Cordelia gratefully handed Buffy over to Angel and followed Xander into the living room.
“But I don’t want to go with you!” Buffy protested, trying to wrench from Angel’s grasp. “I like the man with the musket.”
“Come on,” Angel ordered her.
Buffy’s voice was tiny and hopeful. “Do you have a musket?”
She clung to him as they entered the kitchen. The back door was standing wide open, and Angel slowly shook his head.
“I didn’t leave that open.”
He moved cautiously and silently toward the door. Fearful, Buffy watched him as she cowered back against the wall. She didn’t hear the cellar door opening right beside her. She didn’t notice the vampire slinking out from the shadows . . .
Angel shut the back door and turned around.
“Look out!” he yelled.
As Buffy spun, the vampire grabbed at her. Amazingly, she managed to seize the door and slam it back on the creature’s arm. But the vampire was much more powerful than she was. Almost immediately it flung the door wide again, sending Buffy sprawling to the foor. Angel made a dive for the creature, tackling it and wrestling it into the dining room. As Buffy staggered to her feet, she looked around frantically for a weapon. Taking a big knife from the counter, she peered timidly through the doorway and saw Angel on top of the vampire, his back to her, struggling to hold the creature down.
“A stake!” Angel yelled.
“What?”
“Get me a stake!”
Without warning he turned in her direction, and Buffy screamed.
Angel’s face was contorted, hideous, an enraged vampire face. Buffy screamed again and raced out the back door.
“Buffy, no!” Angel shouted.
It was just the opportunity his opponent needed.
Throwing Angel off, the other vampire twisted free and came around on top of him.
Giles still wasn’t certain he’d entirely recovered from his shock. But, as he’d soon learned from Willow, there was plenty of work to be done tonight if they wanted to save Sunnydale.
Now the two of them were surrounded by piles and piles of books. Looking for something—anything—that might give them a clue as to what was happening this wild, unforgettable Halloween.
Willow gazed at Giles in frustration. “I don’t even know what to look for. Plus,” she added lamely, glancing down at her ghost arm, “I can’t turn the page.”
“Right.” Giles nodded understandingly. “Okay, then, let’s review. At sundown, everyone became whatever they were masquerading as.”
“Right. Xander was a soldier, and Buffy was an eighteenth-century girl.”
Giles took off his glasses. He stared blandly at Willow’s outfit. He raised both eyebrows.
“And your costume?”
“I’m a ghost,” Willow said.
A faint smile played over Giles’s mouth as he took in her very non-ghost attire. “Yes, but a ghost of what, exactly?”
Willow shifted, embarrassed about the midriff-baring top and leather miniskirt. “This is nothing,” she defended herself. “You should have seen what Cordelia was wearing. A unitard. And these little cat things. Ears and stuff.”
“Good heavens. Cordelia became an actual feline?”
Willow stared back at Giles. Something was beginning to nag at her, far back from a corner of her mind.
“No,” Willow said slowly. “She was still the same old Cordelia, just in a eat costume.”
She crossed her arms over her midriff. Giles looked at her, his brow furrowed deep in thought. He put his glasses on again.
“She didn’t change,” Giles repeated.
“No.” And it was coming to Willow now, finally, in a delayed burst of realization. “Hold on,” she said excitedly. “Party-Town. She told us she got her outfit from Party-Town—”
“And everybody who changed, where did they acquire their costumes?”
“We all got ours at this new place,” Willow said. “Ethan’s.”
There was no time to lose.
CHAPTER 11
“Hello?” Giles called softly. “Is anyone in?”
Not that they’d really expected to find anyone inside Ethan’s Costume Shop at this late hour. The store was dark, seemingly deserted, and yet Giles and Willow entered easily through the front door.
Yes, Giles thought to himself, almost too easily.
Together they moved slowly through the main room. Costumes were strewn everywhere. Masks lay about on the floor and countertops, like so many severed heads. Mannequins stood within the shadows, and Willow had the distinct feeling they were watching her with flat, painted eyes. She was bravely trying to quell her overactive imagination when she noticed the open doorway in the back of the shop.
Almost at once Willow spotted the altar and the ring of black candles, the golden statue—its hideous, evil face, the glowing green eyes . . .
“Giles. . . .” she whispered.
Giles came up behind her, following the direction of her stare.
“That’s Janus,” he said. “A mythical Roman god.”
“What does it mean?”
“Primarily, it represents the division of self.” His eyes went anxiously from corner to corner. “Male and female. Light and dark—”
“Chunky and creamy style.” Ethan’s mocking voice was terrifyingly close. “No, sorry. That’s peanut butter.”
He stepped out from a shadow, smiling at Giles.
Giles stared back at him, his own face tight with shock.
“Willow,” Giles said firmly. He stepped in front of her, never taking his eyes off Ethan. “Get out of here. Now.”
“But—”
“Now, Willow.”
Giles seldom used that tone with any of them. And when he did, Willow knew all too well that he was deadly serious.
She turned and bolted from the room.
Now Ethan Rayne and Giles stood face to face.
“Hello, Ethan.”
“Hello, Ripper,” Ethan replied.
A dangerous silence fell between them.
Eerie green light played over Giles’s face, accentuating its tenseness, its grim determination—and yet Ethan’s manner was light. He was clearly enjoying this.
Enjoying every minute.
“What, no hug?” he taunted Giles. “Aren’t you happy to see your old mate?”
Giles remained composed. “I’m surprised I didn’t guess it was you. This Halloween stunt stinks of Ethan Rayne.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Ethan replied proudly. He picked up a Halloween mask, rubbing his fingers almost lovingly over the surface. “Not to blow my own horn, but it’s genius. The very embodiment of ‘be careful what you wish for.’”
“It’s sick,” Giles returned. “And brutal. It harms the innocent—”
“Oh, and we all know that you are the champion of innocence and all things pure and good, Rupert,” Ethan went on condescendingly. He paused, then, “This is quite an act you’ve got going here, old man.”
Giles’s shoulders stiffened. “It’s no act. It’s who I am.”
“It’s who you are? The Watcher? Sniveling tweed-clad guardian of the Slayer and her kin?”
Ethan’s smile was cold. His tone grew even more mocking.
“I think not. I know who you are. And I know what you’re capable of.” And then something seemed to dawn on him. “But they don’t, do they?” he realized. “They have no idea where you come from.”
Ethan finally got the reaction he’d hoped for. It was obvious from Giles’s expression that he felt threatened by this new line of attack. Only this time his mild demeanor began to change.
No one in Sunnydale had ever seen this side of Giles.
This was a side he kept hidden. Had kept hidden for a long, long time.
“Break the spell, Ethan,” he demanded now, advancing slowly. “Then leave this place and never come back.”
“Why should I?” Ethan threw back at him. “What do I get i
n the bargain?”
The answer was deathly calm. “You get to live.”
“Ooooh. You’re scaring—”
Ethan’s words exploded inside his mouth.
As Giles dropped him with a vicious punch, his unfinished sentence oozed out across the floor with his blood.
CHAPTER 12
Xander, Cordelia, and Angel were striding determinedly down the middle of the street.
“You’re sure she came this way?” Xander asked.
Angel shook his head. “No.”
He’d had enough time now to change back into human form, but the damage had already been done. He knew Buffy had a significant head start on them. Secretly he wondered if they’d find her too late, or even at all.
Cordelia tried to be upbeat. “She’ll be okay.”
“Buffy would be okay,” Angel reminded her. “Whoever she is now, she’s helpless. Come on.”
The three of them hurried faster, past Spike’s hiding place in the shadows. A small demon and an equally small vampire hovered at his side.
“Do you hear that, my friends?” Spike murmured happily. “Somewhere out here is the tenderest meat you’ve ever tasted. And all we have to do is find her first.”
Buffy was terrified.
Lost and alone, she wandered through unfamiliar streets in an unfamiliar century, her clothes and shoes muddied and torn beyond repair. Without knowing it, she had entered the industrial section of town, that place of forgotten factories and boarded-up warehouses, where even the lowest of life never dared venture.
She struggled through an alleyway, trying to climb over heaps of boxes and trash. Her eyes darted fearfully around her. Shadows crouched on every side, black and endless as nightmares. And when someone stepped out in front of her, blocking her way, she was so panic-stricken she couldn’t even scream.
The pirate was gigantic. He towered high above her, eyes glittering in the darkness, leering down at her with a lascivious, black-toothed grin.
“Pretty . . . pretty . . .” he chuckled deep in his throat.
Larry’s pirate costume had seemed ridiculous at the start of the evening.
But now it had become the real thing.
Savagely he jerked Buffy into his arms, laughing as she screamed and tried to twist free. When one of her fingers managed to gouge his good eye, he let out a furious bellow and flung her away.
Buffy hit the ground, stunned and whimpering. She tried to crawl away, but Larry lifted her to her feet once more.
“No,” Buffy pleaded, “no. . . .”
Roughly he grabbed her face. He opened his mouth and ran his tongue slowly along his jagged, scummy teeth.
Then he moved in for a kiss.
With a yell, Xander came out of nowhere, hitting Larry with a flying tackle. As Buffy scrambled away, the two of them went at each other full force.
Buffy ran right into Cordelia.
“Buffy? Are you okay?”
Trembling violently, Buffy threw herself into Cordelia’s arms. For once, Cordelia was at a complete loss how to handle the situation. She stood there with Buffy burrowed against her and watched the battle raging several feet away.
Larry had always been strong, but in this incarnation, Xander was stronger. As Larry tried to reach for his sword, Xander knocked it away.
Buffy looked up to see Angel hurrying toward them. She shrieked and gripped Cordelia even tighter.
Cordelia ran out of patience.
“What is your deal?” Cordelia snapped at her. “Take a pill!”
“He’s . . . he’s a vampie!” Buffy screamed.
Angel stopped and stared at them. For a split second the concern on his face was touched with deep hurt. Oblivious, Cordelia rolled her eyes. She gave Angel a long-suffering look.
“She’s got this thing where she thinks—oh, forget it,” Cordelia told him. Then, in her most patronizing tone, she said sweetly to Buffy, “It’s okay. Angel is . . . a good vampire. He’d never hurt you.”
Buffy faltered. “He—really?”
“Absolutely.” Cordelia might have been soothing a dim-witted child. “Angel is our friend.”
Buffy looked timidly at Angel, still not convinced. As Angel went over to Xander, Xander finished Larry off with a headbutt and two swift punches.
Larry hit the ground, out cold.
For a minute, Xander stared down at him. Then he turned to Angel with a puzzled frown.
“It’s strange,” Xander said, “but beating up that pirate gave me a weird sense of closure.”
“Guys!” Willow shouted.
As the group turned expectantly, they saw Willow coming toward them at a dead run. Angel moved forward, already sensing that things were about to get worse.
“Willow—”
“You guys gotta get inside,” Willow said breathlessly.
She pointed behind her, to a cluster of shadowy figures that was making its way in their direction. Angel recognized Spike at once. The others seemed to be an odd asssortment of both child-sized and grownup monsters.
Xander took control. “We need to triage.”
“This way.” Angel pointed. “Find an open warehouse.”
Xander gallantly rounded up the females. “Ladies, we’re on the move.”
Everyone took off except Buffy.
In her weakened condition and torn, heavy dress, it was all she could do to even stand up.
With one smooth movement Angel swept her into his arms. Her body was small and fragile against his, and he could feel her overwhelming fear. This was a side of Buffy he’d never seen before.
A dependent side. A helpless side.
A side that would most certainly get her killed.
Angel held her tighter, carrying her swiftly through the winding maze of dark, dangerous streets.
CHAPTER 13
They had to get to safety.
As Xander, Cordelia, and Angel rounded the corner of an alley, Angel shifted Buffy in his arms and motioned to a warehouse door a short distance away.
“Over here!” he shouted.
Together they slid the door open and dashed inside, just as Spike and his minions appeared behind them. With only seconds to spare, they wrestled the door shut again, then looked around frantically for some sort of barricade. Old crates and broken furniture were stacked against one wall. As Xander immediately started moving stuff against the door, he yelled over to Angel.
“Check and see if there are any other ways in!”
Angel was ready for action. “Just stay here,” he told Buffy, handing her off to Cordelia.
Cordelia rolled her eyes as Buffy fell into her arms. “Fabu. More clinging.”
But the barricade wasn’t working.
Xander jumped back as something jerked at the warehouse door. He could see demonic hands punching through it now, tearing it apart.
The door jerked again.
And then it began to slide.
The makeshift barricade flew everywhere. Xander and Angel fell back, retreating with the others as the warehouse door came completely open.
Spike stepped inside, smiling triumphantly at his loyal followers.
Ethan Rayne was smiling, too, even though his bloody face was plastered to the floor.
“And you said ‘Rupert the Ripper’ was long gone,” he taunted.
Giles stood over him calmly. It was a frightening calm, a lethal calm.
Slowly and deliberately he wiped his fingers clean on a white handkerchief.
“How do I stop the spell?” he asked again.
Ethan began to laugh. “Say pretty ple—” he began, but Giles aimed a savage kick at his side, leaving him gasping for breath. “Janus,” Ethan finally managed. “Break the statue.”
Immediately Giles grabbed it and threw it against the wall. And then, as the statue shattered into pieces, he turned back again to Ethan.
For a long, long while Giles gazed down at the floor.
He was alone in the room now.
Ethan had disappea
red.
As Giles and Ethan were having their standoff, Spike was enjoying one of his own.
Angel and Xander were pinned now, held at bay by Spike’s minions, and though the two of them fought to free themselves, no one could help Buffy now.
“Look at you,” Spike murmured softly. He moved toward Buffy as she backed away, his pacing slow and stealthy, his look deceptively kind. He could see how absolutely petrified she was, her eyes desperate and full of tears. Excitement raged through him—the thrill of the hunt, of the kill.
“Shaking,” he whispered to her. “Terrified. Alone. Lost little lamb.”
Spike smiled. Then he struck her savagely across the face.
“I love it,” he said.
“Buffy!” Angel tried to throw off his guards, but they only held him tighter. He watched helplessly as Spike gripped Buffy’s head with one hand and her arm with the other, as he bent her slowly backward, as he leaned in toward her neck.
Buffy was sobbing now. Spike’s fangs gleamed in the pale, pale light . . .
Without warning, Xander broke free. Before anyone could stop him, he grabbed his gun and scrambled to his feet, Cordelia and Willow crowding in close behind him.
“Now that guy,” Willow pointed at Spike, “you can shoot!”
Xander raised the machine gun. He aimed at Spike, tensed, and squeezed the trigger.
Nothing happened.
As Xander stared down at his weapon, he saw that he was holding only a toy—a small plastic gun.
His mouth gaped open. “What the—”
Around the room, Spike’s minions were suddenly changing, too—not hideous henchmen any longer, but a very scared assortment of high-school kids and little trick-or-treaters. As Spike gazed at them in slow realization, he suddenly glanced down at his hand.
He was still holding Buffy’s wig.
Only Buffy’s head wasn’t in it.
He glanced up again. Right into Buffy’s smiling face.
“Hi, honey,” Buffy said. “I’m home.”
Spike never had a chance. As all the rage and frustration of her last defenseless hours came flooding through her, Buffy let loose on him with a brutal series of kicks and punches.
THE ANGEL CHRONICLES, Vol. 2 Page 5