So the chaos was extracted from the party, thanks to the unlikely help of Lorin and the Mutari Generator.  Spike had forgotten all about that thing buried away below the weapons cabinet.  He wondered if it might play a role in some other adventure down the line.  That thing stored the magic it absorbed, if Spike remembered correctly, which created a potential for a story trigger.

The party continued on as parties do – decent food, good drinks, conversation, friends, and some non-friends like Lilah.  The storm mostly abated after the spell-gone-bad was sucked into the Mutari Generator, but just enough far away thunder could be heard now and then to make for a little Halloween atmosphere.  No trick-or-treating children were brave enough to knock on the door, which was just as well. 

Spike and Kat didn’t stick around to see how long it all lasted because they snuck away upstairs to their hideaway suite on the third floor, a place they’d worked to restore over the last year.  Kat had put a concealment spell on it so it looked like the earthquake-damaged three-room suite it had been for years.  But in reality it was warm and fun, with games and television sets, a full kitchen, a big picture window overlooking the city – a window equipped with necro-tempered glass so Spike wouldn’t turn to ash when the sun came up.  And of course, it had a lovely king-sized bed, one that Spike and Kat would use to its full capacity on this night, because this was not only a Halloween Party, folks, but the couple’s Anniversary. 

So we’ll turn the lights out on this year’s annual Halloween/Anniversary Party.  Happy Halloween to all, and to all a good night!  See ya next year!

*****The End*****

Katie asked if her parents were ok.  “No, I think not.  Not ok at all.  As they say, Redrum.”  Sam Winchester had announced the arrival of Frank Dodd from at least two Stephen King novels.  The red ball that Kat and Spike followed -  Lorin believed that was from The Shining.  He fully expected Jack Nicholson to poke his madly grinning head around a corner and exclaim, ‘Here’s Johnny!’  Which was a reference to Johnny Carson of the Tonight Show, although most people here weren’t old enough to understand that. 

Then there was Isabelle, who was pure unadulterated trouble no matter what the circumstance.  And what the hell was with the gun-toting blonde cowgirl!?  Who let her in?  Lorin ducked when she shot out the chandelier.  Oh yeah, the door is unlocked.  Anyone can come inside. 

This was getting to be completely too much.  This always happened at their Halloween Parties!  Chaos, death, mayhem!  Lorin had had enough of it!  He tilted his Margarita glass back, emptied it, then set it aside.  The green guy stalked over to the weapons cabinet.  An educated jiggle of the lock and the doors swung open on an impressive collection of swords, battle axes, throwing stars and other cool stuff.  But those things didn’t interest Lorin.  He was after what was in the locked drawer below those weapons.  He needed his pocket knife for that.  He inserted the small blade in the lock and gave it a twist.  The lock disengaged and Lorin slid the drawer open.  There it was.  No one had moved it apparently in all these years.  Lorin lifted the Mutari Generator out of the drawer and flipped on the switch.  It still worked! The Mutari looked like a Star Trek phaser canon, but what it was designed to do was suck the magic out of whatever it was pointed at.  It had worked on Illyria, it would work on some spell gone wrong at the hotel. 

He pointed it at the ceiling and pulled the trigger.  Colorful bolts of magic swirled around the point at which the Generator was aimed, circling faster and faster, tighter and tighter until WHAM!  All that energy lightning bolted into the Mutari Generator and tossed it and Lorin backwards and onto the floor. 

When Lorin came to, the hotel was just a hotel again.  No red bouncing balls, no Frank Dodd standing just outside the door, that dead dog was gone, and even the black cat vanished.  Kat and Spike returned from The Overlook Hotel. 

Jo wasn’t really planning on coming.  This was an Angelino thing.  Jo belonged with her own kind – the Winchesters and their Nebraska ilk.  Except the Winchesters weren’t throwing a party.  Jo decided to go as Annie Oakley, the infamous Wild West sharpshooter.  Annie was a skilled, natural markswoman.  She was good with six shooters, but she was most well-known for a Winchester (ironically) repeater rifle.  Jo didn’t have any antique rifles, so she brought a 22 caliber semi-automatic Ruger long rifle.  It was sort of old-fashioned looking. 

The weather was wet and wild, tonight.  But that would never be a problem for Annie Oakley!  On the walkway up to the Hyperion Hotel, Jo had a close encounter with a rabid dog.  It was huge and its eyes glowed red.  Her step didn’t falter for a moment, though, as she shot it twice between the eyes and it fell over dead.  Although it had kind of looked like the walking dead before she shot it.  A guy in a yellow rain slicker was hiding from her behind a big bush.  Just as well.

Jo tossed open the door to the place, stopped just inside and hollered, “Yippee Ki Yay, Mother Muckers!!”  She then shot out the chandelier, twirled the rifle twice by the trigger guard, and plugged a cat-sized black spider that was crawling up the bannister on the staircase.    

Lilah came dressed as Elvira, Mistress of the Dark.  It allowed her to show off her perfect, long, elegant legs.  She had to wear a black wig, though, one with a lot of piled up hair on top of her head.  And then she didn’t really have enough in the boobs department to pull off a convincing Elvira – at least not with the signature plunging neckline black dress that the Mistress liked to wear, so she had the boys down in the Spells and Potions Department conjure her up some huge knockers, just for the occasion.  They’d deflate back to normal size in the morning. 

Lilah sauntered up towards the door of the old hotel, knowing her costume would knock everyone dead.  She sort of hoped Wesley would be in attendance at the party. 

Fog poured off the old hotel and into the adjacent street.  “They must have paid a fortune for a commercial fog machine!”  The kind they used in the movies.  Whatever they’d done, it would have made Ed Wood proud. 

Near the door was a guy in an orange rain slicker.  He stepped out of the shrubbery as Lilah approached, opened his slicker, and flashed her.  “Eeeew.”  And then she laughed, because the guy had the smallest pecker she’d ever seen.  But something growled behind her.  Lilah turned to find a mangy Saint Bernard, green spittle dripping from its huge lips.  It began to lope towards her, snarling with murderous intent as it did.  Lilah dashed inside and closed the door.  A moment later and something (no doubt the dog) slammed into that door from the outside. 

Isabelle swayed her way into the lobby dressed as Lily from Legend after her dance with darkness. Her lips dark as night.  Black fabric against her porcelain skin. Self-invited of course. As she paused the rotten cat ran across her foot. There were things moving in the shadows. This was only the beginning.

The hotel was surrounded by a haze. The energy bubbled around the building like a dome. A mist was rolling on the grounds outside. It drew her to the soiree like a moth to a flame. There was magic here to play. A spell had gone wrong. How very delicious.  It couldn’t have been the senior witches. This was the blunder of a novice. Her gaze fell upon the girl.

Staring at the dancing couple with a raised eyebrow. They had odd moves and clothing. Feeling uncharacteristically playful she swayed and twirled dancing her way over towards the other guests. Her eyes falling on Lorin, “hello green one.”

Lorin was gazing down the hall way. He called out in warning. She glanced down the passage way she saw her parents darting into a hotel room. The two had probably headed out for some alone time. “Are they ok?” The last thing she wanted to do was investigate. The thought of catching the two of them in a lover’s embrace was enough to fuel her therapy bills for years. She poured herself a cup of spiked punch taking a sip.

“Nice costume. Original,” Katie nodded to Sam cup raised. “Castle Rock? Police? What are the police doing here? And where is Castle Rock?” Katie wasn’t much of one to watch scary movies or read books. Her mind was lost in other pop culture. This was really weird. Still wasn’t enough to give her the wiggins.

“Where are your shadows?” referring to the wolf and other Winchesters. A dirty looking stray ran across the lobby floor. “Did you let that cat in?” It looked like it had the mange. She put her glass down on the counter. They were going to have to corral that thing. They couldn’t have strange animals running around in here.

“Great advice. I have no desire to hang out in mirror world. So how do we take them up on that offer?” It wasn’t like getting sucked down a drain was like walking through the front door. She wasn’t even sure what plain they were on. Were they still in the hotel? Brushing back wet locks of hair that were sticking to her cheeks.  “Am I supposed to just wiggle my nose?”

Katarina was unamused by the ghosties attempt to scare them. Weren’t these guys supposed to take a night off? Or was that just vampires? “Ya think we head back towards the lobby will find the party in full swing? Or at least we could go up to our room find some dry clothes?” she rubbed her arms. It was kinda cool for being in doors.

She stepped out towards the bed chamber. The red ball had reappeared rolling out of the room. Behind her on the back wall in blood red the word Redrum oozed down the wall. Following the rolling orb out into the hallway she heard giggling. It sounded like children.

Heading down the hallway back into the lobby the party appeared to be in full swing, but the music had changed. The sounds from a different era. Furthermore the hotel was full of complete strangers dressed in formal wear.  

Lorin had said to Kat, ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you’.  Spike couldn’t have agreed more as he watched his lover follow that bladdered red ball through the door.  Why did all their Halloween/Anniversary parties always turn inside out and go all spooky chaos and spine-tingling eerie and sinister every year?  Hadn’t they learned their lesson?  Halloween is a good night to stay at home, watch a movie, drink yourself blotto, and snog with your honey.  No, they had to have a party every year, and every year something like this always happened!

“Bloody hell.”  Spike trotted after Kat, “Luv, come back outa there, pretty please!”  The main room was dark but for a pool of light spilling out from the bathroom.  Spike ran that way, only to find Kat being sucked down the tub drain!  He grabbed one flailing hand.  “I’ve gotcha, luv!  Question is, who else has you?”  He thought he could pull her out, but much to his dismay, the both of them got pulled down the drain and then – out the other side.  Kat was sitting on the edge of the tub.  Spike still had her hand. 

“Bloody sixes and sevens!  Where are we, Tub World?”  The bathroom was fogging up, like someone was taking a shower, except no one was.  And this was cold fog, like tule fog, graveyard fog.  It was snaking around, tendrils of it crawling over the tub, the porcelain throne, and up the walls.  The bathroom mirror fogged up, then it was like someone was writing something on that mirror with a fingertip.  Except no one was there.  These words appeared:  ‘I’d Turn Back If I Were You’  

“Turn back where?  Oh Bloody Hell!”

Lorin was actually a fairly good sleuth when his mind wasn’t addled by Tequila.  Back in the day, he’d worked as an assistant to Kate Lockley’s detective agency, after she left the LAPD.  And he’d been reasonably well-respected in that position.  He’d never achieved that sort of esteem or recognition with Angel or at Angel Investigations.   Angel had fired him years ago and it had just gone downhill from there. 

Despite imbibing numerous Margaritas, a Tequila Mojito, and a few shots of Don Julio Añejo (Ramon had brought the best, bless his little heart), Lorin knew something was amiss.  Sam Winchester, who was dressed as a Lugosi vampire, just like Lorin, which was something Lorin could forgive – after all, they both had exquisite taste in costumes, had said there was a guy in a yellow rain slicker outside, a cop with a cap that said he was with the Castle Rock PD.  A cold and quivery uneasiness settled insectivelly onto Lorin’s scalp and scuttled down the back of his neck, quickly boring into his veins and nesting in his bones.  Unable to stop his progression, Lorin watched in horror as his feet moved him past the skyscraper that was Sam Winchester towards the door.  Although he didn’t want to, his hands opened that door onto a cold and howling, wet wind.  Blades of lightning sheared the sky.  Thunder boomed.  There wasn’t supposed to be a storm tonight.  But there, in a shadowy corner of the courtyard garden was a man dressed in a yellow rain slicker.  He glanced Lorin’s way, and his eyes were the eyes of death himself.  Lorin slammed the door shut. 

“It’s Frank Dodd, serial killer.”  Even though Mr. Dodd was a fictional character in Stephen King’s novel, The Dead Zone.  Someone knocked at the door.  “Don’t open it.  Not for anyone!”  There was no lock on the door, but Lorin jammed a chair under the door knob. 

He spied Kat and Spike, who were watching something down a corridor.  Lorin’s curiosity, just like that of the cat, was going to kill him.  He had to look, but was immediately regretful he had.  A big Red Ball rolled into one of the rooms.  Kat began to follow.  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you!”  But just like any girl in a horror movie, she did. 

Lorin was certain they were being Stephen Kinged.  Although the Danny and Sandy thing didn’t fit that mold.  But then Buffy and Angel were always doing their own thing. 

Thunder boomed again outside, rattling the windows and doors.   

As Angel and Buffy danced, swirling and pirouetting around the hotel lobby, Buffy said she was dressed as a girl named Sandy, and so he would be Danny her boyfriend.  It was all from the movie, Grease, she said.  “Grease?”  Not an attractive name for a movie.  Maybe that’s why Angel hadn’t heard of it.  It probably bombed at the box office.  “Danny?”  He spun Buffy around, then flipped her over one arm, having her land daintily and perfectly on her feet.  He didn’t know he could do that. 

“We’ll see the movie together?  On Halloween?”  But wasn’t this Halloween?  Maybe they’d take a break from the festivities.  He was already craving blood-soaked popcorn and snuggling with his girl. 

Angel realized something had changed.  He looked down to see he was wearing blue jeans.  And his black duster had turned into a black leather bomber jacket.  He was wearing a white t-shirt, too, instead of his black polo.  Angel sensed something weird about his hair.  He reached up to feel it and his hand came away greasy.  “Brylcreem” he mumbled.  And there was a ducktail hanging down over his forehead. 

Angel had been transformed into Danny.

Well at least he could dance!