pulled and pushed.
Sure, he was dead. That’s what being a vampire meant. Undead. Not dead. Not alive.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t, oh say, rip his head from his body and kill him all over again.
“He didn’t come back, Wes.”
“You left him there?” Wesley’s didn’t sound happy.
“Yeah, and since he hasn’t come back a full day and a half later, I’m thinkin’ that I’m leaving him there permanently and torching the place. Fuck this cursed house shit.”