Author's Chapter Notes:
I managed to finish this fic and I'm happy to finally be able share it with you. It's complete and I'll be updating twice a week. Thank you so, so much to Sotia for helping me with this fic! She is an amazing beta and person.
Closer to Midnight

Part One

Chapter One


October 2010

Buffy arrived on such a dull and dreary day that she wondered if coming had been such a good idea after all.

It had sounded perfect: a week away from the stresses of home, work, and, most of all, Liam’s incessant phone calls. Now, however, as she stood shivering in her light cardigan waiting for the ferry to dock, she wanted nothing more than to be back home, or at least somewhere warm.

She’d been reluctant when her mom had first suggested it, this second-hand vacation booked months ago, before Joyce had fallen ill. Her mom was better now, in remission and recovering well, but hadn’t felt up to taking the holiday. And when the dates coincided with time off from her job, well… Buffy couldn’t really say no.

Now, the ferry juddered to a halt, and the ramp was lowered with a clang. They let the foot passengers off first, before the cars, so Buffy rolled her suitcase down the ramp and stepped off the boat.

There was a misty drizzle in the air, and Buffy regretted not bringing an umbrella. Tightening her cardigan around herself, she moved towards the café and hoped that there wouldn’t be a long wait.

A man in a bright red cagoule stood near the railings of the café, hood up to protect against the rain and a laminated sign—‘Wight Ghost Tours’—held close to his chest. Buffy bit her lip and walked towards him, wondering again if coming on this trip had been the best of ideas.

“Mr. Simkins?” she asked when she came to a stop in front of the man.

“Yes, that’s me.” He peered down at her through milk-bottle thick glasses, and a kindly smile lit his lined face. “Part of my group, are you?”

Buffy nodded. “I think so.”

“Wonderful,” Simkins replied. “There are five more meeting us here, so I’ll wait to take your name until they turn up, and we’re on the bus out of this dreadful weather.”

“Mind if I wait inside?” Buffy asked and indicated the café. “I could do with a hot drink.”

“Go ahead. I do hope that the others were on this boat.” Simkins frowned, before muttering to himself. “Perhaps I should have taken mobile numbers…”

Buffy excused herself and went into the café, the lure of a cup of hot coffee quickening her steps. The queue was short, and in no time at all she had seated herself at a table near the window, just left of where Simkins was standing. In her absence, he had been joined by three more people, all elderly women, and Buffy shifted uncomfortably, already feeling out of place.

The second sip of her coffee tasted bitter on her tongue, and she pushed it away with a sigh. Moments later, a knock on the window made her jump, and she looked up to see Simkins waving frantically and beckoning at her with a gloved hand.

The rest of the group had to have arrived.

Buffy stood and went to join the small crowd outside, trying not to wince at the sudden blast of cold air that hit her when she opened the café doors.

“And you must be Ms. Summers. So we’re all here!” Simkins shouted jovially. “Follow me, everyone!”

He led the way past the lines of cars waiting to board the ferry and towards the back of the port, where a battered, white minibus was parked.

Buffy’s attention had been caught by the two latest arrivals: a young man with shockingly bleached hair and a tall, willowy woman, bundled up in a fur-lined parka—his girlfriend, presumably. On the one hand, Buffy was glad that she wasn’t the only person under the age of thirty in the group. On the other, something about the girl unnerved her.

The man turned his head suddenly and met Buffy’s eyes. His gaze was piercing, and he smiled at her slightly, lips curving sweetly. Buffy returned the smile hesitantly before she found herself holding her breath, unable to look away from his intensely blue eyes. Several long, heart-pounding moments later, he turned to mutter something to his companion, and Buffy finally let out her breath in a long whoosh of air.

Shaken, she stepped onto the bus and sat down at the back, alone.

***

The hotel sat atop an imposing cliff overlooking a wide shingle beach. They’d arrived just moments before, pulling up on a gravelly drive to give everyone their first view of the hotel.

Buffy had spent the journey in silence after giving Simkins her name and other details. Unease had settled over her, made worse by the looks the dark-haired girl in the parka had kept sending her. In the end, Buffy had turned away to stare resolutely out of the window and watch the countryside roll by.

She found herself dragged back to the present by Simkins loud, booming voice. “Do whatever you like tonight, folks,” he said. “The hotel restaurant opens at six for dinner, or there are a couple of very nice pubs down in the bay. We’ll reconvene in the lounge tomorrow after breakfast.”

Six heads nodded their assent and Buffy took her place in the queue for room keys that had formed in front of the reception desk.

***

Buffy was tired but filled with a restless energy and so, once she’d unpacked, she washed her face, combed her hair and changed her shoes, intending to go out for a walk along the beach. Perhaps she could check out one of the pubs Simkins had mentioned, despite the dreary weather not having let up.

The hotel corridor was quiet as she walked down it, the only sound the ticking of the tall grandfather clock at one end.

A floorboard creaked behind her, and Buffy jumped, turning swiftly to see the dark-haired woman, now sans-parka, standing behind her. The woman was dressed oddly—a loose-fitting, blood-red dress in a style long-since gone out of fashion draped over her lithe form. Her feet were bare, her hair untied, and her whole appearance sent a shiver down Buffy’s spine.

It wouldn’t do to be impolite, though, so Buffy smiled and said hello.

The woman gave no response, but a grin lit her face and her eyes widened. She lifted her hands and cupped Buffy’s cheeks between her palms.

“Lovely. So lovely. I told him, my dear William. I told him you’d be here. It’s why we came, you see. Now everyone has an invite to the party!” The woman took her hands away from Buffy’s face and clapped them together in glee. “Oh, it shall be so wonderful!”

Too stunned to say anything, Buffy simply stared at the woman who was now humming lightly and had turned away, her eyes wide, and bright, and no longer focused on Buffy.

Nothing happened for several long moments, both of them held in a strange sort of suspense until the moment was broken by a shout from the staircase.

“Drusilla!”

The woman jumped, broken from her trance, and turned towards the voice. “William! Come here, look who I’ve found!”

Buffy turned to see the blond man who had looked at her so strangely back at the ferry port striding towards them, a grim frown on his face.

“Dru! I told you not to wander off.”

“Sorry.” Drusilla pouted. “But look who it is, William!”

The man—William, apparently—looked towards Buffy as if realising for the first time that she was there. “Oh, um, hi.” He squinted, his forehead crinkling in confusion. “Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so,” Buffy replied.

“You’ll have to excuse my sister,” he said, and Buffy felt a strange weight, one she hadn’t even known was there, lift off her chest at hearing the two were not a couple, like she’d thought. “She—she’s not well.”

“It’s all right. She wasn’t bothering me.” Buffy lied with a forced smile, but found something compelling her to continue the conversation. “You’re here for the ghost week, right? I’m Buffy, by the way.”

“Yeah, I am. Dru practically forced me to come along. And I’m Spike.” He offered her his hand, and she shook it, shyly. “Well, William. But I hate that, so call me Spike, please.”

“Nice to meet you.” They stared at each other, and Buffy felt her palms tingling and sweat pricking on her brow. Her heart began to pound and, in the back of her mind, she knew that something about this wasn’t right. This entire situation, from Drusilla’s strange behaviour to the feeling she couldn’t shake that she knew this man somehow, was off.

“Isn’t this delightful!” Drusilla interrupted. She spun away towards the clock at the end of the hallway. “All the pieces falling into place. Tick, tick, tick. It’s getting closer to midnight... Oh, I’m so excited!” A moment later, she had danced off down the stairs, her long dress floating behind her like wings.

“Oh, bollocks.” Spike looked worried. “Look, I’ve got to go, but… would you be interested in having dinner with me later? Seven? In the restaurant?”

Buffy found herself agreeing before she’d even really considered the question but, when Spike had left to chase after his sister, a deep-seated excitement filled her, and she walked towards the beach with a small, secret smile on her face.

***

The hotel looked so small from where Buffy stood. She had crunched her way across the stony beach and up towards the cliff path, walking some way before she’d stopped and turned to look back over the bay.

The weather had brightened up a little, the rain having stopped and the wind now a light breeze that pleasantly ruffled her hair. There was no one around, everything quiet save the continuous rolling of the waves and the occasional roar of a car on the road behind her.

Leaving the hotel and the stifling atmosphere created by being around a group of strangers, had allowed her to put some things into perspective. Drusilla’s strange behaviour in the hallway had been nothing more than her illness and perhaps a lack of knowledge of how to react to a new situation. The odd connection Buffy had felt with Spike... well, that was just strong attraction to a good-looking man.

Her fish-out-of-water feelings were harder to shake, however. That type of vacation would have been far better suited to Joyce, who’d always had an interest in the supernatural. Buffy didn’t believe that ghosts existed, and Simkins would have to work hard to convince her otherwise.

The afternoon wore on, and Buffy found herself enjoying the peaceful silence and the complete nothing she had to do. The occasional dog-walker strolled past, and she greeted them with a smile and a ‘hello’, until the calm environment was interrupted by the harsh ringing of her cellphone.

The display flashed an unknown number, and she answered with some hesitation. “Hello?”

“Buffy.”

Her heart sank and she rubbed a hand over her suddenly tired eyes. “Liam. What do you want? How did you get this number? I told you I didn’t want to speak to you.”

“Your mam gave it to me. I told her it was an emergency.”

“And is it?” Her patience had already been worn thin by Liam many times over in recent weeks, and she was seconds away from hanging up on him.

“Um, sort of. I think.”

Buffy switched the phone to her other ear with a sigh, listening impatiently to Liam’s Irish lilt as he spoke to someone in the background. “I haven’t got all day.” She contemplated telling him about her dinner date with Spike but decided against it. Not like he’d care, anyway.

“Sorry. It’s just that you might be in trouble. Cordelia said—”

“What makes you think I want to hear a word of what Cordelia has to say?” Buffy spat, angrily. “There is nothing—”

“Buffy! Will you just listen? Cordy’s Uncle Doyle—he’s... well, he’s a bit odd, but he sees things. Visions, the future, you know?” He paused. “Jaysus, this sounds insane, doesn’t it?”

“Just a bit,” Buffy said drily, yet unable to stop the sudden shiver that tingled its way down her spine. “What—what did he say?”

“He said it was vague, but he saw you in a garden, with a man in a top hat. That… there was a dark energy around you, and that you were in danger. And—twelve. Something about the number twelve.”

Buffy gripped the phone a little tighter. “Is that all?” She tried to keep her tone light, unconcerned.

“Yeah. Look, I know it’s crazy, but Cordy really believes in this stuff, and she was worried about—”

“Ha!”

“—worried about you. So just be careful, okay? Don’t go into any gardens. Where are you, anyway? Your mam said you’d gone away.”

Buffy stood up, her cell still clamped to her ear, and walked closer to the edge of the cliff. “I’m by the sea. Liam, I have to go. Please don’t call me again.”

***


Chapter End Notes:
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