Gender: Female Age: 116 Sign:
Capricorn Country: United States
Signup Date: October 27, 2012
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10/27/2018 11:22 PM
Halloween 2018
It is Halloween night. All is well except for Angel his dreams are Hell. Characters are invited to run through his dreamscape in or out of character. Three day Halloween adventure.
Ok, so the Halloweersary Party at Club Caritas didn’t go quite as expected. Doesn’t matter. Because when that party ended abruptly, Kat and Spike found themselves at a posh French restaurant – Petrossian Café and Boutique – in West Hollywood. Both were dressed to the nines, and they feasted on Napoleon tartare with caviar, stuffed quail, Coq au vin, and cassoulet. All the entrees were vampire friendly in that they were spiced with just enough hemoglobin (in Spike’s servings) to sooth the vampire digestive system. And of course, they ate their dessert first and washed it down with champagne. Then Kat and Spike took in a poetry slam at a used book store in Santa Monica where Spike read a new poem he’d composed recently, and barefoot they walked the beach in the cool, October air, and listened to the waves rhythmically murmur and bubble across the sand. Amidst the beach grass, away from the lights and hubbub of the city, the couple found a place to snuggle for a while, talking of their lives and where they’d been and what the future might hold. But mostly they just enjoyed their company, marveled over the vastness of the Pacific Ocean and the infinite cosmos on display above their heads in the form of stars and galaxies millions of light of years away. That infinity didn’t make them fell small, though. Instead they felt a part of something grand, working cogs in the clockwork of a universe that began when both of them were nothing but stardust and would continue long after they faded into stardust again. But it wasn’t just about stardust, it was about continuity and Kat and Spike knew they’d left a legacy, and felt gratification that they’d done their part to keep this old world spinning in fine fashion. Plus, they were far from done. Their anniversary and the Halloween party was just a brief interlude in their quest for justice in the world, and tomorrow they’d go out there again, into the night, to champion good, protect the innocent, and maintain the balance between opposing dark and light forces, and to maybe push the needle a little into the light. Because with the help of their friends, that’s what they do.
Zombies began blinking out of existence; they made a little pop as each one vanished. Then the music stopped (thank the Goddesses) and the musicians metamorphosed into white rats and vanished into the woodwork. And one by one, Lorne’s guests faded away – faster than Donna Summers but not quite as fast as Milli Vanilli. Lorne took a seat on a bar stool behind the bar and watched sadly as his Halloween burned out, like a Jack ‘O Lantern as the candle burns down and is finally extinguished by the wet, orange mush at the bottom of that giant, lumpish squash. But it was ok, he still had his Sea Breeze Cocktail, and there were enough ingredients behind the bar to keep him in Sea Breezes until 2045.
Still, he waxed melancholy to Ramon, “Another year come and gone.” His calendar ran from November 1 to October 31. Halloween was like New Years. “Well, I suppose it was quite the party while it lasted. But nothing lasts forever now, does it.”
Of the partygoers, only Lorin remained, and he hadn’t come in a costume. But there were still decorations! The bats that had been alive a moment ago were now just rubber bats suspended from the ceiling by wires. A shifty eyed pumpkin that had been talking dirty to the customers was just a Jack ‘O Lantern. But they still had monster movies on the three TV screens above the bar. And they still had an hour before closing time. Feeling magnanimous and optimistic about the year to come (Lorne was always optimistic, even in the face of an apocalypse), he announced, “Drinks are on the house! Happy Halloween and Happy Anniversary to Kat and Spike, wherever you may be!”
Caritas had been a huge mistake!Zombies!A god-awful band!Terrible costumes!And her Mai Tai had a goldfish swimming around in it!Heads would roll tomorrow, that was for sure!Lorne had thrown his last Halloween Party.Tomorrow night he’d be back on the streets, thrown out of Wolfram and Hart by his big, flamboyant, 1970s yellow collar.Yes, changes were coming.
Lilah had enough, so she got up out of her seat and headed for the door.But… everything around her began to smear, like melting ice cream, or like both of her retinas had just detached.Dizzy, she looked for a place to sit down and found none.She fell, reaching her hand out hoping to break her fall, but she fell right through the floor and… raised her head up off her desk.She groaned because there was a bad kink in her neck, and she felt hung over.Clearly, everything she’d just experienced was all a dream.She turned around and gazed out the big picture window into the Los Angeles night.The date and time were displayed on the Chase bank building – November 1, 2:33 am.She’d slept right through Halloween.“So the spirits did everything in one night.Woopie,” she said sarcastically.She gathered up her keys and headed for the door.But she did happen to notice she was wearing the same Jimmy Choo pumps she had on at Caritas in her dream, down to the little silver bat clasps.But she brushed it off as a coincidence.
One moment, Wesley was the quintessential, clichéd vampire, in the mold of Bela Lugosi’s Count Dracula or Nosferatu - the worst of the blood-sucking fiends. Had he been given more time, his intent had been to lure Lilah Morgan into the parking lot of Caritas and ravage her. Not sexually, of course, because that would be distasteful and deeply disturbing on so many levels. Rather, Wes the Vampire was going to use his hypnotic abilities to draw her out of the club and into the dark recesses and shadows of the night. And there he would drive his fangs deep into her carotid artery and drink until he had his fill, drink until Lilah’s heart slowed and then stopped altogether, although he wasn’t entirely sure if her heart was beating at all. Technically, she died years ago. But no matter, blood ran through her veins, and he would take of that what he wanted to assuage his vampire desires.
But he awoke in his bed, in his room on the third floor of the Hyperion Hotel. A pool of yellow light from a lamp on his nightstand illuminated a half full bottle of Sherry leaned up against his leg, and a book laid face down on the bed on its spine. Wesley rubbed at his eyes and found his glasses. He could now see that the title of the book was The Vampire Tapestry by Suze McKee. It was all clear now. The entire episode at Caritas had been a bad dream, a dream brought on by too much Sherry and a vividly written vampire novel. And on Halloween of all nights. Wesley set the bottle and book on the floor, wrapped a blanket around himself, and turned off the light, hoping beyond hope that his subsequent dreams were more pleasant. He sighed, closed his eyes, and focused his thoughts on Winifred Burkle, slowly weaving an adventure for the two of them, something not too dangerous, but with enough intrigue to keep it interesting. And with that he drifted off into a better place.
Angel blinked at Buffy Summers, his one and only true love in his 270 years of existence. “What?” He looked down at his arm, which was red and itchy. He scratched at it again, thinking about what she’d said. Bohg’Dar demons. How could he have made that mistake? They weren’t Bohg’Dar demons at all. “They were Vroynek demons. I know that to be the truth now.” His arm - he’d been infected by demon blood. Vroyneck demons are like the Freddie Krueger of the real world. You’re fine as long as you’re awake. But fall asleep and chaos ensues. The demons lure their prey into a trap, sometimes making them believe they were victorious. But all they needed to do was bleed on their prey. Then they would take control of the situation. They lived to control the dreams of others. In fact, they were probably here, watching this macabre Halloween party. Angel glanced at the band members. Yes, they could be Vroyneck demons. But it could be anyone. Any number of these so-called zombies. Maybe even Ramon the bartender, or Lorne. They could take the form of anyone. Anyone except Buffy, of course.
The last thing Angel remembered, he was at the Hyperion, alone in his lonely bed. His mind constantly churning the events of the night. His battle against the so-called Bohg’Dar demons. Then he’d fallen asleep. Yes, as Buffy said, this was all a horrible dream. “Then I just need to wake up. Right? And then all of this craziness will end.” That last sentence was said as more of a question than a statement of fact. But how to wake himself up? He was officially lucid dreaming now. He tried pinching himself, but nothing changed. Frowning, Angel looked for other alternatives. He grabbed a bottle of expensive Scotch from behind the bar and smashed it over his head. Nothing.
“Buffy, we have to do something extreme. Stake me! Death experiences in dreams always wake a person up.” Usually in a cold sweat. But Buffy was reluctant. So Angel got up out of his seat, busted a bar stool over the counter, took one of the broken stool legs in his hand and thrust it into his chest, right into his own heart!
But he didn’t turn to dust. Instead, the world dissolved around them, turning to gray like fog, and then to black. Was Angel dead? Had he sacrificed himself for nothing? Just as he was thinking he’d made a terrible mistake, the black turned to gray again, and then the world began to take shape. He was in his room at the Hyperion – room #217. Relaxing on his bed, and Buffy was there with him. They had a bowl of popcorn between them and a movie was playing on the old-fashioned 19-inch television. 30 Days of Night. One of the best vampire flicks of the 21st century. Angel hugged Buffy close. “Now this is what Halloween is supposed to be like!”
Buffy folded her arms over her chest and raised a brow as Angel tried to guess who she was dressed as. She had sent him pictures of the character Steve Trevor from the Wonder Woman movie several times and yet here he was dressed like someone called Paul? She honestly wanted to smack him round the head for getting this so wrong it was frustrating!
But then she paused, did he say he had been fighting Bohg'Dar demons? Her eyes narrowed as she glanced round the room at zombies dancing, the Winchesters rolling on the floor and Kat and Spike flying? She looked back to Angel and rolled her eyes, "Oh this is just perfect isn't it? Show me your arm!" she demanded.
Shaking her head she was clearly not happy, "See now this is why I wanted to cuddle up on the sofa and watch movies with you! This isn't real, look around you, either this is another dimension or we are stuck in your dreams or something equally wonderful!"
Igor’s bulging eyes went wide with surprise and adoration for the Lovely Lenore. Never had he expected she would ask him to dance. He was a loathsome creature of malign intent, bent and twisted, ugly and abhorrent. Yet she requested that he accompany her down to the dance floor. So he tried to straighten up a little for her. He brushed his bristly, coarse, and unkempt hair back over his head. And he pushed on his eyeballs with his fingers, trying to fit them back into their sockets so he didn’t look so Marty Feldmanesque.
Igor reverently took the staff from Lenore’s perfectly shaped hands. The Raven, Yig, was balanced on top. The bird eyed the bent man below it, as Igor eyed the bird above with his still rather bulging orbs. Then Lenore set off towards the dance floor with Igor lurching and shuffling along behind her. The bird squawked and danced atop the staff because Igor had a hard time holding it steady. Igor pushed zombies out of the way so that he and Lenore had room to move, creating a space for them right in front of the stage. The band members had recovered from the collision by the human bowling ball and were currently performing a song about a collapsed silver mine in Scotland where 436 miners died a slow and torturous death from asphyxiation over a period of 21 days. Buoyed by the winsome and sunny lyrics, Igor hopped from one foot to the other (his version of dancing) while holding the staff as steady as he could. But poor Yig had to do his own jig atop the staff to keep his balance.
With a Camel filterless dangling askew from a corner of a hard mouth, Spike had followed Kat down into the zombie mage pit jungle where Dean Winchester, who now looked like a giant bowling ball dressed like a fat penguin, was thrashing around, trying to get to his feet again. “Bloody ponce,” was Spike’s comment.
Meanwhile, Kat’s wings were apparently functional, as she was fluttering a few feet above the ground. That was a new development. She asked him if he wanted to go topside to watch the show. He was actually thinking he’d boot the lead vocalist off the stage and sing some Ramone’s greatest hits. But this would be fun, too.
“Shore luv. Why not?” So he grabbed her arm and the both of them fluttered up into the rafters on the wings of an angel. They sat there on the catwalk, dangling and swinging their legs over the edge. “Sweetie, does it seem like things have spun maybe a little into the weird, again? I mean, I know its Halloween and all, and this does seem to happen every year. But, well… I dunno, I guess I was hoping for some mundanicity this year. Maybe in the future we should just stay home and watch vampire movies. Or go down to the Pink Pony to watch Madam Malignant shake her stuff. They say she puts on quite the Halloween extravaganza.”
Katarina covered her eyes as Spike popped the eyeball into this mouth. It was a world of grossness. “Here,” she offered him the rest of the drink. She needed one a little less creepy. “Can I have one without any surprises in it?” she addressed he bartender.
“Is he Bela Lagosi? “ Katarina spied Wesley creeping about the room with his cape in front of his face. The Winchesters arrived in a peculiar costume. It didn’t seem in character for them. The zombies had hit the dance floor. They had managed to move in sync with each other, but not quite in rhythm until a Winchester bowling ball rolled them over.
Katarina had slipped off the bar stool to go help Dean. He was rolling back and forth on his back stuck like a turtle. The vampire bat was back. Katarina smacked it across the room. It tumbled to the ground. It was lost in a puff of smoke. A moment later as the mist cleared Wesley was standing there. Curiouser and curiouser.
Nurse Lehane had already made her way to the stage to help the troubled hunter. Katarina realized her feet didn’t hit the ground. She was floating. Her wings were fluttering and allowing her to levitate. “Hey you wanna?” she nudge her husband and motioned to the catwalk over head. They would have a perfect view of the insanity. Plus added bonus distance from the zombies.
Jacob was dressed as Igor from the Frankenstein legend, movies, and book. He wore peasant garb and a huge hump squatted on his left shoulder (but the hump would mysteriously change shoulders from time to time). His eyes bulged, his teeth were crooked, and he walked severely hunched over and with a bad limp, almost as if he was dragging one leg. But Igor was strong. Under one arm he carried a large glass jar, within which floated in a murky liquid something terrible. A label on said jar read, “Abnormal Brain.” He bellied up to the bar next to the Lovely Lenore Lovecraft. Putting his Brain Jar up on the counter, he pounded his fist on the bar and demanded, “Ale! I need Ale!!”
Twisting his bent neck around he examined the Lovely Lenore’s costume. A lascivious grin peeled back his lips to reveal rotted gums and teeth. A spider crept across the bar. Without taking his eyes off Lenore, a gnarled hand lashed out, grabbed the spider and inserted it into Igor’s mouth. He bit down on the squishy, juicy spider and swallowed it. Then he spoke in a scratchy, high voice:
“Prophet! said I, thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Hell that burns below us—by that god we both abhor—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore.