Work Text:
Author: Lucinda
rating: pg 13
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from BtVS or the concepts from Disney's Gargoyles
Distribution: Paula, Quickfics, Twisting the Hellmouth - anyone else please ask first.
note: set in season 2 of BtVS, and after the creation and spread of the Quarrymen.
"I think I've found a nest." Paul's voice was soft, as if he didn't want anyone to overhear him. He always sounded that way.
"Paul, are you sure that you've found a nest of them?" Jim looked at the other man, one hand running almost lovingly over the haft of his hammer. He'd cut his hair short, the dark locks finally out of his eyes.
Paul settled against the wall, nodding slightly. "I know that I found something. The place is pretty big, but not well cared for. The lawn's overgrown, the paint's gone There are a couple solid looking trees. And not only is there the scent of something rotting, I think I heard screams there last night. I didn't stay. One human, alone against an unknown number of them, during the night? No."
"Wise choice." Esteban nodded from his chair, where he was cleaning out a pistol. "They are stronger than any human could hope to match."
"Whole point of using our friendly daylight. Strike while they're helpless." Dan's voice was sort of low, and filled with enthusiasm.
Jim smiled, looking at his men. With people like this, they would have a chance. The chance to strike back, to reclaim Sunnydale for the humans. That desire had lead each of them here, to join the QuarryMen. "We can go today. Where is this old house?"
"Crawford Street."
It hadn't taken them long to gather their supplies. What made things even better, with their hammers, and a couple of crowbars, all they would need was for a couple of them to carry large boxes, maybe a hardhat or two, and nobody even thought of questioning them. Just a group of construction workers off to go to their location... Yeah, this was Sunnydale for you. Home of people too blind, willing too blind to realize what was right in front of them. Good thing that they were here to protect them.
As they drew closer to the house, Jim could only agree with Paul's assessment. A couple sturdy trees that would support heavy weights, a spacious building, and the neglected yard. Inhaling, he just about choked. There was the stench of carrion, something left to rot nearby. He hoped that it was an animal carcass, but there was always the chance that it would be human remains. But there were six of them, and the gargoyles would be stone during the daytime, helpless, unable to attack them. "When we get inside, split into three groups. Search the whole house, we have to make certain they are all destroyed."
Entering the house, they were greeted by utter silence. No sounds of distant television or radios, no sound of laundry or hum of a refrigerator, just the sound of their footsteps.
Paul and John went down the hallway, looking for any sleeping gargoyles. Moving further in, there was a staircase, and at a signal from Jim, Esteban and Dan moved upstairs, wincing as the steps creaked and groaned. If their quarry weren't stone, they would surely have lost the element of surprise, they sounded loud enough to wake the dead. Jim was left with Tony to go into the main hall.
Jim froze as his eyes caught on the main feature of the room. A giant figure crouched in the room, with tusks, a squat body, and the hilt of a sword sticking out of it's chest. "Merciful God, but that's an ugly one."
Smiling with anticipation, they lifted their hammers, preparing to swing. If they could destroy a monster this big, surely the town would be safer. Surely they would be a step closer to rendering this town safe and human. Except that the hammers wouldn't swing forwards.
"Now, isn't this interesting. I don't recall ordering delivery." The voice was entirely to smooth, like ice cold water, with an odd hint of an Irish accent. "I'm not done with him, I'm going to have to ask you to stop."
Jim turned around, still trying to pull the hammer free. A tall man with dark hair held the hammer head in one hand, his mocking smile somehow predatory. "You don't understand the danger!"
The mocking smile remained in place as the dark haired man suddenly pushed Tony's hammer away, the haft actually puncturing into Tony's stomach with a sickening sort of popping noise, and the scent of blood and bile filled the room. Tony collapsed, making odd little gasping noises. "I think you're the ones who don't understand."
Suddenly, the man's features changed, his eyes turning an evil yellow as his eyebrows became heavy ridges, and his teeth became sharp fangs. Jim barely had time to scream before those sharp teeth were ripping into his shoulder. The pain was like a white hot flare of agony, and when the darkness came, Jim surrendered to it.
Paul and John had moved down the hall, checking into rooms. So far, there had been chains and whips, covered with blood, and a tray of knives, but no stone gargoyles. No helpless and terrified human captives. Opening the next room, they walked in, seeing a bed, and a box of cigarettes sitting beside it on a small table.
John grinned, moving towards them with a smile. "I could almost kill for a good smoke about now."
Cold hands grabbed him from behind one at his mouth, the other at his arms. Paul felt sharp pain on his neck, and this horrible feeling, as if the insides of him were being dragged up and he was being emptied.
He tried to scream, but the hand's grip was too solid. He could feel his cheeks being ground against his teeth, even as the sharp teeth of his captor grated against the muscle in his neck and shoulder. He could feel himself getting weak, and knew that this was the end.
"Glad you appreciate a decent smoke, but I'm afraid you won't be doing the killing." The blond had yellow eyes and sharp fangs, with Paul’s blood smeared over his lips and chin as he allowed the limp form to fall to the floor. The way Paul landed made it obvious that he was dead. The blond reached up, wiping at the blood on his face, ending up with a smear over his cheek.
John tried to fight, tried to swing his hammer at the grinning monster with the British accent, but whoever... whatever the blond was, he was fast. Not only fast, but strong. A single blow from his hand left John's arm shooting pain, and his hand spasmed, releasing the hammer to fall with a thud.
The blond picked up the hammer, his feral expression barely holding any resemblance to a smile. "I think you need a bit of a demonstration why you shouldn't play with things like this."
The hammer swung through the air with a terrible almost whistling sound, and his leg just... collapsed, pain radiating through his entire body as he collapsed to the ground. He couldn't even gather the breath to scream before he was grabbed by the front of his shirt and those bloody fangs came towards him.
Esteban opened the door, frowning as he saw rows of porcelain dolls sitting in front of a mirror. The dolls had been blindfolded, a few had simply had their eyes gouged out. Some of them appeared to have their hands tied. The room was far too freaky, and smelled of old fabric and dead roses. Unfortunately, there was a closet, and he would have to check inside of it. At least there was nothing else in the room, the mirror would have shown if there was. He began creeping towards the closet.
Halfway across the floor, he froze, looking at the mirror in horrified shock. Dan's face had just been squeezed together, almost like an over enthusiastic aunt, and there had been a sharp cracking noise. His head was tilted at an unnatural angle, and his eyes were bulging out in obvious panic. A hole had appeared in his neck, with blood running down his shoulder, staining his shirt, flowing down to cover the hammer and fist that was the emblem of the QuarryMen.
He turned, feeling almost as if everything had slowed down. Dan was held in the firm grip of a dark haired woman, her teeth buried in his throat. She didn’t reflect in the mirror, or seem to notice that she’d gotten a bit of blood on the sleeve of her pale gown, the hem of which brushed the floor like something from a movie. Letting Dan fall almost bonelessly to the floor, she looked at him, her eyes yellow and full of madness and glee.
“Such a pretty pair of birds, all full of fear and hate. Makes the blood all spicy.” She grabbed him by his neck, and squeezed, and things began to go dark. “I’ll just keep you for later.”
She moved down the stairs, swaying slightly. The men had come in, waking them up with their noisy boots and big hammers. But Dru still didn’t understand. “My Angel, what is a QuarryMan? What were they looking for here?”
“Does it matter, Princess? We found them.” He was smiling, looking at the pair of them that had fallen in front of Acathala.
After a moment of thought, she answered. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. They’re dead now… all quarried out and dry.”
Angelus laughed as he kissed Dru, the blood still covering their faces from their victims. In the end, the question of ‘what was a QuarryMan’ really didn’t matter. They had become lunch. And he would still find a way to use Acathala, to make everything… clean again.
End Quarried.